“No, he no longer lives here,” she answered slowly. “He has his own place now; shares a house with a couple of his buddies.”
I bit my lower lip; perhaps this was not meant to be after all.
But Berta continued, her voice perking up as she spoke. “Perdóname. I’m so sorry. He moved out just a few weeks ago, and I’m still not used to saying he’s not here. Not an easy thing to get used to, sorry,” then a slight laugh, “Forgive me, I was napping. I work crazy hours. What can I do for you, honey?”
I took a deep breath. “I am planning to come to Los Angeles. I’m in Arizona, and I have transportation with a group of college students. In fact, they are leaving in two days. I was thinking I would like to meet you . . . and Diego, if it wasn’t any trouble.”
“In Arizona. ¡Qué bueno! And Rosa? Is she with you as well?”
“No,” I answered, trying to keep my voice light. “Rosa is traveling with her boyfriend. It is just me.”
I had always pictured Berta and young Diego. I hadn’t considered that he was a grown man with a life—a place—of his own. And Berta wasn’t exactly family. She was the sister of my father’s first wife. What obligation was there on her part? Suddenly I felt foolish for calling.
“You need a place to stay?” I heard her say without a moment’s hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t want to be any trouble. I just wanted to meet you and Diego, and talk with you about . . . my father? I wondered . . .”
She interrupted, “¡Alma, qué maravilla! I’d be happy to have you! This place has been so empty since Diego left. It’d be nice to have some company. Juan’s daughter! How I’ve wanted to meet you girls. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re the good student, aren’t you? By all means, come. I’ve spoken with Rosa a few times. I so look forward to meeting you.” She sighed, then added, “Honey, you just made my day. ¡Muchas gracias!”
Stunned, I wrote down her address and promised to call when I had more specifics.
As I hung up the phone, Ana was looking at me with raised eyebrows. “She knew my name!” I cried. “Papá told her about me, that I was a good student!” Tears, this time of joy, dripped down my cheeks. “It’s all set. She said she’d be happy to have me.” I shook my head incredulously. I could feel it, the connection to Papá. Yes, this was the right thing to do.
But that night, as I lay in the dark reflecting on our conversation, my excitement was tempered by a deep sadness. Oh Rosa, I whispered into the darkness, I wish you were here. I wish you could meet her, too. We were supposed to do this together!
And as with every night, I buried my face in my pillow and wept.
Before I left Nogales, there was one thing I wanted to do. Ana said a note would be sufficient, so I did write one just in case that would be my only resort. But I wanted something more personal; I felt he deserved that.
We got to the hospital quite early, but since Ana worked the evening shift, she wasn’t certain when he arrived, or even if he came every day. She parked in a spot that gave us a view of the doctors’ lot, and we just waited. We had been there well over an hour when Ana decided to get us some drinks. And that’s when Dr. Ramírez pulled up in a sparkling silver sports car. My heart began to flutter, and I froze at first. But fortunately, he stepped out of the car and paused to smooth out his pants and tuck in his shirt, and then, walking around to the passenger’s door, he reached in to get his suit jacket. That gave me time to work up my nerve and approach him.
He turned and looked at me quizzically. “Can I help you?” he asked. “Is something wrong? ¿Hay un problema?”
I swallowed hard. Suddenly I was at a loss for words. All I had planned simply escaped my mind.
“If you are in need of medical assistance, the emergency entrance is on the other side of this building. There are signs,” he said, pointing with his small, clean hand.
I shook my head. “No, perdóname,” I said softly. “No, I am here to say thank you. Gracias for your kindness.”
Squinting his eyes, he tilted his head slightly.
I continued. “Your care and concern . . . brought me some comfort in a very difficult time.” I stepped forward. “I was the girl . . . the girl who wouldn’t talk.”
I paused and waited to see if that meant something to him. Perhaps he dealt with other girls who would not talk. But it seemed to register, for his eyes widened and his mouth opened as if he were about to speak. But he didn’t, at least not at first. He looked at my face closely and then a quick glance up and down. Finally, his face relaxed into a smile.
“You are well,” he said with a degree of pleasure in his voice.
“Yes,” I said. “Estoy bien. I have been fortunate enough to meet generous people, and my father always said to be sure to thank those who help us.”
He nodded. “I feared you had met foul play . . . again. But I am happy to see you looking so well.” His eyes lingered on my stomach.
“Yes,” I nodded. “I am going to have this baby. In fact, I have family in Los Angeles, and I am leaving tomorrow. I wanted to thank you before I left.” I wanted him to think I had a solid plan.
He reached out his hand. I slowly extended mine.
Dr. Ramírez squeezed my hand with both of his. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to
