The Book of CarolSue Page 26

  “Here.” A piece of paper. She’d written out her full name and address and phone number and then written (grandmother) and then she’d written CarolSue’s name with the same address and CarolSue’s cell phone number and (aunt), and Gary’s full name, Gary David Hawkins (father) with his cell phone number and her own address as an in care of one to use. “I want to give her this,” she said. There was a phone card good for international calls clipped to it. “CarolSue went out this morning and got the card for the phone. That was her idea.”

  “Have to leave it at the desk. I’m not allowed to pass anything to a detainee. But her lawyer will get it to her. I’ll make sure he knows about it.”

  “Can we find out her address? Or where she’s going? Is there a relative’s phone number at least?” CarolSue spoke up from the other side of the room where she was strapping Gracie into her carrier. She’d been crying. Gus could tell by her voice. The baby was making happy baby sounds, which somehow made it all harder.

  “We’ll ask. I believe it’s information Gary has a right to have. I’m not a lawyer. Look, I’d rather you two not do this. Let me handle it.”

  “We’re going,” Louisa and CarolSue said in almost perfect unison. CarolSue was clutching the carrier with Gracia in it now and he could see there was pretty much zero chance of taking it anywhere today without CarolSue attached. And he figured he was just getting back on the nap track with Louisa. No point in messing that up.

  “You look nice, honey,” he said. “I like your hair like that.” Capitulation, conciliation.

  “CarolSue put makeup on me,” she said. “My hair’s the same.”

  Well, he’d tried.

  Louisa

  It didn’t matter how gaping the hole of absence was going to be. Not anymore. Louisa hadn’t believed she could live through losing another grandchild, not after Cody. But she’d brought herself around to this: She wouldn’t let it happen. She would form a relationship with Rosalina herself. Hadn’t she loved Cody’s mother? Didn’t she love Nicole still? She could love and support Rosalina, and if Rosalina would let her, she would help Rosalina bring Gracia back to Indiana, to the farm where she could grow up safe and unafraid. She and CarolSue would find the best lawyers to help them. And meanwhile, they would write, they would call, they would learn how to do that sky-peep thingy that Gary talked about, so they could see the baby and share her life, and she wouldn’t forget them. CarolSue said she would make sure Gary had enough money to get Rosalina the right kind of phone so she could do the sky-peep thingy on her own.

  CarolSue was right about one thing. They were family now, and Louisa wasn’t about to let go, not when she had any part of a choice, not when there was something, anything, she could do about it. She hated it when CarolSue was right. Fortunately, it didn’t happen all that often.

  CarolSue

  She was thin, the way someone who hasn’t had enough to eat is thin, I thought, but what do I know? If someone with brown skin can look pale and washed out, she did, maybe thanks to the ugly orange jumpsuit and the fluorescent overhead light in the cement-block room. She looked young, scared, and resolute all at once. Her eyes were big, brown, shadow-ringed, under black arches. High, wide cheekbones. A widow’s peak of dark hair on her forehead. I could already spot the ways Gracia would resemble her mother. I smiled at her right away—and I think Louisa did, too. Whatever cold hurt I felt about her taking Gracie away from me, from us, had begun to thaw when I first took her in, and it melted when she wasn’t allowed to hold Gracie but had to stand back and watch while we laid her on the table and unwrapped the blanket so the guard could inspect her (again) for contraband. Tears, but no sound came from her.

  “Showoff asshole,” Gus muttered at the guard’s back as he left. “Not necessary.” Then he spoke in his normal tone to Rosalina. “It’s okay now. You can pick her up.”

  And the baby, my Gracia, was in her arms and my heart was breaking for all of us. I’d thought we’d talk, that Louisa and I could hear and understand her story, that part of Gracie’s history. Now I know it was naïve of me, to think that we could grasp how her life had brought her to this juncture in the brief time we had, and later I wondered how much time the court would give to listen before her future was decreed. Whether we could have understood or not, there wasn’t much talk. “Te amo, hija,” Rosalina said over and over as she held Gracia to her body, her eyes locked down on that little girl, and rocked her, talked, smiled, poured love on her as if her soul was a pitcher full of it and her baby the waiting receptacle. And maybe that was so.

  The talking we did was to tell Rosalina what Gracie liked to eat, when she’d first rolled over, her favorite lullaby, what makes her laugh. I could tell she wanted to know those kinds of things, because she asked. Other than that, I tried to shut up and let Rosalina have her time with Gracie. It felt like the right thing to do.

  I was aware that the guard kept looking in the window of the interview room—Gus had been able to get the room, and I understood it wasn’t the usual visiting area. I don’t know how long we were allotted, but it didn’t seem long enough before he came in and said “Time!” Then he had to see Rosalina break down as she had to set her baby on the table, where in haste I put the pad and blanket back on the hard surface. Then she raised her hands so the guard could check that nothing had been put in the baby’s clothing, and I wrapped and lifted her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to Rosalina. “Try not to worry. I love her so much. We’re taking good care of her for you.” I was crying, too.

  “We’re leaving all our contact information for your lawyer,” Louisa said to her. Her eyes were full, too. “So you can stay in touch. Please. We want news. And we’d like to try to help if you want to . . . come back.”

  “I will help,” I said. I realized we were assuming she was going to be deported. But maybe she’d win and then . . . I needed to tell her. “If you don’t get sent back now, you can come stay with us. We’ll find a place nearby for you and Gracie. Gary loves her. He’s a good father.” I looked at Louisa, signaling her to back me up.

  She did. “You’re wanted,” she said. “You and Gracia. We’ll help.”

  The guard was there. “You’ll have to leave,” he said. Rosalina just stood there, alone, as we were led out. I carried her baby.

  As we left, Rosalina was crying. “Se fuerte, hija,” she said. “Te amo.”

  Chapter 35

  CarolSue

  We heard nothing after that. My nerves were raw. Louisa seemed edgy, too, although the second afternoon, she wondered how I’d feel about maybe taking Gracie on “an outing” by ourselves, since it was such a beautiful day. She didn’t want me out in the woods by myself, though. “Maybe a shopping trip?”

  “Where to?”

  “Anyplace but here.”

  “Why, you have some Plan?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Right. Bless your heart. Let me take a wild guess. Gus has some personal time coming and thinks he might take the afternoon off because things are nice and quiet at the station. And oh my, you are both so extra tired that you may just need the house extremely quiet because you may want to take a nap.”

  “Well, if you put it that way.”

  “Tell Gus Gracie and I will leave at two thirty. But I am darn well bringing her home at four thirty and you two better have some special tea made.”

  * * *

  I took Gracie to Meyer’s in Elmont and bought her more clothes. I didn’t know how much Rosalina would be allowed to take, but surely a diaper bag. I bought a new one, the biggest I could find. I’d cram all the clothes I could in it, as many diapers as would fit and a few toys. Then I started thinking about formula. How would she feed her? Powdered formula would be more practical. I got her a pre-paid credit card, too. I should have thought of all this earlier, I realized, so this trip was a small grace. As was every hour with Gracie.

  When I got back—it was four forty-five, as I didn’t want to risk walking in on anything—I turned the baby over t
o Louisa to feed while I opened and washed and packed everything I’d bought. “Gus, would you make sure that this gets to Rosalina? It’s for Gracia.”

  “That’s a real kindness, CarolSue,” he said.

  “Thank you, Sister. I can share those expenses,” Louisa said. “I should have thought of packing things. I was distracting myself.”

  “No need.”

  “She’s my granddaughter. I want to.”

  I’d not meant to leave her out. There was suffering to go around. I’d seen Rosalina with Gracie. I hurt for her, too.

  * * *

  It wasn’t an hour later that Gary showed up, unannounced. He came in like an energy field, without knocking—which Louisa couldn’t stand—and disheveled, breathless. He had an envelope. “The church forwarded my mail. Look!”

  At the moment, I was changing Gracie’s diaper, which was a certifiable mess, so Louisa overcame her annoyance that he’d burst in without knocking and said, “What is it, Gary?”

  “You’ve got to see!” He was worked up for sure. I thought maybe the church was taking him back early or something, but, no, it couldn’t be from them if they’d forwarded it.

  “Louisa, just do it, honey,” Gus said. He sometimes took Gary’s side like that.

  She did. “What is . . . Gary? What does this mean?”

  I’d finished changing Gracie and with her in my arms I went over to where they were gathered. Louisa lowered herself onto the couch. She handed me papers. Gary took Gracie from me so I could read them.

  What I held took my breath. “Oh my God,” I half whispered, half gasped. Rosalina had signed guardianship of Gracie to Gary. Gracie’s birth certificate and social security card were in the envelope. Louisa, Gus, and I were all open-jawed with disbelief.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Gus said.

  “It’s notarized,” Gary pointed out. “And witnessed by her lawyer. Look,” he said, holding another piece of paper out, “her name and an address in Honduras. And this must be her father’s name, too, with a phone number.”

  “We can send her pictures and write to her,” I said. “We have to.”

  “I can do better than that,” Gary said. “I’ll pray on it.” He kissed Gracie’s head. She was squirming and starting to fuss, gnawing on her hand in her mouth. “What is it, honey?”

  “She’s getting hungry. Why don’t I give her the bottle now?” I said. “Give her to me, okay?”

  Really, I wanted to get out of that room, because I didn’t know what I felt, and I didn’t want to advertise my confusion. But maybe Louisa and I were feeling somewhat the same joy and relief that Gracie would be making her home with us. (Oh! But would Gary let her stay with Louisa and me? A new worry. I didn’t ask.) At the same time, I hurt for Rosalina, sure that she had decided out of pure love to give Gracie what Rosalina believed was the better life. Celebrating would be wrong, as if it would be at her expense.

  Gary seemed to be overcome. Now he, too, had sunk down into a seat. His head was down and he was shuffling the papers, reading them over and over as if new words might appear. And I thought Gus was upset, though I couldn’t have said why.

  “I’ll head out now and give you folks some time to absorb this,” Gus said. “You all right, sweetheart?” He said that to Louisa, going to where she sat and bending to kiss her cheek.

  She got up and gave him a hug. “You don’t need to leave.”

  “Oh, best I do for today.”

  “Are you all right?” she said. I knew what she was getting at. There was something he wasn’t saying.

  “Fine, I’m fine,” he boomed. “I’ll talk to you later. G’night, all.” The last sun angled low through the living room window and glinted on his badge as he turned around. And then his back was at the door and he was gone. All the things I’d bought for Gracie were in the backpack by the door. Later I’d unpack it all in the room we shared.

  Gus

  Gus pulled out of Louisa’s gravel driveway, which faced west, and headed southwest on the highway, which didn’t help a bit with the blindness caused by the setting sun. He pulled down his visor and put on his sunglasses.

  Damn. He couldn’t believe that Rosalina, a mother, would leave without her child. Not after he’d made sure she could take the baby with her. For God’s sake, he’d brought the letter from Gary, signed and notarized. Rosalina had seen it. He was sure she understood. She loved that baby. She wanted that baby—he’d seen it, he’d felt it, it was as old and familiar as his own beating heart. He’d made sure it was logged in when he left it for her lawyer, so he knew the lawyer had gotten possession of it.

  The lawyer! That was it. Her damn lawyer. He was the one who’d decided not to let it happen. Maybe Gus could still intervene. Maybe it wasn’t a done deal. That lawyer was going to get a piece of his mind.

  It wasn’t that Rhonda had never said, “You know, Gus. Maybe Mom did what she thought was best for us in the long run.” Oh, she’d said it plenty when she put him to bed at night, back when he still had tears for lost toys and people, for bandaged knees, and for anger, young enough that he’d still talk of it to her if only his night-light illuminated the room. But Gus knew his mother loved him, so that couldn’t be true.

  Now his old anger rose back to the surface like debris on deep water. He watched it float all evening, prodded it here and there, considering whether to call or to visit in person. He decided to call only because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d control himself well and it was important to protect his job. If he could intervene and stop this travesty, he’d probably need to still be sheriff.

  He didn’t sleep well.

  In the morning, he didn’t even get coffee and a bagel on his way to the station. He’d rely on Connie’s coffee and pick up something midmorning at the café so he could make the call from work first thing, let the lawyer see it on caller ID. It was bright and clear, and there was some frost on his windshield. It would warm up later in the day, but Indiana was teeing up winter and Gus hated winter, all the extra work of it. Already accidents were way up because the deer were starting into rut season.

  Connie’s coffee. One thing to be grateful for. Occasionally she reminded him slightly of Rhonda. “Jimmy gone out?”

  “Hasn’t been in yet.”

  “Sheesh. Tell him I said Main Street tickets today, and that’s an order.” He remembered to thank her and shut the door to his office, not that it always helped much, and then called the lawyer before he could put too much more thought into it.

  After introducing himself and having the lawyer say, yes, he knew who the sheriff was, that they’d met twice in court—embarrassing—Gus started in.

  “I’m assuming you did not give Rosalina Gonzalez the notarized permission to take her child with her if she is deported, since she mailed guardianship papers to Gary Hawkins.” Gus wanted him to know he was pissed off. “I’d like to know what’s going on. I made sure she knew she could take her daughter with her. I brought the baby to see her twice and—”

  “Wait a minute,” the lawyer Ramirez said. “Excuse me. You are mistaken. Of course I provided her with the notarized permission that was left at the detention center. It would have been a serious ethical breach not to do so. I also translated it into Spanish, as her English is fair but not her first language. As is also my ethical obligation, I informed her of the legal options should she choose to have her child stay in the States with her father. That’s my only role, I assure you.” His voice was calm and factual, not defensive. Damn, Gus thought. He’d make a good witness.

  “So you didn’t advise her to—”

  “Let me put it clearly. Ms. Gonzalez will be deported or already has been. You are right if you perceived that she loves that child deeply. She decided it was best for the child to be here. That she could not keep the child safe nor provide for her well-being, and that came first.”

  In Gus’s mind, Rhonda whispered, “See? I told you.”

  Still gruff, but pulling back, Gus said, “All r
ight, then. You say she’s gone? I’d like to inform the family. She provided contact information. They’ll stay in touch about the baby.”

  “Gone, yes, probably as of yesterday, but I don’t know for sure. Our Indy office took over when these detainees were moved for court. And about contact. She wants that. By the way, she said you were kind.”

  “Tried to help is all.”

  “She knew. Sheriff—Honduras. It’s bad there. Especially for girls and women. Really bad. I didn’t advise her what to do, but there’s more than one way to be a good mother.”

  Rosalina

  After court, there was one day in another place. Then the law people gave the deportees back the clothes they’d been arrested in, but chained their feet and hands when they walked them out in a line to climb stairs onto a plane. How could she have held her baby if she hadn’t signed over guardianship? she wondered. Would a lawman have carried Gracia? Rosalina thought the baby would have been scared, crying, and what could she have done?

  She rubbed her wrists when a lawman took the chains off, after the door was shut and locked. Rosalina had never been on an airplane. As it rose, the noise filled her ears like a hurricane. There were no babies with them, just a few older children. One cried, and one slept against his father. Most faces were exhausted, blank.

  Her father did not know she was coming. He would be disappointed, so disappointed. All he’d sacrificed to save her, gone for nothing. She had the phone card the Reverend’s mother or aunt had given, so she would be able to call, but she did not know how she would get home. She shouldn’t use the credit card they’d given her. That had been for the baby. The baby she didn’t have with her.

  She was a good mother; her baby was safe. She closed her eyes to hold the river of tears underground. It was the water of life that would take her back to Gracia. Se fuerte, hija, she whispered. Se fuerte, madre. Be strong, daughter. Be strong, mother.