5. Grace
5
Grace
I levitated off the ground, my arms crossed over my belly, my legs dangling. The earth moved beneath me like I was on a Merry-Go-Round at full speed.
Nausea twisted in my gut, and acid bubbled at the back of my tongue.
Deep, entangled voices writhed throughout my consciousness. Doors slammed, the ground trembled—the will to fight dwindled with each passing moment.
A cool, soft cloth dragged across my brow, and the gentle cooing of a woman's voice eased my nerves, yet I jerked from her touch, my eyelids opening in a flash.
The elderly woman blinked at me with widened eyes, her wrinkled, dark face touched by the sun and hard work.
A washcloth dripped excess water down her delicate wrist, which my fingers dug into.
"You don't have to fear me." Her voice dipped low.
I frowned.
" ?Hablas inglés o espa?ol?"
A man's voice drifted through the cracked door across the room. My gaze darted to the source, then back to her.
Where am I?
Who is she?
The older woman wore a colorful T-shirt and well-worn blue jeans, faded at the knees. A pale scar ran from the outer corner of her eye to her earlobe.
Jorge's scar, which ran above his brow, flashed in my mind, and my hands flew to my pockets.
His rosary.
"Where is it?"
My eyes burned as his face flashed in my mind, the terror in his eyes when he crumbled to his knees...
I released her wrist and moved to sit, my right arm pinned to my belly by a Velcro brace.
"Where is it?"
"Where is what?"
I glanced around my makeshift bed, the clothes I'd worn for three years missing from my body. Someone had dressed me in a large t-shirt with white sweats tied at the waist.
"My rosary. Where did you put it?"
"Oh." She helped me sit straight. "I removed your clothing so the doctor could examine you." She reached for a small wooden drawer in the nightstand and pulled out the white rosary with a crucifix at the end. "Your fingers were purple when he reset your shoulder."
I hunched over, my head swimming, and my vision danced in a field of bright pinpricks of light as I held the only thing I had left of Jorge.
"Careful." She placed her hand on my good shoulder and steadied my swaying body. "You took a bad beating to the head, and your rib was broken."
My toes brushed the watered-down brown tiled floor, resembling terracotta, the cuts on my feet stretching with the burden of my weight.
I hissed, then rubbed the burn from my eyes with the heel of my scraped palms.
"Who are you running from?"
The man's accented voice grew louder outside the door, and my heart stalled.
"Where am I?"
" Piedras Negras."
Mexico? I was still in Mexico even though I had crossed the river?
Had I crossed the river?
I pushed to my feet, and my knee gave out. The sharp pain, coupled with a tight, stiff brace around it, had the older woman catching me.
Her hands wrapped around my good arm, steadying me.
I bit my lip, stifling my cries as throbbing aches and pains radiated throughout my battered body.
"You must rest."
"I need to get out of here."
"You're American?"
I nodded and gulped.
"We can take you to the border crossing when you're healed. Eagle Pass. It's right over the bridge."
Her accented tone caressed my nerves, but agitation settled beneath my skin. "I can't wait until then. I need to leave." I took another step, her hand drifting away as she followed me to the door. "Who's here with you?"
Was he on the phone?
" Mi esposo. Husband."
"Anyone else?"
She shook her head.
"Did you tell anyone else I was here?"
"Only the doctor and my husband. He didn't like coming home from a trip to find his side of the bed taken."
Sweat pebbled against my skin as I hobbled to the bedroom door.
"Can the doctor be trusted?" I rested my hand on the door handle.
"Sí. Yes . He's very good."
I hunched over and sucked in air as if I'd raced a marathon and came in first place, my broken rib reminding me of their presence.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"A couple days."
"Has anyone come looking for me?"
She shook her head. "No."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, then swung the door wide open and caught the eye of an elderly man on the phone, the cord tethered to the wall.
He was tall or would have been, if the large hump on his back didn't have him hunching over. Suspenders held up his pants, resting over his shoulders and pressing into his blue button-up dress shirt.
The brown-eyed man's gaze met mine. "Ella está despierta." She's awake.
Ice-cold dread snaked down my spine as he hung up the house phone, grabbed his walking cane resting along the wall, and then looked at his wife, who stood behind me.
"Están en camino."
My pulse filled my ears, and my breaths halted.
Who's on the way?
Who did he call?
Miguel ?
Ortiz?
My finger moved to the marking behind my ear as the man shuffled my direction. I limped kitty-corner from him towards the door, his wife nodding in acknowledgment.
"Who did you call?" My heart fluttered in a way that had my feet moving closer to the exit, the scent of fresh coffee and tortillas in the air.
The man shook his head and gave his wife a curious look.
My stomach grumbled, but sticking around to fill it would be a mistake.
Something was wrong.
Trust no one.
I opened the front door and slipped outside, their gazes swinging towards one another.
"Thank you for your help."
I shut their wooden front door, the paint peeling down the center, then turned left.
Chills centered down my torso, rippling around my spine and arms, sending a shiver dancing across my muscles as I made my way down the overgrown sidewalk, the chunks of cement creating divots in the walking path.
Dogs barked behind makeshift fencing, its recycled walls, something you'd find on a shed roof. A tree pushed into it, causing it to bulge under the pressure, and a mud puddle mirrored the blue sky and evergreen leaves.
A car door slammed behind me.
Two men stepped out of a white, single-cab truck as I glanced over my shoulder.
I turned back and limped down a side street towards a teen girl bouncing a basketball in her driveway.
"Hola ," I said, waving and doing my best to remember the Spanish Jorge taught me in our years together. " What direction is the border?"
The girl pointed, and I sucked in a breath of relief the border wasn't the way I'd just come.
"Gracias. How far? "
"A kilometer or so."
I converted kilometers to miles and nodded. "Gracias ."
Half a mile.
Fifteen minutes later, I hadn't even made it a quarter of the way.
My knee ached, and my head throbbed. The sun shone too bright, causing my eyes to squint in its hellacious beams.
But at least I'd made it into town, surrounded by crowds where hundreds of people would deter Miguel from finding me .
At least, I hoped it would.
Children's screams of joy and laughter resounded as I turned the corner, followed by splashes of water from the community Olympic-sized pool on the other side of the street.
"Grace."
Sweat dripped down my back as I turned.
Parked on the side of the road was the same white truck I'd seen pull up to the couple's house. Leaning against the passenger door was a man in tight blue jeans, a button-down vibrant shirt, and pointed cowboy boots with silver tips.
"You have the wrong person."
I turned back around and walked faster, swallowing down the pain in my body until pounding footfalls sounded behind me.
Sprinting with a horrid limp, I darted into the streets, cars blazing their horns in a chaotic chorus of warnings. A vehicle skidded to a stop mere inches from my shins, his horn hammering my ears.
" ?Qué mierda, lunático!" The man threw his hands into the air as if I intended to get hit by a car today.
"Sorry. Lo siento. " I patted the hood of his car as I walked around it, then looked over my shoulder.
The man worked his way across the two-lane road without attracting attention. I bolted, running into the community pool, stumbling over my feet.
Tears burned in my eyes as the pain pulsed through every fiber of my being. I weaved through kids and their parents, the man hot on my heels with an uneasy calm about him.
I rushed into the building through the women's changing room and then locked the door behind me. A white shirt hung out of an open locker door, and I snagged it with a pair of sneakers tucked under the bench.
My heart beat like a wild orchestra in my chest, my rib flexing far too much for a break. I shoved the one-size-too-big shoes on and discarded the blue arm brace onto the floor. The shirt slid over my head with ease, but I chewed on my inner lip to keep the cries down as I raised my arm through the holes.
Fists barraged the locked door, and a woman's voice seeped through the barrier.
Chlorine stung my nose as I made my way through the community center, avoiding the door I'd locked, and made my way through the crowd gathering at the cashier, my gaze bouncing off each individual who wasn't clad in swimwear .
I paused by the double-wide glass doors and scanned the streets, searching for the white truck, for the man with slicked-back, brown hair as though he'd fallen out of a grade B movie.
He knows my name.
He knows who I am.
I pushed open the doors and hobbled down the sidewalk. People cast glances my way as I held my arm close to my torso, my eyes burning from the held-back tears.
My heart pounded as pressure built in my head, and a beaming smile worked its way across my lips.
The bridge, which stretched over the Rio Grande River, was packed with cars sitting bumper to bumper, waiting their turn to enter the United States.
Border Patrol Agents’ silhouettes sharpened as I drew closer, the sidewalk stretching like an endless road.
"Walk back to my truck with me without making a scene..." a man said from behind me before he sidled up at my side, throwing his arm over my shoulder like we were long-time friends. "And I will put in a good word for you."
He turned my body back down the bridge, my spine growing rigid.
People in their cars averted their gazes as though I were one of the many vendors selling things between rows of cars.
I can't go back.
I'd take the long, deadly plunge off the side of the bridge and into the river before I let them haul me back in front of him and serve me up for punishment.
The air in my lungs evaporated as I turned, ducking under his arm, and ran.
His hand gripped my wrist, and my shoulder popped.
I belted out an arduous scream.
The man glanced around, his bushy black eyebrows raising as he looked behind me towards the border agents.
I gripped my arm as his hand fell from my wrist.
"That was a big mistake." He turned away, the sound of running footsteps behind me coming closer.
Tears fell down my cheeks as I turned and dropped to my scabbed and bruised knee.
My sanctuary within reach.
"Ma'am, do you need help?"
"I'm an American citizen, and I've been held against my will."