Resting Quietly #3
It was a miracle of sorts that their small tight family had blended so seamlessly with Reg’s big tight family, but Reg was grateful.
“Now that we both look like badasses in our pajamas,” Anthony said, rewrapping his towel and settling down at the table, “what are we here for?”
“Hold on,” Julie told him, giving Reg a brief sideways hug before handing him a new pair of glasses. “And here. I saw you didn’t have yours yesterday afternoon and got a pair from the nearest one-hour place after Dad texted me your prescription.”
“Oh my God,” Reg said, impressed. “How did you even notice—”
“I have been keeping track of your glasses since you were five. But sit. Dean’s getting you two plates of food.”
“But Mom, you left snacks!” Reg protested, and then his stomach gurgled. “Which we didn’t eat,” he added sheepishly.
“Well, this is my last chance to make sure you’ve eaten for a while,” she said firmly.
“Dean and I are refueling the boat and taking it back to Tillamook Bay—you told us the slip number and everything, so don’t worry about that.
Then, if you can give us the keys to his precious car, we’ll drive the Subaru back home.
We should be home in three days or so, and I’ll get a boat ride on the sound to boot.
” She smiled beatifically, as though she hadn’t just upended her entire life and that of her children for the sake of two teenagers she’d known for barely that long.
“And that way, Dean and I can have a little conversation about whatever it is that crawled up his asshole three days ago. It’s driving me batshit, and we need to have it out. ”
Anthony made a little sound then, and Reg glanced at him, surprised.
“Later,” Anthony mouthed, and Reg had a sudden chill. He knew Anthony had been in contact with his family when they’d had the phone—and time—but he wasn’t aware that any squabbles had started.
“Don’t you worry yourself about it,” Julie said, patting Reg’s arm. “Let me hash things out with Dean, and I’ll tell you what falls out.” She shook her head. “I swear, that boy gets so emotional and worked up over some things. He’s protective of you and Chance, that’s all.”
Reg stared at her, because of all the words to describe Dean, “emotional” was not one often employed. Although Reg knew he cared, and that his caring could be intense, “worked up” was not Dean’s go-to either.
He decided to trust this to his mother’s capable hands and let things wash out as they would. One of the things he’d learned in the last week was sometimes all the worry in the world couldn’t change things.
It felt like an enormous weight had lifted from his back, one he’d never known he’d borne.
“Well, be easy on him,” Reg said. “I mean, he really came through in the clutch, right?”
“The hope is he’ll be easy on me,” Julie told him soberly. “Parenthood is always such a crapshoot, you know? You think you’re making a good decision for the best of reasons, but you never know what kind of consequences it will have.”
Reg nodded, remembering every uncertain moment, every terrible decision he and Anthony had made since they’d hustled the kids out to his car and said, “C’mon, we gotta go.”
“After the last week,” he said, “I really believe that, Mom. I don’t know how you did it with all of us. We’re a lot.”
To his surprise, his mother’s laughter burbled out of her, and she hid her eyes against his upper arm.
“We are, aren’t we, son. And you all take turns being the most of a lot.
It was your turn this week. It’s Dean’s turn over the next three days.
Heaven knows who gets to be the most when I get home. ”
Reg grinned at her, thinking his mother could make pretty much any situation better, and she smiled gently back.
Dean arrived with their food—hotel staples of fruit, sausage, toast, potatoes, and—for Anthony—eggs.
Reg had never liked eggs, and after forcing himself to down one when he was on the boat to keep the seasickness at bay, he appreciated the lack of them—and the tube of ketchup for his potatoes—that came with the plates.
“Thanks, Dean,” he said happily, digging in.
“Any time, little brother,” he muttered, ruffling Reg’s hair.
Reg blinked at him, and Val snorted. And Agent Hemmer of border patrol cleared his throat.
“Okay, so first things first. I know you’re all concerned with the fate of our three emigres—let me reassure you all that Ms. Barrera and her nephew and their young friend will be offered every opportunity to move here to Canada, to be allowed to work, live, pay taxes, and even become citizens if that is what they wish after the proper amount of time passes and procedures are followed.
And while we have apprehended Ilia Kirov’s uncle and the other members of his gang and charged them for an illegal border crossing, possession of firearms, and using false credentials to impersonate members of a foreign law enforcement agency—” He sighed.
“—we don’t know how long they will be imprisoned or even if we’ll be able to make the charges stick.
Ilia’s best chance would be to stay here, be assigned an alternative identity, along with the Barreras, and to lay low and live his life until his uncle and all those around him fall out of power and find something different to occupy their time.
” He paused and pursed his lips. “Or die. He is not in an occupation that promotes long life, and neither are his associates. But since we can’t count on that happening, I’m thinking maybe a change of venue is best.”
“Ilia’s mother…?” Anthony asked, giving Reg a sad glance.
“She smuggled Ilia’s passport to Ms. Barrera the day after the boys ran away from the school,” Julie said. “And she told us her brother would use her to get to Ilia. We couldn’t contact you to let you know that they’d be tracing the boy’s phone, but I guess you figured that out yourselves.”
“He was so brave,” Reg said, nodding so Agent Hemmer would understand this. “He threw the phone into the ocean and didn’t look back. He knew as soon as his mom texted him that he’d either have to turn us in to his uncle or he’d be killed himself.”
“So he’s told us,” Hemmer said, nodding back. “You’re right. It was a tough decision—and a brave one. And it probably saved his life. His uncle did not have kind things to say about Ilia—I suspect he would have been killed whether or not he gave his family information about you all.”
“I showed up at the school,” Julie said, “and Adelle had just gotten the passport and the letter, and she took one look at me and started to cry.” She glanced at Reg fondly.
“She remembered me, I guess, from when you went there. I told her we could take her to Reynaldo, but it would mean she’d leave everything behind.
She stood up, grabbed her purse and her sweater, and walked out.
” Reg’s mom shrugged sadly. “A girl was there as she left—one with purple hair—and Adelle hugged her and told her, ‘I have to go. It doesn’t mean I don’t care for you all.
’ And then we left.” She bit her lip, and Reg could tell she was trying not to tear up.
“Just like that. Fucking heartbreaking is what it was. And so unnecessary.”
“Very necessary, Mom,” Dean said softly. “Even without Bratva, ICE would never have left her or Reynaldo alone.”
“She had us take her to a branch of her bank on the way out of town. She closed out all her accounts and made arrangements for her last check to be mailed to Canadian Border Patrol.” Julie shrugged. “Agent Hemmer, did she tell you that?”
“No, ma’am, but it was a smart move. If nothing else, it could point anybody looking for her our way. Whether it’s a bad person or a good person, she’ll be safe.”
“Good.” Julie gave a small smile. “She went shopping at a Walmart in Redding as we were heading north. Every stitch on her back is brand-new. Once I have an address, I’ll knit her a sweater so she’ll own something that wasn’t made on the cheap and mass produced.”
“She’d like that,” Reg said, remembering his old art teacher with a pang. She hadn’t deserved this—but she had risen to the occasion magnificently. Reynaldo deserved her as nobody else in the world could.
“So that brings us to you all, hopping on a boat in Tillamook Bay,” Hemmer said, steering the conversation delicately back on track. “Did anybody see you there?”
“No,” Anthony said. “See, the thing is, we never knew if it was ICE on our backs or Bratva dressed as ICE. We think it was Bratva at the cheese factory, and at the hotel at first, but we heard a bunch of shouting and then a different set of voices, and it sounded like, you know, ICE. Either way, we stayed in hiding. Reynaldo was sick by this time, and having him end up in a concentration camp was not an option.”
“They call them detention camps,” Hemmer corrected mildly.
“They call themselves law enforcement, and that’s a lie too,” Anthony replied, his face darkening.
“Anyway, a… well, let us call him a good Samaritan, saw us hide in his boat, went and bought us breakfast, and then took us out to sea.” Anthony smirked.
“We asked him if he was going to cut us up into little pieces and feed us to sharks. He did not. When we stopped at the harbor, the plan was he was going to go buy us some groceries—more medicine for Reynaldo, some extra blankets, a charger for the phone, some more Dramamine for Reg—”
Reg grimaced. “Alas,” he said, remembering stretching the medicine out to its last dregs so he could make it across the sound. Val cuffed him playfully on the arm, and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I still get seasick,” he said, shaking his head. “Of all the times to have to take a boat.”
“But ICE—and we think it was ICE, because they didn’t have masks—were bullying the harbor master as we pulled away. That’s when our phone juice ran out, which is why we lost contact.”