The Last Chance Ranch (21 page)

“What is this?”

“Tanya…your mother wrote them from prison. To you.”

Tonio tossed the packet back on Ramón’s desk. “I don’t want them.”

Grimly, Ramón picked them up and lifted Tonio’s hand and put the two together. “They’re all you have—your only legacy.”

Tonio stared at him, unmoving, and the dark blue stillness reminded Ramón deeply of Tanya. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

“How about read them? Damn, Tonio, don’t be so hard.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried to never say anything too bad about Victor, your father, but it’s time you really understood the truth.”

“Don’t bring him into it.”

“I have to, Antonio.” He stood up and walked to the window, where he stared at the night beyond. “He was mean, Tonio. Meaner than Edwin by a long shot. He was insanely jealous about your mother, too. She couldn’t even talk to anyone else. When she finally left him because of his cruelty, he stalked her, over and over again. You know some of this, but I don’t think you’ve given it enough thought.”

There was suspicious moisture in Tonio’s eyes again, and he blinked hard, finally looking down to the packet in his hands. “I don’t remember either one of them,” he said. “I just remember shouting. Screaming. My mother’s long blond hair.”

“You’re old enough to know now, Antonio,” Ramón said, turning to face him.

The boy’s mouth was tight. “I don’t want to know.”

“It won’t go away, son. Better to face it and get it over with now. You take those letters and read them.”

“None of this little speech changes the fact that you lied to me.”

“You’re right.” He crossed his arms. “But let’s be real honest with ourselves, eh? When I got the first letter from her, asking if she could see you when she got out, you’d just spent an afternoon with your Tía Luna, and she spent the whole time poisoning your mind against your mother. Your father’s family always did that. They hate your mother. If I’d brought Tanya in here and introduced her as your mother, you would have spit on her feet and refused to try to learn anything about her.”

Tonio said nothing, just rubbed a thumb over the edge of the letters.

“You know I’m right, Tonio. You just don’t want to admit there might be a reason to bend the rules once in a while. I practice honesty with you as much as I can, but you don’t necessarily need to know everything.”

Begrudgingly, Tonio nodded.

“You can go now, if you want,” Ramón said. “Unless you want to play a round of chess or something.”

“No, thanks.” Tonio tapped the letters with his fingers, and Ramón knew he’d won. At least Tonio would read them. At least he’d know the truth. That was a lot more than most people got.

Dear Antonio,

It’s my birthday today. I’m twenty-two. We went to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal, then I took you to a movie—Bambi, out for a special showing. I hope you remember seeing it. It’s a good movie. One I’ve always liked, even if the part about the mother is sad.

When we got home, I found all my china plates smashed to bits, and I know Victor, your father, has been here, and that he will be back. I don’t know what will happen, but I want you to have this, so you know how much I love you, how special you are. Of all the things that have happened to me, you’re the best.

I remember the night you were born. It was already midnight. You just barely made it on the tenth, eight minutes before the day changed. There had been so much noise and activity, but then everyone left. All the nurses and doctors and Victor and his family. And it was just you and I. They wanted to give you a bottle because you were so big they said my milk wouldn’t be enough, but one kind nurse left you with me and said it wouldn’t hurt anything if I nursed you, that if you were hungry later, they could always give you a bottle then.

So there we were in that quiet room that had been so loud, just you and me. You curled your fist and put it on my breast as you nursed and looked at me with those big, big eyes. Even then you had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen, and a thick head of hair that was still wet from being inside of me. There was this big fat lump in my chest right then, like nothing could ever go wrong again, not as long as you were my child. And just as I thought that, you let go of nursing and took a great big breath and sighed, like you felt that way, too.

Tonight, you’re going to go to the baby-sitter because I’m afraid of what’s going to happen here. I can’t stand to let you be so afraid again, like you were last time—screaming and screaming in your room. No. No, that’s not going to happen anymore. And maybe I won’t be there to give you hugs and kisses in person, so I’m giving them to you now. And wherever I am, I’ll always be your mother. I’ll always love you. More than I can ever, ever say. Be safe. Be good.

Love, Mom

R
amón was alone in his office. Outside, light snow fell, the first of the season, and it was beautiful. It made him so achingly lonely for Tanya he wanted to die. He simply sat in the chair and stared out the window and wondered how to make things right.

“Dad?” Tonio said from the doorway. In his hands were the letters from Tanya.

Ramón swiveled, surprised. “Come on in, Tonio.” Tonio had been weeping. There was dampness still in the extraordinarily long eyelashes. He came in and sat on the long couch against the wall. “You should read these.”

“No. They’re private, between your mom and you.”

“My mom.” He moved his hand on the letters. He took one of them out. “At least this one. It’s the oldest, the one she wrote to me the night she…that my father came after her.” His voice sounded strangled. “At least read it.”

Ramón took it. In a childish handwriting, still filled with loops and softly formed consonants, was Antonio Quezada, and the date, almost eleven years before. He steeled himself, and opened it, unfolding a single sheet of notebook paper, covered in the same unformed handwriting on both sides.

Dear Antonio,
he read,
It’s my birthday
.

When he finished, there was an ache in his chest and he had to bend his head and pinch the bridge of his nose for a long moment before he trusted himself to speak. “You’ve had this one a long time. I’ve read it before,” he said at last. Having read it before didn’t make it any less searing.

“I’ve read it, too,” Tonio said. “But I didn’t understand it until now.” He paused. “Until Edwin and Teresa.”

Ramón swallowed. “Yes.”

Tonio’s tears spilled over on his cheeks. “All this time, I’ve been so angry with her, and she did it all to keep me safe.” He closed his eyes. “It’s not fair what happened to her.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ramón crossed the room and sat down next to him, and put an arm around him. “But it isn’t your fault.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Ramón paused. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you do something to help her? Why didn’t you save her?”

“I didn’t know it was so bad. I didn’t even know she’d divorced Victor until after all of it happened.”

Tonio touched his chest. “I hate that I have his blood in me. That I’m from him.”

“No.” He tapped the letter they’d both read. “Do you think she would trade one minute of her life, one minute of anything that’s happened, for you?”

Tonio’s lip trembled, and another spill of silver tears fell on his face. Mutely, he shook his head.

“You’re loved, son. So much.”

“I know.”

Tonio put his head against his dad’s neck and wept. And Ramón just let him cry. There would be new grief, and new wonder, and even new anger before they were through, but the process, so long denied, had begun.

When the boy had calmed, Ramón said, “I want her back here. I want to marry her, but won’t even ask it if you aren’t ready.” He sighed. “I don’t want long, but I’ll wait awhile if you want a little time to get used to the whole idea.”

Tonio stared at him for a long time, and it was impossible for Ramón to read the expression in his eyes. “You mean we’ll be a family? Mom and dad and kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s exactly it. Maybe even some more kids, brothers and sisters, eh?” Ramón gave him a half smile.

“I don’t know about all that,” he said with a frown. “But the rest is okay.” He took a breath, blew it out hard. “Can I see her alone first, before you start all that?”

“Of course.”

“Can we go now? I want to stop by the drugstore.”

“Now is great.”

They stood up. Tonio leaned forward, almost as tall as Ramón, and hugged him awkwardly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Tonio shook his head. “For everything, I guess. For being my dad, for taking care of me when there was no one else. For stepping in.”

“Hey, how could I resist?” He smiled. “You were the cutest little boy—not like now, when you’re all surly teenagerness.”

Tonio grinned, and the expression showed a lot of his mother. “Gee, thanks.”

Ramón winked. “No problem.”

* * *

From her room on the second floor of the hotel, Tanya had a view of the Sangre de Cristos, jagged against the horizon, very blue in contrast to the snow beginning to fall in thick flakes. It was chilly. She huddled closer in her sweater and got up to find another pair of socks.

She had spoken to the owner of both cafés to see if either of them needed a cook. The owners of the Blue Swan, the Mexican food place where she and Ramón had eaten the first day she came to town, were clearly suspicious that an Anglo would presume to cook Mexican, but she managed to convince them she wasn’t telling lies, and they agreed to try her on weekends for a while. In the meantime, they needed a waitress for the lunch shift, starting the end of the week, and Tanya agreed to take the job.

On the way back to the hotel, she’d stopped at the bookstore and stocked up on paperback novels. It was depressing to find herself at such loose ends after all the motion of the ranch. Too much like prison.

But she refused to dwell on it. Munching M&M’s from a big bag, drinking hot tea from a thermos, she tried to read an Agatha Christie mystery.

When the knock sounded, it took Tanya a moment to realize it was at her door. The visitor knocked a second time before she jumped to her feet and ran across the room, hoping against hope that Ramón had come to visit.

It was Tonio.

Stunned, Tanya simply stared at him.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yes.” Tanya backed up, swinging the door wide to give him entrance. “Of course.”

He came in and stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Awkwardly, Tanya closed the door and folded her arms over her chest. “You can sit down if you want to.” She lifted her chin toward the table by the window. “Have some M&M’s.”

“Umm, thanks, but I really came to talk to you.” He thrust an envelope into her hands. “To give this to you.”

Tanya stared at him. Bright patches of color burned in his cheeks. He touched his nose, bowed his head. ‘‘Open it.”

She looked down at the envelope, then turned it over and lifted the flap. Inside was a card. She took it out.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. It was a big card, fancy, with a rose frosted with white glitter that came off on her hands. In scrolly script, it read, Happy Mother’s Day.

Trembling, Tanya opened it and had to blink several times to clear her vision before she could read the poem printed inside. “Roses are Red, Violets are blue, When I think of all you’ve done, Mother, I love you.” Below that, Tonio had written, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I hope we can start over fresh. Love, Antonio.

“P.S. I’m proud to be your son.”

“I had to ask the guy at the drugstore to see if he had a Mother’s Day card in the back,” Tonio said.

Tanya pressed her lips together, and blinked hard. She put the card down on the table blindly and put her fingers on her mouth, but the tears had been too long repressed. She looked at her son—her son—and tears ran unchecked down her face. “I didn’t expect this,” she whispered, fighting desperately for control.

“I read your letters,” he said. “They made me cry.”

Tanya shook her head. “You can’t imagine… how much I missed you,” she whispered. “So much. Every day. I’ve waited foryou for so long.” Her breath caught and she covered her mouth and turned away.

A little awkwardly, Tonio moved and hugged her. “I already did all my crying. Don’t be embarrassed.”

Silently she hugged him, letting the tears flow down her face, hot and free and fulsome. After a moment, the huge wave subsided enough that she could step back. She touched his face. “You’re still you, you know. That first day, I knew you right away in all those kids.”

He gave her his cockeyed grin. “That’s what my dad says, too.” Stepping toward the door, he said, “And speaking of him, he’s here, too.”

Tanya wiped her cheeks and turned around. As if that were his cue, Ramón came into the room. “My turn,” he said.

Tonio smiled and gave them a salute. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Tanya felt dizzy as Ramón moved toward her. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “It’s just…I can’t believe…”

He stopped in front of her and took her hands. “May as well have lots of things not to believe in then.”

“What?”

He looked at her hands in his, then lifted his gaze to her face. “I wanted to let you find your own life,” he said. “I had all these noble ideas about leaving you alone to be an adult without the state or some man telling you what do.” He shook his head. “But there’s been enough time wasted. I fell in love with you at first sight, Tanya.”

“I don’t want to be alone—”

“Shh, let me finish, because I might get tongue-tied if you stop me.”

Tanya made a noise of disbelief. “Tongue-tied? You?”

“It could happen.”

“Maybe.” She chuckled. “If you were dead.”

He
tsked
, but she saw the twinkle light his eyes. “You’ll spoil this if you don’t hush.”

“Sorry.” She bit her lip and shifted on her feet to assume a position of intent listening. A bubble of bright, pure happiness began to grow inside her.

“Where was I? Ah.” His eyes sobered. “I want to marry you, Tanya. I want you to come live at the ranch with me and Tonio and all the children. I want to grow old holding you at night.”