The Masterpiece

  Angry, confused, Roman paced. Pain shot up his leg. Raking his hands through his hair, he wondered what he’d done wrong and how he could fix things. Why had he thrown Patrick in Grace’s face? What did she mean that he was exactly like her ex-husband? Grace just didn’t get it. He’d never asked a woman to spend an entire night, let alone move in with him. That should count for something.

  He’d wait a few minutes to let her cool off. Then he’d go over and talk with her. Maybe if he told her she didn’t understand how deep his feelings ran. Maybe she needed to know she meant more to him than any woman he’d ever met, and he wanted her in his life, for however long these feelings lasted.

  He’d give her some time to think. Maybe a night to sleep on the idea. Talk again in the morning.

  Do you really think the girl is coming back, Bobby Ray?

  Roman headed for the door. He limped along the walkway and saw taillights leaving the driveway. Without the leg injury, he would have run after her. He exhaled a four-letter word. Where would Grace go? Wherever her son lived during the week, probably. Where was that? Burbank! Where in Burbank? Maybe she’d stay with a friend. Which friend? Shanice? Doubtful. Or was it? He couldn’t remember her last name. He killed the urge to get in his car and follow her. She’d be long gone by the time he reached the road. Even if he did catch up, chasing her would only endanger her and make everything worse.

  Think!

  Roman pulled out his phone and texted her. Don’t run and hide. Talk to me. He knew she wouldn’t read it until she got to wherever she was going. He pocketed the phone and looked out into the darkness.

  Grace had to come back. Calm down, Roman. She still works for you. She’ll cool off. She still lives in your cottage. Everything she owns is in that place. She’s not going to leave it all behind. You’ll have a second chance.

  Roman closed his eyes, struggling with the tsunami of emotions. He’d forgotten how much love hurt, and now the tide of pain was rolling in and over him, pulling him under. “Jesus, help me.”

  He spent the rest of the night in his studio blasting the back wall with spray paint.

  Grace cried all the way to North Hollywood. She managed to dry her tears before she reached Shanice’s Magnolia Boulevard condo. Shanice came out the front door of the complex and embraced Grace on the walkway. “Oh, honey, you’re shaking.” She grabbed Grace’s canvas suitcase. “We’ll talk inside.”

  A warm breeze whipped palm branches overhead as Grace went up the stone steps and into the white plaster building with a red-tiled roof. An elevator took them to the third floor. Shanice quickly unlocked the door and let Grace in. Sinking onto the couch, Grace pulled several tissues from a box on the coffee table. She was already having second thoughts about leaving the cottage. What if she went back tonight? Would Roman knock on her door and apologize? What if he did? Would that change anything? Oh, God, why did You put me there if it was going to end like this?

  Shanice put the suitcase down and sat with her. “What happened?”

  Facing the truth, Grace started to cry again. “He wants a friend with benefits.”

  “Did you—?”

  “No! We only kissed, but . . .” She looked at Shanice.

  “Oh.”

  Grace blew her nose. “He made dinner, a really nice dinner, and set up the table on the patio. He chilled sparkling cider. He even had candles.”

  Shanice gave a soft laugh. “Well, that dirty dog.”

  Grace hiccuped. “It’s not funny.”

  “Oh, honey, I know. Anyone with half a brain can see you’re in love with the guy. I thought maybe he felt the same way, but never mind. Roman Velasco looks like the whole package—good-looking, rich, single. But he’s damaged goods.”

  “So am I.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  Grace yanked out two more tissues. “I love him, Shanice. And now, I have to quit my job. I can’t live in his cottage. I have to move. I can’t see him again. If I do, I’ll give in, just like I always do.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. “I should’ve run the day I met him. I thought I was immune. I thought I’d learned my lesson about men. And then I move in right next door!”

  “We all thought God put you there.” Shanice took her hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “This time. He makes my knees weak.”

  “You had the good sense to get out of there.”

  “Yes, but what am I going to do now? Go back and live with the Garcias? Selah wants Samuel. She’s pushing hard to keep him, and I can’t let that happen. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll be unemployed again. I don’t have a place to live. I don’t want to give up my son.” Grace sobbed. “I can’t bear it.”

  Shanice put her arm around Grace. “You don’t have to give him up. You can stay here.”

  “What about your roommate?”

  “She moved out a few days ago.”

  “But I should just let the Garcias keep him! I’m such a mess. Samuel deserves a good, full-time mother, and Selah loves him so much. Samuel should have a father, and Ruben is a good one.”

  “Stop punishing yourself, Grace. You made one mistake. You need to think this through rationally. You’ve been beating yourself up since—”

  “I just want to do what’s best for my son.”

  “Listen to me. What’s best for Samuel is to be with his real mother full-time.” Shanice squeezed Grace’s hand and stood. “I’m going to fix some chamomile tea.” She went into the adjoining kitchen. “You’re staying with me until we sort things out. As for Selah, that woman is putting you through hell. You can pick up Samuel tomorrow and bring him back here. You’re his mother, Grace.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll muster the troops. Ashley and Nicole and you and I will all put our heads together and come up with some options.”

  Grace felt steadier until her phone pinged with a text message—the second one Roman had sent—and her heart began racing again. Shanice looked over her shoulder, but didn’t say anything. Afraid she’d weaken, Grace deleted both texts. Her phone was almost dead, and she’d forgotten to pack the charger. A quivery warmth spread at the thought of going back, a telltale understanding of what would happen if she did. She turned off her phone and threw it in her purse.

  Roman didn’t sleep all night. He’d gotten up periodically and gone to the studio to see if Grace had come home. The lights stayed off in the cottage. Her car wasn’t in the garage the next morning. He drank all six bottles of Heineken and half the bottle of champagne, hoping he could drown the hot lump of pain in his throat. He passed out on the couch and dreamed of the Tenderloin. Hey, Bobby Ray. Did you think you’d be any better as Roman Velasco? You’re still the same bastard son of a ghetto prostitute, not even a father’s name on your birth certificate. Stick with your own kind. The Tenderloin morphed into hell, with monsters wandering the streets and climbing the walls he’d blasted with cans of Krylon. Welcome home, Bobby Ray. Mocking laughter surrounded him, jeering grins and grotesque faces. Welcome back.

  Roman awakened late in the afternoon, hair stiff with dried paint, mouth dry, head pounding, sick to his stomach. He checked his cell phone. No response from Grace.

  Depression hung so heavy he felt the crushing weight of it. Just end it, a voice growled. Roman tried to pray, but the voices kept taunting him. Even the demons believe in Jesus, Bobby Ray. And you know where they are. You know where you belong.

  His cell phone rang, and he grabbed it, not even checking the ID. “Grace? Where are you?”

  “It’s Brian.”

  Roman felt the hard kick. “Is she with you?”

  “No. She’s staying with a friend.”

  Emotions in turmoil, Roman wanted to make demands, but knew he had no right. “She’s safe. She’s okay.”

  “Safe, yes. Okay? No more than you, by the sound of your voice.”

  “You’re the kind of guy she’s looking for. Someone stable, all together.”

&nbsp
; “She’s in love with you.”

  Why did love have to mean loss? Roman’s eyes felt like they were filled with salted sand. He rubbed them. Don’t cry. A man doesn’t cry. The silence stretched.

  Brian sighed. “I’d say you’re in new territory, my friend. I’m here, if you want to talk. Day or night.”

  Brian sounded like Jasper. When had talking ever done any good? Roman didn’t trust himself to speak. He touched the button to end the call and tossed the phone on the coffee table.

  GRACE CALLED THE GARCIAS. Thankfully, Ruben answered. He didn’t seem surprised to hear from her in the middle of the week, nor that she needed to speak with him and Selah as soon as possible. “You’ve made your decision.” He sounded relieved. “Come this evening after seven. It’s important the whole family be here.”

  Shanice asked if Grace wanted her to come and lend support, but Shanice wouldn’t hold back if Selah resisted. The last thing Grace wanted was to hurt the family who’d helped her through the most difficult time in her life. But she wasn’t going to make her child the sacrifice.

  Selah opened the door and embraced her. “I know how difficult this has been for you, chiquita. I knew you’d eventually do the right thing.” She released Grace and stepped back, her smile beaming. “Ruben and the children are in the living room.”

  No one spoke when Grace came in. She felt outnumbered with Ruben, Javier, and Alicia all seated in the living room. The atmosphere felt heavy with tension. Only Selah looked happy, excited. “We’ve been looking forward to this for months.” Selah waved her toward the couch. “Please, sit.”

  It might have been wise to bring Shanice as support. Insides quivering with nerves, Grace perched on the edge of a chair. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

  Selah clasped her hands in her lap, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “We can have the papers—”

  “Selah.” Ruben spoke firmly. “Permítele hablar.”

  Grace didn’t know an easy way to tell Selah. “I’m keeping Samuel. I’m taking him with me tonight.” Selah looked confused and then shocked. Grace went on quickly before she could speak. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done—”

  “You can’t take him!” Selah’s eyes darkened in anger, even as the color drained from her cheeks. “This is his home. He belongs here with me!”

  “Grace is Samuel’s mother, Selah.” Ruben put his hand firmly over his wife’s. “You and I have talked about this many times.”

  Selah yanked her hand free. “I’m as much his mother as she is.” She glared at Grace and looked ready to fight.

  Alicia surged to her feet, startling everyone. “You’re more his mother than you are mine!” She burst into angry tears, stepped around the coffee table, and fled down the hall. Stunned, Grace winced at the slammed door.

  Ruben, furious, jerked his head at Javier. “Get your sister. This is a family matter.” When they both came back, Ruben stood. “Siéntate!” A rapid-fire conversation in Spanish took place before Alicia obeyed.

  Ruben took his seat, calmer now. “Tell your mother how you feel, Lici.” He spoke gently, but with insistence.

  “She won’t listen. She never listens.” The tears came again, but all defiance was gone.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Selah demanded, her anger shifting from Grace to her daughter.

  “You care more about Sammy than you do about me or Javier.”

  Selah waved a hand, dismissing the accusation. “That’s not true! I do your laundry. I fix dinner every night. I drop you off at soccer practice and pick you up. You’ve been spoiled.”

  Alicia’s young face twisted with hurt. “When was the last time you came to one of my soccer games, Mamá? You used to come.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “Papá makes time. He comes when he doesn’t have to work late. But you? You never have time anymore. Sammy is always your excuse. It’s too hot. He needs to play, and he can’t do that in a stroller. He needs a diaper change.” Her voice rose. “It’s always about what the baby needs.”

  Angry and defensive, Selah looked between her children. “I’m always here for you! You’re both almost grown up already. You don’t need me anymore.”

  “You used to sit and talk with me after school every day, Mamá.” Alicia leaned forward, hands fisted in her lap. “All you care about is Samuel, and he isn’t even yours!”

  Selah looked as though she’d been slapped.

  Ruben turned to his son. “What about you, Javier? Do you have something to tell your mother?” When Javier shrugged, Ruben told him to speak up.

  “I’m graduating in June and—”

  “Yes,” Selah interrupted, impatient. “And you’ll go off to college and have a life of your own.”

  “I’m not going to college next year, Mamá. I’m enlisting in the Army.”

  Selah stared at him, then shook her head. “No, you’re not. That’s not even funny. Tell him, Ruben!”

  “He’s eighteen. He can speak for himself.” Ruben leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the arms, the only sign of his tension.

  Javier leaned forward. “The Army will pay my way through university, Mamá.”

  “You’ll go to the junior college and work.” She turned away from Javier and faced Grace again. “We have other things to talk about tonight.”

  “More important things than your own children!” Alicia started to rise again, but one look from Ruben had her sitting. She turned her face away.

  Javier shrugged. “Maybe she’ll believe me when I get on the bus to boot camp.”

  Alicia erupted again. Selah grew defensive.

  Grace didn’t want to be in the middle of their family crisis. Maybe caring for Samuel had been Selah’s way of fighting off the inevitable loss of her own children. They all began talking in Spanish at once. Grace got up quietly and walked down the hall. Samuel awakened when she lifted him. “Mama . . .”

  Her heart melted. Oh, Lord, thank You. He knows I’m his mother. He rested his head on her shoulder and fell back to sleep. She had reached the front door when Selah came into the foyer.

  “You can’t take him.”

  “Mi amor! Stop this!” Ruben grasped her arm. “Samuel is her son. We agreed to help—”

  She wrenched her arm from Ruben’s grip and took a step toward Grace, arms outstretched. Grace spread her hand on Samuel’s back and backed away. Ruben caught Selah by the shoulders. “Go,” he ordered Grace as Selah became hysterical.

  A wave of grief overwhelmed Grace. Maybe if she’d tried harder, or worked things out differently, this family wouldn’t be suffering now. “I’m sorry, Ruben. I’m so sorry.” She fled, Selah crying out behind her. Opening the car door, Grace fumbled with the straps to secure Samuel in his seat.

  “Grace, espera.” Ruben came down the walk. Selah stood on the threshold, arms wrapped around herself, sobbing.

  Closing the car door, Grace stood in front of it. “You’re not keeping him, Ruben. I’m sorry Selah is so upset.” She started to cry. “Samuel is my son, and I’m not giving him up. I told you both at the hospital, right after he was born.”

  He held up his hands. “It’s all right, chiquita. I knew this day would come. I warned her. She knows a child belongs with his mother.”

  Looking past him to Selah, Grace shook her head.

  “My wife has been living a dream. She’s awake now.” Sorrow etched his kind face. “You have a good job and a beautiful place to raise your son.” When he held out his arms, Grace went into them.

  Grace thought better of telling him she had no job or home and no idea what she was going to do in the days ahead.

  Grace had left all of Samuel’s things at the cottage, and taken nothing from the Garcias. She stopped at a Walmart and picked up what she needed for a couple of nights before going back to Shanice’s. While Samuel slept, Grace composed a letter of resignation and apology to Roman. She told him she fully understood as per their rental agreement
she would have to forfeit the security deposit and last month’s rent she’d paid.

  When Shanice got up the next morning, Grace held up the envelope. “My letter of resignation and the key to his house. I’ll drop it off when I go back and get Samuel’s things and a few more of my own.”

  “Nothing doing, girlfriend.” Shanice plucked the envelope from her hand. “You’re too vulnerable. I’ll take care of it.”

  Grace wanted to argue, but Shanice was right.

  “Call the church, honey. See if any of the men who help people move are available this weekend.”

  Samuel secure in his car seat, Grace drove to a public storage facility and rented a unit large enough to store her furniture until she had a place to live. The church administrator called back in the afternoon. Four men had volunteered for work Saturday morning.

  Shanice returned with everything Grace needed: playpen, baby clothes, baby food, diapers, and toys. The crib would have to be taken apart and packed, but Grace loved having her son snuggled against her at night.

  “I gave Velasco the letter and told him everything would be cleared out this weekend.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “He took the letter, heard me out, and closed the door.”

  Hot tears filled Grace’s eyes. “Well, I guess that’s that.”

  Shanice sighed. “You don’t have to go, Grace. We can take care of everything.”

  “I’ll go early and do the packing.”

  “I can go with you.”

  “I’ll be all right.” She gave Shanice a weak smile. “I’m not the naive girl I was.”

  Shanice looked dubious, but didn’t argue. “I’d offer to keep Samuel, but I think you’re safer if he’s with you.”

  Grace understood all too well.

  Early Saturday morning, she headed to Topanga Canyon with boxes and tape. She alternated between fear and hope she’d see Roman. When she unlocked the cottage and walked in, she found a large manila envelope that had been slid under the door. She stepped around it and put Samuel on the living room rug with toys from her tote bag. Inside the envelope was the rental agreement, Canceled written in dark, bold letters across the front page, a check reimbursing her security deposit and last month’s rent paper-clipped to it. In a white legal envelope, she found another check for two months’ salary, and a formal letter of recommendation. Efficient . . . personable . . . trustworthy . . . quick learner . . . hard worker . . .