The Masterpiece

  Deena made it to Shanice’s Lexus on her own feet. She kept crying and mumbling while Shanice buckled her in. Shanice wiped the hair back from Deena’s face and told her to try to sleep. She’d be home soon. It took over an hour to reach Deena’s parents’ house, and the girl was sober enough to be embarrassed. She apologized profusely as Shanice helped her out of the car.

  Roman got out. “You need a hand?”

  “Better if I take her inside and talk to her folks. I might be a little while.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  It was another hour before Shanice returned and sank into the passenger seat. “Thanks for coming with me, Roman. When she called, I took it as a cry for help.” She put her head back. “I hate that place.”

  “What turned you off to it?”

  “Grace.” She shook her head. “I was telling you how I wanted her to have some fun? Well, I made her take her hair down that night. It was long then. And blonde. And I made her put on one of my slinky dresses.” She glanced at him. “I dumped that part of my wardrobe after that night.” She sighed. “We walked into After Dark, and Grace froze with her mouth open. I thought it was hilarious and half dragged her inside. She was so shocked and uptight, I said I’d get her a drink. Of course she protested. She doesn’t drink, you know. I lied and said I’d get her something harmless. One was enough. She looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen her.”

  Shanice leaned back. “Some guy asked me to dance, and off I went. I checked on Grace once, and she still had that sloe gin fizz in front of her. Or so I thought. I didn’t know she finished the one I bought her and ordered another. She seemed okay sitting at a table by the back wall, watching the action. I’m ashamed to say I forgot all about her for a while. When I did remember, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the ladies’ room, either. I looked all over and couldn’t find her. I was more ticked off than worried. I figured she called Uber and went home.” She covered her face. “I wish.”

  Roman knew something bad happened that night, but was afraid to ask what.

  “I called her the next day, intending to tell her it wasn’t nice to leave without telling me. I could tell she was crying. I asked what was wrong. She couldn’t even talk. I left work and went to see her. It took a while, but she told me everything. She was so ashamed, and it was my fault. I should’ve been watching out for her instead of off having a good time.”

  His hands shifted on the wheel. “Did someone rape her?” He could feel the heat of anger rising.

  “No, thank God. She said she felt good and started to dance. By herself. A man took her in his arms and danced with her. When he asked if she wanted to leave, she said yes. He took her to a condo in Malibu. You can guess the rest.”

  Roman’s hands tensed on the wheel.

  Shanice looked straight ahead. “She didn’t ask his name. She said they barely talked. She couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Tall, dark hair, strong. When he went into the bathroom after they had sex, she threw on her clothes and left.” Shanice started to cry. “That’s the last time I went to After Dark. Until tonight. I didn’t want to be reminded of what a lousy friend I was that night.”

  She wiped away tears. “I told Grace how sorry I was. I should’ve stayed with her. Her self-esteem was in the basement. Of course she blamed herself.” She looked out the car window. “She would’ve been safer with her hair up. Men seem to go for blondes. And that black dress.”

  Roman remembered how beautiful Grace looked the night of his Laguna Beach art exhibit.

  Shanice sat up straighter in the passenger seat and looked at him, eyes glittering in the dim light. “Would you like to know why Grace bleached her hair? Her husband said she’d be pretty if she were a blonde. Can you believe that? As if she isn’t already beautiful inside and out. But you know Grace. She wants to do her best at everything she does, and of course, she wanted to be a good wife. So, she gave him what he wanted. Not that it made any difference to that jerk.”

  Roman winced, seeing himself as he’d been.

  “She told me she has terrible judgment when it comes to men.” She gave him a wincing look.

  “Including me, you mean.” His heart was pounding hard and fast. “Sounds like she’s right.” He glanced at Shanice. “Did she ever go back to After Dark and try to reconnect with the guy?”

  “Are you kidding? No!”

  “Just wondering. She had a relationship with someone after her divorce, didn’t she?”

  “A boyfriend, you mean?” Shanice shook her head. “Not that I know about, and I’d know.” She shifted in the passenger seat, facing him. “I don’t get it, Roman. Why is it some people can get away with everything, and then along comes someone sweet like Grace, and she can’t even act out one time without paying the full price.”

  Roman glanced at her. “What price?”

  She gave him a pained smile. “Samuel.”

  Roman felt like she’d punched him in the stomach. “I thought she and her ex—”

  “He didn’t want children. She lost a baby once, and he actually celebrated. He didn’t want the responsibility.” Shanice looked at the street ahead. “She didn’t tell us for three months. She could’ve had an abortion. A friend even suggested it.”

  He went hot. “You?”

  “No, but I’m not saying who. Grace thought about giving him up for adoption. It was agreed that Selah and Ruben Garcia would take him, but the minute Grace held Samuel, she couldn’t go through with it. It’s been an emotional tug-of-war from day one. When you rented her the cottage, she saw a way out of her situation, and then, of course, that changed. I just wish she hadn’t left LA. I miss her.” She met his gaze briefly. “She wanted her son to grow up in a safer place.”

  “She needed to get away from the Garcias. And me.” Roman pulled alongside the curb and put the car in park, leaving the engine idling. “Anything else you want to tell me about Grace?”

  Shanice looked apologetic. “I think I’ve said too much already.”

  He waited a moment longer and saw she meant it. “I love her, Shanice.” He wanted to ask how to find her. Jesus, I want to get things right. Oh, God; oh, God.

  Shanice’s eyes glistened. “I know you love her, Roman. And I’d give you her address if I hadn’t given my word.”

  He got out of her car. Shanice came around to the driver’s side, but didn’t get in. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even brought her up tonight. I don’t know why I did. It wasn’t my right to tell you her story.”

  “No, it wasn’t, but I’m glad you did.” He thought he’d felt pain enough, but he hadn’t known the half of it.

  Shanice slid into the driver’s seat and Roman closed the door. She lowered the window. “Please don’t think less of her.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Roman leaned down slightly. “When you talk to Brian, tell him I’m going to be gone for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “San Francisco.” He’d already packed and planned to leave the next morning. “Tell him I’m taking care of unfinished business. He’ll understand.”

  “Safe travels, Roman.” Shanice drove away.

  Roman entered his apartment and tossed his keys on the coffee table. Sinking onto the couch, he put his head in his hands. “Jesus.” It was a soft, broken cry. Shanice talked about the men in the club, and he saw himself—callow, callous, a user. If Grace had stayed at the cottage, he’d have had no qualms about seducing her.

  A blonde. In a black dress. Just his type.

  “Jesus.” Roman’s voice came out in a broken rasp, hanging between self-disgust and despair . . . and anger, too. God, You should have left me in hell. It’s what I deserve.

  Saved by grace, Brian had told him more than once.

  Grace.

  Leaning forward, Roman wept.

  GRACE SAT OUTSIDE beneath the covered patio with her aunt while Samue
l toddled around the backyard. She’d already plucked one wiggly worm and glossy snail from his fist, thankfully before he popped them in his mouth for a taste. He headed for the big red ball, accidentally booting it. With a squealing laugh, he went after it.

  Aunt Elizabeth chuckled. “He’ll make a good soccer player.” She sipped her green tea.

  It was a little chilly outside, but Samuel needed running room. He’d been cooped up in the house for the last week while rain pattered the roof.

  “What’s on your mind, Grace?”

  What always seemed to be on her mind lately: Roman. She didn’t speak his name aloud. “Nothing but the usual.” She couldn’t bring herself to talk about him. Not with her aunt. Not with anyone. How long was it going to take to get over him?

  “Is your business going all right?”

  “It keeps me very busy. Jasper referred another student. Thankfully, because one of my clients no longer needs my services. He got an A on his final.”

  “Just like Patrick.” Aunt Elizabeth grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up the past. What about your social life?”

  “Church on Sunday and the ladies’ Bible study midweek.”

  “Have you met any eligible bachelors?”

  “I’m not looking for one.”

  “Because you’re still in love with Roman Velasco.”

  Grace wasn’t going to lie. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  Samuel pounced on the ball, and it shot out from under him like a rocket. Grace and her aunt laughed. Samuel let out a screech of surprise and propped himself up on his arms. He got to his feet and went after the ball again.

  “Nice to see he doesn’t give up.” Aunt Elizabeth set her teacup on the saucer.

  “Not when he wants something.”

  “What about you, Grace? Why don’t you just call Roman and see what happens?”

  “I know what would happen, and I’m not taking the risk. Besides, you’ve done without a man all your life. So can I.” Regretting her angry outburst, Grace stood. “Would you like more tea? I’m getting more coffee.”

  “You can’t even bear to talk about—”

  “If Roman wanted to pursue a real relationship, he’d find me.”

  Aunt Elizabeth set her teacup and saucer on the end table. “And how on God’s green earth is he supposed to do that? You changed your number and moved to Merced. You swore me and all your friends to secrecy. What’s the man supposed to do? Hire a private detective? Hunt you down like one of the FBI’s ten most wanted?”

  “Has he called you?”

  Aunt Elizabeth didn’t speak for a moment. “No.”

  “He’s never asked Shanice either. So there’s the answer.”

  Aunt Elizabeth wilted slightly. “I didn’t know.” She looked away. “I thought . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind what I thought. It’s none of my business, and I’m sorry I butted in.” Her expression turned to one of pain and concern. “I just want to see you happy.”

  “I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve lost weight. And you don’t look like you’re sleeping very much.”

  Grace came back and sat. She watched Samuel wrestling the red ball into submission. “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt Samuel.”

  “Like introducing a man into his life who may not be the marrying kind.”

  “Precisely.”

  Aunt Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a long time. Samuel sat and rubbed his eyes. Grace got up and went to him. Lifting him, she hugged him close. “Nap time, little man.” Aunt Elizabeth followed Grace inside and stayed in the kitchen to wash the few dishes. Grace sat in the living room rocker, Samuel snuggled in her lap, his head resting against her chest. She loved this time of day, loved the feel of his little body loosening and warming in her arms as he fell asleep.

  “He looks like an angel.” Aunt Elizabeth sat on the couch. “You’re a good mother, Grace.”

  “I’m trying my hardest.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better to leave things as they are.”

  Grace wanted to believe that.

  Roman slept for a few hours and left around noon to drive up the Pacific Coast Highway. He needed time to think before he arrived in San Francisco. When he reached the city, he didn’t check into a hotel on Nob Hill or downtown, though he could easily afford either. He went to the Phoenix in the old hood. A last-minute cancellation had opened up a room. He took that as a sign God was with him.

  Still wide-awake after midnight, he decided to take a stroll down memory lane. Nighttime had been playtime when he was a teen. Shrugging into his leather bomber jacket, Roman went for a walk through the Tenderloin.

  It hadn’t improved much. The homeless population had grown. Trash still spilled over cans and alley Dumpsters. New graffiti marked walls. Some tough-looking kids came down the sidewalk toward him. Roman took his hands from his jacket pockets and stared the leader in the eye. The group passed by without a word, two looking back at him. Roman kept going until he came to the overpass where White Boy died. He looked up at the concrete arch, letting himself think about his erstwhile friend, and made peace with the place before he walked on.

  The apartment house where he’d lived with his mother looked the same. The right kind of graffiti would improve the place. The third-story window was dark. How many hours had he spent looking out and waiting for his mother to come home?

  You know I love you, baby. I always come back, don’t I?

  The nightclub where she worked had a new name, but was still in business. Sleazy music oozed out the front door. Steeling himself, he went inside, but got no further than a podium occupied by a middle-aged man in a cheap suit. “Twenty bucks will get you inside.” The man looked Roman over. “A hundred will get you more.” Roman didn’t take out his wallet. The smell of booze hung in the place, and one glimpse of an expressionless girl gyrating on the stage turned his stomach. A man at a table by the stage stood and tucked money in her G-string. Roman went back outside.

  Gulping cold, moist coastal air, he walked away.

  He spent another two hours wandering the streets, thinking about his mother. Be honest. Look to Me. Understanding bubbled to the surface. He’d loved his mother. And hated her—for what she did to make a living, for leaving that night, for breaking her promise. He’d never wanted to admit those feelings, but now he felt them like an open wound that still bled and left him raw with pain. He knew what God wanted him to do—to confess what he’d kept locked inside for so many years.

  I am the Healer.

  Instead of the shame Roman expected, he felt the old pain soften into understanding. His mother had been a child when she got pregnant and gave birth to him, barely an adult when she died. To his knowledge, she never had friends or family to help her. She’d been abandoned long before he came along. Whatever the circumstances, Roman knew something else. She hadn’t thrown him away. She kept him close. She loved him.

  Still walking, Roman suddenly remembered the landlord in the apartment building talking with the stranger who’d grabbed him. What had he said? It all came back, as if it played out in front of him. The man had given the landlord a wad of money and then followed Bobby Ray up the stairs. You’re coming with me. Bobby Ray had fought, instinctively sensing something wrong, terribly wrong. The would-be abductor started carrying him down the stairs. Then Bobby Ray’s second-grade teacher had shown up with a police officer. The man let go of him and disappeared like a rat down a hole.

  The hair on Roman’s neck prickled as he experienced an epiphany. He’d only been seven, but he’d felt the evil in the man’s intentions. Even after that narrow escape, he’d kicked and clawed to get away from the policeman, who put him in the back of a squad car. He hadn’t seen them as rescuers. They were both enemies who wanted to take him away from his mother. He’d cried and screamed curses on the teacher, who sat next to him in the squad car. He’d kicked the back of the police officer’s seat al
l the way to the station, where he was turned over to a social worker from CPS.

  Lord, how many years have I carried all that hatred around and let it shape my life?

  Sitting in an all-night café, Roman asked God what he should do next. He got an answer as the sun came up. Exhausted, but resolved, he went to the elementary school and asked for the names of the second-grade teachers who’d been there the year he was seven. He recognized the name of one and asked where he might find Morgan Talbot.

  “Mr. Talbot is still here. He’s on break right now.”

  God’s perfect timing. “Could I speak with him?”

  The secretary made a call to the teacher’s room. A few minutes later, Mr. Talbot entered the office. Roman recognized him immediately. Talbot’s hair was now gray, not red; his shoulders stooped slightly, and he wasn’t nearly as tall as Roman remembered. He’d seemed a giant to a seven-year-old boy. Talbot’s eyes were still kind.

  “You probably don’t remember a seven-year-old kid named Bobby Ray Dean.”

  “I remember.” His smile was wistful. “You were the first boy I had to turn in to CPS. I’m sorry to say there have been others since.”

  “I don’t imagine it gets easier.”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  “Maybe it’ll help to know you saved my life that day.” Looking back now, Roman saw how God sent Talbot at the exact time Bobby Ray Dean needed rescue. “The landlord had just sold me. If you and that police officer had arrived five minutes later, I would’ve been gone and probably long dead by now.” He felt gratitude well up inside him, not just for Talbot, but for God, who sent him. He held out his hand. “I’m late in saying it, but thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Talbot’s eyes moistened, and he shook hands with Roman. “I was just doing what was right.” He cleared his throat. “The officer was my cousin. He’s retired. Living in Montana now.”

  “How about you? Are you retiring soon?”

  “He’d better not.” The secretary spoke up from behind the counter. “He’s the best teacher we have.”