The Last Chance Ranch (18 page)

“He does?” Tanya beamed. “I’m glad.”

Carrying two cups of punch in clear plastic glasses, Tonio returned. He whistled at Tanya, who smiled and bowed mockingly. “Thank you, thank you.”

The four of them made small talk for a minute or two, and a song came on, a loud rocking rap song. “Let’s dance,” Tonio said, grabbing Teresa’s hand and heading toward the dance floor.

Tanya turned laughing eyes toward Ramón. “Can you dance to your precious rap?”

He smiled. “Sure. A-one an-a-two.” Playfully, he danced an old-fashioned two-step.

She laughed. “That’s about the only dancing I can do, too. Can’t even do that very well, though I certainly did my best to learn.”

“It’s easy, baby,” he said with an exaggerated leer. “Let me show you.”

“Quit,” Tanya said, holding him back just as mockingly with one hand. “You have to be a good example, remember?”

He leaned close, as if he would kiss her, and took a triumphant pleasure in the heated flare in her eyes. “If I weren’t such an upstanding citizen, I might say to hell with providing examples.”

“But you are upstanding.”

“Very.” He straightened his spine to illustrate.

She sipped the punch she held. “I haven’t seen Edwin tonight.”

“That’s because he got suspended the same day he went back to school.”

“Fighting again?”

“Smoking cigarettes in the boys’ room.”

Tanya frowned. “I could almost feel sorry for him. How does a child get so lost?”

“I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder. “And sometimes, unfortunately, the only thing to do for them is just let them hit a wall. That’s the only thing that will work for Edwin.”

“Maybe.”

Ramón scanned the room, keeping his eye open for trouble of any kind, or potential trouble. And spied a little. In one darkened corner, under the floating pumpkins and trailers of crepe paper, a boy and a girl were making out. “Excuse me. I have to break up Romeo and Juliet over there.”

Tanya chuckled.

Putting his hand on her arm, Ramón said, “Save me a slow dance, eh?”

She gave him a slow, impossibly sexy smile. “You got it.”

* * *

Tanya couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. She got to call the numbers for the door prize tickets for movie and skating passes, and when the dance contest started, she was a judge. Everything about the night was just plain fun.

Zach, dressed up in a plaid shirt and jeans she had pressed for him, his hair wet-combed with a neat part, was her constant companion through the evening. She put him to work behind the punch bowl, filling glasses with a big ladle, and let him help her bring out fresh crudités when the first batch ran out. She dragged him out on the dance floor at one point and teasingly taught him the box-step, and although he blushed furiously and clung to her hand so tightly she thought he’d crack her fingers, he managed to last an entire song.

After that, she found herself dancing a lot. She cheerfully declined the fast songs, but danced with counselors and some of the other boys who were too young to have asked dates.

She was gulping a drink of water when Tonio appeared at her side. The DJ had put on some Spanish songs, to the sound of groans and protests from some of the boys, and cheers from the others. Tonio grinned. “Can you dance to this music?”

She grinned. “This is how I learned to dance—at VFW dances with—” A cool wash of realization touched her. She’d almost said, “your dad,” but amended it to, “my ex-husband.”

Politely, he gestured toward the open floor. “Will you dance with me?”

Startled, Tanya looked toward Ramón, who stood watching from the other side of the room. He smiled at her and nodded once. Tanya put her glass on the table. “It’s been a while,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows, “but if you don’t mind a bruised toe, sure.”

They walked onto the floor. Tonio turned and held out his hands. She put her left hand on his shoulder, her right hand into his and looked up. He smiled, paused a moment to find the beat, and they started to dance.

Tanya’s heart caught, hard. As the music swirled around them, she thought about all the years she’d waited to see him, trying to imagine how he looked or talked. Now she danced with him, and could smell the clean scent of his soap, could see the way his hair grew from a widow’s peak on his forehead, and his strong white teeth when he grinned down at her encouragingly. “You’re good at this.”

“Thanks.” To stem the huge well of joyful emotion rising in her throat, she forced herself to empty her mind. Some moments in life were too beautiful to hold at once. She would have to let it all flow into her and look it over again later.

The song was a familiar ballad of love lost, as so many Spanish ballads seemed to be. “Sad song.”

“Can you understand it?”

She nodded.

“You used to be married?”

Tanya looked up. “Yes, a long time ago.”

“To a Spanish guy?”

Dangerous territory, this. She tripped and righted herself. “Sorry,” she said, looking down at her feet in the strappy sandals. “Yes.”

“You don’t like to talk about it, huh?”

Relieved she raised her head. “No. It was a long time ago.”

“I understand.”

To change the subject, she said, “Are you having a good time tonight?”

“Yeah, I am. It was the right thing to do, writing that letter.”

“I guess it was. She seems very nice.”

“She is.” He glanced over his shoulder to where she sat by the table, rubbing one foot. “She had to borrow the shoes from her mom. Her feet hurt her when we dance.”

“Poor thing.”

He nodded, his face going soft. “I like her a lot.” The song ended, and Tanya let go. “You’re a good dancer,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Thank you.”

With a small bow, he smiled. “No, thank you. All the guys will be jealous that Ms. Bishop danced with me.”

She laughed.

Ramón came up beside them. “Trying to steal my girl, eh?” he said to Tonio, feinting a punch to his upper arm.

“Yeah.”

“My turn,” Ramón said, taking Tanya’s hand. “Excuse us,” he said to Tonio.

Tonio grinned and ambled off the cleared area to sit down next to Teresa. The next song started, a mournful, slow song. Only a few couples danced. The rest were milling around, picking up coats and having one last drink of punch or stack of cookies before the dance ended at eleven.

“Finally,” Ramón said, taking her into his arms. His embrace was light, leaving a respectful pillow of air between them. He looked down at her, and stepped infinitesimally closer. “I’ve been waiting for this all evening.”

“Me, too,” Tanya said, huskily.

Their forearms met in a close press, and his arm around her waist drew her near. The expression in his dark eyes was thick with desire. “I’ve been trying so hard not to think about you as my lover,” he said very quietly, expertly leading her in the familiar steps. “But I can’t stop.”

She looked at his mouth, so close to her own, and edged slightly closer still, until their chests met in barest contact. Somehow their legs slipped into a woven pattern, and along the inside of her knee, Tanya felt the brush of his pant leg. “Don’t stop, then,” she said, raising her eyes to his. “I know I haven’t.”

He sighed and his fingers skimmed her back. “I want you,” he said. “They don’t have to know.”

“No one needs to know.”

His thumb moved on her palm in a circle. “Do you want me, Tanya?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and felt her knees brush his, her thighs against his thighs, her breasts against his chest. “Yes, I do. I want to kiss you and touch you and make love with you.”

His mouth lifted in a wry, half smile. “I still have a whole box of condoms.”

Tanya grinned. “Good. You might need them.”

“All of them?”

“You never know.”

He glanced around the room, but no one was watching them. Subtly, he pressed himself against her, and Tanya pressed back, thrilling to the evidence of his desire. They swayed in the dance, hips moving back and forth, and Ramón sighed against her ear.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he whispered against her ear. His tongue snaked out and touched her earlobe. Tanya shivered against him, a low throb starting to ache in her nether regions. His voice was hoarse and quiet and low-pitched. “I’m going to unzip this dress very, very slowly.” His fingers moved on the zipper. “And I’m going to kiss every inch of your back, and then your arms. And then your breasts.”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes, trying desperately to remain normal-looking.

“I’m going to suckle your breasts and kiss your tummy and—”

“Stop,” she whispered. “I’m going to melt right here.”

“Good,” he replied.

She pulled back to look at him. “Not good. Behave yourself, Mr. Quezada.”

He grinned, wickedly, and she felt everything in her body go soft. “Do you really want me to?”

A crash and a scream rent the air. Tanya whirled and heard Ramón cry, “No, Edwin!” He broke free, and before Tanya had completed turning around, he was halfway across the room. “Edwin!” he bellowed.

Tanya could not immediately see what happened. A knot of chaos erupted all around her. Kids scurried here and there, away from the trouble, which centered around the place Tonio and Teresa had been sitting moments before. Another scream—a yelp, really—rang out.

Then she saw Edwin, holding Teresa, dragging her toward the door. She wore only one shoe, and her limping up-and-down gait caused her to stumble. Edwin yanked her up and she cried out, sobbing, trying to wrench herself free. Tanya couldn’t see Tonio. Where was he?

Before she knew what she was doing, Tanya had kicked off her shoes and started toward them, some primal feeling in her chest. She walked, measuring the distance between the kitchen door—his only way out—and herself and him. Counselors herded other kids toward the edges of the room, and Tanya finally spied Tonio, flat on the floor, a mark on his forehead. He looked dazed as he got to his knees.

She looked back at Edwin—and finally saw what made the others stay back. He had a knife. Not just any old knife, but a big, ultrasharp knife with a black handle they used for cutting meat with bones—like chicken.

Like flesh.

In a blaze of confusion, she wondered how he’d gotten hold of it, for all knives were carefully locked in a cabinet at night. But he’d had KP for weeks and must have secreted it away.

Teresa stumbled again, and Edwin grabbed her by the waist, holding the knife close to her face. The wild menace in his face, the animal bloodlust in his eyes sent loathing and fear through Tanya. She’d seen that look, that mindlessness. Her heart pounded. The sound was loud and fast and hard in her ears, and still she edged toward the kitchen door.

Ramón walked close to them, and Edwin made a grunting noise, warning him away. Ramón lifted his hands, palms out, in the same gesture he’d used with Tanya the first day in the bus station. “Let her go, Edwin. You won’t get anywhere with her. And all you’re doing is digging yourself a deeper hole.”

Edwin edged along the wall, holding the girl hard next to him. She wept soundlessly, frozen, her hands on Edwin’s arm, her eyes on the knife.

At the expression on her face, something in Tanya’s gut twisted. Anger, as clear and white and hot as the desert sun, filled her. Not again. Not another one.

He was only a few feet away, his eyes on Ramón, who continued to advance. Tanya lunged. Her legs were strong with her running, her arms filled with muscle from her work in the kitchen. She had surprise on her side. She seized Edwin’s wrist and kicked him squarely where it would do the most damage. He grunted and doubled over, dropping the knife. Teresa sobbed and pulled free.

Ramón grabbed the knife and looked over his shoulder. Already sirens sounded in the distance, and Tanya realized vaguely that someone must have already called the police.

Her breath came fast, still riding the wild emotion pumping through her chest. She squatted in front of Edwin. “Don’t you ever hurt another woman again. Not ever.”

With a snarl, he lifted his head and glared at her. He uttered a foul epithet about the evil nature of women.

Tanya smiled tightly. “You got it.”

Dear Antonio,

I’m aching for a normal life. Everyday life. People and ordinary arguments and dust on lamp shades. I’m aching to live in a place with curtains on the windows, and a place where you don’t have to hide everything that crosses your mind.

I don’t let myself think much beyond that, but it would be so great to have babies again one of these days. It’s really the one thing I wanted, even when I was a little girl—to grow up and have babies of my own. I like children a lot, little ones and big ones both, girls and boys. I liked being pregnant and my labor was easy, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for me. Like when I was made, the angels looked in their little bag and said, “I think we’ll make this one a mother,” then gave me everything I’d need for it. Like my friend Iris, who is an artist. She sees color in a different way than the rest of us—each tiny hue and variation means something to her. Speaks to her. She takes those color voices and puts them on a canvas or a piece of paper, and makes everyone else hear the voices, too.

That’s how it is with me and mothering. I know, in my deepest heart, that was what I was supposed to do. And though I’m your mother, and I got to have some time with you, and there’s always going to be a special link between us, I haven’t really been able to be your mother all these years. I bet your voice is changing now—you’ll be more than half-grown by the time they let me out.

But maybe I’ll get to do a little more mothering with you, or maybe you’ll have my grandchildren and I can do it that way. Somehow, I have to believe that.

Love, Mom

R
eaction set in later. As the police cuffed Edwin and took him to town, Tanya felt telltale trembling fill her limbs. Nausea rose in her stomach. Dizzy and sick, she went to the kitchen and concentrated on making a cup of tea.

As she sat down to drink it, Zach appeared. His little face was pale and stark. “Hi, honey,” Tanya said, extending a hand to draw him into the kitchen. “You want to come sit in my lap for a minute?”