Under the Same Sky (11 page)

“Yeah, right,” I said tiredly. “Tell your dad thanks.”

The downstairs was dark. My parents were already in bed reading. I stuck my head into their bedroom and said good night and headed for bed myself. My paycheck was on the pillow; Mom must have left it there for me. I looked at the amount and groaned: $176.78. Even though I'd worked on Sunday, I had taken today off, making it a six-day week. The first day of picking strawberries had been a disaster, and even though I'd gotten faster as the week went on, I hadn't come close to catching up with the others.

Rounding off in my head, I added $177 to my previous total of $348 and got $525. After deducting $16.99 plus tax for Randy's CD, I had $507 for two weeks' work. It was less than half of what I needed to buy the Streaker. Okay, so this was going to take longer than I had expected.

I lay in bed thinking about giving the panda bear to Luisa, and smiled.

When I came downstairs the next morning, Meg was sitting at the breakfast table with the giant panda bear on her lap, pretending to feed it Cocoa Puffs.

“He's so cute, Joe!” she said, her whole face glowing with pleasure. “Did you win him? I was thinking we should name him Jing-Ming-Ling.”

Oh, man
, I thought, groaning inwardly. Like a dope, I'd left the bear in the kitchen, and Meg had seen it and thought it was for her.

When I didn't say anything, she said, “Don't you get it? J for Joe, M for Meg, and L for LuAnn.”

“It's a good name,” I said carefully. “But maybe Luisa will want to call it something different.” I hesitated, then came out with it. “I got it for her.”

For a second, Meg looked so disappointed that I almost gave in and told her she could keep the bear. Then she said, “Oh,” in a very small voice.

I tried to explain. “It's just that, well, you have tons of stuffed animals, Megs. And I bet Luisa doesn't have any.” I poured myself a bowl of cereal, then looked at her to see how she was reacting.

Good old Meg. She'd always been a generous kid, more generous than I was, if I had to be honest about it. She was already smiling again, her disappointment forgotten. “I bet she'll really like it, Joe. I bet when she takes it home, her little sisters will love it! I bet they never saw anything so big! I bet it's bigger than they are!”

Relieved, I poured milk over my cereal and began eating. Meg chatted on. “Hey! She could still call it Jing-Ming-Ling! J for Joe, 'cause you won it for her, M for Manuel, and L for Luisa! Tell her when you give it to her, okay?”

Now that Meg had mentioned my actually giving the bear to Luisa, I imagined myself walking out to meet the crew by the barn, holding a giant stuffed animal. I could already hear the teasing I'd get from the guys. They'd be kidding around, but I'd still feel dumb. And Manuel would probably give me that suspicious look that implied I was up to no good.

“Hey, Megs,” I suggested. “Why don't you walk out with me and give it to her yourself? You can explain all about the name and everything.”

“Okay,” she agreed eagerly.

As Meg and I walked down the driveway toward the rest of the crew, I congratulated myself on my brilliant strategy. Everyone's face, even Manuel's, lifted in a grin at the sight of Meg struggling to walk with the giant bear in her arms. A burst of Spanish came from the group:

“Meg,
es tu amante?
”

“¡Muy hermoso!”

“¿Pero un poquito gordo, no crees?”

I gathered they were teasing Meg about her “boyfriend.”

Meg walked right up to Luisa and handed her the bear. “It's for you. Joe won it. Do you like it? Do you think your sisters will like it? You could name it Jing-Ming-Ling. See, J is for Joe, M is for Manuel, and L is for you! And it sounds kind of Chinese, and panda bears are from China—”

Meg stopped, probably to catch her breath, and Luisa said, “It's a good name, Meg. It's perfect.” Then she looked at me and gave me a smile that took
my
breath away. “Thank you, Joe! Are you sure it is for me?”

“Yeah,” I said. I wished the whole world wasn't there watching, because it made me feel really self-conscious, but it was terrific to see the happiness in Luisa's eyes and know I'd done something to put it there.

I dared to glance at Manuel, and was relieved to see that even he seemed to be getting a kick out of the big bear. Grinning, he took it from Luisa's arms and said, “Come on,
compadre grande, vámanos
.” He sat the bear in the front seat next to Gilberto, where it rode with us out to the field.

The crew was a little more relaxed that day than they had been during the week. As we rode along, they told me they'd gone to the big Tip-Top store the night before to do their grocery shopping. The way they explained it, a lot of the workers from the area farms met there on Friday nights, so they could visit and exchange news and gossip.

“No one has seen the patrol since Monday, when they come here,” Carlos told me.

“It does not mean they won't be back,” warned Gilberto as we climbed out of the truck.

“
Sí, sí
, we know,” said Jorge. “We keep watch like before.” Then he got a big grin on his face, reached into the front seat and grabbed the bear, and set it up on top of the truck's cab. “Señor Oso will watch, too,” he said, cracking himself and the rest of us up. “He will scare the
migra
away!”

Whether it was because of Mr. Bear or not, the day passed with no sign of the I.N.S. Nothing out of the ordinary happened at all, except for Luisa's discovery of a tiny, spotted fawn huddled in one of the hedgerows.

I was picking away, lost in my own thoughts, when I looked up to see Luisa gazing at the ground and crooning softly, “
¿Dónde está tu madre, chiquilla?
”

I stood up with a groan and walked over. When she saw me coming, she motioned for me to go slowly. I crept up beside her, and at first I didn't see anything. She pointed, and after a moment I saw it, too. It was curled up on the ground, its spots causing it to blend in almost perfectly with the sun-dappled background of dead leaves. It opened its huge brown eyes in alarm, but remained frozen in place.

Luisa and I both began to back away as silently as possible so that we wouldn't frighten it into bolting. When we were far enough away to figure it would feel safe, we exchanged smiles, shaking our heads in wonder, the way you do when you see something that incredibly cool.

“I can't believe how small it was,” I murmured.

“
Muy dulce
,” she said, which I was pretty sure meant sweet. “The eyes make me think of my little sisters back home.” For a second her eyes glazed over with a mist of tears, but she quickly shook her head and pulled her baseball cap lower on her forehead.

“You miss them,” I said, and she nodded.

I thought about Meg and LuAnn, and how they were always around. LuAnn mostly got on my nerves, and I guess I ignored Meg a lot of the time. But when I tried to imagine them being somewhere far away, along with both my parents, I could see how I might miss even LuAnn—a little, anyway, every once in a while.

However, I had no problem at all with the idea of their leaving for a few days to go to the family reunion. Better still was the idea of being home alone and being in charge of the farm.

Nobody had mentioned the trip in a while, and I was trying to think of a way to bring it up during dinner when Meg asked, “Hey, are we going to Pennsylvania, or what?” She looked expectantly from Mom to Dad. “You said you'd decide soon, and that was ages ago.”

Mom laughed, probably because it had actually been less than a week since we'd talked about going to the reunion. I knew a few days could seem like ages, though, when you were really looking forward to something, the way Meg obviously was. I was eager myself to hear what Mom and Dad would say.

“True,” agreed Dad. “I think we can plan on going this coming Thursday—”

“Yay!” Meg cheered.

Dad raised his eyebrows and finished his sentence. “Unless something happens between then and now.”

“Things have been pretty quiet around here lately,” I said casually. “The crew's feeling better,” I added, proud to be contributing something important to the conversation. “They met a bunch of their friends last night at Tip-Top, and nobody's seen the border patrol around. Nobody's been hassled by jerks like the ones who drove through here the other night, either.”

“Well, that's good,” said Mom. She turned to Dad and asked, “Speaking of that, Jim, what's going on with Tom Matthews's application to build more housing?”

“It's still under consideration,” Dad answered. He frowned. “I think there's a zoning board meeting Thursday night, actually.”

“That could stir things up again,” Mom said worriedly.

I didn't want them to start dwelling on the possibility of trouble on the first night they'd be gone. Turning to Dad, I said, “If the weather stays like this, we should be finished with strawberries by Friday. I was noticing that the last cabbage fields we planted need weeding pretty bad. Is that what we should do next if we do finish the berries while you're gone?”

Dad looked surprised by my question, probably because it was the first time I'd ever expressed an opinion about what was going on at the farm.

“Well, as a matter of fact, Joe, I was thinking the same thing this afternoon. We'll have to get those fields cultivated, because the peppers and cucumbers are going to be ready soon. Once they start, it'll be nonstop for a while.”

“And then the sweet corn'll be coming in,” I said.

“That's right,” said Dad. “Then we go straight into early apples.”

“So this sounds like the perfect time for us to go on a trip,” LuAnn pronounced slyly. “Mom, do you think my yellow sundress is okay to wear at the reunion?”

Mom and LuAnn began talking about what they needed to pack for the trip, which I thought was a good sign. It meant that Mom was seriously thinking they would go.

I turned back to Dad, hoping to continue our conversation. It was a new feeling, a good one, to be talking to him about the farmwork. I wanted to further impress him with the idea that he had no reason to be concerned; I could handle things while he was gone. But he was already excusing himself from the table, saying he needed to talk with Manuel about the next day's delivery schedule.

“What delivery?” I asked. “Tomorrow's Sunday.”

“The Presbyterian Church is having their Strawberry Social tomorrow afternoon,” Dad said. “Some of the crew are picking for it.”

And with that, he was gone. Once again, I felt like an idiot. Nobody had told me about the church social or the extra Sunday hours. Maybe everyone forgot. I certainly wasn't going to beg.

Less than a week
, I told myself,
until Dad leaves for the reunion and I'm in charge. Then things will be different
.

After church the next day, I found myself with free time on my hands. I thought about calling Randy, but decided I didn't feel like it. I wandered over to the window and was surprised to see LuAnn, Meg, and Luisa sitting on chaise lounges under the big maple tree in our yard, drinking lemonade, talking, and laughing. I watched for a minute, then went outside to join them.

“Hi, Joe!” called Meg, giving me a big wave.

Luisa, too, said hi, as I wandered over in what I hoped was a casual manner, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

“I thought everybody was working,” I said to Luisa.

“The others are,” she said. “But I had laundry and cooking to do. I am making a special dinner for everyone tonight. And tonight I will give Manuel the pants, the baggies.”

“Luisa showed them to me,” Meg said proudly. “Manuel's going to like them, don't you think?”

“I know he will,” said Luisa happily.

“So, Joe,” LuAnn said, “if everybody else is working, how come you're not?”

I shrugged. “I had stuff to do, too,” I said vaguely.

Luckily, she didn't ask me what. Instead, she turned to Luisa and said, “Joe's saving up to buy a motorbike.”

Luisa looked puzzled.

“You know motorcycles, right?” LuAnn asked. “Two wheels, fast, loud?”

Luisa nodded.

“Well, it's sort of like a toy one of those, for kids who can't drive yet. He won't be able to ride it on the road or anything, just in the fields and along railroad beds and places like that.”

Oh, man
. I groaned inwardly.
Thanks a lot, LuAnn. Make me sound like a total dork, why don't you?

Luisa was looking at me now, her puzzled expression back. “Why do you want this, Joe?” she asked.

“I—Well—” I stopped, trying to think what to say. Right then, I couldn't remember exactly why I did want the Streaker so much. But that wasn't the only reason I felt tongue-tied. I mean, here was Luisa, working so she could send money home to her family, money for food and clothes and stuff like that. I felt like a real jerk working so I could buy what LuAnn had just described as a
toy
.

Meg chimed in then, saying, “So he can take me for rides! Right, Joe?”

“Right,” I mumbled, looking at Luisa and shrugging, as if to say, “You know how it is with little sisters.” As if taking Meg for rides was my only reason for wanting the bike. Joe the magnanimous big brother, that's me.

LuAnn must have been feeling merciful, or else she was tired of the subject, because she didn't pursue it any further. Thank goodness.

As Luisa and LuAnn talked about what Luisa was cooking, I imagined her turning to me and saying, “Joe, would you like to come and join us for the special supper I am making?”

But I knew she wouldn't. I thought about inviting myself and offering to bring something, the way we did with my aunts and uncles, and they did with us. But I knew I wouldn't. I wasn't part of Luisa's family and, even though I was feeling more like part of the crew all the time, I'd always be the boss's son. I'd definitely have liked to spend an evening with Luisa, but I was way too chicken to risk saying so.

I told myself to forget the whole idea. If I didn't ask, she couldn't say no. That was playing it safe. Then I thought,
If you keep playing it safe, nothing will ever happen
.

The more I thought about it, the more complicated it got. Lately,
everything
seemed complicated. Maybe it always had been, and I'd never noticed before.