And Yesterday Is Gone (31 page)

I hadn't known about the pictures and the damage to the rooms looked horrifying in the cold media of black and white.

Sara gasped, “Juan…you didn't…”

Their questions were quick; Juan's answers were slow.

“I know the house is in terrible shape…”

Dr. Teddy interrupted. “Where is this property located?”

“Telegraph Hill.”

“The location is good. What do you plan to do with the land after you demolish the house?”

Juan looked at me.

I heard myself answer with a confidence that came from a previously unknown part of my psyche.

“The house has been badly damaged, but the foundation is perfect and the roof is good. Most of the harm has been done to the first floor. With Juan's eye for beauty and some competent contractors who are experienced in restoration of these old Victorians, this house would reclaim its original beauty. I'd guess it would double the original investment.”

I stopped for a breath, then plunged in again.

“Then, too, it is positioned in the center of very valuable acreage. The view is breathtaking—matchless. This property has unlimited potential and, as you say, Dr. Teddy, it also has an excellent address.”

With Sara beside her, Dr. Teddy studied the pictures.

As Sis had often said, I could talk my way into heaven. Suddenly I thought, what if it really is just a piece of dirt and a view? Maybe I'd talked myself out of friendships that I treasured. My self-confidence retreated to wherever it was that it had come from. My knees trembled.

The look that Juan flashed at me told me without words: Win, place or lose, we walked together.

“When can we see it?”

“Anytime—I own it.”

“Juan,” Sara gasped. Dr. Teddy laughed.

I choked on the memory of a terrified, penniless, skinny boy teaching me how to roll a joint while sitting on a lonely, wet hillside in the drizzle of that rain that never seemed to stop. A million miles from this reality.

Mamá Sara's tremulous voice asked, “What will you do with it when it's finished? You don't plan to leave, do you, Juan?” Her big eyes searched his face.

“I'll never leave you, Mamá,” came his quick answer.

Sara burst into tears and Juan's arms encircled her and pulled her close.

Teddy's arms found their way around Juan, and I smelled the fragrance of Sara's hair as I somehow got enclosed in the circle.

•  •  •

The next morning, as I was walking down the corridor to Rica's room, a chance meeting with Dr. Teddy provided me with the happy announcement.

“I think Rica can go home tomorrow. She seems to be doing very well and your boy couldn't be better—he's gained three ounces.”

She shook her head. “I don't understand how she could have gone from such a near disaster and suddenly pushed that baby from an impossible position.”

“You would understand, Dr. Teddy, if you had eavesdropped on my conversation with the Lord.”

“Well, perhaps. Your oratory skills regarding Juan's house certainly impressed me. Maybe you should have been a politician.”

We parted laughing and I pushed the door open to Rica's room, bursting with the good news.

I encountered the nurse's stern stare.

“It's very early. We are just ready for our bath.”

My enthusiasm would not be dampened. “That's wonderful. I'd like her to be clean when I take her home tomorrow—and I'm sure you'll enjoy your bath, too.”

Rica's snort was somewhere between a giggle and a whoop. “Home. We get to go home—I can't wait.”

“And more good news. Your mother has tidied up the apartment and Dr. Teddy has invited us for a coming-home dinner. Juan will pick us up.”

Bending down, I kissed her and said, “Let me see that leg. Is the ankle as good as the other one? Just think—tomorrow I get to see them both at once.”

We snickered at the nurse's shocked expression.

“Don't let us keep you from your job—I assume you are a working man,” came her icy voice.

“Oh, yes, I work for a newspaper.”

“Oh, one of those. Why is it that none of you fellows can ever land my paper on the porch instead of the lawn?” She held the door.

I took my whipping like a man and left quietly.

•  •  •

Rica had been home for three weeks and it seemed that with the addition of one small person, our need for larger quarters escalated.

The walk to the kitchen was a hazardous journey. A middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom was fraught with disaster.

Rica's mother had given her a changing table that took up most of the hallway. One misstep or slight bump could cause baby oil, talcum powder and various and numerous other articles to fly through the air, awakening both mother and baby with dire results. Baby was easily pacified with a warm breast; Rica not so easily.

The crib stood at the foot of the bed, guarding the dresser. To tunnel through fourteen inches of space to get a pair of shorts was a challenge.

We desperately needed more room, and almost as badly, we needed better transportation. The truck was needy, too, especially with its ever-increasing mileage.

I felt like I was deserting an old friend when we decided to put the money in a newer family car. Juan directed us to a used Chrysler station wagon—top-of-the-line with low mileage. Affordable, too. The wagon was great for my line of work and Rica loved the luxurious interior and the roominess.

•  •  •

Sis or Ma would call about every week; when they missed, I called them. Always the same question: “When are you coming to visit?”

Now the calls intensified. Sis sounded edgy.

“Is everything okay, Sis?”

“Well, not really. Ma has been going to church and one time her car wouldn't start. This old guy gave her a ride home and now it's every Sunday.”

“How old is this ‘old guy'? Is he a danger at the wheel?”

“Oh, I guess around fifty—'bout Ma's age. Wish you'd tell her to take her own car. Tim fixed the starter.

“He brought her home from the church picnic—the
church
picnic—and it was ten thirty. Nearly midnight. They stood so long on the porch that I turned the lights on and saw them holding hands.”

“Well, Sis, I think you ought to leave her alone and let her have a little fun—she's earned it.”

“Well, it's really too bad you haven't any time to look after our mother's best interests.”

The phone went dead.

Sis was the originator of the guilt trip.

It seemed like our life had been on hold these last months and now everything was happening in double time.

Since J.W. had given me such a hefty raise, he almost doubled my workload. I loved my job, but I was exhausted, sometimes finishing late at the office or taking the work home to work on a small cluttered table.

At home, I was the odd man out—Rica's attention revolved around the new master of the universe.

He grew round and pink with golden hair that Rica curled around her finger and stuck bobby pins in as fast as I pulled them out.

Juan was completely captivated with Billy, who held out his arms and drooled with delight at the sight of him.

The first tooth appeared at four months, which gave Juan the excuse to bring a boxful of toys that we had no room for. The majority of them went under the bed.

“I'm surprised he didn't bring a bicycle,” I groused.

Rica hadn't given up her search for a house, but the houses we liked we couldn't afford.

Juan stood by, frustrated. “Why won't you let me help?”

It hurt my “manly ego,” so said Rica, to let another man put a roof over my family's head.

•  •  •

Juan devoted his mornings to his painting in the studio at the big house, where he and Mamá Sara worked side by side.

He wanted to finish his commissioned portrait as quickly as possible. The brush was in his hand, but his every thought was on the work that was happening on Telegraph Hill.

Juan, with Dr. Teddy's help, had located John Carter, an old-time contractor, and lured him from his retirement with the challenge to completely restore the ravished Victorian. Plus, it was love at first sight for John as it had been with Juan.

Carter handpicked his crew—the best craftsmen, some of whom had worked for him in his earlier years.

He and Juan spent many hours together discussing plans and changes and became fast friends.

B
illy was a good baby with a big dimpled smile that displayed six teeth. He was an active boy, crawling almost as fast as I could walk. Leaning back on his chubby little bottom, he would raise his arms, guaranteeing instant transportation.

Those wide, unblinking eyes peered from beneath the brim of the 49ers cap, the one that I had bought so many months ago, and almost hid the stray golden curls that tried to escape.

Juan stopped by to play with him almost every afternoon. I confess I was jealous. Billy would settle for me, but at Juan's appearance he would hold out his arms smiling with delight, and I was abandoned.

I was happy that Juan was so involved, but deep down there was a nagging little hurt—wanting my son to know who was daddy. Then I was ashamed. I had so much that Juan would never have. “Share,” my brain insisted, but my heart was a holdout.

I was working long hours and when I got home, Billy was ready for bed. Rica said Juan had been by earlier to tell her about the work at his house and to kiss Billy good night.

Juan had numerous friends in the art world where he was well-known, but they were really acquaintances. Mamá Sara, Dr. Teddy, Rica, Billy and I were his world.

Rica still sat for him occasionally, loving the reprieve from the apartment and Mamá Sara loving her time with Billy.

My conscience bothered me. It seemed that my job interfered with my family life. I often wished there were two of me, especially when Juan was filling my chair at the table. The feeling that I was missing a large part of my son's first year nagged at me, but J.W. was not paying me for baby talk. I was making a good salary and he wanted to know that I earned every penny of it.

Then, too, Rica's every attention was for Billy and it didn't seem as though our honeymoon would resume until the boy's every care was finished. Then Rica was tired and so was I.

I wrangled an afternoon off and Rica and I had been discussing a house that she had found. She was disappointed that it had no yard.

We heard a quick knock and Juan stepped inside. He was puzzled. “Where's Billy?”

Surprised, Rica and I exchanged glances. Where
was
Billy? We had been so engrossed in our conversation…

A quick search found him clinging to the bedpost, having pulled himself up. Balancing on his little pink feet, every dimple, every tooth on full display, he surveyed his audience.

Rica had promptly sat on the floor, holding out her arms. Juan and I followed, arms outstretched.

“I'll bet you dinner that he comes to me first.” Juan laughed.

“You're on,” Rica declared.

But I sat silent, knowing we would go out to dinner.

One, two, three tentative steps toward Juan, who scooped him up, hugged him close, and murmured endearments. The absolute expression of love on Juan's face was unlike any I'd ever seen.

I knew that I was Billy's father and knew just as sure that Billy was Juan's son.

Crowding the empty feeling in my heart was the knowledge and gratitude that I was able to give something to my brother that his money couldn't buy, something of myself.

T
he phone rang.

“Son, aren't you ever going to come? It seems like forever since I've seen you. And don't tell me you're busy—we're all busy. But I'm your mother; don't I count?”

She'd been taking lessons from Sis—the old guilt trip.

“Ma…”

“Don't interrupt me. In ten days, I will be fifty-one. I'm not getting any younger. Some folks are having a party for me, so won't you please say you'll be here? I'd like to get better acquainted with my new daughter and my grandbaby. Will you please come, or do I have to beg,” her voice quivered.

“Ma, of course we'll come, even if I have to shut down the presses. Don't you dare cry; Sis has put you up to this, hasn't she? What do you want for your birthday?”

“I've got it,” she said and hung up.

•  •  •

Approaching J.W. with a handkerchief in my hand, I stammered, “J.W., I need some time off,” while passing the hanky over my eyes.

“My mother…my mother…” I blew my nose; my words failed.

He got up and put an arm around my shoulder. “Of course, son, of course. We only have one mother. Will a week do it?”

Ma had reserved a suite at a nice little motel not far from Sis' home, which didn't have enough beds for all of us.

Billy was tired from traveling so he went to sleep early. I reminded Rica about our honeymoon in that hotel in Reno and we reminisced. The next morning I whistled as I tried to work that funny little coffeepot in the bathroom.

There were tears, hugs and kisses, and more tears that day. Ma was still “home” to me, even if she moved to China.

“You sure look great, Ma. What have you done to yourself? Texas must agree with you; you're slim as a girl.”

“Well, for starts,” Sis chimed in. “She's cut her hair and I know she colored it and she's been wearing lipstick to church.”

We spent the day catching up. Tim barbequed and we drank beer. The girls compared notes on childcare and current fashion, and Ma played with her grandchildren.

When a battered old pickup pulled up late in the afternoon, Ma ran out the door to greet the man who drove it.

Watching out the window, Sis said triumphantly, “See there? See that? He actually hugged her in broad daylight right in front of her children.”