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Finally, Sara and her aunt fell asleep. I was tired, too, but I couldn't sleep at all with the anticipation of seeing Mamá the next day.

We woke up to a warm, sunny morning—as it was already spring in Carolina del Norte. After breakfast, we piled into the car. I had stuffed the money in my backpack to hand over to the
coyotes
when we picked Mamá up. But first, we had to find the bus station where they had told us they would meet us when we sent the other half.

The Mahoneys drove slowly up and down the streets. It was a run- down neighborhood, near where our old apartment used to be. I sat in the backseat, between Tyler and Sara, trying hard to act like nothing was wrong. But I was so nervous, I felt short of breath. I was sure I was going to faint. Or worse, throw up.

We finally found the bus station. Before we
got out, Mrs. Mahoney pulled out some balloons and noisemakers and packets of confetti from a little shopping bag she'd brought along with the name Party Animals on it. “To welcome your mother,” she explained. She looked so pleased with herself, I didn't know what to say. One thing I knew: those
coyotes
would not appreciate a big welcome scene.

“I think it's better if we just let Mari be by herself with her mom,” Tyler spoke up. I felt so grateful to him! “She hasn't seen her for a whole year.”

A whole year, four months, and four days, to be exact.

“Oh, okay,” Mrs. Mahoney said. She sounded disappointed like a kid told to put her toys away. “You want to go in and check if your mother's already here?” she asked, turning to me in the backseat.

“First I have to call,” I explained. It was the politest way I could think of asking Mrs. Mahoney if I could borrow her cell phone.

“Call who?” Mrs. Mahoney asked.

I didn't want to lie to her, Papá. But I also wasn't going to tell her that the
coyotes
had instructed us to call once we were at the station. So I just said, “The people who are bringing her.”

Thank goodness that was enough of an explanation. She handed over her pink phone
with such teensy keys I kept hitting the wrong ones with my trembly fingers.

You had told the
coyotes
that it would be your daughter who would be picking up Mamá. Still, the gruff voice on the other end sounded surprised to hear a girl calling. One good thing was that our conversation was in Spanish, so I could talk without alarming anybody else in the car.

He gave me the last of the instructions. I was to wait inside the station, keeping a lookout at the glass door. When a gray Chevy van pulled up, I was to come out by myself with the money and hand it to the driver, who would then deliver
mi paquete.
My package! What a way to talk about Mamá!

“Our friend says to wait for my mother inside,” I said.

“Are they going to be a while or something?” Mr. Mahoney wanted to know. “We could just take a quick spin and see the sights of Durham.” Again, he winked at Mrs. Mahoney, but this time she didn't laugh. She looked preoccupied, like she was starting to suspect something was wrong.

Ay,
Papá, I didn't know what to do or say. But for a second time, I was so grateful to Tyler. He opened his door and scooted out, saying over his shoulder, “Come on, I'm getting carsick just sitting in here!”

I followed the others inside the bus station. It
was almost deserted at ten on a Tuesday morning. The Mahoneys wandered around, reading signs posted on different boards. Tyler and Sara got a bunch of pamphlets from a rack about what to do that was fun in the area. They sat down in some plastic seats and started to look them over. Meanwhile, I stayed posted by the door.

The wait seemed endless. But once the van pulled into the parking lot, it had come too soon! How was I supposed to walk out the door and across the parking lot when my feet felt glued to the floor?

“Is she here?” Tyler had come up behind me. Sara and the Mahoneys joined us.

“I better go by myself,” I explained, pushing the door open. “I'll be right back,” I said in the most casual voice I could manage. I don't know what I would have done if they had tried to follow me.

The bright sunlight blinded me after the dinginess inside the station. The van was idling at the other end of the parking lot, ready to pull out of the driveway. I walked slowly, the money envelope inside my backpack I was holding in my arms. I was hugging it so tight, it was the only thing keeping my pounding heart from bursting out.

When the driver lowered the window, I was half expecting to see a horrible monster. But it
was just a Mexican man wearing sunglasses that reflected my scared face. His hair was yanked back roughly into a ponytail like he hadn't bothered to comb it first. His upper lip and chin were covered with black stubble like maybe he was going to grow a beard and mustache but don't count on it.

“¿Y el dinero?”
was his hello. Where was his money? He needed better manners, a haircut, a shave, a different life.

I pulled out the envelope, and he grabbed it and flung it to an older man sitting next to him. “We count it first,” he said, starting to raise the window.

But my eyes had already been drawn to the backseat. There she was, Mamá! Suddenly, I forgot my fears, and cried out,
“¡Mamá! ¡Mamá!”

“¡Mi'ja!”
she cried back.

“¡Silencio!”
The driver had turned around, his hand lifted as if he were about to strike Mamá if she didn't shut up.

My mother's eyes were wide with terror, like when a cow is being loaded into the trailer to take to the slaughterhouse. But beyond the fear, I could see something else. She was taking me in, every inch of my face, with loving amazement, before the window closed, parting us once again.

After the longest minute, I could hear a voice inside call out, “It's all here.” The window rolled
down again, this time only halfway. “Come around the other side and pick up your package,” the driver ordered.

That's when I got really afraid. Up until now, the Mahoneys and Sara and Tyler could see me from the door of the station. But once I went around to the other side of the van, it would be like the astronauts going behind the moon. No one could communicate with them, Tyler had told me. These criminals might grab me and take me hostage as well.

Somehow my feet obeyed. As I was coming around the front of the van, the side door slid open and Mamá was shoved out. She stumbled, and if I hadn't rushed over to catch her, she would have fallen down on the ground.
“Mi bolsa,”
she called out. But the door had already banged shut, and the van was squealing away.

Mamá looked undecided whether to run after it, begging for her bag. But I grabbed her hand and said,
“Vámonos, Mamá.”
Soon we were both running across the parking lot just as Tyler and Sara and the Mahoneys were coming out of the station.

“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Mahoney wanted to know.

“Let's just go, please,” I begged. I think I was still afraid those horrible men would come back and shoot us or haul me and Mamá away.

I didn't have to ask twice. It turns out that in the few short minutes that I was in the parking lot, Tyler had confessed to the Mahoneys that these weren't exactly friends who were delivering Mamá. We scrambled into the car and drove off. “All I ask,” Mrs. Mahoney finally said once we had pulled out of the station, “is that you not breathe a word to your mother or she'll never let you stay with me again.”

“Don't worry,” Sara promised.

Meanwhile, Mamá was trembling and crying and looking so confused. She didn't know where she was or why she and I were in a car full of strangers.
“Son amigos,”
I kept telling her. “They are our friends.” But she kept looking at me with those terrified eyes like she didn't believe it.

None of us knew what to do to calm her down.

“Maybe we should take her shopping,” Sara offered. “Buy her something really nice.” Even I laughed, nervous as I was.

Tyler glared at his sister. She had forgotten her promise. “I think we should take her to the emergency room and get her some medicine,” he countered.

The aunt shook her head. “Last thing we need is for the authorities to be called and for her to be apprehended. Can you imagine?” This last question was addressed to her husband, who looked in the rearview mirror to see if we were
imagining it. I sure was. It would kill Mamá if they stuck her in prison after all she had been through!

Suddenly, I remembered all the pictures Alyssa had taken that I had stuffed in my backpack at the last minute. I pulled them out, and one by one I went through them. Mamá snatched them and was eating them up with her eyes: Papá and Luby and Ofie and me standing outside the trailer in our winter jackets. Ofie and Luby and me with Tyler and the grandmother. The grandmother and Mr. Rossetti with Luby between them holding up her two little stuffed dogs. Mamá kept stroking each picture, saying the names she knew over and over.

When she got to the one of Tío Felipe and Abuelota and Abuelote sitting on a bench in the town square, Mamá was surprised. Of course, she had no way of knowing Tío Felipe was back in Las Margaritas. “Oh yes,” I told her. “He went for a visit.” Time enough later to fill her in on all the upsetting details.

Then, partly for her sake so she'd feel safe, but also for mine, I asked Mr. Mahoney if we could drive by our old apartment building. As the streets became familiar, Mamá started looking out the windows, pointing to the small grocery store where she always shopped for our Mexican food, the Catholic church with the statue of the Virgen
de Guadalupe where we used to go to Mass. There were Mexican people on the street. I admit I felt homesick thinking of all we had left behind.

“Why did your father move you?” Mamá asked as if reading my thoughts.

So I explained about the new job, the steady work, how we got to live right on the farm with wonderful
patrones
who treated us like family. I introduced everyone in the car and explained who they were. For the first time, Mamá's face relaxed, and she gave Sara and Tyler the biggest smile. That's when I noticed that several of her teeth were missing. I didn't even want to think how she had lost them.

“We left the new
patrón's
phone number behind at the apartment for you,” I went on explaining. I was worried that she might feel that we had run off without leaving a message for her.

“I know,
mi'ja,”
Mamá said, nodding. She started crying again, but not agitated and terrified like before. It was a sad, gentle crying as she told about all the things that had happened to her. As if those tears were allowing her story to be flushed out of her. Papá, I am sure Mamá will tell you in more detail. I say this because sometimes she looks at me as if trying to decide how much or what to tell me. But like she says, I have become a young lady in her absence, so she can entrust me with grown- up information.

It turns out that after Mamá left my uncles, she met up with her
coyote
who was taking her through a reservation. But on the way, they got held up by another gang. Mamá now became the property of these new
coyotes.
They brought her to their leader, and—this is where Mamá hesitated and looked unsure what to tell me. “He forced me to be his … servant,” she said, choosing each word carefully. “I had to cook for him and take care of his clothes and do whatever he told me. He threatened that if I tried to run away, not only would he find me and kill me, but he would track down my family and do the same to them.”

She bowed her head a moment, as if just the thought was sending stabs of fear through her. I, too, felt afraid.

“Is she okay?” Sara whispered beside me.

I nodded. I didn't want to interrupt the flow of Mamá's account with a translation. It was important for her to tell her story, not to have to carry it alone inside her.

“About eight months ago,” Mamá continued, “this head
coyote
had to go back to his home base in México. He left a brother in charge who was not as vigilant.” That's when Mamá started sneaking phone calls. When she called our apartment in Carolina del Norte, she found out that we had moved to Vermont and left a number.

But every time Mamá called the number, a stranger would answer in English. One time, it was a girl, who said something in Spanish, and Mamá was so excited…. But by that time, the chief
coyote
had come back, and he caught her on the phone and gave her the beating of her life. “He knocked out two of my teeth,” Mamá said, opening her mouth to show me what I'd already seen.

“I began to lose hope,” Mamá admitted. “I stopped thinking about escaping. I just wanted to avoid getting hurt or bringing danger to any of you.” She stopped and gazed at me with the saddest eyes in the world.
Ay,
Papá, it just made my own eyes fill, and we held each other for a moment and cried together.

Everyone in the car was real quiet and respectful. Like they could tell Mamá was reliving terrible moments. That is also a reason why I am writing this letter, Papá. So Mamá won't have to repeat this part of the story until she is stronger.