Traffic slowed to a crawl. Grace had gotten off at five, but it would be well after six before she made it to Burbank. She’d have to fill her Civic’s gas tank twice this week, which wouldn’t leave much to save toward a deposit on an apartment. How was she ever going to afford a place of her own? Fighting tears, she tried not to let emotions take over. She’d cried enough in the last year to float a ship.
Grow up, Grace. You live with the mess you make.
Maybe God was punishing her. He had every right, considering how she’d behaved after the divorce.
Ruben, eyes fixed on the television news, raised a hand in greeting as she came in the front door. Alicia, a freshman in high school, and Javier, a senior, were in their rooms finishing homework. Selah had already put Samuel to bed.
“He was fussy, so I put him down at six.” She smiled as she placed the last glasses in the dishwasher. “Your dinner is in the oven, chiquita, still warm. How did it go today?”
“Fine.” She’d stick with him until something better opened. “I’m going to see Samuel.”
“He’s sleeping. Best to leave him alone.”
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“Sit. Eat dinner.”
Grace pretended not to hear. She’d been away from her son all day. She just wanted to hold him for a few minutes.
Samuel lay on his back, arms spread. He looked so peaceful, she didn’t awaken him. Adjusting the soft blanket, she leaned down. “I love you, little man. I missed you so much today.” She kissed his warm forehead and stood at his crib, just watching him sleep. Wiping tears away, she went back to the kitchen. Selah had set out a plate of rice, coleslaw, and a thick, cheesy enchilada. Grace thanked her as she took a seat at the kitchen table. Selah went into the laundry room.
Grace ate alone, cleared and washed her dishes. She joined Selah and started folding Samuel’s clothes. Selah plucked a onesie from her and waved her away. “I can do it, chiquita. Go sit and talk with Ruben.”
It wasn’t the words that stung, but the implication that Selah wanted to handle everything that had to do with Samuel. Grace watched her fold Samuel’s onesie and press it onto a pile of other outfits she had bought. Ignoring Grace, she picked up a small T-shirt.
Grace didn’t want to feel resentful. The Garcias had been kind and supportive for months. When Grace told them she’d changed her mind about giving up Samuel, Selah told her she had time to think things over. Selah was never unkind, but she seemed intent on showing Grace she was a better mother for Samuel.
Lord, I’m grateful. I truly am.
Ruben looked up when she came into the living room. “How did the temp job go? Will it work into something more permanent?”
“Rocky. He’s an artist. He lives in Topanga Canyon.”
“No wonder you were so late getting home tonight.” He glanced at the news program. “Alicia has a volleyball game Wednesday night. We should leave by six.”
Grace got the message. If she couldn’t make it back in time, they’d take Samuel with them, and she’d miss another evening with her son.
Roman’s days became easier with Grace Moore on the job. She arrived promptly at nine, made his coffee, and went to work in the office. He’d already informed her to hold his calls. He told her which to ignore, which to answer. People called frequently, wanting murals. He debated taking on any more, finding them time-intensive and less lucrative than his work on canvas.
He felt pressed, but undirected. Did he want his work hidden away in a private home, or displayed for all to see? Murals gave Roman Velasco legitimacy, even though he was being commissioned to fulfill someone else’s vision rather than his own. He still occasionally spoke his own mind through the Bird’s simplistic graffiti, but with growing risk. It had become a game, more dangerous as time went by.
Rubbing his forehead, Roman tried to fix his mind on the mural. He had a deadline, and it was fast approaching. Don’t think. Just do the work and get the check. Concentrate on that.
Hiring Hector Espinoza had taken the pressure off doing all the work himself. The man was set to begin Roman’s mural for the lobby wall of a new hotel near the San Diego Zoo. Management had hired Roman to create an African savanna scene complete with migrating animals. Roman had almost finished drawing the design on transfer paper, which Hector would use to start the painting. Once Hector finished the transfers, Roman would drive down and do the fine detail work to bring life to the mural.
Roman dropped the pencil and flexed his cramping fingers. When had he last taken a break? He’d been working since sunup. Pushing the stool back, he stood and stretched while walking to the windows. He looked out at the canyon. Movement caught his eye, and he spotted a jackrabbit making its cautious way across the path down to the cottage the previous owners had built for an aging parent who didn’t live long enough to move in.