“Maybe having a cop close by makes him more comfortable,” he said. “If so, I’m glad to give him the peace of mind.”
She turned toward him. “Because he was your governor?”
“Because he is my friend.” He enunciated each word quietly, but with vehemence. She looked away. Did he really think she would so easily accept that he was exactly what he seemed, an honorable man, helping her in an effort to right the wrong he had done, and his friend, a politician, would help without a hidden agenda or profit motive?
No, he could not. She could not. Yet as the car came to a stop in the paved circle outside the mansion and the ranger lead her to the front door, she wanted to believe it.
But she had survived eight years of civil war in her country by being cautious, by relying on herself and trusting precious few. The cloak of vigilance she had sheathed herself in was hard to shed. Especially after what had happened to Eduardo.
Coming to America was to have been her chance to escape violence. She had not planned the baby she and Eduardo had created, but once she’d learned of it and accepted his offer of marriage in the United States, she had dreamed of a better life. She had dreamed of a quiet little apartment and nights filled with the sounds of city life—traffic and music and laughing voices on the street—instead of mortar fire and the cries of the dying.
She had dreamed of peace.
When she arrived in America and saw the father of her child gunned down, she had realized the idyllic life she sought did not exist.
Like all dreams, peace was only an illusion.
A trick of the mind.
Del cruised up the winding drive toward the Randolph mansion slower than was necessary to buy time to think. Gene would expect an explanation when Del showed up at his door with Elisa in tow. The problem was, there weren’t any explanations. None that made sense. Del was under investigation for the death of this woman’s fiancé. Every moment he spent in her company further compromised his position. Helping her could cast doubt on his motivations. Raise questions about his character. The cautious thing to do would be to keep as far away from her as possible.
But then, caution had never been high on his list of priorities. He wouldn’t have become a Texas Ranger if it had been. In his world, a person had two choices in every situation: he could do the right thing or the wrong thing. An honorable man always did the right thing, even if it wasn’t the safe choice or the obvious one. Helping Elisa Reyes definitely wasn’t safe. The press would come down on him like a bobcat on a wounded bird if they found out, but leaving her, pregnant and alone, to make her own way wasn’t a decision he could live with. Not when he was responsible for putting her in this situation.
None of that would make explaining her presence to Gene Randolph any easier. With his silvering hair and perpetually paternal expression, Gene might look like everybody’s grandfather, but he was sharp as a straight razor. One look at the edge in his pale-blue eyes when the door opened told Del that introductions wouldn’t be necessary. Gene knew exactly who Elisa was. What he didn’t know was what the hell she was doing on his doorstep with Del.
They made small talk as they crossed the black-and-white marble-tiled foyer, and two minutes later were settled into Gene’s library/office. Bookcases rose from the floor to the ceiling behind Gene’s massive mahogany desk. Law books, mostly, lined the shelves, but the spines of those on the lower racks sported popular fiction titles, mysteries and novelized true war stories. The fact that these were within easiest reach of Gene’s oversize leather chair reflected his friend’s retired status, Del figured.
For a moment he regretted dragging his friend back into the bureaucratic world he’d escaped. If anyone deserved his peace, it was Gene. But twenty years in politics had given the former governor a way with sticky situations, and Del’s predicament was about as sticky as a fresh roll of flypaper.
“What do you know about alien residency requirements?” Del asked, ending the small talk. Propping his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward in his wing chair. In the matching seat next to him, Elisa sat back, her ankles and knees pressed together and her hands in her lap.
“You don’t sit in the governor’s chair in Texas without going around the block a few times with the INS.” Raising his sterling eyebrows gently, Gene studied them both across the desk. “I take it Ms. Reyes is the alien in question?”
Del didn’t consider it was his place to talk about Elisa’s situation, so he waited for her to explain. A heartbeat passed, then another, before she inclined her head stiffly. Silently.
Damn the woman’s pride. It would be her undoing.
“I understand you were engaged to Eduardo Garcia,” Gene said softly.
Again she simply nodded, ending with her chin high. She looked noble, genteel, bearing her fate with the serenity of a Madonna. And beneath it all, despite her best attempts to cover it up, she looked sad.
“I’m sorry,” Gene said, meeting her gaze head-on and holding it. If Del wasn’t mistaken, his simple sincerity earned him a notch of respect from Elisa.
“You are not at fault,” she said.
Del felt the disclaimer like a kick in the gut. They all knew who shouldered the blame for this situation.
“We need to know how to get her green card even now that Eduardo is… Even without Eduardo,” he said, forcing his jaw to release its clench.
Gene’s eyelids drooped sadly as he broke eye contact with Elisa and looked at Del. “If the marriage never took place—”
“There’s got to be some way,” Del said.
Gene thought. “Do you have a marriage license? Any documentation?”
Elisa hesitated only a second before shaking her head.
“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing—”
“She’s pregnant,” Del cut in harshly. “It’s Garcia’s baby. An American baby.”
“Not until it’s born, it’s not,” Gene said gently. “And not without Garcia around to acknowledge it as his. There’s no way to prove—”
Del shoved to his feet, rocking his chair. “Are you saying she’s lying?”
He surprised himself with his fervor. Who was he to leap to her defense? He was not exactly her knight in shining armor.
Gene warned him off with narrowed eyes. “I’m saying that the INS will not document this baby as an American citizen without proof. Proof we don’t appear to have.”
“We’ll do a DNA test.”
“Four or five months from now, when the baby is born, maybe. But Ms. Reyes will have been deported by then, most likely. Even if you find facilities in San Ynez to run their end of the procedure, you’re going to need Garcia’s DNA to match to. The exhumation order alone could take months. Then after the matching, there’s INS applications, interviews—”
“Are you telling me it’s hopeless?” Stalking across the room he rubbed the knotted muscles in the back of his neck. “There’s got to be a way to keep her here.”
“I didn’t say it was hopeless,” Gene said. “Just that it wouldn’t be easy.”
He raised his head. “So where do we start?”
Gene focused on Elisa. “With a soft bed and a hot meal.”
Elisa’s eyes widened.
Gene turned to Del and said, “Ms. Reyes looks like she could use some rest. Why don’t you show her upstairs to one of the guest rooms while I go see what I can wrangle up in the kitchen? Tomorrow I’ll make some calls, see what I can find out.”
One look at Elisa