“I only have two friends.”
That’s all Cruz had. Or used to have. Maybe one day he’d look up Alonso and Victor. For now he was leaving his past alone. “What are your friends’ names?”
“Tommy and Marissa. We sit together during story time and Tommy always shares his pretzels with me at lunch.”
There was something about Dani that relaxed Cruz. Maybe because she was just a child and when she looked at him, she only saw a man trying to help her mother and grandfather. Not a man with a secret.
“Looks like I’m finished here.”
“What else are you gonna fix?” she asked.
“That’s it for now.” He wanted to take a quick shower, then throw in a load of laundry and warm up supper for him and Dani before Sara and José returned.
“Will you play Hi Ho Cherry-O with me?”
“What’s that?”
“A game.”
“Why don’t you set up the game on the kitchen table while I grab a shower.”
“Okay.” Dani went to her bedroom and Cruz headed to the trailer for his toiletries and the bag of dirty laundry, then returned to the house.
He showered with his own soap and shampoo. Sara had given him a clean towel at the beginning of the week and he knotted the terry cloth around his waist. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his face. He didn’t know who the man staring back at him was anymore. He recognized the face, but he felt different inside. A huge pit rested at the bottom of his stomach. And it had nothing to do with finally being free. The pit had Sara written all over it—she almost made him forget his promise to Shorty.
After he shrugged into his briefs and jeans, he realized he didn’t have a clean T-shirt. He’d have to go bare-chested while he did laundry. He left the bathroom with the duffel and went out to the screened-in porch where the washer and dryer sat. He shoved all his clothes—whites and darks—into the machine, then set the temperature on warm and closed the lid.
“What’s that?”
Damn. Cruz knew without asking what Dani was referring to. He should have put on a dirty shirt while he waited for his clothes to finish. He faced the munchkin with pigtails and noticed they were askew. She must have been tugging on them again. “What’s what?” he asked, hoping to buy time.
“That picture on your back.”
“It’s a sun.” When he’d turned seventeen, he’d had the ancient Zia sun symbol used on the New Mexico flag tattooed on the back of his shoulder. A capital L had been etched into his skin above the symbol and below it—for the name of the gang he’d been trying to pledge. At the time he hadn’t known a school teacher would throw a wrench in his plans and he’d never complete his gang initiation.
“It’s not a very pretty sun.”
“You’re right. I should have it taken off.”
“Can I see it again?” she asked.
Sara and José wouldn’t be pleased with Dani’s interest in the tattoo, but maybe if he didn’t make a big deal of it, she wouldn’t blab to her mother. He crouched down.
“How come there’s two letter Ls?”
“It’s the letter of my mother’s and grandmother’s names,” he lied.
“What’s their names?”
“Lina and Lolita.” Time to change the subject. He didn’t want to think about his family, who’d written him off when he’d gone to prison. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“Let’s find out what your mother made for supper.” He followed Dani into the kitchen where she opened the refrigerator.
“What is it?” Her big brown eyes blinked.
“A casserole.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.” After scooping a spoonful onto a plate, he put it in the microwave. While the food warmed he poured Dani a glass of milk and got out silverware. When he set the meal on the kitchen table next to the board game, he said, “Blow on it first so you don’t burn your tongue.”
She climbed onto the chair and pushed the food around on her plate. “It’s crazy noodle casserole,” she said. “It’s got a bunch of different noodles in it and spaghetti sauce and cheese.”
“I like spaghetti sauce.” He put a second plate with a bigger serving into the microwave for himself.
Dani slurped her milk. “How did you know I like milk?”
“Don’t most kids like milk?”
She nodded.
He brought his plate to the table and joined her. He was uncomfortable sitting at the table without a shirt. When he heard the washer stop, he said, “Be right back.” He put a single T-shirt into the dryer, then, after a few minutes, took it out and tugged the damp material over his head before tossing the rest of the load into the dryer. When he returned to the table Dani had finished her meal.
“You want seconds?” he asked.
“I want cake.”
“Did your mother bake a cake?”
“Papa did.”
“What kind?”
“Chocolate. I helped frost it.”
A sharp pain caught Cruz in the chest. Chocolate cake had been his younger brother’s favorite. Their mother had stopped baking cakes after Emilio had been killed in a drive-by shooting. “What do you say we wash our dishes first, then I’ll cut you a piece of cake?”
Dani slid off the chair and carried her dish to the sink. “Are you gonna have a piece, too?”
“I’m full from supper. I’ll have one later.” He set his dishes in the sink, too. “Do you want to wash or dry?”
“Dry.”
Cruz moved a chair closer to the counter and lifted Dani onto the seat. “Where’s the dish soap?”
“In there.” She pointed to the cabinet below the sink.
“Dishcloth?”
“Papa uses this.” She handed him the scrub brush already sitting in the sink and he cleaned a plate and rinsed it. “I guess you need a towel.”
Dani pointed to the drawer next to his hip.
He handed her a towel and they worked side by side.
“My daddy never washed dishes.”
“Guys don’t like to do dishes.”
“Papa does dishes.” She dried off a plate and placed it next to her on the counter.
“You’re lucky to have a papa.” The only extended family Cruz had been in contact with growing up had been his paternal grandmother and she’d died when he turned twelve. Probably a good thing, because she would have been disappointed that Cruz had followed in his father’s footsteps and landed in prison—no matter that he’d taken the fall for his friend.
A horn beeped, alerting Cruz that Sara and José had returned.
“Mama’s home!” Dani jumped down from the chair and raced outside.
Cruz made quick work of finishing the dishes and wiping off the countertops.
“Thanks for cleaning up,” Sara said when she entered the kitchen and spotted the dish rag in his hand.
“Thanks