Back in the saddle, p.17
Back in the Saddle, page 17
“Not at all. You do what you need to do. I’m only along for the ride.”
“I parked behind the building next door. It’s better that way.”
With that, they drained their cups, left their money on the table, and headed out. Luckily for Kendall, Tere was a talker.
“The largest group we’ve ever detained in this area consisted mainly of Central Americans, more than a hundred of them. They were found not far from where we are right now.”
Tere reached into the back seat for her uniform and placed it on the console. She backed out of the parking space and drove down the road to an abandoned lot, where she began changing, unashamedly. A slightly embarrassed Kendall started to get out, but Tere cautioned her against it. Kendall looked away and nervously began talking.
“What I’d really like to do is focus on one of the women. Her particular journey and individual experience, start to finish. Well, at least up until today.”
“How’s your Spanish? The ones we’ll be transporting don’t speak any English. Most of them come from small, rural villages in their country. Some don’t even speak Spanish, but their own indigenous languages. Communication can be challenging. I can help with translation, but I can’t promise how forthcoming the women will be. They’re often terrified, as you can imagine, and not very trusting. But the support staff at the center is amazing. You’ll see.”
They pulled onto a grassy area near the river.
Kendall narrowed her eyes. “Most of this, the ground cover, the vegetation, is unfamiliar to me.”
“That tall grass over there and pretty much everywhere here is carrizo. It’s our worst enemy. The cane provides the perfect place for crossers to hide. They only need to make it to the riverbank and climb that small muddy slope at the water’s edge before they can lose us and get lost in it.”
Tere pointed at what looked like some relatively fresh prints in the mud that, sure enough, ended right where the reeds began. Kendall walked closer to the river. Her imagination helped her envision the moment the women were discovered hiding there. She could almost hear their whispers in the wind.
“How did you know they were here? How did you find them?”
“I was out with my duty partner patrolling the area, as we do, when a call came over the radio. A sensor had been tripped about a quarter mile that way.” She pointed toward the west. “We found them crouched down behind the grass. They were wet, scared, and alone. It’s unusual to find women without men or children. We suspected they had some company, but we couldn’t find any others.”
“Where do they go from here?”
“They’re processed at the station. There’ve been so many detained lately that we’ve had to create makeshift shelters to hold them.”
“Would it be possible for me to visit one of them? The shelters. Preferably the one to which these particular women were taken.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, let me show you something. Be careful. The mud’s slippery.” Tere offered Kendall a hand and helped her down the bank. “If there were a boat available, I’d take you out on it. Many of our apprehensions take place in the river or just this side of it. If you look up and down, you’ll see all manner of watercraft. The inflatable rafts are now deflated over here. Even those large pieces of thick Styrofoam that are thrown up into the bushes. They use whatever they can find that floats, but it doesn’t always make it all the way. That’s where our boats come in—to the rescue. Ours is a humanitarian mission as well as a law enforcement necessity, although most of our haters don’t see it that way.”
It turned out to be a pretty uneventful few hours for Kendall. Not much happened. Maybe that was a good thing. It gave her the opportunity to ask lots of questions. She spent the rest of the evening listening, looking, writing, and wondering what tomorrow would bring.
What morning brought was an overwhelming desire to see Deb. Kendall missed her immensely. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but she was sure she’d maxed out on fondness.
* * * *
“Hey Honey, I’m home!”
Kendall found Deb in her office. From the looks of it, she was testing code she’d created, and was so intensely focused she hadn’t heard Kendall. She knocked on the open door.
With a broad and dimpled grin, Deb abandoned her project and hurried to greet her.
“What happened? I wasn’t expectin’ you home for another day or two.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.” Kendall laughed.
“You know what I mean. Get over here!” Deb opened her arms wide and pulled Kendall into a warm embrace.
“I got everything I needed for the story from Tere last night. So, I decided to go back to my original plan. I couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer. So, here I am!”
“I’m so happy you’re home.”
Kendall was so caught up in her reunion with Deb that she almost didn’t notice the dancing dogs at her feet. “Let me love on the girls a little, then I’ll love on you a little.” She fluttered her eyelashes, moistened her lips, and gave Deb a coy smile.
“Woman, you better love on me a lot!”
After about ninety seconds of 90 Day Fiancé, they turned the show off.
“So, tell me about this place you’ll be heading to after I’ve had my way with you.”
Kendall hit Deb with her pillow and they had a little pillow talk.
“I remember you said you’d heard of the center I’m going to, but do you know about the Girasol project?”
Deb shook her head and got comfortably propped up in bed.
“It’s a group of professionals, social workers, attorneys, health care providers—mental and physical—translators, and others that come together to offer support and services to immigrant women who’ve been detained and brought to the center. They explain what’s happening to them and what comes next. They help them prepare for their credible fear interview.”
Deb’s lips turned down. “What the hell is that?”
“ICE agents have to believe the women truly fear for their lives and aren’t just looking for a new place to call home. They must have a good reason, other than economical, to have left their countries and come here. The center also offers assistance in finding them employment. I researched girasol, the sunflower that is the project’s symbol. Gira means to turn, and sol is sun. You know, not only does a sunflower turn its face toward the sun, but I also read that when there is no sun, the flowers turn to each other. Although I don’t think it’s true.”
“That’s all very interesting, honey, but you’re babbling now. Are you nervous? It has been a while.”
“I am getting excited.”
“That’s good, because Christmas is coming and Santa ho-ho-hopes you make her naughty list tonight.” With a lopsided grin and half-lidded eyes, Deb reached over to the bedside table and clicked off the light.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I LOVE CHRISTMAS.” IT was such a simple statement and so true. Kendall had always loved the December holiday the best. That’s why she was a little sad, on New Year’s Eve, to see the season near its end. “People are so much nicer and kinder to each other during these days. Hearts seem fuller.”
“Yeah, well, you might see a different side of humanity if you ever save your shopping to the last minute.”
“Are you trying to tell me my gifts were what was left on the shelves of the store after everyone else had painstakingly planned?” Kendall thought she saw a certain sadness cross Deb’s face, so she quickly added, “Hey. I was only kidding.”
They had just enjoyed a full course New Year’s Eve dinner, Top Chef Deb style, that included Mueller’s famous steak fajitas, served up with rice and beans as generous sides. They were recovering on the sofa where they had opted, after considering their many invitations and options available for celebrating, to ring in the New Year in a quiet, intimate way.
Deeply engaged in a friendly battle of wits, courtesy of the Trivial Pursuit Genus Edition sprawled before them on the coffee table, they wondered if they would find room for the cheese and crackers as they sipped bubbly, prematurely, from plastic champagne flutes.
Kendall was commenting on the throngs of partying people in the Big Apple, waiting for the Times Square ball to drop.
“What’s that?” Deb had abruptly turned her gaze from the widescreen TV to the tree.
Kendall looked to where she pointed. “It looks like someone missed a present.”
Kendall abandoned Andy Cohen and Anderson Cooper’s hilarity as she curiously hurried to the still fragrant fir and carefully extracted the small package carefully tucked into the folds of the tree skirt.
“Awww, it’s prolly nothing. Most likely just one of those leftover gifts those shameless shoppers rush out to get at the last minute,” Deb whispered after sneaking up behind a distracted Kendall.
Kendall turned and gave her one of those looks.
Deb reached around her to take the box. “Why, it has your name on it. I sure hope Santa didn’t outdo me.”
Kendall reached for and immediately started to tear into the gift.
“No. No. No.” Deb pulled the present from Kendall’s hands. “You’ve waited this long; I think you should time the opening of this one just right, so you see what’s inside just as the silver ball lands.”
Kendall smiled as the countdown in the background began.
“Ten, nine…” There went the rest of the ribbon. “Eight, seven...” One end of the wrapping. “Six, five…” The top of the box came off. “Four, three…” Deb tipped the package and slid out the inner box. “Two, one…Happy New Year!” The excited revelers tooted horns and shouted as confetti rained down on their heads.
Deb joined them in singing Auld Lang Syne, as Kendall lifted out a gold chain with a very significant charm hanging from it. The key bore an artistically designed heart expertly crafted into its center.
“All kidding aside, only you have ever had the key to my heart.” Deb laid the chain around Kendall’s neck and closed the clasp.
Kendall, still admiring the beauty and symbolism of the very special gift, looked up as Deb reminded her, “We still have another hour to go before this year becomes the next, here in Texas.”
They spent that last hour expressing themselves in unspoken languages. Deb wiped away Kendall’s tears and covered her neck and ears with gentle kisses, while her hands slipped around to undo the buttons of her blouse. The sadness turned happiness soon gave way to arousal as excited nipples hardened and thrust forward toward the caress.
Kendall gasped audibly, and a moan escaped her lips.
In a passion play meant to tease and heighten desire, Deb stopped her slightly opened mouth just in front of Kendall’s exposed breast, barely allowing the tip of her tongue to lightly graze the nearest nipple’s now puckered tip. Then she pulled back to gently blow on it where it shone wet. The smell of desire was nearly palpable as it permeated the air in the room. Deb was getting high on it. Pulling Kendall closer, she moved her hands down the length of her lover’s body to her panty’s silky smoothness. From outside the garment, Deb let her fingers dance across the barrier and tease Kendall as they slid up and down and along the leg openings, causing an audible increase in aromatic wetness.
This time it was Deb who moaned, breathless.
And that’s how the rest of the Eve was spent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IT HAD BEEN ALMOST a year since Santa gifted Kendall with Southwest tickets, along with the cherished key to my heart charm that had claimed permanent space around her neck. She pulled it up over her mouth, as had become habit in that time, and ran it back and forth across her upper lip. The months between then and now had been spent rodeoing, naturally, enjoying their home and family life they’d created, and occasionally getting together with their close-knit group of friends. She wondered if jolly, old St. Nick had any idea then what would become of that long-awaited northeastern trip.
She and Deb hadn’t spent another night apart since her border visit. The story she’d written had been a huge success, but no story was worth the precious moments she’d have to sacrifice for such an assignment. She vowed to never do it again.
Kendall stooped to pick up a bright orange leaf as it tumbled across the grass at her feet. It had been exactly five years to the day since she last stood in the very place where she found herself on that cool and crisp November day. Fall in the Mid-Atlantic meant sweater weather, her favorite time of year. She delighted in the colorful beauty of a magnitude of maples that dotted the hillsides around her. Having long before rooted themselves in the soil of the Sugarloaf Mountain range, the trees clung stubbornly to their remaining yellows and reds, but their efforts were no match for the incessant whims of ever-strengthening autumn winds.
Smiling as she turned her face skyward and closed her eyes, Kendall parted her lips to the breeze’s gentle kiss. She enjoyed its delicate dance. The longest layers of her hair caressed her shoulders, much like a lover’s embrace, as the current flowed toward the valley’s basin.
There was only one thing missing.
She pulled out her phone, took another long look at the photographic image she had snapped with her cell’s camera just the other day, and wondered WWJD? What would Joanna Greer do and say on this, her one and only daughter’s very special day? Kendall had gone over in her mind many times the varying scenarios that could have come into play, how their talk might have started, could have ended, and how coming out to her parents might have altered the outcome of this day. She wondered, especially, about her mother, to whom she was closest.
Sadly, all she would ever have to guide her thoughts was her imagination. Her mother hadn’t even lived to see Kendall’s high school graduation, let alone anyone’s awareness of her daughter’s sexual orientation. Kendall’s father was gone too.
Kendall had long ago come to the conclusion that her mother would have been very happy for both of them. And she was sure her father would have eventually come around.
In her heart, she knew her partner’s gender wouldn’t have made any difference to the woman who had given birth to her, regardless of the fact that loving another woman made her baby girl a lesbian. She believed that all her mother would have wanted was that the woman Kendall’s heart had chosen to love would love her in return, be good to her, and respect her in every way.
“I love you, Momma,” Kendall whispered before closing her digital album. Not wanting a well-intentioned but ill-timed ringtone to interrupt the beauty of her day or the ceremony that was about to take place, she silenced her phone before putting it away.
Soon, nature’s whisperings would go unheard beneath the cacophony of loud and happy voices as long-absent friends became reacquainted in joyous celebration. Equally as cherished were the new ones she’d made along the way, who were also in attendance.
Selfishly, Kendall admitted she wanted it all—the sentiment, solitude and serenity—to herself for a few minutes. She looked back toward the church and caught a glimpse of her lover and best friend. Deb moved forward into the doorway, watching quietly in the wings as she so often did, as if still awaiting an invitation.
From the distance, Kendall could see Deb’s smile, she could even see her trademark dimples, a physical adornment that Kendall hoped the passage of time would neither fill in with flesh, nor ever erase.
Caught up in her mental reverie, she was startled by the sudden realization that it was time. She took one more long, last look at her surroundings, and a deep, deep breath in. She allowed the peaceful serenity to be pulled down inside of her, to fill her up before she entered the sacred place she had long safeguarded in her memory. She had spent many Sundays at Open Door Metropolitan Community Church, buoyed by the soulful sounds of the Joyful Noises choir, in fellowship with friends who had become like family and in communion with her soul. She would always believe a being more supreme than any earthly existence had a guiding hand in leading her to the woman with whom she was about to unite her heart, soul, and life.
Many were the mornings she’d stepped over the very threshold she crossed now, where she’d been unfailingly welcomed by warm and friendly worshippers. They’d offered brotherly and sisterly embraces and invited her to join them for a continental breakfast.
In its everyday essence, the worship space hadn’t changed much, save for the fact that a little more wood had been added in a frame around the window’s stained glass. She was glad to see that some things never changed; they remained comfortable and consistent.
Yet for her return visit and special occasion, the physical interior had been lovingly transformed into a barn for the day. They’d chosen a western theme for their eastern wedding. It was perfect. Just the way she’d imagined and planned.
She and Deb had flown in a few days early to make sure everything they shipped ahead had made it okay. Together with Kelly and Bri, her oldest friend, they set everything up, did all of the decorating, and took care of some last-minute rearrangements. Theirs would be an intimate, casual union of souls, the way she’d always wanted and dreamed it would be.
Kendall was sitting upon one of the tightly baled bundles of hay that formed a half circle around the makeshift sanctuary. She admired the kerchiefs, Pendleton blankets, and cowboy boots and hats strategically placed in a haphazard way. Her quiet appraisal was interrupted by the arrival of Pastor Jill, who appeared silently by her side.
“I can honestly say this will be like no other wedding I’ve ever officiated at.” She smiled and took Kendall’s hands in hers. “Welcome home, Kendall. I’m honored that you have chosen me to share with you on this very special day and the most sacred of all occasions. I promise I will do everything to make yours an incredible, unforgettable, and beautiful wedding.”
Kendall stood to hug her old friend and smiled. She literally beamed when she saw that Jill was wearing the bolo tie with her button-down shirt, jeans, and boots. Kendall had found the gift at Cavender’s, and shipped it to Jill as a thank you when they first began communicating regarding the event’s preparations. Kendall knew that Pastor Jill wasn’t overly fond of dressing down and would have preferred to dress to the nines. Jill normally wore liturgical couture, designer vestments made of the finest Italian silk over a pair of secular and stylish Manolo Blahniks.
