Faithful Valor Read online

  “Okay.” Grace scrunched her eyes closed and frowned.

  “Is that your envisioning face?” Claire laughed.

  Grace just nodded.

  Claire circled the block twice before finally finding someone walking to his car. She rolled the window down.

  “Are you leaving?”

  The man gave her a thumbs-up before he got into his vehicles. She’d started doing that—alerting people that she was waiting—because lately it seemed so many drivers would get in, start their cars, and then sit checking their phones.

  Frustrating.

  Like clockwork, he started his car, put his blinker on, and the wait began.

  Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Finally, he backed out and then gave her a wave.

  “Asshole.”

  “Asshole,” came from the backseat with the same inflection as Claire’s invective.

  “Grace…”

  “What, Mommy?”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  “But you do.”

  “Hmm, Mommy’s older and has earned the right to say a bad word sometimes, but I shouldn’t.”

  “It’s okay, Mommy. I think once in a while is okay.”

  Claire smiled. Her daughter was giving her permission to be bad. Life was funny at times.

  “Thank you, honey.” Claire lined herself up and tried to back into the parking space, then pulled forward and cursed. “Damn it. I fucking hate parallel parking.” She turned and grabbed the passenger seat headrest to see behind her better, and noticed Grace had her fingers in her ears. She chuckled.

  Finally jockeying the car into the slot, she grabbed the steering wheel and groaned in relief and frustration.

  Let it go, she said over and over.

  “It’s okay, Mommy.” Grace had unbuckled herself from her booster seat and was patting her mother on the shoulder. Then she planted a kiss on Claire’s cheek and wrapped her arms around Claire’s neck.

  God, I love being a mom.

  “Thank you, sweetie. Hot chocolate?”

  “Okay,” Grace yelled and pumped her fist.

  Another gift from Timmy. It was so…Well, it didn’t matter. If that was the worst thing she picked up from neighborhood kids, Claire and Nic would be lucky.

  Morgan’s Coffee Shop was always busy with locals who had decided that supporting small businesses kept the big chain stores out of Monterey. The city council had recently caved and allowed two fast food chains to open on Alvarado, so it would eventually and inevitably let more chains in. Nearby Carmel’s city council, on the other hand, never allowed chain stores and restaurants downtown, except for those with the cachet of Tiffany, Neiman Marcus, and a few other high-end stores. Claire guessed that image was everything to Carmelites. She preferred the lower-key vibe of Monterey.

  “Mom, can I have a cookie?”

  “Sure, honey. Which one?” Claire bent and looked inside the case filled with baked goodies.

  “That one.” She pointed to the biggest cookie covered in hard blue frosting.

  “That’s kinda big.”

  “I’m kinda big, Mommy. Besides, we could share it.”

  “Okay. That one, please.” Claire pointed for the clerk.

  Handing the cookie to Grace, she said, “There you go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Grabbing their drinks, Claire sat them outside. The sun would disappear around 3:00 p.m., so they needed to soak in as much Vitamin D as possible.

  “I like this.” Grace pointed to what was left of her cookie. The eaten part had left blue frosting all over her face.

  “I can see that, sweetie.” Claire wiped the crumbs from Grace’s cheeks and chin, but it was going to take a good washcloth to get that color off.

  “Mommy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is Momma going to be okay?”

  Claire thought it a strange question to come from Grace. She should be worried about school, play, and eating her veggies. The idea that Nic was on her mind bothered Claire.

  “Nic is going to be okay. You know how sometimes you get a headache when you eat ice cream too fast?”

  Grace slid off her chair and stood at Claire’s knee, then slapped her forehead with her palm. “Oh, man, that hurts.”

  “Well, that’s what’s happening to Nic right now. Her head hurts for a long time.” She lifted Grace up on her lap and snuggled her.

  “Oh, poor Momma. I’m gonna give her Matilda. When my tummy hurts, I put her on my tummy and she helps it stop hurting.”

  “That is so sweet of you, sweetie.”

  Grace was growing up to be so empathetic. Claire was proud of her daughter, especially considering the hardships she’d weathered so young in her life, like losing her father in the helicopter crash, moving and making new friends, and now school. Big steps in a little person’s life.

  “Should we go home and check on Nic?”

  “Yes. She can have some of my cookie.” Grace handed the cookie over to Claire, with only a few bites left. Claire had known the big treat would be too much for Grace.

  “Okay, I’ll just put it back in the bag and we’ll take it home for Momma.”

  “Okay. Mommy, can we have a baby?”

  “Ah, well…um…”

  Cece shoved a pile of jeans into the duffel and took a deep breath. She hated leaving Melita again. The only saving grace was that this was probably the last time she’d leave her behind.

  “Mommy, I want to come with you.” Melita’s voice pierced Cece’s heart. Peeking over the flap of the duffel, the girl shoved her favorite doll into the bag, trying to be subtle.

  “Sweetie, you can’t yet.”

  “Why?” The expression on her cherub face broke Cece.

  “I have to find a place for us to live, and I don’t have anyone to watch you yet.”

  Melita puffed up her chest, her hands on her hips. She bounced on the bed. “I’m big enough to watch myself.”

  Barely five, Melita looked old for her age and Cece had hardly recognized her little squirt when she’d come home from the police academy on the occasional leave days. Six months away had been hard, but the few weekends at home had made it almost tolerable.

  Going back to her packing, Cece lamented how soon she had to leave. She wanted to make it to Monterey with enough time for a quick trip around the campus and to grab dinner. Grabbing a stack of T-shirts, she smiled at the open duffel. For every shirt and pants she put into the bag, she had to take out a stuffed animal or toy Melita had put in. She had to give it to her daughter—she was persistent.

  “Someone has to take care of Nana until I come home to get you. Think you can do that for me?”

  “Moooom.” Melita dragged out the “O” for a good three seconds.

  “Honey, Mommy is in a hotel until housing is ready for us,” she said, stuffing more clothes into the duffel. Thank god her new uniform and utility belt were already hanging in the truck waiting for the last of her few meager possessions. Living in the military and constantly moving had taught her that things were replaceable. Her most prized possession would be safely nestled in the arms of her mother until Cece could retrieve Melita and bring her to Monterey.

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you stop for a minute? I want to talk to you.”

  “Sweetie, I have to get up to Monterey before it gets dark.”

  “Please?”

  Cece stopped and sat on the bed, pulling her daughter onto her lap. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?”

  Melita put her hands on each side of Cece’s face and squished her cheeks into their signature fish-lips face. Cece was having a tough time leaving Melita home this time. Just turning five, she was getting ready to start kindergarten and South-Central LA was nowhere to raise a child. She should know; this was where she’d grown up and it wasn’t where she wanted to raise her daughter. The neighborhood hadn’t just changed, it was decidedly more violent. Girls were joining gangs, and drugs and guns were everyw
here. Hell, when she first arrived home from the academy, she’d had to pass through a makeshift gauntlet of men sitting in lawn chairs blocking her street. Luckily one of those men had been her little brother, Santino. He was anything but a saint.

  “Cece? What the fuck? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming home.”

  Cece regarded the three other men. One sported a baseball bat, one a pipe, and she was sure they were all packing. Looking up at Santino, she couldn’t miss how skinny he was. His clean, pristinely white T-shirt draped off on him like it was on a hanger. It hid the two bullet holes that had almost taken his life. It was a miracle he’d survived, earning him the nickname Angelito—Guardian Angel. He’d taken the bullets meant for another gang member, so now he was not only a martyr, he was angelic. A few new tattoos littered his arms, and a cigarette hung from his lips.

  “What’s going on, Santino? I want to go home, but your guys are blocking the street.”

  He nodded his head back at the crew sitting in the lawn chairs and suddenly the street was cleared for her to go through.

  “We’re just protecting what’s ours, sis.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Santino.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she cranked on the wheel and turned to go down her street. “This is some bullshit right here,” she said, looking at one of the stocky men waving her through. “Just my luck I’ll get shot and killed here and not in a fucking hot zone like Afghanistan.” She watched Santino jog back to his chair and take up his position sitting between the other men.

  She hated LA. The traffic was awful, there were too many people, and the gangs had chewed up the neighborhood and spit out garbage. If the older residents didn’t die, they moved away to bedroom communities to be with children who themselves had left for safer pastures, only to be replaced with those looking for cheap houses or rent, mistaking the neighborhood for something they were used to back home. Little did they know they were only providing the next generation of gang members as the kids desperate to fit in—or be protected—joined the gangs.

  It was a vicious cycle that had claimed her best friend, Melita. They were walking home after a high school dance with a group of kids when a car sped around a corner. Two guys hung out the window and shot at the group. Melita had been standing in front of Cece when it all happened. It sounded like firecrackers exploding, so no one had really been spooked. Then the kids started to drop and Melita had fallen against Cece, clutching her stomach.

  Blood was everywhere.

  Kids were screaming and running, leaving Cece sitting on the sidewalk holding Melita. The last thing she remembered was Melita’s brown eyes staring at her, mouthing, “Help me.”

  Now her brother Santino sat in a lawn chair acting like some kind of overlord, watching over his street.

  “Mija, are you okay?” Her mother’s sweet, gentle voice pulled her from the wretched memory.

  “I’m good, Mom. Just thinking about the move.”

  Sitting next to her, her mother took her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I know. I just can’t wait until we’re all out of this neighborhood.”

  Her mother stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “At least you’re home safe now.”

  “Mommy, I want to go with you. Tell her, Nana, I’m big enough to take care of myself.” Melita wedged between the two women and hugged them both.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Lita,” her grandmother said. “You’re just like your mommy. She wanted to be all grown up, too.”

  “But I—”

  “Why don’t you go and get a soda, Lita?”

  Melita looked at her mother with a questioning glance.

  “Yes, you can have half a soda. I don’t want you wetting the bed tonight.”

  “Mommy, I don’t wet the bed anymore.”

  “Okay, then I don’t want you awake at all hours of the night and keeping your grandmother up.”

  Walking away, Melita said, “I won’t. Geez.”

  “What’s really bothering you, Cece?”

  “I’m tired of leaving you both behind.” She took advantage of the time Lita was gone and stuffed her duffel with the last few items and then snapped it closed. “I want you to move up to Monterey, Mom.”

  “Honey—”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. I don’t want you here by yourself anymore. Besides, you’ll be with us and I could really use your help with Melita. You don’t want a stranger raising your granddaughter, do you?” She knew that would get a reaction, even if it was just the silent treatment.

  “What about Santino? He needs me.”

  “Mom, he doesn’t need you except to raid the fridge or for some quick cash. If you haven’t noticed, he’s a grown man and should be taking care of himself. Besides, you deserve to take care of yourself, be safe, and not have to worry about the next drive-by shooting. He doesn’t stay here, does he?”

  “Oh, only once in a while.”

  Tossing her leather jacket on, she shouldered her duffel. She knew he only stayed with their mother when he was running from something, or someone.

  “Mom, I’m a cop now and I can’t have you or Melita in danger. He doesn’t give a shit about your safety.”

  “Cece, you know that’s not true.”

  “No? Then why would he stay with you, knowing that he could be a target for some little punk trying to make a name for himself?”

  “Honey, aren’t you exaggerating just a little?”

  “No, Mom, I’m not. Haven’t you seen him and his goons sitting at the end of the block keeping people from coming down the street? It’s ridiculous. Nobody lives like that outside of South Central. It’s a fucking war zone here. I felt safer in Afghanistan than I do here.”

  Her mother shot her the “bullshit” look she was famous for when Cece was growing up. Cece was on the receiving end of that look every time she told a half truth.

  “It’s true, Mom.”

  “Have you forgotten that you were wounded your last deployment?”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Mom. But I walked out of that hospital with my life. Here, there are no guarantees.” Cece stuffed her wallet, pocketknife, and money in her backpack. “I want you to at least consider it. Dad is gone, there isn’t any family here except me, Melita, and Santino. Once Melita and I move to Monterey, you’ll be here all by yourself and I won’t be able to come down for a while.” Cece got on her knees in front of her mother, then took her hands and squeezed them.

  “Please promise me that you will come. Melita needs you, but more importantly, I need you. We’ve been apart for too long, and now that I’m home, I want us to be together.” She brought her mother’s hands to her lips and kissed them. They were soft but had been strong enough to discipline two wild kids and make a living when her dad got sick, and now, she placed her daughter’s life in them.

  “Please.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll come up and get Melita ready for school and help out for a little while, and then we can see how it goes. It’s been a long time since we two strong women lived under one roof. I remember when your father’s mother came to live with us.” She wrinkled her nose. “That woman was a bear to live with.”

  “I remember,” Cece said, standing and pulling her mother up with her. Wrapping her in a hug, she squeezed her tight. “I better go. I’ve got a long drive and I want to try and beat the traffic out of town.”

  “Mommy, want a drink?” Melita walked in and shoved the soda at her mom.

  “Sure, pumpkin.”

  “I didn’t spit in it.”

  Cece looked at her mom and grimaced. “Good to know.” Taking a small drink, she handed it back to Melita, shouldered her backpack, scooped up her duffel with one hand, and reached out to Melita with the other. “Walk me out to my truck?”

  Silently, the trio navigated the small two-bedroom house and out to her truck. This was the hardest part of any visit. At least she knew thi
s would be the last time she’d have to do it for a while.

  She tossed her stuff on the passenger seat and peeked back into the crew cab, making sure her uniform was still there. Grabbing it off the seat, she hung it up on the hook. Now that she was leaving, she didn’t have to worry about someone seeing it and taking a potshot at it during the night. It was like a neon sign telling the local bangers that a cop lived there. Her mom didn’t need that kind of hassle. She didn’t care if Santino got hassled over it—he could handle it.

  “Okay, give me a kiss, kiddo.” Cece reached down and hoisted Melita up for a hug.

  “Here, give me that, Lita, so you can give your mommy a proper hug.”

  “Kay.” She handed over the can and wrapped her arms around Cece’s neck and squeezed.

  Cece’s heart sank. It was never easy saying good-bye to her daughter. When she was younger, Melita would give a quick peck on the cheek and run off to play with her friends. That hurt more than this did, but this time it was different. Melita had begged to come, and she’d had to tell her daughter no.

  “Lita, can you play?” A little girl riding her bike pulled into the driveway.

  “Nana?”

  “Go, sweetie. Stay out of the street,” Cece answered instead, putting her down and swatting her butt.

  “I love you, Mommy.” She grabbed the can of soda from her grandmother, then turned to her mother. “Can I have a phone, Mommy?”

  “What? No.” Cece laughed at the sudden change in direction.

  “Laura has one. Why can’t I have one?”

  “We’ll talk about it later, and don’t go begging your grandmother for one, okay?”

  “Okay,” Melita said, dejected. She recovered quickly as she raced over to her pink bike, putting her soda in the drink holder that was attached to the handlebars.

  “Who put that on there?”

  “Santino. He said she needs to have her hands free when she rode. So, he put it on.”

  “Hmmm. He doesn’t hang around her, does he?”

  “Cece. He is her tίo.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I don’t want her going anywhere with him. Okay?”

  “Go. You’ve got a long drive and the traffic is only going to get worse the later it gets.”