to be dead. Yes, he’d
been judgmental, sarcastic, and a bit of a prude. But he’d also
given her shelter and cared for her when she’d had literally
nowhere to go.
Now she had nothing to do but wait. It made
her feel helpless. More of what she’d been feeling for the last
month. Since the day she’d first met Miguel Lopez.
Sarah pulled out a chair and sat at the old
wood table, her elbows braced on the scratched surface, her chin
resting on her folded hands. She’d never forget that day. She’d
gotten a call from one of the second grade teachers, who was
concerned about a child. The boy had missed many days of school
owing to illness, and on the days he did come to class, he was
agitated, almost frantic to catch up. He was disrupting the
class.
It had taken Sarah two weeks and four
sessions to learn the truth. And if she’d lost her heart on that
first day that she’d sat across from the solemn boy with the dark
eyes and flyaway hair, she’d felt it break the day he finally
confessed his greatest fear.
Miguel Lopez was dying and he knew it. But
that wasn’t what he was scared of.
His family had come from Mexico. Just the
year before, his mother had brought Miguel and his two younger
sisters to the United States. When Miguel had started school, Rosa
Lopez had told her son to make her proud, to learn to read and
write English. That once he had learned, he could teach her.
Miguel was worried that he was going to die
before he got the chance.
Later that evening, when she’d gone to his
home and talked with Rosa Lopez, she’d realized that even when
things are bad, they can get worse. Not only was Miguel Lopez going
to die young, he was going to die alone.
At first Sarah hadn’t understood. Rosa had
explained that Miguel’s doctors had arranged for him to go to a
children’s hospital north of Los Angeles. Sarah had tried to tell
Rosa that Miguel would receive excellent care. Then Rosa had
explained that she didn’t drive, that she could perhaps find the
occasional ride or take the long bus trip but that would mean
leaving her young daughters with strangers.
When Rosa had told her that the doctors had
said that Miguel could be cared for at home with special equipment
and special nurses, Sarah had realized how important that was.
Miguel would have time with this mother, time to teach, time to
know that he’d made her proud. Rosa would keep her family together.
Then Rosa had told her, in her halting English, that there had been
a man who’d come to her house and sold her the insurance for her
family. He’d told her it would pay for someone to come to her home
to take care of her family. However, now the company was telling
her that they would not pay for home care; they would pay only if
he was in a hospital.
Sarah had been sure that she could help.
She’d contacted the company, speaking to everyone from the claims
examiner to the vice president. They’d all told her the same thing.
No. To set up care in the home would be more expensive and the
policy that Rosa Lopez had purchased didn’t cover it. She
understood perfectly what they hadn’t said. They weren’t interested
in paying for anything they didn’t have to. She’d reasoned, she’d
debated, she’d argued, and then finally begged—and she’d gotten
nowhere.
She’d been sure that she had failed until
she’d returned that man’s call. But she’d never gotten a chance to
tell Rosa. She’d been whisked off the beach and tumbled back in
time. She had to find a way back. Before it was too—
Morton’s bark interrupted her thoughts.
“Late,” she finished, her voice a whisper in the quiet cabin.
“Please, God. Don’t let us be too late tonight.” She grabbed the
lantern, opened the door, and watched the two horses walk slowly
back into the yard. Morton trotted alongside John’s horse.
At first she thought the horse was rider-less
but when they got another thirty feet closer, she could see John
sitting in the saddle, bent over the
been judgmental, sarcastic, and a bit of a prude. But he’d also
given her shelter and cared for her when she’d had literally
nowhere to go.
Now she had nothing to do but wait. It made
her feel helpless. More of what she’d been feeling for the last
month. Since the day she’d first met Miguel Lopez.
Sarah pulled out a chair and sat at the old
wood table, her elbows braced on the scratched surface, her chin
resting on her folded hands. She’d never forget that day. She’d
gotten a call from one of the second grade teachers, who was
concerned about a child. The boy had missed many days of school
owing to illness, and on the days he did come to class, he was
agitated, almost frantic to catch up. He was disrupting the
class.
It had taken Sarah two weeks and four
sessions to learn the truth. And if she’d lost her heart on that
first day that she’d sat across from the solemn boy with the dark
eyes and flyaway hair, she’d felt it break the day he finally
confessed his greatest fear.
Miguel Lopez was dying and he knew it. But
that wasn’t what he was scared of.
His family had come from Mexico. Just the
year before, his mother had brought Miguel and his two younger
sisters to the United States. When Miguel had started school, Rosa
Lopez had told her son to make her proud, to learn to read and
write English. That once he had learned, he could teach her.
Miguel was worried that he was going to die
before he got the chance.
Later that evening, when she’d gone to his
home and talked with Rosa Lopez, she’d realized that even when
things are bad, they can get worse. Not only was Miguel Lopez going
to die young, he was going to die alone.
At first Sarah hadn’t understood. Rosa had
explained that Miguel’s doctors had arranged for him to go to a
children’s hospital north of Los Angeles. Sarah had tried to tell
Rosa that Miguel would receive excellent care. Then Rosa had
explained that she didn’t drive, that she could perhaps find the
occasional ride or take the long bus trip but that would mean
leaving her young daughters with strangers.
When Rosa had told her that the doctors had
said that Miguel could be cared for at home with special equipment
and special nurses, Sarah had realized how important that was.
Miguel would have time with this mother, time to teach, time to
know that he’d made her proud. Rosa would keep her family together.
Then Rosa had told her, in her halting English, that there had been
a man who’d come to her house and sold her the insurance for her
family. He’d told her it would pay for someone to come to her home
to take care of her family. However, now the company was telling
her that they would not pay for home care; they would pay only if
he was in a hospital.
Sarah had been sure that she could help.
She’d contacted the company, speaking to everyone from the claims
examiner to the vice president. They’d all told her the same thing.
No. To set up care in the home would be more expensive and the
policy that Rosa Lopez had purchased didn’t cover it. She
understood perfectly what they hadn’t said. They weren’t interested
in paying for anything they didn’t have to. She’d reasoned, she’d
debated, she’d argued, and then finally begged—and she’d gotten
nowhere.
She’d been sure that she had failed until
she’d returned that man’s call. But she’d never gotten a chance to
tell Rosa. She’d been whisked off the beach and tumbled back in
time. She had to find a way back. Before it was too—
Morton’s bark interrupted her thoughts.
“Late,” she finished, her voice a whisper in the quiet cabin.
“Please, God. Don’t let us be too late tonight.” She grabbed the
lantern, opened the door, and watched the two horses walk slowly
back into the yard. Morton trotted alongside John’s horse.
At first she thought the horse was rider-less
but when they got another thirty feet closer, she could see John
sitting in the saddle, bent over the
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