Just then, loud voices started yelling upstairs.What now? She glanced at Carmen, whose eyes were closed as if she was summoning the strength to deal with them. Zita got to her feet. “I’ll check on them. You have your coffee.”
“Thanks,niñita. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The words brought a stab of guilt. It was a reminder her mother couldn’t do this on her own. She needed Zita’s support. Any idea that Zita had about having her own life could be forgotten. With a small sigh, she headed upstairs.
By early afternoon, Zita was seriously considering running away. Surely a circus would have less excitement than Casa Flanagan. All of the girls had been tired and short-tempered. They’d snarked at each other and at Zita and Carmen all day. Carmen had spent hours calming a tearful Elena, who at eight months pregnant, had decided she didn’t want the baby, which had left Zita playing referee to the rest. She needed some fresh air. She hadn’t even had a chance to take Bess and Saint for a walk.
She shooed the girls out of the kitchen so she could clean up after lunch in peace. Hopefully, they would have an afternoon nap or hang out in their own rooms where they wouldn’t argue.
Zita put the dishwasher on and was wiping the bench when Teresa came in. “Can we call Mama again, today?” She hugged herself, while looking hopefully at Zita.
How could she refuse?
Johanna might be in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch and be near the phone. “Let’s do it now.”
Teresa’s grin was huge.
Zita dialed the number, thinking about what she would say if Johanna answered.
“Hola.” It was a female voice.
Zita tensed. “Johanna Garcia?”
“Sí.”
“My name is Zita Flanagan,” she said in Spanish. “I’m taking care of your daughter, Teresa.”
“Teresa,” Johanna whispered. “Is she safe?”
“Yes. Can you talk for a moment? Is your husband around?”
“He is outside.”
“I’ll be quick then. Teresa is staying with us while her asylum application is being processed, but she would like to get you and Manuela out of the country as well. Would you like that?”
“Please.” It was a sob that tore at Zita’s heart.
“I have a friend in El Salvador, Fernando. He spoke to you a few weeks ago. You can trust him. He will tell you what you need to do. I’ll get him to visit you next week.”
“Thank you.”
Their time was short. Teresa’s father could come back at any stage. “I’ll let you talk with Teresa.”
She handed the phone to the girl and stood back while Teresa spoke with her mother. After a couple of minutes, Teresa hung up, sobbing and shaking.
Zita hugged her. “It’s all right. We’ll get them out.”
Teresa shook her head and pushed her away. “No! It’s not all right. The gang has taken Manuela. She’s not yet been prostituted out, but Mama thinks it’s only a matter of time.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Wehaveto get her out.”
Zita wanted to throw up. Manuela was only twelve. “I’ll call Fernando.”
Carmen walked in from the garden. “What is wrong?”
Zita explained, and Carmen wrapped her arm around Teresa’s shoulder and comforted her. Zita called Fernando, and he promised he would visit Johanna tomorrow. It was the best she could do for now.
Teresa had stopped crying and was staring at the table.
Zita wanted to scream. Life wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t be happening. They had done nothing wrong. Her heart pounded and her muscles were so tense they might snap. She had to get out of here before she exploded. She needed some air.
