California Sunrise: California Romance, #5

To Laura Burkey, coach extraordinaire, and Carolee Boger, extraordinary mother.

Chapter 1

Dr. Raúl Mendez entered notes on his last patient, a six-month-old girl with respiratory problems, into the laptop, his large fingers crowded on the keyboard.

Your next appointment is ready. Graciela Torres stood in the examination room doorway, her black skirt shorter than he preferred in an office setting. Her low-cut, red blouse revealed ample cleavage.

He’d have to remind his OB/GYN partner, Hadiya Patel, of their agreement: she dealt with the female staff, and he handled the more manly pursuit of hiring a plumber when it was needed.

Thank you, Graciela. I’ll be there in a minute.

As he headed down the hall to the next patient, his irritation with the receptionist diminished and his satisfaction returned. The clinic, designed to help mothers and children, particularly farmworkers, provided a safe, warm haven for the sick. His partner, Dr. Patel, emitted an aura that comforted even the most distraught mothers-to-be, while he was there to care for the newborns and young children. He was lucky to have her as a mentor in his newly opened practice.

The trim, peach walls were lined with offerings from local artists, and the gleaming equipment was the best they could afford. He’d insisted on a good, computerized medical records system from the beginning, and the time savings had paid off in their ability to see more people during the day.

His lungs expanded with pride. Who would have thought that a Mexican kid who’d grown up in a house with a dirt floor, chickens and pigs in the yard, and Christmases provided by well-meaning strangers would have the guts to make it all the way through medical school?

Now there was only one more thing to achieve: the return of his deported parents and siblings.

Raúl pushed open the door to the examining room.

The petite woman standing by the child on the examining table turned.

The strong bones of her face, full lips, and dark eyes matched the structure of her body. Attractive. Not that he was looking for anyone right now.

Are you Dr. Mendez? she asked.

Sí. And you are—he checked the chart—Alicia Fuentes.

The boy on the table squirmed and let out a howl.

Raúl glanced back at the chart. No medical problem stood out, but the young woman had been to several doctors, including specialists at Stanford. Was it some type of Munchausen syndrome, or was there a legitimate illness?

What seems to be the problem? he asked.

Luis is difficult.

He was tempted to tell her all children were difficult, but the set of her jaw stopped him short. In what way? He leaned back against the counter, his interest piqued by what she might have to say. If the child wasn’t simply a fussy baby, it might be a chance to increase his behavioral development experience.

He mixes up his days—sleeps during the day and wants to be up all night. He’s a fussy eater. I practically have to hand-feed him. He doesn’t seem to sit up well. And temper tantrums! I know all children have them, but his seem worse than other kids’. My grandmother says she’s never seen anything like it. Snapping her mouth shut, she stared at him, as if defying him to tell her there was nothing wrong, that her child was normal.

In that instant, he knew there wasn’t anything normal about Luis.

Although he hadn’t seen a wedding ring, he asked the question anyway. How is he with his father?

I’m a single mom. Her chin went up. He never sees his father.

A too common answer. His heart crinkled with sadness for her and anger at the boy’s father. He has no contact with his son?

No.

The finality in her voice warned him not to pursue the subject.

He ignored the warning.

It must be very difficult for you, especially so young.

I’m eighteen. She made her age sound as if she were in her mid-thirties.

He hid a smile. The baby is twelve months, correct? What have the other doctors told you?

They don’t know what’s wrong. He’s too young for certain tests. They can’t help me. Defeat crept into her words, and her shoulders slumped, but then she rallied and looked him straight in the eye. I’m told you can.

He hoped her confidence wasn’t misplaced. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll take a look at your son?

Do you have children, Dr. Mendez? She moved toward the chair but didn’t sit.

Me? No. I’ve never been married.

Brothers and sisters?

Yes. Older brothers. Why do you ask?

It seems odd for a single man to be a pediatrician.

Like many of us, I come from a large, extended family. Lots of cousins. Lots of different problems—some the normal hazards of being a kid, some brought on by poverty. Giving kids a healthy start is a way to help our people. He looked down at Luis and put his stethoscope in his ears. Now let’s see what’s up with you, little man.

The phone rang.

Yanking the tubes from his ears, he turned back to the desk and stabbed one of the buttons. I told you not to interrupt me when I’m with a patient.

I’m sorry, Doctor, but your next patient is here, and her baby looks very sick, Graciela said.

She’ll need to wait. He put the brakes on his temper. Thank you, Graciela.

He glanced at Alicia. Her face seemed paler. Had the call bothered her? Or had it been his short display of temper? I’m sorry about the interruption. I tell the ladies out front each patient is as important as the next, but they have their own priorities.

As if sensing something was going on, Luis began to stir and wail. Raúl touched the boy’s arm to comfort him, but the noise increased in volume.

I see what you mean about being difficult. He took a penlight from his pocket and waved it in front of Luis’s eyes.

The boy’s gaze followed the moving light, and he calmed down.

Good boy. Raúl patted the boy’s shoulder, then clicked off the light.

Luis’s gaze locked on the ceiling tiles, his eyes moving as he traced a pattern visible only to him. Raúl went through the vitals and tested the child’s reflexes. No scars or bruises marred his skin.

Hi, Luis. Raúl waved his hand in front of the boy.

No response.

He tried again. Luis squirmed and fought his way around the table so he could see the ceiling again.

Suspicions formed in his mind, but the other doctors were right: it was too early to confirm them. And if he was correct, Luis would always be difficult for his mother. She was young, but would never be able to share the freedoms that other women, even other single mothers, would have.

How could he support her?

What’s wrong, Doctor? the hovering mother asked. How can I help my son?

Tell me how Luis acts at home.

I’m not with him most of the day. He stays with my grandmother while I go work in Costanoa. I was hoping to take a few business classes at Costanoa College to learn how to manage a store. She looked at Luis. But he’s getting more difficult for my grandmother to handle. No one else seems to be able to deal with him. Her smile didn’t fully materialize. I can’t stay home with him for the rest of my life.

Like he had, she wanted to better her life, but she had an extra burden he hadn’t been forced to carry. He hated to tell her that her path to her dream was going to be a rocky one.

What do I do with him? The question held the same overtones as Luis’s wail.

He’s too young to do the kind of tests it will take to determine what I think is the problem. He has some of the characteristics of Asperger’s, but I won’t be able to say definitively until he is about eighteen months or so.

What is Asperger’s?

It’s on the autism scale but not as severe. He watched for her reaction, scrambling in his mind for words to reassure her that there were things she could do, even if he had no idea what they were.

The palpable drop in her energy saddened him. She’d been so determined to do right by her son.

And she still could.

Many children with Asperger’s do well. They learn to live independently or in a halfway house. He smiled. Some are even lucky enough to find a spouse who will help them be the best person they can be.

It doesn’t sound easy.

It isn’t.

What can I do right now? How can I help him?

I have a book that might help. It has suggestions that will help you and your grandmother care for him. Un momento.

As he strode back to his office, the people and artwork he passed were blurs. How could he help Alicia and her son? For one, working with her more closely as she learned different strategies would enable him to apply the same strategies to other patients. She seemed driven to do the best for her son. Maybe she’d make a good partner in his exploration.

He grabbed the book from a shelf and returned to the examining room, excited by the possibilities.

Alicia was standing by one of the photographs he’d taken during a hike in the coastal redwoods. The scene showed a deep forest with sunlit fog whispering through needled branches.

Did you take this? she asked.

Yes. Are you interested in photography?

I went to an alternative high school. One of the teachers taught a class about different photographers and showed us some techniques to take good pictures, even with our phones. She looked back at the photo. This is nice. It reminds me of Ansel Adams.

Adams is one of my favorites. He was flattered by the comparison and intrigued by her knowledge. He cleared his throat and gestured to the chair by the desk. Why don’t you sit down, and we can come up with some strategies for you to put into practice? Your son seems occupied.

Do you have time? There was that other patient ... She pointed to the phone.

I have time. He flipped open the book and pressed his finger to a spot on the page. Routine is the most important thing for difficult children. If you and your grandmother can establish definite times for eating, sleeping, playing ... He shook his head. Of course, part of the challenge is to get these children to play. Let him have some comfort with the things he likes to do, but stimulate him with new things, too. These are good habits for him to have as he grows and goes to school.

Will he be able to go to school?

He’s going to need special help. Once we’re able to make the diagnosis, it would be good to start checking into schools in the area to see what they can do. Unfortunately, it varies from one place to another. I’ll help you however I can. He touched her hand, a gesture meant in comfort.

Instead, the warmth of her skin seeped through his, directly into the marrow of his bones.

Startled, he withdrew his fingers and pointed back to the book. This is also important. Parents with difficult children need to make sure they have time for themselves. He smiled at her, struggling to regain his professional demeanor. You need to take care of yourself, too.

She smiled at him, but the expression held uncertainty and didn’t fully form.

He shut the book and handed it to her. Bring him back to see me in a few months. If things get too difficult, we can talk again before that. I—I don’t want you to feel alone.

After scribbling on the charge slip, he handed it to her. Just show this to the front desk.

Sí. Gracias.

Call me if you need any help in the meantime, Alicia. I’m not going to kid you. Luis will probably never be easy, but if you learn some of those strategies, it will help you both. He stood and walked to the door.

For a few moments he stood outside the room, his hand still on the doorknob, intrigued by the young woman before him. She reminded him of himself at that age, making the first steps to create the life she desired.

He gave her another smile and turned away, wondering how her story would end.

COUNTING HERSELF LUCKY, Alicia managed to snag a rare parking spot on the street as a battered maroon pickup pulled from the curb, but climbing the steps leading to the main college campus took the last bit of energy she had.

Maybe she should have used the college parking garage.

Pounding steps behind her made her grimace. Someone with a higher fitness level was showing off.

Steep hill, isn’t it? A gawky-looking Anglo boy caught up to her. My name’s Josh, he said, slowing his steps to climb beside her. This is my first semester. How about you?

The heat of the midday sun touched her shoulders. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. She glanced at her watch. Only a short amount of time to get her registration complete and drive back to the store.

On the other hand, one of the reasons she was coming to school was to meet new people. Yes, it’s my first semester, too.

What’s your name? he asked as they reached the top step.

Alicia Fuentes.

Nice to meet you, Alicia Fuentes. He held out his hand and grinned. The expression transformed him from a geek into someone who had potential to be handsome, but not as good-looking as Luis’s new doctor. That man had a smile like she’d never seen anywhere else.

Nice to meet you. She took Josh’s hand.

Are you here to register?

She nodded.

So am I. It’s over there, I think. He pointed to one of the squat cement buildings clinging to the side of the hill.

Josh continued his banter all the way down the sidewalk. I’m doing two years here before I transfer to a University of California school. I kinda messed up my junior year in high school.

Oh?

He laughed. Not drugs or anything like that. I just got lazy. Figured I knew it all so I didn’t have to work for my grades. By the time I figured out coasting wouldn’t cut it, it was too late. He shrugged. So here I am. How about you? What’s your story?

I only need to take a few classes, so this works.

In what?

Business.

He held the door open for her. You shouldn’t limit yourself, then. Get the counselor to tell you what you need to take to be able transfer to the university system if you want to. That way, you’ll always have a choice.

Sometimes life makes choices for you.

She trailed him to the registrar’s office. Maybe he was right. If she wanted the money she needed to take care of Luis, she might need to reach higher than a retail shop.

But it had worked for Elizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth’s child had been normal.

As Josh walked off with his counselor, he waved. See you around. Maybe we can have coffee sometime.

Sure.

Not happening. There was no place for a man in her immediate future, even casual coffee dates.

The image of the doctor teased her veracity.

Fifteen minutes later, Alicia had planned out her required program and registered for her first business accounting class.

Which other classes do you want to take? the counselor asked, returning to the web page that listed the available courses.

What kind of classes would I need to take if I wanted a more advanced degree? Alicia asked in spite of herself.

What else are you thinking of? There are lots of possibilities.

Alicia’s practical self deserted her. She wanted something big, grand, and frivolous. She was tired of being fenced in by her mistakes. I don’t know. What do first year students take at UC Santa Cruz?

The counselor laughed. A lot of intro courses.

Like?

Oh, English 101, history overviews, sociology—

What’s that? Alicia had heard the term but had never quite gotten a handle on its meaning.

Sociology tries to explain why humans act the way they do. We have several classes. The woman clicked a few keys on her computer and another page came up.

The name of a course caught Alicia’s eye. Sociology of the Family. That looks interesting, she said.

Do you want to sign up?

The choice was a fork in the road. One class decision shouldn’t have mattered that much, but somehow, in her heart, she knew it did. It was the difference between a predictable life and one that was pregnant with possibilities.

She took a deep breath. Yes. I think I do.

After she finished registering, she hurried to leave the campus, feeling giddy, like she had when she’d first started high school. Some of her friends from Los Baños were going to Merced College in the town. Like her, they still lived at home.

Maybe she wasn’t so different after all. It might take her a little longer, but she was going to accomplish something with her life.

Joy put a spring in her step as she walked to the top of the stairs.

The view of the bay caught her attention. The sun sparkled off the distant waters, and she forced herself to believe she saw dolphins looping through the waves while they played. A yearning for the shore overpowered her. It had been too long since she’d spent time there. No matter his protests, she’d take Luis this weekend. The doctor had told her to provide new stimuli. Maybe he become focused on the waves and leave her some time to experience the sun on her face.

Hi, are you lost? a sinewy older woman with faded red curls asked. The woman’s smile invited trust, and her gray eyes hinted at wisdom.

Just looking at the ocean.

Yes, it is beautiful, isn’t it? There are so many places here that catch me unaware. I’m rushing about and then the beauty of where we live grabs hold of me. She put out her hand. Dr. Susan Walker. Most students call me Dr. Susan. I teach sociology. Are you a new student?

Oh! I think I just signed up for your class. Sociology of the Family.

Yep. That’s me. Dr. Susan gestured at the stairs. Headed down? I parked down there today to get the exercise.

As they descended the stairs, Susan continued to ask Alicia questions about her intended degree. It’s an occupational habit, I’m afraid, the professor explained. I’m so curious about why people do the things they do and the effect it has on others. Why did you decide to take my class?

I’m not sure, really. It seemed interesting. Alicia shrugged. I guess I wanted to do something irrelevant. Not that your class isn’t good ... Damn. She’d put her foot in it.

You’re not alone. Susan laughed. Plenty of people think sociology is irrelevant. They postulate that only courses that lead to a high-paying job are worth the effort. Bah!

They reached the bottom of the steps.

I look forward to seeing you again, Dr. Susan said over her shoulder as she walked away. I think you’ll discover sociology is very important.

Alicia unlocked the door to her car, mulling over the last hour. An Anglo boy, an unexpected decision, and a chatty professor—all were very different from the events of her normal day. Her lungs expanded with new air, as if a breeze had blown in from a far-off country to change her life forever.

Chapter 2

Raúl pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Idiots!

According to the radio announcer, a private firm had taken over a public mental health service in North Carolina and put in place a policy that denied doctors Medicaid reimbursements if they treated undocumented immigrants.

We’re not going to aid and abet the government in spending our hard-earned tax dollars on a bunch of illegals, the company spokesman, a man by the name of O’Hannasy, said.

Damn it! Doctors would refuse patients, and treatments that could have prevented more serious illnesses would be withheld. What kind of a world was this, where families were ripped apart and children died because of greed? Where families were deported, leaving young children to fend for themselves?

And who was O’Hannasy to talk about immigrants?

Raúl’s Jetta almost flipped on its nose when he slammed on the brakes in his condo’s driveway. His car door’s thud! silenced the frogs in the stream running by his end unit but had no effect on the rustling eucalyptus.

Or his mood.

Everyone who looked Hispanic would be hassled more than they already were. Folks like Alicia Fuentes and her son would