Cadence Defined: A Dahlia Project Novel, page 4
Sunsets will always belong to you.
When it’s dark, I’ll remember you to find the light.
You will forever hold my heart.
Leaving you will always be my biggest regret.
Swallowing the lump beginning to form in my throat, I reached for the stack of envelopes. The rubber band, brittle from age, snapped apart when I tried to remove it, causing the letters to fall over my lap. It was no matter. Although they’d been stacked in the order they were written, I remember dating each and every one of them. I opened the envelope resting on top of the now messy pile. Pulling the lined paper from within, I began to read. It was the last letter I had written to Fitz.
To the keeper of my heart,
I shouldn’t start out this letter by addressing you that way, especially since this is more like a Dear John than anything else. Or maybe it’s not a Dear John since we aren’t even together. Either way, I can’t help but still call you the keeper of my heart because that’s who you’ll always be to me—no matter what life has dictated for us.
Our daughter came into the world one week ago today. I named her Kalliope because the sound of her cry on the day she was born was like music to my ears. The name comes from Greek mythology and means “beautiful voice”. Perhaps I’m more in tune with my mother’s musical talents than I had originally thought.
Kallie, as I’ve come to nickname her, is the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen. I wish you could meet her, but just as sure as I’ll never send you this letter, I know you’ll never get to. I saw a picture of you, your father, and your wife in the paper today. It was taken at a political function in support for your father. From the sounds of it, you’ll soon be the son of a United States Senator. You looked so proud in the photo, and I felt my heart bursting with admiration for your strength to endure a life you had little choice over. But the photo also made me sad. You see, I also couldn’t help but notice your wife’s small baby bump.
I wish things could have been different for us, but I accept the choice I’ve made. I will never regret the time I had with you. It was special and will forever be cherished. However, I’ve come to realize I can’t keep holding on to the hope perhaps you’ll rebel against your father and come back to me. I need to let you go. Being with me would only cause a scandal for your family. That sort of attention wouldn’t be fair to you. You don’t need your past mistakes thrown into the limelight—even if it what happened at Georgetown was a tragic accident. It wouldn’t be fair to your unborn child, nor would it be fair to me or Kallie.
And most importantly, I realized you were right about me. I don’t deserve to be “the other woman,” and I certainly don’t want Kallie to grow up with a cloud of illegitimacy over her head. That’s why I will never tell you of her existence. That’s why this will be my last letter. I have to think about Kallie now. My daughter. My new reason for living. She is my priority, just as your priority should be your new family. I need to provide a life for her even if it means creating a life without you in it.
Tears blurred my vision and I could barely read my own signature at the bottom. The letter slipped from my fingers and fell onto my lap. What I just read, while true, were ramblings of a broken-hearted teenager who had been forced to grow up too soon. I had been too open and trusting. First love was naïve. I didn’t hold back on the love I gave but willingly gave him every ounce inside of me. And he took it all—leaving no space for another man to move in. My head swam with memories as I hastily wiped the tears away.
I searched through the shoebox once again, needing to locate the newspaper article that had forced my decision all those years ago. Now, the article could potentially be confirmation Austin was exactly who I suspected. It wasn’t hard to find among the neatly folded clippings. The bold headline shone like a beacon in the night.
SENATOR QUINN PUSHES FOR LANDMARK TAX REFORM BILL WITHIN FIRST 90-DAYS
I skimmed through the article, not particularly interested in recapping details about a bill that ultimately threw our country into a recession. I was more interested in the details about the photo alongside the article.
My eyes scanned the picture. The freeze frame was of Fitz, his father, and Fitz’s young pregnant wife. Reporters were all around them with microphones trained on Senator Fitzgerald as they descended the steps of the Capitol Building. My heart constricted as an age-old jealousy welled up in me from seeing her again. She was definitely pretty, but that’s not why I resented her. I didn’t like the dark-haired woman because she got to have the life I had only dreamed about.
What was her name again?
As sharp as my memory was about that time in my life, I somehow managed to block out that little detail.
Forcing my gaze away from the photo, I ran my finger along the text of the article, stopping when I found the passage I was looking for.
“I can tell you we have a continued interest in building on the success of the bill. We are dedicated to improving the tax code for hardworking families and America's small businesses,” Quinn said in a statement. When pushed for further details, none were forthcoming. Instead, Senatorial Candidate Quinn deflected to his soon-to-arrive grandson, using the opportunity to boast about how much the Republican party is invested in their candidate. “While I’d love to talk more about this, I have a prior engagement to get to. My son’s wife is expecting a baby boy in a few months. The wives of Senate Republicans are excited about little Austin and have planned a baby shower.”
Austin.
That was all the confirmation I needed. There was no denying it. The boy who had shown up on my doorstep was, in fact, Fitz’s son. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of my nose. Exhaling, I slowly looked up to the ceiling.
Did I make a mistake all those years ago? Should I have told him? Should I have fought harder for Fitz?
I didn’t know what the answers were, but I was suddenly faced with having to justify my actions. I thought I had done the right thing at the time. I had my parents to help me through everything while Fitz had no one. My parents supported my choice. I thought I had taken the unselfish path, but now I wasn’t so sure. What I once viewed as a noble decision looked like it was about to blow up in my face.
I glanced down at the now lukewarm bottle of beer I hadn’t touched and followed the lines of condensation pooled around the base. A small stream of water was slowly making its way to the edge of the nightstand. There was no rhyme or reason to the pattern. It just moved closer to the edge. Water always found a way. I wished my life could be as simple, to have that gravitational force to push me toward a destination.
I was so confused. Seventeen years ago, I relied on my parents for advice. Now I sat alone, searching for guidance that would never come.
5
CADENCE
I sat at my desk on Monday morning with Joy sitting across from me, her face aghast as I finished telling her about the weekend. The knot of dread that had formed in my stomach on Friday night was still there, but it was worsening with each passing hour.
Kallie had come home from the prom on time, just as she promised, and we had stayed up until after two in the morning watching our favorite musicals. I picked out Newsies to watch first, the story loosely based on the New York City Newsboys' Strike of 1899. The way I looked at it, nobody could resist a young Christian Bale. She picked the second musical of the night—Mamma Mia! Of all the things she could have picked... That was just my luck. I squirmed uncomfortably through the entire second movie, the plotline hitting way too close to home. Now I couldn’t get the damn theme song from the movie soundtrack out of my head.
There were plenty of opportunities between then and now to tell her about Austin and the truth about her father, but I chickened out every time the words began to form on my tongue. I just couldn’t tell her. As a result, I got to listen to a lecture from Joy.
“Cadence, this is bad. Senator Quinn is his father—the man who stands firmly against everything Dahlia’s Dreamers stands for. When he finds out about Kallie and discovers what you do for a living, I’d like to say maybe he’d soften his stance, but the man just seems ruthless.” Joy paused and shuddered. “Political implications aside, you need to go to Fitz. It’s long past time.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, remember me? That stupid girl you banged one summer seventeen years ago? Well, you’re my baby daddy.’ Come on, Joy. He probably doesn’t even remember me. I don’t need to go to Fitz, but I do need to tell Kallie.”
“So, why haven’t you yet? She has to know before something crazy happens. Sweet Jesus! Can you imagine what would happen if she ended up dating Austin?”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line.
“Trust me, it’s all I’ve thought about for days. I just don’t know how to tell her. I went for a run yesterday morning. I needed some ‘me time’ to clear my head. It didn’t work, so I went for another run in the afternoon. I’m sure the guys tending to the lawn around the Washington Monument thought I was nuts. I must have passed them twenty times.”
“What were you doing all the way over there?” Joy asked with a furrowed brow.
“There’s construction in my neighborhood and they have all the sidewalks blocked off. Running the Mall has been easier. Anyway, I was all set to tell Kallie when I returned home, but then I froze up.”
Joy shook her head.
“I still think you should tell Fitz. It’s not only Kallie. Austin should know too. What if he has feelings for her?”
I dropped my head and banged it on the desk.
“Did you have to remind me of that too?” I groaned.
“Hey, I know you’re in a tough spot. I’m just trying to help you see it from all angles so that—”
“Hello? Is anyone there?” a female voice called from outside my office door. Joy stopped speaking and we both turned to see who it was. When nobody came in, I stood and walked out into the corridor.
A woman with a little girl was peering into the worn wooden office doors down the hall. The tiny child held a raggedy looking doll tightly to her chest. She looked around, seeming confused as the woman who held her hand dragged her from door to door.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Oh!” she startled. “I’m sorry. Nobody was at the desk, so I decided to see if I could find someone in one of the offices. I should have made an appointment first, but I-I couldn’t wait. I need to speak with someone right away.”
She had a subtle accent I couldn’t quite place, but it sounded Spanish in origin. It was hard to tell with the way her voice cracked. Her expression was panicked, desperate almost. It was a look I knew all too well.
“Please, come in and have a seat,” I told her. Once she stepped inside, I motioned for her to sit at the small round table in the corner. “I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone to greet you. My secretary is currently out on maternity leave. The rest of the staff has just been handling things while she’s out. What can we do for you?”
The woman looked back and forth between Joy and me.
“My…my name is-is Emilia Garcia,” she stuttered.
Afraid. They always come in here afraid.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I took a seat across from her at the table. Over the years, I’d found it less intimidating for new clients if I sat here, rather than behind my desk. It seemed to make them feel more like we were on equal turf. I stretched out my hand for her to shake, hoping to put her more at ease. It was cool and clammy, a sure sign the woman was a nervous wreck. “I’m Cadence Riley, and this is my colleague, Joy Martin.”
She nodded to Joy, then began to fiddle with the hem of her bright pink shirt.
“I, um…I’m from Richmond, Virginia.”
“You’re quite a way from home,” I noted. If the look of anxiety on her face wasn’t already enough, knowing she traveled over two hours, with a small child, without a scheduled appointment told a story about how desperate she was.
“Yes, I am,” she admitted. Then she looked at me with terrified dark brown eyes, reminding me of a deer caught in headlights. “Again, I’m so sorry for showing up unannounced. I–I just don’t know where to begin.”
“Ms. Garcia, every person who walks through our doors comes here for one thing. Why don’t you just start from the beginning?”
She looked down nervously at the little girl.
“Oh, um. My daughter. I don’t like to…” she trailed off.
I looked at the little girl sitting on her mother’s lap. She couldn’t have been more than five years old, and I understood her hesitation. I stood up from my chair and knelt down in front of the child.
“What’s your name?” I softly asked.
“Mayra,” she responded shyly.
“Why, hello Mayra. It’s so nice to meet you. My name is Cadence. How old are you?” She held up five fingers.
“No, no. You’re not five yet,” her mother chided, bending Mayra’s thumb down so she only held up four. “You don’t turn five for another few weeks.”
I smiled, recalling how Kallie always liked to pad her age by a few months.
“Almost five? Wow! You’re practically a big girl! You’re not too big to color though, are you?” I asked. Her brown eyes widened with excitement as she shook her head. “Well then, if it’s okay with your mom, would you like to go with Ms. Joy to find a coloring book and crayons?”
She looked up at her mother expectantly.
“Go ahead. Remember your manners,” Emilia told her with a nod.
Mayra beamed and jumped off Emilia’s lap. Joy walked over to her and took hold of her little hand. Once they were safely out of earshot, I returned to my seat and reached out across the table to take Emilia’s hand in mine.
“Ms. Garcia,” I began.
“Please, call me Emilia.”
“Emilia, I can tell you’re nervous. Don’t be. Whatever it is, we’re here to help you.”
She afforded me a small smile.
“I’ve heard others talk of your kindness. That’s why I knew I had to come here. You have to help m–me.” Her voice cracked again on the last word, and it broke my heart. My only hope was that I could help her. Sometimes, it was too late.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning, and we’ll go from there?”
She swallowed and took a deep breath.
“It’s about my fiancé. My daughter’s father. They-they took him!”
Then she began a tale I had heard a countless number of times. With each time, the names and places were different, but the story was always the same.
Emilia’s fiancé, Andrés Mendez, moved from Ecuador to the United States with his family when he was three years old. He, his younger sister, and his parents were all undocumented immigrants—a fact Andrés never knew until he was seventeen years old and preparing to attend college. He needed a social security number to apply for student loans. That was when his parents first told him the truth about where he came from.
“Andrés is so smart,” Emilia said with pride in her voice. “As it turned out, he didn’t need to get loans. He was awarded an undergraduate academic scholarship to attend Harvard.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Yes,” she agreed, but then her tone turned sad once again. “He applied for a student visa and was all set to head off to Massachusetts. But that summer, I became pregnant with Mayra. I urged him to still go, but Andrés refused to leave me. He ended up going to Virginia Tech to study engineering instead. My parents were furious, but his parents didn’t understand what he was giving up. They never even heard of Harvard until Andrés was accepted into the school.”
I reached over to my desk and grabbed a notepad to begin taking notes. I scribbled down a few basics.
Smart. Accepted to Harvard on scholarship. Mayra.
“Emilia, are you undocumented as well?”
“No, I was born here. My mother was born in El Salvador, and my father was born in the States. She eventually became a naturalized citizen years after they were married.”
“Did Andrés end up finishing college?”
“Thankfully, he did. It wasn’t easy though. While he attended school, I lived at home. My parents watched Mayra while I worked to pay his school bills. Andrés usually took the Metro bus to his campus, but sometimes I would drive him when I wasn’t working. At the time, because of his immigration status, he couldn’t get a license.”
No license. Has family support.
Having worked my way through school as a single mother, I wasn’t sure if I could have done it without my parents’ help. I recognized the importance of family support better than most.
“I can imagine how difficult it must have been. So, what happened next?”
“Right before Andrés graduated, we made plans to move in together. We wanted to get married first but couldn’t afford a nice wedding with only my income. Andrés needed to find a job. The Dream Act had just been passed a few years before. Since he qualified, I encouraged him to fill out the DACA paperwork. I thought it was a good idea. It would mean he could get his driver’s license, apply for work, and we wouldn’t have to fear possible deportation anymore—and I would get to have my dream wedding. Maybe that part was selfish of me. I don’t know. It took some convincing, but he finally did it. Now, I can’t help but feel like it was the wrong thing to do.”
“Why is that?”
“With all due respect, you know what’s happening in the world. Too many in this county don’t care about people like Andrés although I’ll never understand why. He’s a hardworking man—a good man,” she spat out bitterly.
“I’m sorry about what’s happening in our country, Emilia. I hope you know not everyone thinks that way. Did he get a job after he graduated?”
“Oh, of course! He’s a mechanical engineer at Advanced Solutions—or at least, he was. I’m not sure what will happen now.” She sniffled, and I could tell she was fighting tears. “Anyway, Andrés hated that I worked to pay his school bills, but he also knew finishing college and getting a good paying job was the best way for us to provide a good life for Mayra. He applied and the DACA application was approved. Shortly after, he landed his job at AS and got his driver’s license. We found an apartment in Richmond, and he insisted I quit my job to stay at home to care for our daughter. Things were finally looking up. Until…”
