that she could collect his checks.
Again, Judy called Dorothea. And again, Dorothea put her off with excuses.
Now it was approaching the end of October, and Judy was approaching the end of her patience. "Look," she said, "you're really putting me in jeopardy by having him out of the country this long." (This wasn't exactly true, but Judy hoped to sound weighty.)
Puente became repentant and less cavalier. "I'm really sorry that he's not here, but he'll be back next week. Really. Because I know I could get in a lot of trouble if he's not."
But Judy had heard this before. They were getting nowhere, and she couldn't put aside her fear that Dorothea had somehow lost Bert. Suddenly she asked, "Dorothea, don't you have something to tell me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I really feel like there's something that you need to tell me. This would be a good time, you know, if there's something you have to say."
Dorothea paused briefly, but responded, "No, no. There's nothing."
Judy sighed, back at square one, and tried to sound firm, "Okay. You'd just better have Bert back here by the first of November."
Dorothea gravely agreed. Bert would be back at the house by then. She promised.
Unannounced and with some trepidation, the VOA partners climbed out of their van and ascended the sun-dappled stairs at 1426 F Street. It was Tuesday, November 1, and Dorothea Puente's house was still festooned with Halloween decorations.
Puente met them at the door, alone, solemn, looking pale. Bert was still in Mexico, she conceded, her hands clasped together. She asked them to come sit with her out on the porch, and so the three sat down, not a smile among them.
"You said he'd be here today, Dorothea. What happened?" Judy asked.
"Well, I just don't know. He said he'd be here. I'm so sorry, but I really thought he'd be back by now." She sounded distressed, even embarrassed.
Judy didn't know what to say. Dorothea was their sole link to Bert and she didn't want to bully her, but so far the soft and sympathetic approach had gotten them nowhere. "Look," she said, assuming an assertive tone, "this is the third time you've said you'd have him here, and each time you've let us down. We don't really have any choice now but to contact the authorities."
"Well, Bert will be back," Puente insisted. "He'll definitely be back, there's no doubt about that. I just need a little more time."
"Dorothea, you know I'm responsible for him." (Judy was bluffing; she wasn't a caseworker and had no official responsibility for Bert, but now she was grasping for extra authority.) "Now you've violated the two-week deadline for his Social Security, and we're going to have to report that. And we're going to have to place him somewhere else when he gets back."
Dorothea's China-blue eyes glistened with tears. "Oh, dear, I'd really hate to lose him. I'd really miss having Bert here," she said, a catch in her voice. "And, oh, I've already gone out and got Christmas presents for him. I just, well, I was looking forward to sharing the holidays with him."
Moved by this sudden display of affection, Judy wondered how she could have been suspicious of this woman who cared so deeply for Bert. How could she doubt someone who had done so much for him? In a conciliatory tone she said, "When Bert gets back, it might be possible for him to stay through Christmas. We'll see what we can arrange."
Dorothea sighed heavily, wiped the tears from her cheeks, then stood suddenly and started pacing. "Well, this has just gone on too long," she pronounced. "I'm just going to have to go down to Mexico and bring him back myself."
Beth and Judy exchanged hopeful looks. "How are you going to do that?" Beth asked.
"I'll fly down."
"When?"
"Wednesday. I'll fly down on Wednesday and bring him back." Dorothea's whole countenance had changed. Her posture was erect, her voice resolute.
And somehow, her plan made sense. It was as if a light had been switched on. Of course! Bert was having trouble getting back
Again, Judy called Dorothea. And again, Dorothea put her off with excuses.
Now it was approaching the end of October, and Judy was approaching the end of her patience. "Look," she said, "you're really putting me in jeopardy by having him out of the country this long." (This wasn't exactly true, but Judy hoped to sound weighty.)
Puente became repentant and less cavalier. "I'm really sorry that he's not here, but he'll be back next week. Really. Because I know I could get in a lot of trouble if he's not."
But Judy had heard this before. They were getting nowhere, and she couldn't put aside her fear that Dorothea had somehow lost Bert. Suddenly she asked, "Dorothea, don't you have something to tell me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I really feel like there's something that you need to tell me. This would be a good time, you know, if there's something you have to say."
Dorothea paused briefly, but responded, "No, no. There's nothing."
Judy sighed, back at square one, and tried to sound firm, "Okay. You'd just better have Bert back here by the first of November."
Dorothea gravely agreed. Bert would be back at the house by then. She promised.
Unannounced and with some trepidation, the VOA partners climbed out of their van and ascended the sun-dappled stairs at 1426 F Street. It was Tuesday, November 1, and Dorothea Puente's house was still festooned with Halloween decorations.
Puente met them at the door, alone, solemn, looking pale. Bert was still in Mexico, she conceded, her hands clasped together. She asked them to come sit with her out on the porch, and so the three sat down, not a smile among them.
"You said he'd be here today, Dorothea. What happened?" Judy asked.
"Well, I just don't know. He said he'd be here. I'm so sorry, but I really thought he'd be back by now." She sounded distressed, even embarrassed.
Judy didn't know what to say. Dorothea was their sole link to Bert and she didn't want to bully her, but so far the soft and sympathetic approach had gotten them nowhere. "Look," she said, assuming an assertive tone, "this is the third time you've said you'd have him here, and each time you've let us down. We don't really have any choice now but to contact the authorities."
"Well, Bert will be back," Puente insisted. "He'll definitely be back, there's no doubt about that. I just need a little more time."
"Dorothea, you know I'm responsible for him." (Judy was bluffing; she wasn't a caseworker and had no official responsibility for Bert, but now she was grasping for extra authority.) "Now you've violated the two-week deadline for his Social Security, and we're going to have to report that. And we're going to have to place him somewhere else when he gets back."
Dorothea's China-blue eyes glistened with tears. "Oh, dear, I'd really hate to lose him. I'd really miss having Bert here," she said, a catch in her voice. "And, oh, I've already gone out and got Christmas presents for him. I just, well, I was looking forward to sharing the holidays with him."
Moved by this sudden display of affection, Judy wondered how she could have been suspicious of this woman who cared so deeply for Bert. How could she doubt someone who had done so much for him? In a conciliatory tone she said, "When Bert gets back, it might be possible for him to stay through Christmas. We'll see what we can arrange."
Dorothea sighed heavily, wiped the tears from her cheeks, then stood suddenly and started pacing. "Well, this has just gone on too long," she pronounced. "I'm just going to have to go down to Mexico and bring him back myself."
Beth and Judy exchanged hopeful looks. "How are you going to do that?" Beth asked.
"I'll fly down."
"When?"
"Wednesday. I'll fly down on Wednesday and bring him back." Dorothea's whole countenance had changed. Her posture was erect, her voice resolute.
And somehow, her plan made sense. It was as if a light had been switched on. Of course! Bert was having trouble getting back
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