Free San Antonio Rose by Fran Baker Page A

mingled with English good-byes, bespeaking the gradual merging of two proud cultures.
    For all that Rafe and Jeannie noticed, they might have been alone in a moonlit meadow again, making plans for their future as if they really had one.
    “Was there something wrong with the food?” the waitress asked, breaking the spell that had fallen over her bedazzled customers.
    “No.” Jeannie pulled her hand free and glanced at the anxiously hovering girl. “Why?”
    “You’ve hardly touched your lunch.”
    “It’s my fault.” Rafe shouldered the blame with a smile. “I grabbed her fork hand and forced her to follow me on a stroll down memory lane.”
    “Speaking of which …” Jeannie said whenthe waitress had cleared away their plates but left their drinks and lunch check. “Where did you all go when you left the ranch?”
    “The Rio Grande Valley.”
    She sipped her tea and tasted regret. “No wonder I couldn’t find you.”
    “My parents picked the last of the summer vegetables, then grapefruit and oranges that winter,” he remembered aloud. “And Olivia and Enrique went to school in a tin shack that had been set up for migrant workers’ kids.”
    “What did you do?” she asked around the lump that had formed in her throat at the thought of what his family had endured as a result of Big Tom’s bigotry.
    His expression betrayed none of the bitterness welling inside him. “Picked tomatoes and peppers for a couple of weeks, until I had enough money to call you and tell you I was coming back for you. Then I told my parents to go get their green cards, kissed Olivia and Enrique good-bye, and headed for the nearest pay phone.”
    She knew what was coming next and quickly lowered her lashes to veil her tear-filled eyes. To think that something as simple as a phone call had caused so many complications …
    “After hearing you’d eloped,” he continued in a raspy voice, “I picked fruit for the rest of that season, then enrolled in law school the following semester.”
    She lifted her gaze back to him, questioningsomething he’d mentioned earlier. “Did your parents ever get their green cards?”
    “Better than that—they got their citizenship papers.”
    “That’s wonderful!”
    His smile held all the pride and the promise of the red, white, and blue. “My father flies the flag every day that it doesn’t rain, and my mother fixes a Fourth of July barbecue to rival the Circle C’s.”
    She was pleased for the migrant couple but more concerned with their son’s progress. “Law school is so expensive.”
    He grimaced. “Tell me about it.”
    “How did you manage to pay your tuition?”
    “I did construction work the first two years, then clerked for a judge the third.”
    She could just picture him hustling from the classroom to the job site to moot court. “When did you find time to study?”
    “I burned a lot of midnight oil.”
    “It must have been exhausting.”
    “But worth it, in the end.”
    “How were your grades?”
    “Mostly A’s.” Rafe couldn’t resist boasting a bit. “And I was editor of the law review my senior year.”
    Jeannie was duly impressed. “With that kind of record, I’m surprised some big law firm didn’t snap you up straight out of school.”
    “I was invited to join several firms, but I was just too much of a maverick to fit their mold.”
    “And?” she asked, sensing there was more.
    He gave her a mirthless smile. “And I wasn’t interested in being their token minority.”
    “Not even for the money?”
    “I’ve done all right for myself.”
    She toasted the visible signs of his success with her tea. “Here’s to tailor-made suits and silk ties.”
    “Beats those hand-me-downs I lived in as a boy.” He finished his beer but kept the bottle. “Let’s go.”
    “You collect empties now?” she asked as she picked up her purse.
    “I need it for court,” he answered enigmatically, laying enough change atop the generous tip to cover the deposit