Free Coffee Scoop by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page B

caught her ear. From around the corner of the little coffee shop, a quartet of raggedly dressed youths strolled toward them. Carrie watched Ryan sit his mug down slowly, never letting the boys out of his sight. The tallest of the four, a lad of no more than ten or eleven, reached into the pocket of his cut off jeans and pulled out a cigar.
    He called Ryan by name then said something in Spanish. Ryan rose, obviously tense, but said nothing. When the boy turned his attention to Carrie, Ryan walked over to stand beside her, casually draping his arm around her shoulder.  
    Ryan spoke, enunciating each word with care, then tightened his grip around Carrie’s shoulders. A long moment of silence followed as he and the boy stared, neither moving, barely blinking.
    Finally the boy shrugged turned to walk away. As the others followed their leader, Ryan heaved a sign. Abruptly, the foursome stopped and the older boy pulled something from his pocket. He handed it to a smaller boy, who raced toward the table.
    Stepping forward to meet the little fellow, Ryan accepted what looked like a crumpled sheet of paper. As the foursome headed down the road toward the village, Ryan settled back into the chair across from her and stuffed the paper into his pocket.
    “Carrie,” he said slowly, “do you mind a change of plans? I’d like to show you something.”
    Twenty minutes later, Ryan stopped the truck in front of a tidy white picket fence. On the other side of the gate a group of children sat in a circle passing a ball between them. Situated on the porch of a whitewashed home was an elderly woman dressed in brilliant scarlet and holding a sleeping infant. Above her next to the open door was a sign proclaiming this residence to be Casa de Dios.
    “House of Children.”
    “Hey, I didn’t think you spoke Spanish.” Ryan came up behind her and grasped her hand. “I’d like you to meet someone very special. That’s her up on the porch.”
    “Senor Ryan!” a little boy called, and soon the two of them were surrounded by dozens of children. The woman in scarlet rose and settled the infant in a cradle then walked toward them.
    With a few words and a clap of her hands, the woman sent the children scurrying back to their games. She extended her hand to Carrie and smiled.
    “So pleased to meet you, Miss Collins,” she said. “Ryan has told me so much about you. I’m Mama. Mama Zamora.”
    The trio moved to the porch where a neatly dressed young lady brought tall glasses of sweet lemonade. She smiled at Carrie and disappeared inside. Moments later, heavy footsteps announced a visitor.
    “Mama, I hear we have company.”  
    A tall dark-haired man stepped onto the porch and grasped Ryan’s hand. Carrie recognized him at once as Ryan’s best friend Alvaro.
    “Good afternoon, my friend,” Alvaro said. He turned his attention to Carrie, brown eyes dancing with what looked like amusement. “So you’re Carrie.”  
    “Yes, I’m Carrie.”  
    He winked at Ryan. “She’s every bit as beautiful as you said, Ryan.”
    “Cut it out, Alvaro,” Ryan said.
    “Boys, remember your manners.” Mama shook her head. “Can you believe I must listen to this nonsense? And people think raising so many children is difficult. I tell you, it’s the adults in this house that give me trouble. And to think this one is a pastor.”
    “Mama, I saw the Gallego boys again.”
    The older woman frowned. “Up to no good, I suspect.”
    “The usual. Threatening the tourists and begging for money or a match to light his cigar.”
    Mama shook her head. “If only the boy would see the error of his ways. His life would be so much better here.”
    “Some can learn by hearing and others must find their way by doing. That boy and his brothers, they fall into the second category,” Alvaro said. “Someday they will ring the bell, Mama. We cannot give up hope.”
    Ryan fished the crumpled paper that the boy gave him out of his pocket and handed it to Mama. “He