Jerri Halliday gave up television for lent. All the girls in the bridge club were giving up something. And good riddance! It was peaceful not having that commotion in her house. She hadn’t missed television one bit this morning and was going for a walk later this afternoon. The radio gave her all the news she could stand. Even that was filled with politicians caught stealing, lying, and worse, but she was spared having to look at all the graphic crime coverage. Her Bob, Science Teacher Bob, used to say ‘Let that stuff inside your head and it becomes your reality. It’s just like ‘you are what you eat,’ same idea.’ Well, Bob was right. She had begun to be fearful just walking to the beach.
They’d gotten in the television habit when Bob was housebound by his final illness. Smarty-pants Bob knew cigarettes would kill him, but couldn’t quit. Then, after he was gone, the place seemed empty. The television filled it, but now she realized it had filled it with … ‘Dog poo!’ Jerri said aloud.
Minnie, her gangly mutt, looked up, wagging her tail hopefully. Maybe they’d go to the beach, dig a hole, play fetch – Come on, let’s go!
‘I see you, Minnie, and I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not even going to say the word yet, because you’ll pester me. I want to have my lunch in peace,’ said Jerri.
Minnie put on her saddest, most disappointed face and let her tail droop limply to the floor. She had a dark, silky coat with light patches surrounding both eyes. She had always been floppy and comic in her gait and facial expressions. This gave her a cartoon character aspect.
‘I won’t be blackmailed,’ said Jerri looking away from her dog’s mimed dramatics, but she ate her tuna salad sandwich quickly, leaving the dishes in the sink. As she turned toward the kitchen door Minnie ran scrambling in front of her, slid on all four feet, and hit it, collapsing into a heap. Then she managed to sit up and beg to be leashed.
‘I wouldn’t go without you, Min,’ said Jerri, ‘who’d protect me in the Underpass?’
The answer to Jerri’s rhetorical question was an emphatic ‘Not Minnie!’ When presented with any threat, but especially Rufus, the neighbor’s tomcat, Minnie retreated behind Jerri.
* * *
The Village of Freemont Beach was perched on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. At the bottom of the hill, the Sante Fe Railroad ran through north and south. Parallel to the railroad was the Camino Real. The highway, with its ramshackle shops and stands, connected the little beach towns between San Diego and Monterey like a child’s colorful necklace of macaroni beads. On the far side of the Camino there was a car park, beach, and the open sea.
The village’s only noteworthy public works project had been construction of an underpass so that beach bound pedestrians did not have to cross rail or automotive lanes to get there safely. The tunnel was wide and airy and cleaned daily by the Public Works Department.
The problem was the Underpass was a magnet for ‘free people;’ migrant laborers, illegal aliens, hippies, druggies, winos, runaways, and all the other ragged souls who passed along the highway and used the public restroom at the beach. The Town Constable and Superintendent of Public Works did their best to keep them moving along, but neither was particularly effective.
Then there was Father Mike, the new pastor at St. Francis. Everyone liked the man, but he and his housekeeper, Mrs. Pink, had established ‘Loaves & Fishes,’ serving free hot lunches every day at the parish hall, just at the top of the bluff. (The gossip was that this was funded by the priest’s uncanny ability to handicap horses.) Father Mike did good work, intercepting runaways and networking with social service agencies to address the needs of this mendicant community. However, they all trooped through the tunnel, sometimes as many as a dozen adults at lunch time. Only God knew how many dirty, barefooted kids streamed daily through the Underpass and up the hill.
The community grumbled because sometimes the Underpass looked like Skid Row, or a soup kitchen scene from the Depression. There had been no incidents, but it felt dangerous, particularly to the elderly, including Jerri Halliday.
* * *
Jerri and Minnie took the footpath toward the beach, Minnie prancing, proudly carrying her own leash in her mouth, this in token compliance with Freemont Beach’s new leash law. The dog ran gaily ahead, but skidded to a halt at the entrance to the Underpass, raised one fore-paw, and looked back at Jerri wrinkling her forehead.
Jeri thought about turning around right then and there. Minnie was a clown, but not stupid. Jerri kept going. This was where she lived and she was not going to be intimidated practically in her own front yard; not on a sunny Wednesday at 2:00 o’clock in the afternoon by some beach riffraff. She moved ahead, but slowly.
At the other end of the tunnel a young woman and girl of about eight were sitting on one of the benches. Silhouetted by the sunlight pouring in from the beach, the mother was adjusting the child’s clothing as if she’d just finished dressing her. Jerri could see the woman’s sharp features in profile, her long hair tied simply behind her head. She was barefooted and wearing a plain blue blouse and colorful, ankle-length skirt.
Minnie ran up to the strangers, but they showed no fear. Who would? In fact, the little girl began hopping around and playing with Minnie. As Jerri approached she noticed that the woman was perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, it was hard to tell with Mexicans. She had strong indio features, like many villagers from Mexico’s central plateau. She had large, ebony eyes, straight black hair, and high, sharp cheekbones. And dirt on her face.
‘Buenos dias,’ said Jerri, and, continuing in Spanish, asked ‘would you like me to leash my dog? She can get excited because she so loves children and the beach. This is her idea of heaven.’
The woman, who introduced herself as ‘Josefina,’ laughed and replied that no, her daughter, ‘Tilda,’ loved dogs and was bored without a playmate. Jerri removed Minnie’s leash and she and Tilda ran tumbling off into the sand. Jerri and Josefina sat in the winter sunshine on a bench at the edge of the sand.
Jerri was proud of her Spanish – she’d taught it for 30 years at Fremont Beach High School. She and Bob had spent many happy summers tramping around Mexico. This Josefina was at least giving her an opportunity to dust it off.
Josefina said, ‘I shorten my name to ‘Fina’ and I would be happy if you called me that. You speak wonderful Spanish and it’s so nice to meet anyone, particularly another woman, with whom I can just chat. My husband, Ramon, of course, speaks Spanish all the time, but it’s not the same.’
Jerri and Fina sat talking and watching as Tilda and Minnie ran up and down the beach. Tilda had found a piece of driftwood just perfect for playing fetch and neither girl nor dog showed any sign of slowing down in the game.
Seeing Tilda playing reminded Jerri why she’d wanted to be a teacher in the first place. She loved children, but as it turned out, she and Bob weren’t so blessed. Her mandatory retirement from teaching had been a sad time. As with Bob’s death, retirement was like a candle being snuffed out in her life.
‘Have you been here long, Fina,’ Jerri asked.
‘Just today. I’d never heard of Freemont Beach before. We stopped because of the washroom on the beach. Camping and living out of our pick-up truck gets old. There’s hot showers here and clean restrooms. It’s really nice. We just looked up the bluff and saw the church. There’s a sign outside the washroom about the free lunch at Loaves & Fishes.
‘My husband is looking for work. He’s a great Mexican chef, but the place where he was working in Oakland was sold to Asians and became a Thai restaurant.
‘We came south because we thought there would be a better chance for him, more Mexican restaurants. Of course, we didn’t think about it, but there are more out-of-work Mexicans here too. We’re legal residents, have our green cards because Tilda is a citizen, born in Oakland.
‘Luckily, Ramon has his Unemployment Benefit but it’s running out. We all had lunch at Loaves & Fishes. Ramon stayed back to talk with the priest. Also, he was going to apply for work at a restaurant the priest told him about. So, Tilda and I are playing on the beach.’
After a while, Jerri asked ‘Will you be here tomorrow, do you think, ‘Fina?’
‘If the police don’t make us move along. We’d like to stay through the weekend so we could go to mass on Sunday. We both like the feel of St. Francis Church. Father Mike says evening mass in Spanish. Ramon can look for work around here. We’ll be on our way Monday morning though unless something wonderful happens here,’ said ‘Fina.
‘Well, in that case, Minnie and I will come looking for you. This has been wonderful for her,’ said Jerri. ‘And, I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I don’t get much chance to speak Spanish since I stopped teaching.’
By this time, both Tilda and Minnie were on their backs cuddling in the sand. Minnie didn’t want to go home, but she was so tired Jerri worried that she’d have to carry her back up the hill into Freemont.
As she walked up the bluff, thinking about Fina and wishing she could help somehow with her situation, Jerri came to an embarrassing realization. Fina’s forehead hadn’t been dirty, it was Ash Wednesday. The woman had been to mass! Lord, her faith had lapsed. She hadn’t been to St. Francis since she’d buried Bob, had never even met this new trouble-making priest, Father Mike Dugan.
* * *
At about 6:00 o’clock a huge, towering storm blew in off the Pacific, bringing with it torrential rain lashing in great sheets against Jerri’s living room window. The wind off the ocean was buffeting her house as if to tear it up from its foundations. She knew it wouldn’t. Her Bob the Science Teacher had personally supervised construction. He’d explained it all to her and he’d been right. The house was solid. But, it would rain like this all night. The Underpass would flood, and the sea might come up, flooding the parking lot. Just last year it has washed out a section of the Sante Fe tracks.
Jerri got just that far in her thinking when she realized what she must do. Fina and her family couldn’t be outside camping. They’d be huddled together in that rusty old pick-up truck and at risk of being flooded out by storm surge.
Thank God, she hadn’t sold ‘Big Bertha,’ Bob’s beloved old Dodge SUV. It was big as the Queen Mary and sucked gasoline like it had a hole in its tank, but it could manage almost any driving condition. It was Bob and she’d never quite been able to part with it. It sat in the garage in perfect running condition, like everything her Bob had loved.
Grabbing a flashlight, but not Minnie, Jerri went to the garage and clambered up into Bertha. She opened the garage door with the electric opener on the visor and was immediately surrounded by howling wind and rain. She had on an old coat, but was still in her house dress and sandals. Bertha started easily, but her windshield wipers struggled to move the water away fast enough. Jerri drove out cautiously, the car’s headlights hardly penetrating the stormy night.
When she arrived at the beach parking lot, it was already flooding, but Jerri put Bertha into all-wheel drive and crept up next to the truck in which Fina and her family were huddling. Both cars were rocking in the wind and Fina’s apparently leaked. Jeri turned on Berth’s cab lights so Fina could see her and gestured for them to climb into her car. She’d parked as close as she could and put Fina’s truck between Bertha and the wind. Still, the process was frightening.
Ramon carried Tilda across first, then when back through water almost knee deep to bring Fina, wrapping his arms around her as they both staggered through the wind and swirling tide. Jerri kept Bertha running and prayed that the sea wouldn’t flood into the engine and strand them all.
Once everyone was in, Jerri drove carefully out of the lot, using four-wheel drive to clamber across high ground, ignoring the roadway which had become a raging channel.
She brought Fina and her family home and before they said anything, they fell on their knees in the living room to pray. To her surprise, Jerri joined them. She was thankful to be alive.
* * *
The following morning, Ramon made huevos rancheros and Jerri brewed a pot of hot, black coffee. Fina set the table while Tilda and Minnie cuddled in a corner, Tilda tickling Minnie’s tummy.
Then Ramon shared his wonderful news. Sam Bloom, the owner of the Inca Hotel, wanted to make it a Mexican bar-restaurant. He’d offered Ramon the job of head chef, giving him wide liberty to create a menu. He’d also said that Fina could wait tables if she wanted.
Ramon said, ‘I don’t know what to think about my new boss. He’s a character. He wants to call the place ‘Cisco Bloom’s Cantina.’ The guy’s only about five feet tall and drives a big old Cadillac convertible. He’s already bought a fancy Mexican sombrero. He says he’s going to have feathered serpents painted along the sides of the Caddy and park it out front to bring in customers.’
Jerri said, ‘We’ll all see that carry-on soon enough then. Sam Bloom brings his friend Leroy Thomas to mass every Sunday morning in that Caddy. He motors the whole length of Freemont Avenue at about 15 miles an hour. Sam keeps his two old junkyard dogs in the back seat. Everybody knows Mr Bloom because he’s always into some mischief. The town wouldn’t be the same without him. He’s a comical man. I’ll bet he’ll be a great boss.’
‘Will you come to mass with us on Sunday?’ Fina asked. ‘We don’t know anybody, but we must give thanks for everything that happened yesterday, especially meeting you, Jerri.’
Jerri surprised herself again and said, ‘I’d love to’ before she’d even thought about it.
Then she said, ‘I hear Father Mike’s trying to organize an after-school program to help kids with their homework and give them a place to hang out if their folks are working. Maybe I’ll volunteer. It beats television.’
