Barely Legal

By Amicus

A lovely young Mexican girl brought into the US by Coyotes paid for by her mother, finds herself confined to a small house because she has no papers. How can she survive; how can she live? Of all that she was in her small village before, all that remains now is her virtue and pride,
She has no place or status in this strange new country. Would she exchange her soul for a chance to live again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312648418

Book preview

Novel

CONTENTS

Barely Legal

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Author’s Note

New Adult

Young Adult

Other Novels

by Amicus

I try to walk each day, sometimes twice a day, no matter the weather or temperature outside. I need the exercise. But if walking were just for that, I wouldn’t have discipline. So it takes the need for some fresh air or a distance from the computer keyboard that demands time and energy to get me out and moving.

This is a rural area; not quite country, but enough so that the various styles of homes have appreciable distance between them, with a variety of trees and bushes providing some privacy. The exception was a twenty unit mobile home park a few blocks away; one that I managed up until about two years back.

I still have a good relationship with the owner of the park and my short journey always included a walk around the perimeter.

I was approaching the gravel drive-way that went through the center of the community when I noticed a figure coming towards me on a path that would intercept mine. Medium height, and dressed in a long raincoat looking garment and a hood covering the head all the way down to the eyebrows. It wasn’t until I heard the voice that I knew it was a girl or woman.

Hola, viejo.

"Ahm, hola. Hello, ah, señorita?

Ello… es, ah, hola?

"Yes, sí. Is yes?"

She smiled and nodded and then looked me up and down. She stretched an arm up to measure my height, maybe, then stared at my head and hair, seeing the gray along my temples, I think, and spoke a few rapid words in Spanish, none of which I understood. She looked up into my eyes, stared for a moment and moved around me keeping her eyes locked to mine. She smiled a lovely smile with even white teeth and made a, ‘follow me’, gesture with the index finger of her right hand. I could understand that.

The long coat concealed her body and the hood showed not even a tendril of hair. I walked behind her for a moment until she slowed and walked close by my left side. About four trailers from the paved highway, she turned and went up the short stairway under a porch roof and nodded for me to follow.

She opened the door and again with a hand signal, invited me inside. I held up my right hand, palm out, and shook my head slowly side to side keeping a small smile, still looking into her eyes.

She returned raised eyebrows, a tilted head and questions in her eyes.

I had managed ‘The Court’ for almost three years. The first thing the owner had said to me was to avoid going into a woman’s home when she was alone, and not let children of any age into my place.

The Court has several Hispanic families; a totally different culture. It was a wise policy to follow with the women living there. I never had a problem because I followed the policy. However, I did make friends with some of the women and occasionally they would stop by and join me in lawn chairs. I’m a sucker for children, and they soon learned a smile and a few words would bring out my fish bowl filled with various candies.

A girl, halfway through the door, tossed some words in my direction and then spoke into the trailer. An older Hispanic woman, short, white haired, bulky, but not overweight, who I recognized, smiled and nodded at me.

Please; you would come in, Meester Davees?

Mrs. Agueda, do I remember?

She smiled a warm return with an open face, Yes, you do, please.

She gestured me inside. The girl disappeared and the smell of food cooking filled my nose.

Coffee, something cool to drink?

I shook my head no, I was just taking my walk and, ah, your grand-daughter motioned for me to follow her. Can I help with something?

The old woman turned her head and spoke loudly to the back of the trailer. A voice answered in an irritated tone.

Please; come sit in the dining room?

I followed her out of the living room, You keep a nice house, Mrs. Agueda.

Juanita. I think I told you that a long time ago?

I smiled and nodded, Yes, you certainly did. But I understand it is not proper to address you by your first name. Right?

She smiled as we sat at the table with four chairs around it, the old ways fade as time passes, but I thank you for your respect.

The old woman and girl had another exchange of words that meant nothing to me. It seemed the girl had asked where something was, and the woman had responded.

I’m sorry to speak so little of your language, but did she ask for something and you answered? I asked.

She nodded and smiled, her hairbrush. The child never puts things in the proper place.

I heard the soft sing-song tone of humming as the girl came into the dining room still brushing her hair.

I was stunned; no other word for it. I love long hair on a woman, and hers hung down below her waist. It framed her face, over her ears and down to her eyebrows. Hidden by a coat and hood, the girl beneath emerged into a flowered skirt that fell just above her knees with a light blue blouse that barely exposed the tops of her breasts. I just sat there, unable to speak.

They both laughed. The girl spoke and the woman translated, "You should not show your emotions so much. You may close