Love Without Borders

By JR Villa

After being separated from her children at the southern US border and deported back to her home country. Miriam must find her way back to them before the government gives them up for adoption. She finds herself involved in a drug smuggling, prostitution, and human trafficking in her desperate attempt to re-enter the United States. All the while her mother’s instinct telling her there’s imminent danger stalking her children at their new Virginia home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889105718

JR Villa

Love Without Borders is Villa’s debut novel. He spends his time in his hermetic studies and reading about esotericism. He is currently a resident of the state of Texas.

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About the Author

Love Without Borders is Villa’s debut novel. He spends his time in his hermetic studies and reading about esotericism. He is currently a resident of the state of Texas.

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my son, Jesse Dominic Villarreal; he has motivated me always to better my life. None of the characters are anyone that I know as I came up with this story in my imagination.

Copyright Information ©

JR Villa 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Villa, JR

Love Without Borders

ISBN 9798889105701 (Paperback)

ISBN 9798889105718 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023922048

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

I definitely want to thank Austin Macauley Publishers for acknowledging my writing skills and for giving me this opportunity.

Prologue

Miriam felt exhausted after the adrenaline had drained out of her. It took her best to stay awake. The only thing keeping her alert was the anticipation of not knowing what would happen next.

So what’s up, Mom? Edson was intelligent beyond his years and knew something was imminent.

I don’t know, son. But whatever does happen, Miriam gave Edson a stern look, I need you to be strong, okay? It’s not a request, I’m telling you to be strong.

Okay, Mom.

Miriam knew she didn’t need to wait much longer. She was the last adult in the holding cell. They were at the McAllen border patrol holding center. To her right was Edson, her ten-year-old son. Sitting on the bare and cold concrete bench to her left clinging to Miriam’s index finger tightly with her tiny hand was Mimi, Miriam’s four-year-old daughter.

Mimi was keeping herself busy munching on her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, silent and acting nonchalant. But Miriam knew better. The link through the touch between Mother and Daughter revealed to her heart that her shadow was afraid.

Shadow was what she called Mimi. Everywhere Miriam went, Mimi followed. It was frustrating sometimes that Mimi even followed her to the bathroom, but Miriam knew better than to admonish her. It would do no good with Mimi because, after a brief respite, she would again follow. Anyways, Miriam could live with it.

Señora. A border patrol agent stuck his head in the door and motioned for Miriam to follow. She gave a sidelong glance at Edson and conveyed the silent message of strength, got up from the bench, and with her children followed the agent out of the holding cell.

The main area of the office was filled with screens and monitors. Several illegal immigrants along with border patrol agents were busy attempting to get through the booking process. Agents held immigrants’ fingers down on the apparatus that registered their fingerprints and uploaded them into the nationwide system.

Ma’am, can you step to this side, please? Right over here. The agent, apparently in charge of her booking, huddled with them near a monitor. Next I will run you through a booking process. He was a Mexican-American man fluent in Spanish and Miriam had no problem understanding him.

A door opened to her left and a woman in a navy blue pantsuit stepped out trailed by another border patrol agent. The woman stared at Miriam then at her children. When she looked back up and locked eyes with Miriam, the look made Miriam tense all over. Something about the woman gave an ominous feeling.

This is Mrs. Benson with Health and Human Services, the agent said. I will explain everything to you as we go through the booking process. What she does and what she represents.

Right now I need to let you know that you are being charged with illegal entry into the United States. As a foreign national attempting to infiltrate our southern border illegally, you are violating one of our laws and will therefore be prosecuted for it.

Miriam’s heart started to race. She felt Edson clutch her right hand tightly. Too tight.

The agent went on, As a person charged with a crime here in our country, after being processed, you will be placed in a detention center. Because the detention center is only allowed to house adults over 17 years of age, your children will be unable to go there.

Miriam blinked several times upon hearing this. How can this be? Where will my children go? You can’t separate me from them. I am all they have.

I understand that. the agent replied. Unfortunately we have laws to follow, and the law calls for you to be sent to a detention center to await a court date. Your children cannot go there. What will happen is they will be placed in a children’s center where they will be taken care of by our government. Let me assure you they will be safe. The agent tried his best to sound reassuring. They will be fed and will have a warm place to sleep. When the courts decide what to do about your case, measures will be undertaken, according to a court order, to reunify you with them.

Miriam’s composure eviscerated, tears ran down her face. This couldn’t be happening, not her children, not like this. You can’t take my children from me!

Mimi, who had never seen her mother cry before, and surprised at her mother’s show of emotion, began crying herself. Mom, what’s happening? Edson inquired.

Hold on, son. Let me speak to the officer. But Miriam knew it was helpless. This whole situation, her predicament, all of it was helpless.

Evident from his change of posture, the agent was losing his patience. Ma’am, it is our rule of law, and it was your decision to enter the country illegally. Different measures are undertaken when people seek asylum at a port of entry. However, you were caught entering illegally. We must follow the law and charge you with illegal entry. Please allow Mrs. Benson, and my fellow officer to take the children. Step aside.

Miriam stepped in front of the children protectively, arms spread in front of her. Wait, wait! You’re not taking my children from me!

Actually, we are. The agent replied, slapping Miriam’s arm aside. The woman in the pantsuit rushed in to grab Mimi’s hand. A reflex from Miriam pulled Mimi back and away from the woman. Get away from her! You’re not taking my daughter! The commotion attracted two more agents. Tears kept streaming down Miriam’s cheeks, her control vanished. She could no longer hold the sobs from escaping her constricting throat.

They were going to take her children from her.

Ma’am. I will say this one last time, let go of the children, turn around and place the palms of your hands against the wall, ordered the obviously exasperated border patrol agent.

His order was enough distraction for Miriam to allow the pantsuit woman to step back in. She snatched Mimi out of Miriam’s grasp and carried her, stepping away quickly.

One of the newly arrived agents placed his hands on Edson’s shoulders and guided him away from Miriam. The booking agent shoved Miriam against the wall. A slight maneuver, a quick move, and Miriam’s chest was slammed against the wall, her arm twisted behind her.

Okay, alright! I’ll do what you say, but please don’t hurt my babies, she pleaded. The pain of her twisted arm rising to her shoulder.

Mom, what do I do? asked a panicked Edson, attempting to pull away from the agent’s hold.

Tears on her face and in the most vulnerable position she’d ever been in front of her children, Miriam addressed her son, Do what they say. Go with the gentlemen and take care of your sister, please.

Edson’s sight ran from his mother against the wall to his sister in the woman’s arms. Tell her to let my sister be with me, he demanded from the agent. Even at ten years old he was overly protective of his little sister Mimi. Back home he was the only male in the house, and even here, two countries away from home, and in a losing situation, instinctively he knew he had to fill that role.

All semblance of patience gone, still holding Miriam tight against the wall, the border patrol agent ordered, Mrs. Benson, take the children to the office to the rear.

Allow me to say goodbye to my children, pleaded Miriam.

The agent eased his hold, allowing her to turn around. Make it quick. Miriam tried to go to her children but was quickly stopped. She was expected to say goodbye from afar.

Mimi, behave. I will be with you in a little while, Miriam said between sobs. She’d tried for Mimi’s sake to keep herself from shedding any more tears, but it didn’t work.

Trapped in the woman’s embrace, four-year-old Mimi stretched her arms reaching for Miriam ten feet away. Mommy.

Edson stepped up and grabbed his sister from the woman’s arms. There were now three agents forming a barrier between Miriam and the children.

She locked eyes with her son, his vision blurry. She’d asked him to be strong, had demanded it. But at the end of the day, he was still a ten-year-old boy, a child being separated from the only adult in his life that mattered most. His protector. At the moment, that title was superfluous. It didn’t help her because she was surrounded by border patrol agents, all uniformed, all men.

Miriam gazed at her son steadily and conveyed her silent message. I love you. We will be together soon. Take care of your sister. That, entire one stare. Then she saw her children ushered into a door. They disappeared into whatever was beyond the threshold. She looked down at her feet, gave a silent prayer, and then proceeded to sob even louder than before.

The agents walked her to a booking station and asked her to stand in front of a large computer monitor. The agent in charge, the one that has roughly thrown her against the wall, took over the process. He grabbed her right hand roughly and placed it palm down on the apparatus that registered fingerprints. He seemed heartless to her as he cautiously delivered an admonishing speech. Listen lady, United States citizens endowed with right under our Constitution, when they commit a crime and are arrested, are separated from their children. Why? Because they committed a crime by their own choice and decision, you rank lower on the totem pole since you’re an illegal alien therefore you must face the consequence of your actions.

He threw her right hand aside and reached for her left.

Miriam felt him squeeze it tightly and caused her to look up and into his eyes. She noticed a trace of a smile flash in them. As he lowered her hand onto the apparatus, he squeezed harder then she heard his voice change into an menacing tone. For him, it was just another day on the job. For Miriam, it was the end of her world.

Chapter 1

Turbulence startled Miriam out of her reverie. She’d been lost in thought for most of the ride from Mexico’s capital to Guatemala City, Guatemala. Not in conscious, deliberate thought, but a different kind, filled with despair because deep inside she knew that purposeful action would soon be required. Not the quotidian type: Strapping on the seat belt before landing, walking to meet the government authorities, going through the requisite administrative procedure before being allowed to return home. But by far the most important action was taken in her 24 years of life. Failure was not an option when a mother was faced with her predicament. True, there were women on earth today, and certainly in the dustbin of history, to which their children were not the top priority, their treasure, or even important. However, those were the exceptions to the rule. The vast majority would lay down their lives before any danger to save their children from death or even harm.

Unable to get comfortable in the cramped airplane seat, Miriam bit her lip to keep the tears from flowing. She felt like a water pipe under pressure searching for release. Release that would only be found in her through her eyes, the windows to her soul. She was determined to keep herself from showing her abject grief in front of strangers. At least until she could find solitude, away from the crowds, where she could once again break down in sobs.

The overhead intercom blurted instructions on the correct way to fasten seat belts and soon after she could feel the descent. After an uneventful landing, Miriam undid her seat belt, then headed out of the airplane and toward the gate. There she was met by Guatemalan federal officers. After asking her for her name, then checking it off the list, she was let through. Thirty seconds was all it took. Miriam was surprised and caught off guard at the promptness of it. Not the long exhausting questioning she’d suffered in McAllen, Texas at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement office, then again at the layover in Mexico City. It seemed to Miriam that in Guatemala the government was indifferent about someone coming back from the United States.

Everyone in the public or private sector, the whole of the citizenry in Guatemala knew that the goal was always to leave the country in search of a better life, not return. Eighty-eight passengers stepped off this flight; Guatemalans were deported by United States authorities. In contrast to the thirty seconds, it took her to cross the gate, it had been a little over thirty days going the other direction. She’d traveled from her hometown of La Rivera, Guatemala north through Mexico to arrive at Reynosa, Tamaulipas at Mexico’s northeastern border then swam across the Rio Bravo and into McAllen, Texas. She, along with fifty-nine other Central Americans and Mexican Nationals, had felt the rush of knowing their feet were planted in American soil. But the rush hadn’t lasted long. Six border patrol SUVs and specially adapted pickup trucks had spotted them. Their two guides, or ‘coyotes’ as they were commonly known, didn’t give much care for anything else at that moment, other than running and jumping back into the river that separated the two countries to evade capture. Stunned at being surrounded by border patrol agents most of the illegals had quickly surrendered. Two Honduran nationals made a run for it but hadn’t made it far.

Thirty-three days and Miriam’s travels had ended that night, but not her troubles.

Walking through the Guatemalan airport, Miriam knew she had to find a way back to the United States, to find her children, to get them back. She didn’t care much to try to find her way back to the United States to stay anymore. The awe of it had been stripped from her the same way her children had been. This time around she had to travel back to America not to look for a better way of life or to escape her situation at home, but to find her children.

This was the first time she’d been without them and even now, here in the crowded airport, she looked around to make sure her brood hadn’t wandered far. Only to realize they had wandered and ended up two countries away.

Miriam walked the distance to the airport’s front entrance.

Walking out, she immediately caught sight of a young woman seated at the curb with her face in her hands. Miriam remembered her from the flight. She too had been separated from her child.

Miriam could actually say that she knew exactly how the woman felt at the moment.

Miriam walked over and said, Hey, you mind if I join you? I have to figure out some things, like how I’m getting home to La Rivera, and right now I have no idea.

The woman started and looked up at Miriam. Sure, I’m here waiting for my brother to pick me up. He should be here soon. The woman patted the hard concrete beside her. You’re Miriam, right? I remember you from the detention center. I overheard you talking to my bunkmate. The woman offered her hand. I’m Sara.

Nice to meet you, Sara, replied Miriam as she stretched her hand, shook Sara’s, then plumped down beside her.

You said you were from La Rivera? inquired Sara. I’m a little bit up the road in Los Pintos. I called my brother with the phone call they allowed us to make at the stopover in Mexico City. He should be finishing his shift at work and be heading this way. You mentioned you needed a way to get home, I’m sure my brother won’t mind giving you a lift. Our trip takes us through La Rivera anyways.

Miriam’s vision blurred, Really? Oh my God, yes, that would be great. Thank you. In her situation, even an offer of a ride home moved her to the core. She hadn’t known how she would get home. She was destitute and had no-one to call for assistance. In Mexico City, she had used her phone to phone her mother with the news she was returning home and would be landing in Guatemala City. She knew her mother would be unable to find a way to get her home; the call had been made to hear a familiar voice.

You’re welcome, Sara replied. Unless you were planning on walking all day and night to cover the sixty kilometers, Sara joked, giving it to her best with a smile. One that hadn’t reached her eyes.

A couple of agreeable chuckles from Miriam, then silence between them. The air, palpable with their sadness, felt tangible. Their masks, easily perceived by each other.

Miriam broke the silence, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if I may ask, how old is your child or children? If you were housed with me at the detention center and got deported the same day, this means that you were a separated mother too, right?

Yes, just last week a group of us got caught crossing the river in Laredo, Texas. My son is five, Ramon. A woman with the consulate spoke to me at the courthouse after sentencing and said she would be in touch with me to let me know the status of my case to get Ramon back to Guatemala. She gave me this card. Sara pulled a crumpled business card from the front pocket of her jeans and showed it to Miriam.

Miriam glanced at it. Did she say how long it would take, you know, for Ramon to get back here?

Three to six months after my deportation. All I know as of now is that he is being held in a children’s center in Laredo, Texas. The counsel with the consulate said she would try to get me a phone call with him soon. She also had me write Ramon a letter that she said would be delivered and read to him at the center. She was adamant that I write something that would allow Ramon to know it was I who’d written it. So I wrote everything he and I know about each other. I told him that soon I would cook for him his favorite meal of hamburgers and fries that he would be able to eat in front of the television watching Spiderman, his favorite cartoon. And that if he behaved at the children’s center I would take him to the park too… Sara’s words trailed off as her sobs overtook her.

Miriam felt her pain down to her bone marrow. She reached over to rub Sara’s back. A sign of affection she knew wouldn’t give much comfort. She’d been raised to treat others how she would want to be treated. Right now she needed someone that would extend to her the same consolation. Looking forward she spotted a man walking across the street toward them.

Sara! Thank Goodness! Sara! the man exclaimed.

Sara looked up to see the man speed-walking her way and quickly got up to meet him. The man reached them; got ahold of Sara that lifted her off her feet, then kissed her forehead.

Jose, I thought you would be longer, I wasn’t expecting you so early. Sara looked over at Miriam and made the introductions. Miriam, this is my brother, Jose. Jose, this is Miriam. She reached down and helped Miriam to her feet. She needs a ride to La Rivera and I told her you wouldn’t mind her tagging along.

Jose gave Miriam a once-over. Hi, nice to meet you. Of course, I wouldn’t mind. We’re heading through there anyway. Come on, he motioned to follow. I parked a little ways from here; it was the only space I could find. I see no luggage, of course not, what am I thinking, come on, this way.

Miriam and Sara followed Jose into the ocean of vehicles parked in front of the airport.

Along the way, Sara asked, So how did you make it here so early? I thought you were working?

I requested the rest of the day off after my lunch break since I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I would ask you what happened now, but we have the whole ride home to talk about it. You don’t look well, so I imagine the news won’t be good.

Miriam thought that to be an understatement; Sara looked devastated even to her. From anybody’s perspective, Miriam knew their conversation on the ride home would be much worse than bad news.

Miriam had traveled this road often. She sat in the backseat of Jose’s Nissan tuning in and out of their conversation while they headed north on Highway 6. The scenery was amazing.

Guatemala was a beautiful country with some of the most beautiful landscapes on the planet. Beautiful but poor. There were the usual one-percenters, mostly in government, that held most of the country’s wealth. The other ninety-nine percent were left to struggle for the leftovers. Among the ninety-nine percent were the gangs. Extorting the weak with violence and taking everything they had.

Miriam’s late husband, David, had been a contributing member of the Guatemalan community. He’d been four years her senior when they met. She,13, he, 17. He’d had a job at a local taco stand. La Rivera was a small community, comprised of about four thousand people. Everyone knew everybody else, gossip traveled fast, and it seemed that everybody was related.

El Rey del Taco was the most popular taco stand in town.

Two cooks and an aide behind a large stove, and twelve picnic tables had made the whole of it. It didn’t matter if you were a ranch hand, the primary school teacher, or the Mayor, everyone was sure to eat at ‘El Rey del Taco’. It was the talent of the cooks that brought you there, no other local restaurant had the touch of El Rey del Taco. David, at seventeen years of age, was his father’s aide behind the stove.

Back then, Miriam had attended school at Secondaria La Rivera. Her walk home took her through the road in front of El Rey del Taco. At thirteen, she’d been a student in the second grade of secondary school in the educational system of Guatemala, the equivalent of the seventh grade in the United States system.

Monday through Friday, she would walk the two kilometers back home since the population of La Rivera couldn’t afford student’s transportation to and from school. For Miriam, walking home meant having the opportunity to see the handsome young man that worked at the taco stand. David had eventually found a way to spark a conversation.

Their first kiss had been on a Thursday. She’d been lost in a confusion of emotions but the sudden desire to take it further had been lit. It seemed normal to her back then and their first coupling, the almost frightening intensity of it, had produced a son. Nine months later at age fourteen, Miriam gave birth to Edson.

Then life had taken its course.

Struggles and tribulations but Miriam and David had stayed strong and firm in their love for one another. Then at age twenty, Miriam gave birth to Mimi. They’d been the happiest parents in the world. Living at home with Miriam’s mother, David had been a good provider.

Then the gangs came.

Because of the geographical position of La Rivera, the Guatemala City gangs tied to both the Colombian and Mexican cartels had decided La Rivera was the ideal checkpoint for the drugs going north. Safe houses had sprouted like weeds across town, the caravans ever-present, moving their poison from ranch to ranch.

The local citizen protection units had been corrupted. Sometimes money was used to bribe, other times the drugs were used as bribes.

The gang’s base at Guatemala City had stationed a Comandante, a gang leader, to oversee the town of La Rivera. The gang started recruiting locally. The money was too good to turn down and David had taken that path. Their life changed overnight.

Riding in the backseat of Jose’s Nissan, Miriam recalled the times she, along with her kids and David, had traveled to the big city. Sometimes to shop at ‘El Mercado’, the enormous supermarket in Guatemala City that sold anything you could imagine. Other times they would attend the cinema to watch the latest American movie. It had been a brief time of splurging, something they had never done before. However, it abruptly ended when David was murdered by the gang’s leader, El Comandante.

David’s death and the threat from El Comandante drove Miriam to leave town and head to the United States. She’d taken Edson and Mimi and left her mother and La Rivera. Now she was coming back to her mother, this time without Edson and Mimi.

I don’t understand, Sara, Jose inquired, How could that be? Everything we hear and know is that the American authorities would not arrest you or separate you from your children. You know very well that our cousin Sonya went through the ordeal of traveling north to America and is now living in Houston, Texas.

Sara’s sigh was audible. You’re right, but apparently with the change of the administration in America also came to a change in policy. My understanding was that if I were caught with Ramon they would process me and give me a court date, release me into the population, specifically to Sonya’s address in Houston, then be done with it. Not show up to court. That was the gossip coming down through the grapevine. Was that your understanding also, Miriam?

Startled that Sara expected her to join the conversation, Miriam quickly gathered her thoughts. You’re exactly right. I would have thought twice of making the trek with my two children if I’d known I would be risking losing them.

Don’t put it in those words, Jose interjected, you haven’t lost them. True, you were separated, but I’m sure you will eventually be reunited with them.

Miriam sensed Jose walking lightly and on eggshells around the whole idea that Sara would lose Ramon. No, that isn’t what I meant, she assured Jose. I’m just staying conscious of my circumstances. I’ve yet to speak with either of my children. All I know of them is they’re being held in a children’s center with no idea under what conditions they are living, or if they are in any danger. It seems to me the Guatemalan consulate, the American Health and Human Services, and a few other organizations are all scrambling to make sense of this new policy that called for us to be separated from our children. And I strongly doubt they know what the outcome will be as far as our children coming back to us.

From the latest news reports in social media, I gathered that a lot of Latino communities in America are staging protests against the cruel policy, said Jose.

Sara put in, A lady in court, an attorney that tried to explain my deportation hearing, told several of us women that the protests drove the government to act fast to get us out of the country and away from journalists that we could give interviews to. Instead of the usual sixty days for a hearing, I was given a court date just a week after my arrest.

So what are your plans, Sara? Jose asked. Or what did the consulate advise?

For now, I have to wait for a phone call from an attorney with the consulate, Sara responded. She said three to six months.

Miriam didn’t voice her thoughts, but there was no way in hell she would wait three to six months to get Edson and Mimi back. To her, Sara sounded defeated with nothing else in her arsenal other than to wait for divine intervention. How could she be okay having such little information on the welfare of her son? Did she think strangers would care for him the way she did?

Whether a good or bad mother, the bottom line is you’re a mother. The strangers that Sara was placing so much trust in were the same strangers that created a policy that made it acceptable to separate mothers from their children, then vanished the mothers to keep a backlash from society at bay.

I still can’t believe that with social media so prevalent, we weren’t able to hear of this policy before you left, Sara, Jose said. Maybe we were the first ones they started doing this to.

Sara said, It took us twenty-seven days to get to Laredo, Texas, and I was more worried about making it there safely than checking my social media accounts.

Might be, Jose said. Maybe that’s how long it took the news reports to start reaching the press.

Miriam registered the familiar landmarks, her town getting nearer, the beginning of a plan forming in her mind. You could drop me off at the cathedral, she said to Jose. I can walk home from there. I want to pray before anything.

Silence flooded the small car as Miriam’s incessant thoughts took flight. It didn’t matter to her what the circumstances before, during, or after her trek north had been. Why was it relevant to Sara? Edson and Mimi were not with her, she was their mother, their everything. With David gone, Miriam was the children’s only hope. If she felt this bad being away from them, she could only imagine what they were going through at this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been away from them for more than twenty-four hours. It had been a week already; she needed to start heading back to the United States.

Although she’d just arrived in Guatemala, she felt like she was wasting time.

Miriam felt the vehicle slowing as Jose maneuvered the Nissan toward the cathedral just off the main highway. Sara turned in her seat to face her.

I’m sorry we met under these circumstances, Miriam. Here’s my home phone number in Los Pintos, please stay in touch. I need to know of any news you get from the States, you can be assured that I will do the same. Do you have somewhere where I could reach you? Sara handed Miriam a small sheet of paper, her number written on it.

Miriam tore the bottom half of the paper, asked Sara for a pen, and quickly jotted down her mother’s number, then handed it back to Sara. Will do, and I really want to thank you two for the help, I had no idea how I was getting home.

No problem, Jose said. It was the least we could do to extend a helping hand. And please follow Sara’s advice and stay in touch. He slowly turned into the cathedral’s parking lot.

Miriam, can you do something for me? asked Sara.

Sure, Miriam said.

When you go in there, please send a prayer up to God for my Ramon. Ask Jesus to protect him and bring him back to me soon.

The car stopped and Miriam pulled the door open. I will send that prayer up for you, Sara, and for Ramon. Thank you once again for the ride.

She stepped off the vehicle and waved them goodbye.

As she stood in the middle of the empty parking lot of the church and stared at the back of Jose’s vehicle as it drove away, she was still dumbfounded, trying to figure out how a mother could feel so helpless as Sara felt. Sara’s request for prayer for Ramon implied that she would wait for a phone call from the United States in three to six months. Miriam wouldn’t wait for her children to come back to her. She couldn’t wait for three to six weeks, much less a few months. Two borders stood as obstacles between her and her children, but her love for them would overcome all borders.

She turned and walked briskly into the house of God.

Chapter 2

Four-year-old Mimi had been crying for the last hour. She and Edson were at a children’s holding center in Brownsville, Texas. It had previously been a Wal-Mart Super Center on Highway 48, better known as South Padre Island Highway. Closed down months ago, it had been converted into the House of Padre.

With the influx of children coming over the border alone or accompanied by a parent, the Health and Human Services Department had searched for contractors that would meet the requirements. House of Padre currently held 150 children, most of them waiting for foster homes that would take them in. Other children were in the same situation as Edson and Mimi, awaiting a decision by the American courts that would decide their destiny.

Mimi, please stop crying, begged Edson. He wanted to cry also but knew that he had to be the big brother and Mimi’s protector. Take care of her right now that their mother wasn’t able to. They’d been at the center for a week, and it seemed that Mimi had cried for most of it.

Here at the center, they had their own room with bunk beds, two desks, a small closet, and a restroom. All the rooms were stationed at the back of the big building. The front held offices and classrooms that Edson had been attending since the day after their arrival. Outside in front of the building, what used to be the Wal-Mart parking lot, was now made up of basketball courts, tennis courts, and slides and swing sets. Edson, Mimi, and the rest of the children were allowed an hour in the morning and another in the evening to run around and play at the different stations. The whole House of Padre gave the sense of a boarding school. The center had its rules but Mimi had her own. She’d made it clear that she would not leave Edson’s side, and made it crystal clear that she was a crier. She missed her mother and she made sure everyone knew it.

Please Mimi, just for a little while, Edson pleaded. You know if you keep crying the staff members will come back and ask that I calm you down. We don’t need the attention.

Sniffling, Mimi looked around the room, then responded, But Mommie said she would be with us in a little while and I want her to come to get us all ready. Why can’t she come to get us? Please call her and tell her I miss her.

I will as soon as I am able, okay. Will you stop crying? Yesterday had been a difficult day for Edson. Mrs. Ortiz, their assigned counselor, had made a request of him. First, she’d told him his mother Miriam wasn’t in jail anymore. Edson had been elated at the news, but then Mrs. Ortiz had told him Miriam had been flown back to Guatemala. He was smart enough to know that was a major development. Their mother was no longer in the United States. He’d traveled the thirty-three days, he knew perfectly well how far they were from home.

Mimi had been playing with some toys in the corner of Mrs. Ortiz’s office. Distracted, she hadn’t paid attention to their conversation. Just