Page 38 of Hold My Heart

Control was a good thing if it meant outside forces couldn’t hurt you. But sometimes...too much control ended up hurting you anyway.

“Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll be right over. Hold on,” she told Mrs. Nunez. “Don’t move and don’t do anything until I get there.”

With what should have been a sense of guilt but was actually a sense of relief, she stepped out of and away from the chaos.

Heedless of the speed limit, she made it home in record time. Mrs. Nunez hid the spare key to her front door underneath a fake rock that looked...well,fake. It was one of those jumbo ones advertised on the back pages of magazines and was nothing but a flashing red light to anyone who wanted to break in and rob the place. Olympia hurried to the front door and fished the key out from its not-so-much-hiding space, twisting it in the lock. “Mama?” she called out the second she stepped through the door.

“Upstairs,” came the weak reply.

Olympia took the stairs two at a time, turning left down the hallway, into the master suite. “Are you decent?”

The older woman chuckled as Olympia made her way into the bathroom. “Not really. I ripped down the towel rack and shower curtain trying to get out by myself, but nothing really worked.”

Indeed, she was lying in the tub with the shower curtain draped across her body like an old-fashioned toga. Her gray-streaked black hair was piled in a messy bunch of braids on her head, her olive skin pulled in wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. Even injured, she was a picture of mature Latina spice, her lips pursed and her eyes squinting to see without her glasses.

A wave of guilt and worry smacked Olympia in the face at the same time her heart gave a hitch. To cover her anxiety, she propped her hands on her hips and gave Mrs. Nunez a stern look. “How did this happen? Didn’t I tell you we needed to get some grab bars installed? Maybe you’ll listen to me now. How long have you been like this? Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?”

“And have them see me like this?” Her head shook like she had a song stuck in there. Rose Nunez was much too proud. Despite the circumstances, she pursed her lips even further. “No. I won’t allow it.”

“Well, luckily I got your call. Let’s get you out of there. You’re sure it’s just your ankle?”

“Absolutely.” Rose was adamant.

Olympia took the utmost care trying to get her adopted mother out of the tub, making sure to lock her elbows so she didn’t lose her grip. She didn’t want to admit it was almost too much for her, that she had a difficult time handling the extra weight. Her knees shook and her arms almost gave out, but she held steady.

It would be nice if Harlan were here. He’d know what to do.

She stopped so abruptly she almost sent both of them tumbling into the tub. It was too late to start relying on someone else now. Not when she was closing in on forty years old. Not when she had another life to think about. Didn’t she have to be careful?

Plus, she’d made her decision. She’d told Harlan where she stood, and gotten the hard part out of the way. There was no going back. Shecouldn’tgo back.

“Steady now,” she soothed, helping Rose over the lip of the tub. “Don’t bang your ankle.”

“A lot of things have been banged in my life, chiquita. Not all of them relating to the body. I always tried to take the good with the bad, but there comes a time when you have to be careful.” Rose winced, lifting her knee and putting the brunt of her weight on Olympia. “I must be getting too old to even bathe by myself. I need to look into one of those walk-in baths.”

“You’re not quite there yet, so don’t say that.” But each step increased Olympia’s concern. With Rose finally on the bed and wrapped in a blanket to stop the shaking, Olympia went to grab a robe from the closet. The bedroom window overlooked her own driveway. She saw Harlan’s car parked there, and next to it a strange Lincoln she didn’t recognize. “Who the hell...”

She settled Rose with a pillow under her ankle and a vow to be back in a moment, then sprinted down the stairs.

There was nothing overtly menacing about the car, although something in her stomach twisted at the sight of it. Her heart was in her throat when she made it out the front door and across the lawn.

“Harlan? What’s going on?” she called out, stepping through her own front door.

“Olympia?” came a familiar baritone.

“Harlan?”

His head popped around the corner from the living room, and soon his arms were on either side of the doorframe, barring the way. Whether to keep her out or someone else in, she didn’t know. His face was pale, eyes darting around her face before landing to meet hers. “The people from social services are here.”

“No, that’s impossible,” she cried out. She strained to look around him, to see what was going on. Then she heard a whimper.

Harlan finally moved out of the way and Olympia saw a tall, stately woman with chocolate-colored skin holding her baby.

“What’s happening here?” She did her best not to lash out in anger. In terror. Renee was crying but otherwise looked fine. Why hadn’t she been called? “Who are you?”

“Ma’am, please. My name is Anita Marshall, and I’ve been authorized to take Miss Salant into child protective services.”

Olympia forgot about the chills racing through her. About the coat she’d taken off and forgotten next door, about the water stains on her skirt and blouse. “You’re taking her? No, you can’t do that.” Her eyes fell on Harlan again, begging him to do something. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this? We only got the call yesterday.”

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