Austin, but from here to Boca Chica, everyone knows of Jesse Rincón."
He held the book out to her. She took it and turned through more pages and read of the doctor's early life in Nuevo Laredo and his education at Jesuit in Houston and Harvard in Boston, her concentration interrupted by the girl's sudden cry. The doctor had given her a shot, no doubt tetanus.
"Juanita," the doctor said, "look in that box and find a pair of shoes."
He lifted the child with her freshly bandaged foot down from the table. She wiped her eyes and limped over as if the bandage were a plaster cast and then leaned so far over she almost fell into the box. He glanced over at Lindsay and the congressman while the girl rummaged then emerged with a pair of pink sneakers and a broad smile.
"You like those?"
" Sí. "
The doctor hefted her onto the examining table again then slipped the shoes on her feet as if he were the prince putting the glass slipper on Cinderella.
"You must wear these always."
He lifted her down again then reached into his coat pocket and gave her a yellow sucker. The child grabbed a naked doll off the bed then gave the doctor a quick hug. Her mother said gracias many times. The girl limped toward the front door with her mother following but noticed Lindsay and stopped. She ran a hand across her snotty nose then turned her wet brown eyes up to Lindsay.
" Qué bonito el cabello. "
" Gracias ."
She and her mother walked out the door past the dog. Lindsay turned back to the binder and a black-and-white photo from the Laredo News of the doctor standing outside the clinic. The caption read: "Dr. Jesse Rincón, 33, home from Harvard." The story was five years old. He wore a black T-shirt under a white lab coat over jeans and boots. His dark hair was long for a doctor and combed back, but strands fell onto his angular face. His smile was soft, his teeth brilliant white. He was Latino and—
"He is handsome, no?" the congressman said.
"He is … Yes."
Lindsay stared at the photograph a moment longer then looked up and found herself staring at the doctor himself—at his eyes just a few feet away. They were as blue as the sky.
"My father," the doctor said, answering her unasked question.
He peeled off the latex gloves and tossed them into the trash basket then removed his lab coat and hung it on a rack. He was again wearing a black T-shirt. He was lean and muscular with silky black hair. He appeared not to have aged since the photo five years before.
"He was American, my mother was Mexican. She fell hard for his blue eyes."
He spoke with a soft Latin accent, not as pronounced as the congressman's, but with the same formality of one for whom English was not his native tongue. He stuck a hand out to the congressman.
"So, Ernesto, what brings you to the colonias today?"
"The census."
The doctor grunted. "Good luck with that."
He looked Lindsay up and down.
"I see you have suffered the wind and the dirt."
Her cream linen suit now appeared gray.
"Jesse," the congressman said, "I would like to introduce the governor's wife. Mrs. Bonner, this is Dr. Jesse Rincón."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bonner."
He took her hand. She had shaken thousands of strangers' hands as the governor's wife, but never as a woman. He held her hand and stared into her green eyes. It had been a long time since a man had stared at her. The congressman broke the spell with a chuckle.
"Jesse can seduce money from misers, which would make him a very successful politician. We had a charity auction in Laredo, and a rich divorcée paid five thousand dollars for a date with him."
The doctor released her hand.
"I built a clinic in the Boca Chica colonia with that money."
"Five thousand dollars built a clinic?" Lindsay said.
"I used illegal Mexicans." He held his serious expression a beat then smiled. "The residents volunteered their labor."
He had not taken his eyes off her. Lindsay felt her face blush like a teenage girl, so she broke eye
He held the book out to her. She took it and turned through more pages and read of the doctor's early life in Nuevo Laredo and his education at Jesuit in Houston and Harvard in Boston, her concentration interrupted by the girl's sudden cry. The doctor had given her a shot, no doubt tetanus.
"Juanita," the doctor said, "look in that box and find a pair of shoes."
He lifted the child with her freshly bandaged foot down from the table. She wiped her eyes and limped over as if the bandage were a plaster cast and then leaned so far over she almost fell into the box. He glanced over at Lindsay and the congressman while the girl rummaged then emerged with a pair of pink sneakers and a broad smile.
"You like those?"
" Sí. "
The doctor hefted her onto the examining table again then slipped the shoes on her feet as if he were the prince putting the glass slipper on Cinderella.
"You must wear these always."
He lifted her down again then reached into his coat pocket and gave her a yellow sucker. The child grabbed a naked doll off the bed then gave the doctor a quick hug. Her mother said gracias many times. The girl limped toward the front door with her mother following but noticed Lindsay and stopped. She ran a hand across her snotty nose then turned her wet brown eyes up to Lindsay.
" Qué bonito el cabello. "
" Gracias ."
She and her mother walked out the door past the dog. Lindsay turned back to the binder and a black-and-white photo from the Laredo News of the doctor standing outside the clinic. The caption read: "Dr. Jesse Rincón, 33, home from Harvard." The story was five years old. He wore a black T-shirt under a white lab coat over jeans and boots. His dark hair was long for a doctor and combed back, but strands fell onto his angular face. His smile was soft, his teeth brilliant white. He was Latino and—
"He is handsome, no?" the congressman said.
"He is … Yes."
Lindsay stared at the photograph a moment longer then looked up and found herself staring at the doctor himself—at his eyes just a few feet away. They were as blue as the sky.
"My father," the doctor said, answering her unasked question.
He peeled off the latex gloves and tossed them into the trash basket then removed his lab coat and hung it on a rack. He was again wearing a black T-shirt. He was lean and muscular with silky black hair. He appeared not to have aged since the photo five years before.
"He was American, my mother was Mexican. She fell hard for his blue eyes."
He spoke with a soft Latin accent, not as pronounced as the congressman's, but with the same formality of one for whom English was not his native tongue. He stuck a hand out to the congressman.
"So, Ernesto, what brings you to the colonias today?"
"The census."
The doctor grunted. "Good luck with that."
He looked Lindsay up and down.
"I see you have suffered the wind and the dirt."
Her cream linen suit now appeared gray.
"Jesse," the congressman said, "I would like to introduce the governor's wife. Mrs. Bonner, this is Dr. Jesse Rincón."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bonner."
He took her hand. She had shaken thousands of strangers' hands as the governor's wife, but never as a woman. He held her hand and stared into her green eyes. It had been a long time since a man had stared at her. The congressman broke the spell with a chuckle.
"Jesse can seduce money from misers, which would make him a very successful politician. We had a charity auction in Laredo, and a rich divorcée paid five thousand dollars for a date with him."
The doctor released her hand.
"I built a clinic in the Boca Chica colonia with that money."
"Five thousand dollars built a clinic?" Lindsay said.
"I used illegal Mexicans." He held his serious expression a beat then smiled. "The residents volunteered their labor."
He had not taken his eyes off her. Lindsay felt her face blush like a teenage girl, so she broke eye
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