Excerpt
"Not yet," Felipe answered one of his roommates. He had just returned from the bus station in Bakersfield. It had been a long walk back, but he was lucky to have caught a ride for the six-mile trip into town that morning. He needed to find someone with a car to bring Ramona home. She would be too big to make the long walk. Her time must be getting very near.
"Tomorrow my friend, she will surely come tomorrow." His friend assured him.
But she didn't. Every day now, Felipe made the trip to town, usually having to walk both ways. But what else did he have to do? Their rented house was available now, so he moved over there. Each day he picked up whatever he could find in the way of cooking pots and used linens at the many yard sales in the suburbs.
He had called the little store in Mexico City, the one near Ramona's folks home. They told him that she had left on the appointed date in a big bus with some other people. Felipe knew the coyote, Jorge. This was the same man who had helped him to get into the United States last year. Felipe had trusted him with his life, and now was trusting him with his most treasured possession, his wife and son. But Ramona should have been here days ago.
Finally, Felipe could stand the tension no longer. He made a final call to the little store in Mexico City. Had they heard anything? No. Could they have Ramona's mother be there to take a call tomorrow?
"Sure, it's the least we can do," the lady at the store told him.
At the appointed time the next day, Felipe called again. Ramona's mother was in tears.
"No, Felipe. We have not heard anything since Ramona left. We thought she would be with you already. I just know something terrible has happened. I have heard that someone has seen Jorge in the city, but we don't know how to contact him."
"Well, don't worry Momma, if immigration has picked up Ramona they will send her back home on the bus. Anyway, it has been too long. I am coming home. We will find her, don't worry," Felipe repeated.

It was to be a long hard trip. Felipe didn't have money to fly to Mexico City. He left their new home, telling the landlord he would be back in a month when the next rent was due. He managed to hitch a ride to Nogales with a trucker. Since he was a Mexican citizen, he had no problem crossing the border. Then, he bought a bus ticket to Mexico City.
The old bus was hot and crowded. Most of the time people were standing in the aisle. Occasionally someone was carrying a live chicken or two. Probably going to visit a relative and taking something to contribute to dinner. But Felipe hardly felt the discomfort of standing or the constant stench of chickens, garbage and unwashed bodies. His mind was too occupied with thoughts of his Ramona. Where she might be, or what had happened that she didn't make it to California as planned. Jorge had better have some answers!

Felipe got off the bus at the nearest point from Ramona's folks home but it was still a couple of miles. He had more time than money; he would walk. He was greeted by her family, but with some reserve, which he understood. After all, he had left her here last year, then the news of her pregnancy, and finally asking her to leave her family to join him in the States. They respected him but doubted the wisdom of his decisions.
After only one night with Ramona's family, Felipe took his one small bag and left. Again there was the crying and doubts.
"I just don’t know where I will have to go Momma," he explained. "I may not get back tonight, but I will let you know when I find Ramona."
That said, Felipe walked away in search of the coyote, Jorge.