Echo

gathered their things last night and laboriously trucked them over to Tomas and Kelly’s house. When they returned, Mama Diaz looked stern and tight lipped. When Abby tried to question her, she raised her hand to her head, cutting her off. A puzzled Abby, distracted by the funeral preparations, decided to let it go.
    Coming up behind her at the sink, Mama Diaz rested her tired head on Abby’s shoulder. Abby’s sudsy hands slipped around the older woman waist.
    “Please don’t go, I don’t think it’s necessary. The girls should stay here till they finish school.” Mama Diaz reluctantly shook her head.
    “I don’t know, Abby. Tomas’s mind is made up. He’s the man of the family now. He insists. Kelly is a bit intense, maybe, don’t you think?” She began to whisper as she spoke. “Have you met her brother, Armoni? Oh, my dear, he’s a troubled young man.” She made the sign of the cross.
    “What do you mean, Mama? What’s wrong with Kelly’s brother?” Tomas walked into the room, his hand clapping down heavily on his mother’s arm.
    “Let’s go, Ma.” Turning, he gave Abby a suggestive wink. Freezing him with a cool gaze, she deliberately turned back to Mama Diaz.
    “Please call me when you get settled.” Abby started to sound frantic. Mama Diaz placed her worn hands up to Abby’s face, dabbing her fingers at the lonely tears that tumbled from her desolate eyes. Turning, she reached for her shopworn handbag, busting at the seams from years of containing the minutia of growing children. She kissed Abby goodbye and allowed Tomas to lead her to the door.
    Leaving everyone to settle into the car, Tomas slipped back to the front door, oddly loitering. Abby stood holding the door, waiting for him to leave. He hesitated, then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, placing the other on her butt and roughly kissing her. She couldn’t breathe as she struggled in his embrace. Squirming away, she slapped him. They both looked shocked and speechless. Tomas stared at her, saying nothing. His lips twisted into a sneer, a disturbing glint crept into his eyes. Leaving, he gave her breast a rough brush and sauntered out the door.
    Two seconds later, Jose and Scotty entered, conspiratorial faces shining. Scotty held something protectively in his arms, wrapped in a shaggy yellow blanket. He went right to his room with the bundle, leaving her alone with Jose, who eyed her suspiciously. He took one look at her and knew something was wrong.
    “Abby?” He eyed her disheveled appearance, the look on his face unexpectedly tender.
    She turned to him, her angry eyes fighting back tears. She just couldn’t find the words to explain. Shaking her head slowly, a few tired tears trickled down her angry face. Flopping down on the sofa that sheltered a thousand tantrums and childish battles, she collapsed.
    “Abby are you going to answer me?” Jose moved to the sofa and picked up her hands. Her face fell. Softly, Jose rubbed her temples, gently massaging as he turned her face up.
    “Abby, tell me,” He whispered, his eyes searching her face. Making up her mind, she haltingly related what happened, omitting Tomas’s name.
    “What? You have got to be kidding me.” Jose jumped to his feet pacing. “He had the balls to do this to you in our house; after a funeral? I don’t believe it .” He pounded the palm of his hand with his fist. Angrily, he asked, “Who is the bastard? Just tell me. I’ll take care of this.” Looking up he saw Scotty return from his bedroom.
    “Hey, what’s going on?” Looking from face to face Scotty waited for an answer. Jose glanced up.
    “Is Echo okay?”
    “Yeah, she’ll stay put till we need her.”
    Abby looked from one to the other. “What? Who’s Echo?”
    “Never mind. Abby, you have something you need to tell me.”
    Looking into each other’s eyes, she nodded her head and whispered. “Tomas.”
    “ What— that bastard?” He quickly jumped to his feet. “I’m not surprised.” Startled, Abby put her hands out to catch him.
    “What do you mean you’re not surprised, Jose?” Charging to the door, he slammed out of the house and noisily tore down the road, the exhaust on his old red truck pouring gray white smoke. Shaking her head and sighing sadly, Abby shut the door and returned to the sofa and pulled her feet up under her, feeling as broken and limp as the sofa felt.
    “We don’t need this right now.” Abby rested her head on the sofa, her eyes,