Found at Sea - By Anne Marie Duquette Page 0,6

I agree. Bad enough I end up with Mom and Dad becoming my jailers after you ran away. Now I lose my house thanks to you! And maybe my friends and my school.”

“What?” Aurora hadn’t believed her parents could sell the family home.

“They’re talking about leaving California for good. This is all your fault.” The bitterness in Dorian’s voice had taken Aurora by surprise.

Their parents hadn’t even waited until Dorian graduated from high school before selling the family home to the first decent bidder and moving into a rented condo.

“Dorian, I never meant to hurt you,” Aurora had said during that shocking conversation.

“You’re off on some grand adventure while I’m here with Mom and Dad. All they talk about is you. Finding you, missing you, wondering about you. I’m nothing. It’s all your fault. And now that they’ve found you, they can’t stand to see you. They want to move to Arizona. Do you know how far away Arizona is?”

“Dori, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“You didn’t even tell me goodbye,” Dorian had sobbed. “Some sister you are, Aurora. I hate you! I wish you’d never come back.”

The relationship between the sisters hadn’t improved as the years went on. Their parents did move to Arizona, leaving Dorian at a California college, living in a dorm. When Dorian got married, Aurora had been out at sea, unable to return for the swiftly arranged wedding—something else Dorian held against her. The same had occurred with Tanya’s birth. Then, to everyone’s horror, Tanya grew up resenting her mother’s unrelenting bitterness over Aurora’s effect on her life.

Tanya felt neglected by her own mother and became a rebellious, angry teen who couldn’t be managed. At every attempt to correct her behavior, she replied, “I’m going to be just like Aurora. She did what she wanted when she was sixteen, and I intend to do the same.”

Dorian had convinced herself and her parents that Aurora’s bad example was the cause of Tanya’s problems. Gerald had tried to make peace, saying Tanya’s behavior should be blamed on Tanya herself, not Aurora. That had caused more strain in the family and the marriage in particular.

Finally Aurora had decided to stay away from them all, save for birthdays and holidays—and then only if she was invited. Her parents made new friends in Arizona, Dorian and Gerald closed ranks, Tanya was forbidden to associate with her aunt, and Aurora had sadly realized that her need for independence would continue to cost her dearly.

I don’t care, she told herself daily. If I had it to do over again, I would. She’d known how she wanted to spend her life since she’d first learned to swim. When opportunity came, she’d begged her parents to let her join the Florida salvage team—a group of divers she’d met at a dive site she frequented in those days. They’d refused. She knew she might never have another chance like this; she knew she was ready.

Mom and Dad saw me as a child, but even then I was an adult. I was sure what I wanted. After all these years, why can’t they understand that? Or at least forgive me? Must they spend the rest of their lives blaming me for all the family’s problems?

I love them. I always have. And now I’ll probably be blamed for Tanya’s ending up in jail. And everyone wonders why I keep to myself.

But this was one time she couldn’t run away—one time she couldn’t ignore her ties to family.

I’m the only one left to help—if I can.

Tijuana Women’s Jail

One hour later

THE RADIO STATION blared Spanish rush-hour reports as Aurora pulled into the bumpy, potholed parking lot at the women’s prison. Dirty diapers and ant-covered fast-food wrappers littered the ground, while rusting vehicles of dubious colors crowded the lot. Aurora climbed out of her shiny, late-model truck with her diving-and-salvage-service logo and phone number painted on the sides. She carefully locked the doors, but as added insurance held a five-dollar bill in the air. Instantly she was surrounded by a swarming horde of Mexican boys of various ages and sizes.

Aurora let the largest of the bunch push his way through and gave him the money. “Another five if I come out and my truck is still safe,” she said in smooth, California-school Spanish.

“Sí, señora—señorita,” the boy correctly substituted, obviously noticing no wedding ring on Aurora’s finger. “Truck, tires, all safe,” he said in English.

“Antenna and windshield wipers, too,” Aurora added, pushing through the throng of clamoring children. She gave the smaller children