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Margarita was offered, but would not accept, payment for her childcare and housekeeping services.One week in late June, Earl and I teamed up to run a load from Amarillo to Milwaukee, leaving the Turner Family and Margarita back in Albuquerque to fend for themselves. We had some dead time on the wrong end of that run before we could secure a load for the return trip west. We were away from home for six days, and the evening I returned home, Margarita greeted me with undisguised enthusiasm.She gave me a very adult hug the moment that I came in the front door, and before I could close the door behind me. Earl, who'd just left the rig and was preparing to walk to his own home, witnessed the whole thing.I knew he'd have something to say about it, the next time we were alone.The big hug was the first intimacy that Margarita and I had ever shared, and she hadn't asked my permission before wrapping her arms around me and affording me a sudden and shocking introduction to her well-cushioned. ”Another pause as they each took a sip and placed their drinks on the table.Brad cleared his throat. “Do you think about your baby?”“Every single day,” she crackled. She hesitated, in thought. Tears formed in her eyes. “Everyday.”Brad reached for her hand and held it. “I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s none of my business.”“No, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s good to talk about it sometimes. It just makes me sad. Because I know in my heart that the reason I lost my baby is because of the stress I was under: My husband was a loser, he didn’t want a baby, he didn’t love me, I didn’t love him, and I knew I would be bringing the child into a bad marriage with an uncaring father.”He squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back.Brad had been a teenager at the time. He remembered their wedding. It was an informal rush job, with not much of a crowd, maybe forty people. He served as an usher, though ushers were hardly needed.“Why did you marry him?”She pivoted her butt on the cushion, turned her body to face.
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