The Last Bachelor

Joe shut the door behind him, looking around at the flimsy table and four chairs, one beat-up sofa and an old lamp. When Ginger said nothing else, still looking panic-stricken, he gestured to the table and chairs. “Shall we sit down?”

The two agents turned to the table and Joe reached out for Ginger’s hand. “Come on, honey.” He led her to the table and took the seat beside her, keeping her hand in his.

Fisher folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Miss Waltek, your mother has informed us she is withdrawing her sponsorship of you for citizenship. Can you tell us why?”

Ginger said nothing, only shrugged her shoulders.

The other man, Caldwell, added, “Your mother has told us you are working as a prostitute.”

“No!” Ginger slammed the table and stood up.

“Gentlemen,” Joe began, keeping his temper with deep breaths, “that is not true. I’ve known Ginger for the past six months. I can vouch for her.”

Both men ignored him and stared at Ginger, who reluctantly sat down.

“Why would your mother say such a thing?” Fisher asked.

“She—she is trying to force me to come home,” Ginger said, her voice trembling.

“Tell them everything, honey,” Joe urged. “Tell them the truth.”

“Yes, tell us the truth,” Caldwell encouraged.

Ginger stared at the table, visibly swallowing, before she spoke. Then, shaking, she explained why her mother was trying to force her to return to New York.

“The mob? You mean the Mafia?” Fisher asked.

Joe stepped in. “Yeah. Look, the man her mother wants her to marry is fifty-eight! And her mother is being beaten because Ginger ran away.”

“Beaten? A woman can get a divorce and keep her citizenship if she’s being abused.”

“He’ll kill her,” Ginger whispered.

Joe’s feelings toward Ginger deepened. This poor kid didn’t have many choices. She was so alone.

“Can’t something be worked out?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Fisher replied. “But we’ll have to take her with us.”

Ginger pressed her back against the dilapidated chair, as if trying to get far away from the agents.

“No!” Joe shouted.

Caldwell bristled. “Now, sir—”

Joe stared at Ginger, trying to prepare her for what he was going to say. “She can’t leave. We’re planning to be married. But Ginger wanted to wait until she was a citizen.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“I’ll take her to Vegas tonight and we’ll get married. Then she can become a U.S. citizen, right?”

“Unless we determine she married only for that reason.” Fisher stared at him. “And you’ll have to remain married for a year.”

“I already told you we’re planning to marry. Give us twenty-four hours and we’ll answer any of your questions. Ginger will be my wife and nothing can be done to her, without an investigation. We’ll pass any test you give us, right, Ginger?”

She stared at him, her mouth open.

Two

“Did you plan on marrying this man?” Fisher asked Ginger.

Joe held his breath. Would she understand what he was offering? Could she play the role of an adoring fiancée?

“Yes. But I felt ashamed to come to him without my citizenship. I thought it would be better to wait,” she said, her cheeks inflamed. “I didn’t want him to be ashamed of me.”

Apparently her response had the right tone because the two agents looked at each other and then stood. Fisher said, “Excuse me a minute. My partner and I have to talk.”

Knowing the men were watching them even as they moved to the door to confer, Joe leaned over to Ginger and brushed his lips over hers. “Don’t worry,” he whispered.

Ginger stared at him, questions in her gaze, but he couldn’t say anything now.

The two men came back to them. Fisher, obviously the senior partner, said, “Here’s the deal. We’ll give you a week. If you appear at our office with a legitimate marriage certificate, we will give you a temporary green card, Ms. Waltek. Then, sometime in the next three months, you’ll be called in for an interview. If you pass the interview, you’ll receive your permanent green card.”

“Perfect,” Joe agreed, a big smile on his face. He noticed that Ginger simply stared at them.

Fisher looked directly at Joe. “But if she disappears,” he warned, his tone serious, “we will file charges against you, Mr. Turner, for helping her escape.” He turned to Ginger. “Do you understand, Ms. Waltek? Your friend will go to jail if you run away.”

In a whisper, she said, “Yes, I understand.”

Five minutes later, Ginger and Joe were alone.

“We lied!” Ginger whispered, as if she thought the two men might be standing on the other side of her door, waiting for them to emerge.

“But it was for a good cause,” Joe assured her. “Why don’t you find something to change into, and I’ll call Harvey and get you a couple of days off. Or I can give him your notice if you want.”

“My notice?” she asked.

“You know, let him know that you’re going to quit your job.”

Her eyes grew even larger and panic filled her face. “No! No, I must have a job. Please don’t!”

“But, Ginger, we’ll be married. You won’t need to work.” He squeezed her hand again, and realized he liked touching her. “I know you’ve been taking night classes. Now you can go to school full-time.”

“No! I must continue to work. I must pay for myself. I can’t shift my difficulties onto you. I won’t run away, so you won’t get in trouble, but I may have to go back to Estonia soon if we don’t—I have another week. I must work all I can.”

Joe gave her a strange look. What was wrong? She had promised not to disappear.

“You have to take a couple of days off so we can go to Vegas.”