* * *
Flora coughed and wheezed, and it became interminable. Margo rose from her chair and rubbed the woman’s back, still in a daze from what had sounded like a fairy tale coming from her lips. Through Flora’s shirt, Margo felt her vertebrae, saw the thin gold chain necklace that held a delicate crucifix. This reminder of her age punctuated her story with even more sadness and regret.
“Your brother was Ignacio?” Margo’s voice shook. She had wanted to be angry. She had wanted to lash out in frustration, but she felt no animosity. Instead, empathy arose. She half laughed at the convoluted way the truth showed itself. “I didn’t expect for you to say that.”
“Your mother didn’t deserve the letter I sent her, Margo. And I am sorry.”
Margo’s hand stilled on the woman’s back. She came around and sat on the edge of the bed. Flora gripped Margo’s hand.
“Antonio kept secrets. I did, too. And we accepted that we wouldn’t talk about the past, that we wouldn’t force each other to do anything we didn’t want to do. It was our unsaid agreement.”
“What did that letter say? The one that came for him?”
“I don’t know. It was from America, forwarded by the Army.” She shook her head. “At first, I refused to help him, but he begged. I couldn’t bear to see that; he’d suffered too much already. So I did it. I wrote what he dictated.”
“So it wasn’t you?”
“It was me, Margo, but it was Antonio who dictated those words. I didn’t know your mother was pregnant with you.”
Pain pierced through her as Roberta’s words from just a few days ago came flooding back: Prepare yourself for the worst-case scenario.
This was the worst-case scenario. “So my father didn’t want me?”
Flora tore her eyes away from Margo’s face, and that was the confirmation.
It was her father who hadn’t wanted her, not this woman. There was no one to blame but him, and he was dead.
Margo was speechless.
What could one say to that?
“But there’s more, anak. Your father, my husband, had a stipulation in his will. That stipulation is what binds you.” Flora laughed. It was the oddest thing, but she looked up at the ceiling and said, “And now I know why you insisted on writing it so, Tony.”
Margo frowned, jostled back into speech. “What’s that?”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Joshua even questioned it, fought it, because he felt it was too vague and muddled. But I understand now. That stubborn, infuriating husband of mine.”
“Joshua?” Margo whispered.
“That boy is precious to me; his mother was a part of this family from the moment she arrived to the day she died, gone too soon, so young. And Antonio—Antonio trusted him. Antonio saw him squarely as a grandson, and it makes more sense now.” A smile graced her face, her eyes staring just above Margo’s head, as if she were getting answers from another plane.
While Margo had witnessed Flora’s clear devotion to her Catholic faith, Margo was far from religious. She considered herself pragmatic and didn’t believe in ghosts. But even she could feel that, right then, the two of them weren’t alone in that room.
“The eldest descendant will inherit the Cruz Estate.” Flora blinked, the glaze in her eyes falling back to clarity. “That was the line in the will, Margo. And that descendant is me. Then I’d assumed my daughter, but she is no longer with us. But, Margo, it’s you. It’s you, then Diana.”
“Who would have come after you, had me or Diana not shown up?”
“Joshua.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The complete tour took only four hours, but to Diana, an entire lifetime had passed. She felt heavy from all the words she’d read in the brochures, from the history explained by the tour guide. It was like trying to digest a dense piece of medical literature all at once, with names and dates and consequences crammed into one page of minuscule writing.
In that half day’s span, the divide between her and Joshua had fallen away. Her small bit of vulnerability had been reciprocated in spades. They walked a little closer, shoulders rubbing every so often, sometimes standing so close that she felt the barrier she’d erected so long ago give a little. Perhaps it was their near-familial bond, now undeniable. Perhaps it was Joshua’s ability to take her breath away when he committed to the moment, as he was now, in his car, with his lips on hers.
They were in the back seat, still parked next to the dock. His hands were entangled in her hair. She gripped the front of his shirt. The air around them had spiked several degrees, despite the blasting AC.
Diana worked the buttons of his shirt, inching it down so she could run her fingers across his chest, and he had started to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt when a knock threw them apart.
Diana watched as a gaggle of kids passed them, laughing, making smooching noises in the air. Her heart beat in her throat. Oh my God, they were just making out in the back seat of his car. When was the last time she’d gone parking with a man?
She couldn’t even remember.
He eyed her devilishly. “Damn, Diana.”
She giggled, shocked and impressed with herself. Damn right. “We should go, right?”
“Yeah.” He was still breathing hard. “Home?”
“Yes, home.” Then Diana’s brain woke. “No, not home. My mom is at Sunset Corner.” There was nothing like the thought of her mother to bring her libido back into check, that was for sure. “I’m sorry. But later?”
“It’s a promise.” He took a breath. “I think the only thing that will cure this feeling is a cold shower or some good food. Are you up to eat before we see everyone?”
“Sounds like a great idea.” She already had her phone out, and with one click was in her notes app. “What about this restaurant on my list? I think it’s nearby.” She tilted the phone toward him.
He gave it a cursory glance. “That place isn’t good.”
“But it has five stars.”
“It’s overrated, caters to tourists. Do you want to try something new? Something that might be out of your comfort zone?”
It was a silly challenge, but who did he think he was talking to? When it came to food, there was no such thing as a comfort zone. “I’m down. Take me there. But will there be choices because—”
He touched her wrist, to halt the beginnings of a litany of demands, and it had the desired effect. The gesture was kind, gentle, and in another measure of letting go, she adjusted her hand, opening it so his entwined with hers. For a moment, he just took a breath, and with a quick upturn of his lips, said, “There will be so many choices, your head’s going to spin.”
“Okay.”
They both climbed out of the back seat and into the front. After he started the car, he took Diana’s hand in his. She settled into the leather seat, suddenly aware of how stiff she was, and how clammy her hand was in his. Could he tell she was giddy, that she loved this small bit of affection? That the cold AC blasting from the vents did nothing for the fact that her entire body was steaming hot?
“Tell me about your work.” He tugged on her fingers.