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He shared the county clerk’s advice. “I hadn’t planned to pursue any legal action, let alone hire an attorney, but Bea’s changed my mind.”
“What about legal backlash?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
I recalled the woman’s threat to call the sheriff. “Could you face any court fees?”
“Don’t borrow trouble.” He rested a hand on my shoulder as he glanced at the rocker. “Worry’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but doesn’t get you anywhere.”
I chuckled at the image until I recalled my catnap. “But does a rocker take you places?”
He squinted.
I described the visions. “Were those dreams, or did Marianna pay me a visit?”
“Who knows? Maybe a spark of energy lasts after death—like starlight. The twinkle we see as stars is really the afterglow of suns, millions of lightyears away.”
“You’re comparing starlight to a person’s spirit.” Seeing his point, I nodded. “But why would Marianna show me the grave—both during the burial and now?”
“What do you mean, now?”
“I dreamt the loquat tree had fruit, yet before this morning’s rain, I’d seen only its blossoms. Marianna appeared when the fruit was ripe…in other words, now.” I squinted, trying to make sense of the dreams. “Do you think she wants us to find something…do something?”
“You mean, uncover something?” Rubbing his chin, he turned toward the tree. “After the rain, that hardpan would be soft—easier to shovel. If we ever thought of exhuming her baby, now would be the time.”
“But digging up a baby’s bones would be grisly.” I shook off a chill. “Even if our guess is right, why would Marianna want us to unearth her and Mateo’s only child?”
“For one thing, he’s related to us both, so we’d be her likely choices. For another, Kenneth’s grave was makeshift, at best.” Luke gestured with his chin. “Maybe she wants us to give her baby a proper burial.”
“And funeral.” I glimpsed the tree through the window. “But Marianna could’ve made her wishes known anytime during the past weeks. Why show herself today—just as the loquats ripen?”
“What’s happened recently?”
“Where do I start?” Counting off on my fingers, I reviewed the past 72 hours’ events. “We found the diary’s lost pages, learned of the baby’s grave, and discovered Mateo’s secret compartment. Then Bea made a play for you—”
“Said goodbye—”
“Besides brainwashing you and essentially stealing Teddy”—I glanced through the window at the vineyard—“maybe she chopped the vines.”
“That thought occurred to me, too, but without evidence, it’s guesswork.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Though, she did grow up around vines—”
“So, she’d have known where to cut them.” I wrinkled my nose. Bea for bitch.
“After her performance with Teddy this morning, I wouldn’t put it past her, but we can’t jump to conclusions.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s go back to your question. Why would Marianna appear today?”
“And just as the loquats ripen…” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Last night, Mateo shared his side of the story, when he revealed not only his love for Marianna, but the deed.”
“Which will be a legal challenge before it…bears fruit.” His cheek dimpled.
I chuckled despite the topic, then wriggled, remembering our sudden attraction. “And who could forget last night’s kiss?”
“I can’t.” A glimmer lit his eyes.
“I mean…” I forced myself to look away. “You’re Marianna’s great-great-grandson, and I’m Mateo’s great-great-granddaughter. We’re the fruit of their love, and as far as I know, their first descendants to have—”
“An emotional connection?” He stepped toward me.
“A rapport.” I took a step back. “Could Marianna and Mateo somehow want to relive their love through us, their offspring?”
