Page 28 of Read With Your Heart

[Tricia]

The slam of the door startles us all, but I offer a weak smile of reassurance to his sisters.

“Let’s heat this up,” I suggest, tossing my coat to the couch that matches mine. I can’t wait to replace the one in my house, but again, I’m still waiting until my divorce is final. I’ve been told it could take anywhere from sixty days to nine months at the max. I’m hoping for sixty days, provided Trent doesn’t cause me any issues. He’s been surprisingly quiet since he was served the papers. On the other hand, there hasn’t been any contact with my attorney from a lawyer for Trent, and this concerns me. Trent can be ignorant when he doesn’t want to face the facts.

I ignore the memory and help myself to the Ramirez kitchen, which is also a carbon copy of mine. I start the oven and turn back to both girls.

“Let’s start over,” I suggest, taking a deep breath to compose myself after witnessing Leon have a tantrum and leave out the front door. I don’t want to compare his behavior toward his sisters to how Trent treats Levi. I’m not excusing inexcusable conduct, but Leon isn’t the same man as Trent. Their circumstances are entirely different. I relax, not realizing how tense I grew at his fierce tone and gruff voice. “I’m Tricia Carter.”

I hold out a hand to Lena as we haven’t officially met even though I’ve seen her in the high school hallways. She’s new to the school, of course, and she’s garnered a bit of attention from the teachers and the boys alike. My niece Madison is also a senior, and she’s mentioned Lena.

“She’s so tough, like she just wants to kick your ass,” Madison had explained.

Lena does have a protective outer shell, and I don’t blame her. I’d like to give Lena the benefit of doubt and surmise she’s struggling as a senior being uprooted from her home in her final year of high school. I can’t help but wonder what else she grapples with under her tough exterior. I don’t like how Leon spoke to her. I can’t assume his tone comes from fear, but he does have two young girls in his care. I have no idea if he’s close to his sisters or not, but from what Lys’s journals have stated, she hardly knows her older brother. Lys is so opposite her older sister, and I can only imagine she has her own set of struggles. I shouldn’t speculate on any of them without knowing more about them, so I stop my internal postulation.

Instead, I spend the next hour learning what I can.

Both girls miss their parents for different reasons. Amaryllis is young enough to miss them just because, and Lena wants to go home because she had plans. I hear about Lena’s desire for college and Amaryllis’s love of drawing. They both tell me Leon loves to draw too, but they haven’t seen any of his sketches.

“He’s always scribbling,” Lena snorted, waving a dismissive hand.

When we’ve talked around the casual things, I suggest I do the dishes and recommend they work on homework. I’ve spent hours over the years in this same position of doing dinner dishes and helping Levi with his homework while he sits at the table.

“I’m going out,” Lena announces, and Lys looks up at her sister.

“Oh, where are you going?” It’s the wrong thing to ask as Lena narrows her eyes on me.

“Just out.”

“Do you tell Leon where you go?” Lys gazes at me with a doe-in-the-headlights look that pleads with me not to push her sister.

“He doesn’t care,” Lena states with sass in her tone.

With my hands holding plates, I stop and look at Lena—really look at her. Tight shirt exposing her middle. Hip-hugging jeans. Long midnight hair. Thick eye makeup. It’s a dangerous look for a girl her age because she’s seventeen going on twenty-five. I remember being her age, though I never had a body like hers, and I’m worried about her.

“Oh, so you aren’t close to your brother?” I question, putting the plates on the counter and stoppering the sink to fill it.

“We hardly know him. He was eighteen when I was born and already in trouble. By the time Lys was born, Leon was gone,” Lena explains while Lys lowers her head like she’s ashamed of something.

“He moved out?” I question.

“He left home. Dropped out of high school after Israel died.”

“Who’s Israel?” I ask, and Lys’s head pops up. Another innocent look pleads with her sister to be quiet. Lena can’t see her sister with the back of her head, so she continues.

“He was our brother, but we never knew him. He was killed when he was sixteen.”

“Killed?” I fail at swallowing back the surprise, and Lena confirms his fate.

“Shot dead right in front of the apartment where my parents lived at the time.”

Oh, my God. It doesn’t sound real. This doesn’t happen to kids, but that’s the wishful side of me wanting every child safe. This type of violence has never happened to anyone in my circle, yet my heart aches for these girls Ihardly know.

“Did Leon . . .?” Did he witness it?

“Mami says Israel and Leon were close. Best of friends. He didn’t handle Israel’s death very well,” Lys joins in, almost as if defending her older brother.

“That’s an understatement,” Lena mocks, and I realize how adult they both sound about this experience. I’ve known nothing like their situation.