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“Of course I’d come with you. Just like you came with me to see that man whose name I shall never say again.” Then she added, “Are you sure you’re okay with my coming inside?”
Before Rosie, he would have believed he needed to face everything on his own. He’d made this trip once before, not long after he’d gotten out of the army. He’d come to give Karmen’s parents the photos he’d kept of her, to tell them what a brave and honorable daughter they had raised—and to confess to failing to keep their daughter safe. His gut had been clenched so tight, he’d thought he’d be sick.
But with Rosie at his side, he was ready to face anything. He would always be better, stronger, happier, with the woman he loved beside him.
“Together,” he said. “That’s how we do things.”
Hand in hand, they walked up the drive, following the tree line as it curved, the brown paper parcel tucked under his arm. Ten years ago, he’d been overwhelmed by guilt, by regret. And he’d had no idea how the Sanchezes would receive him. Thankfully, they’d been like sponges soaking up every detail of their daughter’s army life. Not only about Karmen’s death, but also about her life and her friends, her bravery and her heroism. He’d had so much to tell them because Karmen had done so much, for her team, for her country. It had been his honor to help them celebrate her life and her memory. And through the letters he’d sent for several years afterward and the times he’d called her, he’d wanted to tell Mrs. Sanchez how much that day had helped him, but he’d never known how.
Flowers in planters on the front stoop bloomed beneath the portico. He lifted the heavy brass knocker, heard it reverberate inside the house. Then Karmen’s mother opened the door.
She was a beautiful woman in her mid-sixties, though she barely looked older than the last time he’d seen her. She was elegantly attired in a blue dress, a strand of pearls about her neck, and he knew he was looking at the woman Karmen would have become if she’d lived.
Mrs. Sanchez held out her hands to him. “Gideon, it is so good to see you. I’m so glad you called. And you must be Rosie.” Her smile was warm. “It’s lovely to meet you. Please, come inside.”
As soon as she shut the door behind them, he said, “Thank you again, ma’am, for helping Ariana find me.” Mrs. Sanchez had been instrumental in reconnecting them.
“Please, call me Ernestina.” She drew him into the house. “And it was my pleasure to help in any way I could. She wrote me a letter, you know, thanking me and letting me know that you’d come home.”
Ari hadn’t told him that. “I’m sorry. I should have come to see you again sooner.”
“Please, Gideon, no apologies. I’m just glad you’re here now. You too, Rosie. Please, tell me about yourself.”
“I’m Ari’s foster sister. I have a six-year-old son named Jorge. And,” Rosie added with a wide smile and a squeeze of his hand, “I’m head over heels for Gideon.”
“Oh, I already knew that!” Ernestina’s eyes twinkled.
“We’re engaged to be married,” he told Karmen’s mother, and Rosie held out the simple rose diamond solitaire he’d bought her after she’d accepted his proposal.
“I’m so happy for you both,” Ernestina exclaimed. “Truly, this is wonderful news.”
As they walked through Karmen’s home, he saw that it hadn’t changed. There were still large vases of cut flowers in the foyer, while potted plants, blooming with buds, hugged the corners.
“I’ve set coffee out in the sunroom,” she said, leading them into the large lounge with windows all around. And more flowers, more green plants, more living things. A silver coffee service complete with tea sandwiches sat on the central coffee table.
“Thank you.” Gideon looked at the spread before them. “But you didn’t have to go to this much trouble for us.”
“It’s no trouble.” She poured the three of them coffee. “Please sit.”
He set the wrapped painting on the couch beside him, needing to express his condolences. “I’m very sorry you lost your husband.”
She smiled, fondly rather than sadly. “It was a difficult time. But he and I spent our time wisely, wringing every last drop out of every last moment we had together.”
Together. Mrs. Sanchez obviously knew the importance of that word, just as he and Rosie had learned. “I’m glad you could do that. He seemed like such a good man.”
“He was.” Her eyes glowed with the same warmth as they had the day Gideon told her everything he could about Karmen. “And hearing from you has brought back the happy memory of the day you brought us all those wonderful photos of Karmen. I look at them all the time, and they always bring me such joy.”
It was obvious where Karmen’s generosity had come from. And her positive outlook.
“I’m so sorry for your losses,” Rosie said softly. “Karmen sounds like she was an absolutely wonderful person.”
Ernestina smiled again, though her eyes looked misty now. “She truly was. And something tells me she would say the same about you.”
At last, Gideon picked up the parcel. “Karmen gave this to me a couple of days before the attack.” He untied the string and unwrapped the angel painting. Carefully, he removed it from the paper and laid it on the coffee table facing Ernestina.
She put a hand over her mouth. “My dear mamá’s painting. It meant so much to her. She always adored Karmen.”
A sharp pang of guilt needled between his ribs. “I should have told you I had it when I was here the last time. But I didn’t realize—”
