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“You haven’t asked me anything about Antonio and Andres, Em.” Hawke’s voice finally breaks through the air of silence surrounding us.
Turning to look at him, I wait a moment before answering. “I know they are dead, Hawke; I don’t need details. I just needed to know they’d never be able to hurt me again.”
“But are you okay with what we had to do?” He goes on to ask.
Should I be? No, but am I?
Yes, and I tell him so.
Stopping at the house I once shared with my momma, he turns. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“I’m excited and scared all rolled up into one messy little ball,” I reply.
Grabbing my hand, he leads me into the home I lived in for so many years. A girl roughly the same age I was when I ran away greets us.
“Camila?” my small voice cries.
“Luciana?” she questions in return.
The face I’m staring at is the spitting image of my own, just more youthful and delicate.
“You are so beautiful, Camila.”
Thanking me for my kind words, she hugs me tightly and tells me our momma is very ill. Guiding me by the hand, she leads me to momma’s room, where a frail old woman sleeps.
“Momma,” I sob.
Sensing my arrival, momma awakens, tears streaming from her eyes when she realizes it’s me.
“Oh, my Luciana,” her frail voice cries. “How beautiful you have become.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hawke, for bringing my beautiful Luciana home to me,” she directs at Hawke.
“Sit, Em, and spend time with your mom,” he encourages. “Camila and I will just be in the other room.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed beside my momma, I can do nothing more than cry tears of joy and sadness. Joy for being reunited with her after so many years and sadness knowing she is sick.
“I’m dying, Luciana,” momma informs me. “Promise me you will take care of Camila for me,” she pleads.
Instantly I promise her I will. Thanking me, she asks me to tell her about my life in the US. Although her breathing is labored, she begs me to tell her what my life was like growing up with the Proctors and what my work entails.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, momma,” I agree, moving closer and gripping her hand. “But first, I have a secret I need to share with you.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Hawke
When we left Em and her mom to talk, Camila busied herself making food for us all. She has always been an intelligent girl who had to learn how to become self-sufficient at a very early age. I’m still concerned about her welfare, though, since discovering just how unwell Mariana really is.
“If your mom dies, Camila, what do you plan to do?”
“I want to stay in the village,” Camila quietly declares.
“You know you can come stay with your sister and me; we’d love to have you.”
Turning to face me, she states, “Thank you, Mr. Hawke. I’d like to know my sister better, but my life is here.”
“We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” I promise.
