Lorraine was nine.
“Everything fell apart after Elaine died,” her father said. “Ginny would write that she’d be coming, but each time she’d find some excuse to postpone it. Eventually her visits stopped entirely.”
“But couldn’t we have moved to Mexico? Then the three of us would’ve been together.”
He hesitated. “Ginny was afraid that if she left the country for more than a few days, she wouldn’t be able to return. She worried about her parents. She worried about you, too. Your mother loved you beyond everything, and she wanted you to have the best education and all the advantages America has to offer.”
“But…she told me you were dead.” Lorraine didn’t know if she could forgive either of them for the lie.
“You were a child and far too young to carry the weight of our secret.”
“But I’m an adult now. I have been for years. There was no reason to continue hiding the truth from me,” she insisted. No reason Virginia couldn’t have told her and allowed her to form her own judgments, make her own decisions.
“Any blame falls on me, Raine,” he said. He raised his hand to her face, touching her cheek. “I was the one who screwed up. I was the one who got involved in a bombing that claimed an innocent man’s life.”
“But I needed you,” Lorraine said, fighting back tears.
“I needed you, too,” he said, and gathered her in his arms. They clung to each other for a long time.
When he released her, Lorraine sat back and tried to collect herself.
“You must be exhausted,” he said. “Hungry, too, I’ll bet.”
Her stomach growled, reminding her that, except for a few pieces of melon in Mérida, her last meal had been aboard the airplane. Yogurt, a banana and some type of forgettable roll. Her father was right; she was both tired and hungry.
He lifted her suitcase and led her out of the school. While they walked the short distance to his house, Thomas told her how he’d spent his life here in Mexico. Until nine years ago, he’d worked at various odd jobs around the country, not staying in any one place for long. Then the opportunity had come to teach science and math at this private school, a job he thoroughly enjoyed.
“I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t find my calling in life until I was over forty.”
Already Lorraine could see how easy it would be to love this man. He might have been militant in his youth, but despite the tragic results of his actions, he’d joined the antiwar effort for compassionate reasons. He’d repented his mistakes and was obviously still a good man, but one who’d achieved self-knowledge.
Lorraine was grateful to have found him.
It had been a shock when Lorraine showed up in El Mirador, but one of the happiest of Thomas’s life. His daughter was everything he’d hoped she’d be. Intelligent, beautiful, caring. And so much like her mother.
His first look at Lorraine had stopped him cold. She resembled Ginny in almost every way. In fact, it was like stepping back and seeing Ginny at nineteen.
The news that his wife was dead was a hard blow, and he’d need time to assimilate it. Time and privacy to mourn. He’d told Raine the truth—he had loved her mother. Yes, she’d hurt him; yes, she’d disillusioned him, but he’d forgiven her. He couldn’t blame her for the tragic turn his life had taken. He just wished things had been different for both of them. Too late now for wishing, though.
His home was a humble one and Thomas hoped Lorraine would understand that the village was poor. The school couldn’t afford to pay him a large salary.
Antonio and Hector were playing in the front yard. Under other circumstances, his sons would have raced toward him, but they were shy boys and unaccustomed to seeing him with strangers. They stopped and stared, Antonio clutching the soccer ball to his chest, as Thomas opened the door for Lorraine.
Azucena was in the kitchen preparing dinner. The scent of garlic drifted through the house. Thomas set Lorraine’s suitcase in the living room and tried to find a way to explain that this very pregnant woman was his common-law wife. Lorraine would probably be surprised, perhaps disapproving, but Azucena was his wife in every sense except the legal. Now that he was free to marry her, he would do so.
Azucena stepped into the room, her smile automatic until she saw Lorraine. Her welcome sobered as she glanced at him, her eyes filled with questions. Azucena spoke little English and showed no desire to learn. Because she made no effort herself, their sons knew only a few English words.
“This is my daughter,” he explained in Spanish. Her eyes widened, and Thomas could see that she was flustered. He’d told her about his family, about Raine, and sensed that she felt threatened. He wanted to reassure her but wasn’t sure how.
“Where’s Jack Keller?” Azucena asked abruptly.
“Back on his boat, I assume. I left him when I learned my daughter was at the school.”
“You knew about your daughter’s visit?” Her beautiful dark eyes were accusing.
“No.” He longed to take Azucena in his arms and apologize, but didn’t dare. “Her mother died last month, and she only recently found out I was alive.”
Azucena nodded, her expression sympathetic. “Introduce me as your housekeeper,” she advised with gentle wisdom. “Your daughter has had more than enough shocks.”
“I won’t lie to her again. It’s better if she knows.”
“We’ll tell her together,” Azucena said. “Later. She’s traveled a long way and must be exhausted.”
He hesitated, then agreed with a short nod.
“Ask her to sit down, and I’ll serve you both dinner.”
“What about you and the boys?” It didn’t seem right not to have them at the table with him. As he’d told Azucena, he didn’t like the idea of lying to Raine, but he could see that his daughter was physically tired and emotionally distraught. He didn’t want to burden her with still another difficult truth. But he also feared her anger. He couldn’t bear to lose her when he’d only just found her again. Although it went against his better judgment, he agreed with Azucena’s reasons to delay telling Raine about their relationship.
“Don’t worry, we’ll eat later,” Azucena insisted.
Thomas noticed Raine listening to the flow of words between them. Her eyes revealed her lack of comprehension. “This woman is someone special?” she asked, eyeing Azucena closely.
“My housekeeper,” he said, silently adding and so much more.
“She’s meticulous,” Raine said, glancing around the sparse but lovingly decorated home. Thomas tried to see the house through her eyes and knew it must be far less than she was accustomed to, but he made no apologies. He’d earned his living by honest means.
“Dinner’s ready if you’d like to eat now. Azucena’s a wonderful cook. She’s made a dish called camarónes con ajo,
