“Taking care of my babies is never work.” A yawn falls from her lips. “Sheesh, maybe I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Honey, why don’t you go to bed? Bea and I will put the little ones down.” My dad nods toward the outdated metal swing set and slide out in the yard. It’s more like a stretch of dirt fenced in by towering redwoods. Leah, Aaron, and Zoe are laughing and arguing as they play Marco Polo.
“Yeah, Mom”—I grab her hand and squeeze it—“go take a hot bath before they all start fighting over the bathroom before bedtime.”
“Oh, a hot bath does sound nice.” She flashes a tired smile. “We can catch up some more in the morning?”
I already updated the family at dinner, sharing with them about some of the kids at the Youth Club, my new roommate, and an update on Gia. I left out talking about my job, but I always do, and they don’t seem to mind.
“Sure, but there’s really nothing more to talk about.”
She hoists herself off the swing and drops a kiss to my forehead. “So you’re saying that handsome boy who dropped you off is nothing?”
“Aggie, don’t go snooping.” The low rumble of my dad’s chuckle makes my mom gape.
“I’m not snooping. I just want to learn more about a man who would travel all the way from Las Vegas to San Jose just to escort our daughter home.” She unties her apron that I’m sure she forgot she was wearing until now, and folds it up.
“He came home to see his family too, Mama. It’s no biggie.” The words sour in my mouth. It’s a huge biggie. I like Mason more than I should, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same. The thought makes my tummy tumble and my chest flutter.
“Bea, sweetheart”—my dad turns his dark brown eyes to me—“that boy is crazy about you.”
I blink up at my dad. “How do you know?”
He shrugs and turns out to watch the kids as they launch off the swings in a contest to see who can jump farthest. “Because he’d be stupid not to be. He doesn’t look stupid to me.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “I better grab that bath while I can. And Bea, I’m sorry you’re stuck on the bunk beds with Leah and Zoe. We moved Isaac into your and Lana’s old room.”
Sadness pierces my chest, but I push it back and focus on the kids, pretending that speaking her name in this place doesn’t bring me to my emotional knees. “No problem. I’m happy to stay with the girls.”
She leans down and kisses my head. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
“Good night—oh! I forgot, I thought I’d take everyone to the beach tomorrow, if that’s alright with you guys.”
My parents share a lingering glance.
“I thought you could use a quiet day at home.”
“Sure, honey. That would be great.” My mom heads back inside. “And tell Mason he’s welcome to come over for dinner after the beach.”
I whip around just in time to see her disappear behind the closed door. How did she know?
My dad chuckles, apparently reading my shock. “She’s an observant woman, Bea.” He scratches his bearded cheek. “The Good Lord has blessed her with discernment like I’ve never seen.”
“It’s freaky.”
He chuckles and throws an arm over my shoulder. “It can be.”
We swing in silence for a few minutes, and the sun dips further behind the mountains. The air cools slightly, and the scent of pine soothes me along with the gentle sway of the swing and the safety of my dad’s arm.
“So . . .”
I know that tone and exactly where it’s going. Steeling my resolve, I blow out a long breath, and the sense of what’s coming weighs heavy in the air.
“Vegas is treating you well?”
Not again. “It’s alright, Daddy.”
“You find a church over there yet?”
“You know I haven’t stepped inside a church since the funeral.”
“Hmm . . .” The squeak of the swing fills the silence and mimics a countdown.
In five . . . four . . . three . . .
I squeeze closed my eyes. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask—
“Still dancing . . .” Blastoff! “I assume?” There’s no judgment in his voice, but there’s the unmistakable twang of disappointment, which is worse.
I don’t answer and keep my eyes forward. I can’t tell him the reasons why I’m there. He’ll tell me that I’m wasting my time, that Svetlana’s killers can’t run forever and eventually they’ll have to face the ultimate judgment and that alone will be enough.
I disagree.
I want whoever tortured and mutilated my sister to spend the rest of their breathing days in prison before they get to spend an eternity in hell.
But that’s me. I’m not nearly as forgiving as my dad.
“Beatriks . . . no one can worship both God and money.” He quotes the Bible in such an everyday way that proves he really lives by the word.
“I don’t do it for the money.” I do it for Svetlana.