A few more grumbles and a few “this isn’t fairs” and they were off and Rosa, smiling, looped her arm with mine. “Teenagers,” she said, but there was such affection in her voice that I knew it wasn’t a criticism. “Someday their wives will thank me for teaching them how to cook.”
She led me through her home, which was both pretty and lived-in, out through a sliding-glass door to a brick patio and huge backyard overlooking the grove of trees I’d seen from the front yard. The patio lights cast a soft glow that reached to the edges of the lawn and there was a comfortable sitting area featuring many brightly colored pillows, and a fire pit just beyond that. “Oh,” I breathed. “It’s so pretty back here.”
Rosa pointed to the outdoor sofa and we sat down. She put her feet up on the table in the middle and sighed. Joaquín brought our drinks out, giving me a shy smile as he handed me my glass. “Thank you,” I said quietly.
Rosa smacked him lightly on his hip as he was walking back past her, and he pretended to be surprised, jumping slightly and saying, “Ouch.” I laughed and he grinned back at me.
“Flirt,” Rosa said, sipping her wine. She looked over at me, tilting her head. “Feeling better?”
I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
She studied me for a minute until I was tempted to squirm before she asked, “Who was the man in the restaurant tonight?”
I swallowed the sip of soda I’d just taken. “The man?”
“Yes, the man. The one who appeared to be on a date but couldn’t keep his eyes off you. The one who looked so tormented I almost sent him a complimentary shot of tequila. Or three.”
I laughed, but it was without much humor. “Preston,” I said, and I could hear the pain in my own voice though I’d tried to say it casually. “He’s my son’s father.”
Rosa sipped her wine as she watched me again, finally nodding once. “So you’re not together?”
“No, we’re not.”
“So why is it he had words with the blonde perra who tripped you, and she left the restaurant looking terrified out of her mind—what little of it there appears to be?”
Perra. Bitch. Alicia. I blinked. “He did?”
“Oh yes. But even after that, he still didn’t look satisfied.”
Preston had defended me. A tremor of warmth moved through me. Preston had always defended me, had always been my champion, and I was surprised yet moved by the knowledge that he still was, at least in some instances. Maybe that’s why it had hurt so deeply that he’d watched me suffer for so long and not done something about it. And yet . . . I’d watched him hurt, too, and not done anything about it—not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how.
Confusion overcame me and I took a large, shaky inhale of cool, evening air and let it out slowly. I still felt as if there was an iron band around my chest.
I thought about how kind Rosa had been to give me the job at Abuelo’s with nothing more than the mention of Alejandro’s name, a man who really knew nothing about me. I thought about how understanding she’d acted toward me tonight when I’d made a big scene in her restaurant and left them short a waitress during the busy dinner hour. That hadn’t been completely my fault, although it was because of my personal life that it had come to pass at all—a personal life I’d brought with me, unwillingly or not. I had to contend with it, but that didn’t mean Rosa should have to.
And I thought about how above and beyond she was going now, inviting me into her home and having me over to dinner—a dinner her sons were making.
“Rosa,” I choked, “the truth is I left them both, Preston and my son. I think you should know because a lot of people in this town dislike me for it, and I’d hate for it to affect your business in any—”
“Oh, Lia, I already know about that, cari?o. Linmoor is a very small town.” She took a sip of her wine.
I stared at her, blinking. “You . . . know?”
“I do. But I don’t judge people based on the gossip of shallow people. I like to make my own judgments. You know what I’ve come to see from the experience of getting to know you this week?”
“No,” I breathed. I felt suddenly raw and far too tender. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself but I was holding the glass of soda in my hand and I felt frozen with nerves. I remained still, trying desperately to hold back the threatening tears.
“I know you’re the hardest worker I’ve ever employed. You go above and beyond for your fellow employees, and you do more than what’s asked of you. You’re kind but shy and you carry a whole world behind your eyes, and I wonder if you ever let anyone be a part of it. And I imagine that if you don’t, you must be very, very lonely.”
Twin tears slipped out of my eyes and I didn’t bother to brush them away. Rosa stood and came over to me, taking my glass and setting it on the table, and then pulling me to my feet. Inside, I heard a burst of noise come from the kitchen, raised voices as if the boys were arguing over something, and it jolted me slightly.
Rosa linked her arm through mine. “Let’s walk. The yard is so big, sometimes I like to stroll around like it’s my own personal park.”
We strolled for a minute, and my emotions settled as we walked. I soaked in the warmth of Rosa’s closeness, the motherly way she held me against her. “Do you want to talk about it?” she finally asked gently. “Do you want to tell me why you left?”
Her question confused me slightly because no one had ever asked me to share my feelings with them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about doing so, or even how to go about it. And furthermore, I wasn’t sure there were even words to put to my emotions. Do you want to tell me why you left? As if reading my mind, she smiled over at me. “Sometimes it’s best to just spit it right out. Why did you leave, cari?o?”
“Because no one wanted me there, and I felt like I was dying slowly inside.” I let out another long, shaky breath, feeling both the shame in me rise at my admission and something else loosen slightly, allowing me to breathe more fully.
Rosa tightened her grip on my arm, and I leaned in to her as we neared the trees and then turned to walk along the border of the wooded area. It smelled earthy and damp back there and I filled my lungs with the rich smell of spring, of newness. And it wasn’t just the newness of the earth filling my senses. There was a sudden newness inside me, too—a curious unfurling—as if a seed of growth had pushed its head out of the shadows and into the open air, eager to flourish and bloom.