“That may be so, but I’m sure your mother would like to know where you are. Is she home, waiting for you?”
“My mama’s in Valdemoros.”
Damian felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The word itself conjured up gray, concrete-laden memories. He wanted to ask about her father, but growing up without one, he tended to be more sensitive. “You have other family?”
She shrugged.
“Who looks after you?” asked Damian.
“My mama, of course.” She seemed surprised by the question.
Damian knew kids were allowed in Valdemoros with their mothers, up to a certain age. He hadn’t realized that they let them out for school.
“When does your mama get out?”
“Soon.”
She seemed to be taking it all in stride, but it explained why she stopped by Casa Paloma. It was a brief respite before she headed back to the grimness of Valdemoros.
“I have to go now,” she said, reclaiming the swan on the counter and tucking it into her pocket.
Damian watched her collect the green canvas school bag she’d left by the door.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he said.
“Sierra. My name is Sierra.” She turned around, walking in reverse towards the gates.
Damian had just gotten off the phone with Rafael when he saw Sierra again. He damn near dropped the glass panel he was installing in the cabinets.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Lice,” she replied.
Her long, dark locks had been reduced to a buzz cut and she looked like she had shrunk overnight. It was probably because her big, doe eyes swallowed all of her face now, but Damian felt a tugging of his heart strings. Valdemoros was no place for a kid. Lice was the least of the horrors that she faced. If he had been younger when they took MaMaLu to prison, he could have been this kid. He could have been Sierra.
“Hey, you want to do something fun today?”
She dropped her bag on the floor and took up the stool that was quickly becoming her spot. “What?”
“Have you ever been on a boat?”
Sierra’s eyes lit up.
It was the beginning of many adventures, both on the water, and off. Damian taught Sierra how to bait a fishing hook, how to steer, how to read the sky. She tried to trick him into doing her math until he started answering every question wrong, earning him permanent banishment from homework duty. He tried to show her how to make paper swans, but it needed focus and discipline, and how could she when there were banisters to slide down, and ladybugs to catch, and ice cream to eat before she headed back? Her swans were sloppy and messy and fell over on their faces, beak down.
Damian and Sierra fought and argued and laughed for the two hours she was there after school. A week went by, and then two, and then three. Slowly, Damian started healing. His nights were still filled with a deep sense of longing for Skye, but he had something to look forward to on the days Sierra came around. When Rafael came to visit, he picked up on the subtle change.
“Damn. This place looks fantastic.” He walked around, from room to room. “But you.” He slapped Damian on the back. “You look better.”
Damian had lost the pallor that came with years of confinement. He had kept fit in prison, but now he had the sturdiness of a man with roots. Casa Paloma was home, and Damian was not just restoring the structure, he was re-learning happiness, re-wiring himself, re-seeing the world through Sierra.
“So, am I going to meet this little girl?” asked Rafael, putting away the business documents that needed Damian’s attention.