Carmen Morales works for an insurance broker in Orange County, attends law school at night, and shares an apartment with two other women, Lourdes and Katie. When her father has a stroke that leaves him comatose for weeks, her grandmother (“Abuela”) has her act as temporary conservator until he either recovers or someone else takes over. Two months later, Carmen has returned to Kern County to hand the job off to her younger brother Joaquim (“Ximo”).

It’s been an eventful two months, for Carmen had not been in touch with her family for eleven years. The same father she rescued kicked her out of the house for being trans just before she graduated high school, and Abuela backed him up. Her Uncle Fernando, one of her padre’s four brothers, was the one that outed her. Her return renewed old family feuds. Feuds about her, about her padre, and about her mother, who disappeared when she was eight and Ximo was only five.

Yet her return has also been a time of growth and healing. As Carmen goes about the task of getting her padre approved for health insurance and applying for various benefits, she reconnects with family and people she knew as a child, many of whom prove to be both loving and supportive. She even reconnects with her mother and begins a process of rebuilding a relationship with her. Finally, she meets and falls in love with Andar Kasparian, a Bakersfield attorney.

The evening before the probate court hearing that will transfer the conservator duties from Carmen to Ximo, her Uncle Augustin hosts a party in Buttonwillow to celebrate the new job that his daughter Inés (“Innie”) has just accepted – a job that will take her far from Kern County. At the end of Chapter 39, Carmen and Andar are on their way to the party, though Ximo has asked them to stop, first, at padre’s house, where he also lives.

For a refresher on Carmen’s family tree, see this post.

Chapter 40: Finale

As we pulled up to the curb in front of padre’s house, I immediately noticed that the stucco had been painted a creamy tan, and the trim was restored to a dark, chocolate brown. “So that’s what he wanted to show me!”

Andar had never seen the house before, but the fresh paint job was obvious. “Your brother’s been busy?”

“I guess so!” I hopped out of the car and Andar joined me.

Ximo got the door before we were half-way up the concrete walk, looking sharp in a striped cotton shirt and shorts, his face all smiles. “Come on in!”

Inside, the transformation was even more remarkable. The front hall and what I could see of the living room was clean and freshly painted. I stepped into the room and took in all the changes: the old, unread books, dusty and unloved, had been banished; the furniture had been cleaned and rearranged. More than anything, Ximo had managed to neutralize the heavy, sour smell of old tobacco smoke.

I looked at my brother in wonder. “Jesus, ’mano, how did you get all this done? I was here just a few weeks ago!”

“Oh, you know,” he said, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt. “It was no trouble.”

“What he means is, he called in some help.” A strikingly beautiful young woman with laughing eyes and skin the color of rich hot chocolate stepped into the room from the kitchen, rocking an emerald green cropped halter top and short white shorts that showcased a very long pair of legs. Huge quantities of tight, curly hair piled high on her head in an effortlessly cute updo. “Hi Andar!”

“Hey, Sherilynn,” he said easily.

My smile was so wide it must have cracked my face open. “I am so glad to meet you! Don’t tell me he got you to do all of this!”

“Oh, I helped,” she said, grinning. “But that’s not what I meant.”

Ximo nodded. “I got a big assist from Kels on the cleaning, and from AJ on the painting. It would have taken months, otherwise.”

“I’ll say – this is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, sounding suddenly serious. “But that’s not really why I asked you to come by.”

His change in tone worried me. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“C’mon back,” he said by way of answer, then walked down the hall.

Puzzled and a little apprehensive, I followed him past his bedroom to the end of the hall where my own room had been, when I lived there. Was there something awful in padre’s junk piles that I’d missed?

Ximo opened the door and stood aside.

All the crap was gone. All of the papers. Even the tables. The room was spotless and it, too, had been painted. There was a double bed, neatly made up, with a light quilt on it. A nightstand. A small desk and a chair. All used, but in good condition and well-maintained.

The transformation hit me hard, though I struggled, in the moment, to understand why. While I was trying to process my feelings, I said, “You did it. You got it all cleared out! But . . . why do you need an extra bedroom?”

“Maybe we don’t. But as long as I live here, Carmen, you will always have a place to stay.” He choked up, then added, “You will always have a home.”

My eyes went wide with shock and I stood speechless, staring at my brother like I’d never seen him before. Maybe I hadn’t. And then, just like that, I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed just as hard as I could. Through my tears, I managed to husk, “Ximo, I don’t even know what to say. Except I love you.”

It was a few minutes before we rejoined our respective dates. More, in my case, since Ximo’s surprise required that I spend a few minutes repairing my makeup.

I found the three of them in the kitchen, chatting easily. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen had been professionally cleaned, the little wall space it possessed had been repainted, and the linoleum flooring had been replaced. Ximo had chosen light colors throughout, and as a result everything looked clean and fresh.

Andar slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Sherilynn warned me what was coming, but she told me it was a surprise. Looks like it worked.”

I nodded, still filled with emotion. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not moving back. I know that. Ximo knows that. And, I very much hope I’ll be staying with you whenever I’m up. But . . . it hurt, you know? Getting kicked out. Then, when I came back and saw that padre had turned my room into a pinche landfill . . . it was like a big neon sign, saying I’d been erased.”

“Well, that ain’t happenin’ again,” Ximo said firmly. “And if padre doesn’t like it, he’s just going to have to get over it.”

Andar shook his head. “Damn. I’m really going to need to buy a brewery.”

“Huh?” Ximo looked appropriately puzzled.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Andar said. “Sort of a thank-you for recommending that I take Carmen dancing. But seriously, dude . . . it’s nowhere near enough.”

~o~O~o~

We brought the keg to the party; Ximo insisted. “Even with Sherilynn’s help, I can’t drink it all by myself!”

Fortunately, both Andar and Ximo were able to take a handle; between the two of them, they got it from the street to the field. Sherilynn and I followed with the pulled pork and some spicy slaw that she had made up fresh.

We weren’t the first ones to show up. I wasn’t surprised that Uncle Augui’s extended household was there — he was hosting, after all. There were a few others, too, most of whom I couldn’t put names to. I recognized one of the Aguilar clan, who worked with both padre and Uncle Augui at Kern Cotton; naturally, he was helping Uncle Augui get a pair of grills going.

Innie was getting some coolers in order, and Diego was close by her. Then I spotted Kelsey and my jaw almost hit the dirt. A skirt? Kels? But I steered toward tia Consola first; she was working on setting up folding tables for food.

When she saw us, she waved the boys over to where Innie and Diego were, since that was the staging area for the drinks. “Goodness, Carmen! You look lovely”

“Buenos dias, tia!” I set the pork down on one of the bleachers. “Can we help you get set up? This is Sherilynn Novak, Ximo’s girlfriend.”

“You are seeing Ximo?” Tia Consola gave Sherilynn a broad smile. “Such a handsome boy!”

“He cleans up pretty nice,” my companion agreed. “What can we do to help?”

“Let’s get these tablecloths on, and I’ve got some clips to keep them in place.”

We busied ourselves getting the tables in order and putting out the first of the food – the slider makings, the slaw, some of tia’s arroz y frijoles, and a few other staples. We were just finishing up when Ximo, Diego, Innie and Kels joined us.

“All set,” Innie announced. “And – just sayin’ – Andar here’s got better taste in beer than Kels.”

“Loser!” Kels snarked. “Bud rules!”

Andar slipped a possessive arm around me, and I saw my aunt flinch.

Here goes! “Tia, this is mi amor Andar Kasparian. Andar, this is my aunt, Consolación Cruz.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Andar said, smiling and sounding very composed. “Thank you so much for having me.”

She visibly inhaled, but she hadn’t forgotten her manners. “You are very welcome.”

Innie, who was out of her mother’s line of sight, rolled her eyes and gave a tilt of her head. “Make sure you introduce him to Poppa, too, Carmen . . . you know he’ll have spotted him already!”

I took the hint and steered Andar toward the grills, where – as usual – men and beer had begun to congregate and mix.

“Was my PDA a bit over the top?” he asked playfully.

“Not on your life,” I said firmly. “I’ve made a lot of progress with tia Consola. She’s starting to see me as a woman; I just don’t think she realized all that might mean.”

“Yeah, I thought that’s what was going on.”

Uncle Augui’s back was to us as we approached the grills, but Mr. Aguilar saw our approach and gave a toothy smile. “Two new young people in the neighborhood? That’s wonderful!”

“New?” That caused Uncle Augui to turn, and his double-take was almost believable. “Carmen, did you come from a modeling job or something?” He smiled and extended a hand to Andar. “We haven’t met, but we’ve spoken. Augustin Morales.”

Since I was certain Innie would have spoken to both her parents, and Kels probably had talked to them as well, I could only assume that the information about my dating life had sunk in with my uncle in a way it hadn’t with my aunt. Sometimes seeing is believing.

Andar gave his hand a firm pump. “Good to meet you, sir.”

Mr. Aguilar was looking mystified. “Niece? I thought . . . .” Then his expression changed. “Oh!”

I decided to try charming. “Hi, Mr. Aguilar. I remember you, but I was very young the last time you would have seen me.”

“Of course, of course. Augui was telling us all about you.” He sounded dazed, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes from dropping to my chest. What? You were expecting me to look like Ximo in a dress?

I smiled, charmingly. “I can’t ask for a better reference.”

The man next to him — someone I didn’t recognize— did better, both in the recollection department and in manners. “I was so sorry about what happened to your padre. It was a shock to all of us. How’s he doing?”

“He’s improving, thank you,” I said gratefully. “It’s slow, but they told me he’ll be out of the ICU in a day or two. And he’s starting to speak again, which is a huge relief.”

Another of the elders – I’d always thought of them as “los padres,” though now “los abuelos” would be more accurate – shook his head. “I’ve got three or four years on Juan, easy. Anna and I, we just couldn’t believe it when we got the news.”

“Three or four years?” barked señor Aguilar. “More like eight!”

“Oh, thank you very much!”

I said something appropriate, then we managed to escape that gaggle. More people were arriving by the minute, but at least we had covered the absolutely essential bases.

I saw that Kels was helping tia Consola arrange additional food offerings as they came in, while Ximo and Sherilynn made the rounds with the grill masters. But Innie and Diego caught up with us as soon as we were clear of los abuelos.

“Sorry about madre,” Innie said, sounding disgusted. “She’ll get there, once she’s over the shock.”

“She’s fine,” I assured her. “Andar, here’s the reason for this celebration, my cousin Innie.” How to put this? “And Diego and I used to play baseball right here . . . though they didn’t have anything fancy like bleachers back then!”

“Or grass, or a backstop,” Diego agreed. His eyes showed humor, understanding, and even a touch of regret. I hadn’t introduced him as an old friend; this wasn’t the time to get into all the nuance.

Andar smiled, shook hands, and said all the right things. But once the introductions were done I got to the heart of things. “So, c’mon, Chica! What’s the news? Where, when, what? All that!”

She grinned. “The ‘what’ is a job with a co-op of a bunch of vineyards in the Willamette Valley that are too small on their own to have back offices. And, I guess, a couple larger ones where the owners outsource the boring stuff so they can focus on being farmers.”

“They think farming is the exciting stuff?” Having grown up in farm country, I had no romantic illusions about it.

“I know, right?” Innie shook her head at their foolishness. “Anyway, they want me for pretty much the same sort of work I’ve been doing, but it’s a bigger shop so there’s chances to move up.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said sincerely. “Did you fly up for the interview?”

“Jesus, Carmen!” Innie gave me an incredulous look. “It’s 2024! There’s this program, you know? Zoom, I think it’s called. You should check it out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I laughed. “Though, seriously, I’m going to have to use it a lot more now, to keep track of you.”

Diego smiled. “You should come up sometime, though. Both of you. It’s a beautiful part of the world, and Portland’s nice even for you city types.”

“I’ll actually be staying in Portland,” Innie added. “The growers are all over the valley, but the coop’s office is in the city.”

“I’d love to come visit,” I said wistfully. I’d never done any traveling; all of my time, energy and money had been spent getting established. Getting a job. A place to live. An education. Transitioning. “It may be a while, before I can, though. I’ve just about used up all my vacation time dealing with padre, and classes are about to start.”

“I hear you,” Diego said, with feeling. “Cleaning up after all of Dace’s crap, and now the house . . . I’m gonna be tapped out for a while, too. I’m lucky my bosses like me.”

Time to deal with the bull elephant on the field. “I’m sorry about your brother, Diego. I know you two didn’t get along, but it’s still got to be hard. Especially for your parents.”

I felt Andar’s arm tighten around my waist, but he didn’t say anything. I’d filled him in on the people I knew would be at the picnic, so he’d known Diego — for these purposes, ‘Innie’s boyfriend’ — was Dace Gutierrez’ younger brother.

Diego shrugged. “I’m sorry about him, too. I wish I could say I was surprised. He’s hurt a lot of people, though. It’s past time someone did something about it.”

I asked how Kels was doing, since she was high on the list of people Dace had hurt. The question was really directed to Innie. Diego might have shared a house with Dace and Kelsey, but Kels was far more likely to confide in her cousin.

Innie looked back toward the tables, where Kels was now talking with AJ and his wife Lydia, and her assessment was characteristically blunt. “She’s firckin’ weird, right now. Almost like she’s, I don’t know, younger or something.”

“I was kind of shocked to see her in a skirt,” I observed.

That caused Diego to snort. “Me too.” Then he added, a bit quickly, “Not that there’s anything wrong with wearing a skirt.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas,” Innie warned him. “Carmen’s welcome to them — all of them, far as I’m concerned. But Kels . . . I don’t know. It feels like she’s trying to be someone else.”

I touched her shoulder gently. “She’s been through a lot. Not just the past few weeks, either.” The image of Kels naked and on her knees – revenge porn Dace and sent to torment me – burned in my brain and I suppressed a shudder. As much for my own sake as Innie’s, I added, “At least you know she’s in good hands.”

“Right? Go figure. The way madre is treating her, it’s like I’ve got a new sister.” She sounded bemused.

Andar observed, “Sounds like a win-win, right? Kelsey gets a mom, and your mother has someone to care for when you leave?”

Innie gave me a mock accusatory look. “You been spillin’ the family tea?”

“Oh, you bet,” I laughed. “No way I was letting Andar face you lot without intel! Though, I didn’t actually mention your madre’s unwillingness to see you go.”

“You didn’t need to,” he said. “I get families.”

“Hey, Innie!!!” A Caucasian woman with light brown hair and a big smile almost bounced across the field, waving.

“Hey, yourself,” Innie said, with a huge smile that took any sting out of her greeting. “Glad you could make it!”

“Turns out mom didn’t need me tonight after all,” the new arrival said. She looked to be in her mid-forties or so, and dressed a bit more conservatively than my own age cohort. Which is to say, a full, loose, T-Shirt rather than something strappy, and cargo shorts rather than the type that barely covered the cheeks.

“Maura, this is my cousin Carmen and her boyfriend Andar – he’s super new, so don’t be chasing him off!”

Maura’s face lit up with interest when she heard my name, so clearly she knew my story, too. Unlike some of the guys, though, she had no trouble keeping her eyes on my face. “Carmen! Innie’s told me lots about you! And it’s good to meet you, too, Andar. Whatever that troublemaker says” – here, she indicated Innie – “I don’t ever bite.”

“Do you two work together?” I asked her.

“Yeah, though . . . not for much longer!” She made a face. “We are so going to miss her – and Lisa’s not even going to get to say goodbye!”

Innie, I knew had been apartment sitting for one of her female coworkers over the summer; I assumed that’s who Lisa was.

From the bleachers, one of the songs from Bad Bunny’s Nobody Knows What Will Happen Tomorrow cranked from an impressive-looking bluetooth speaker; it looked like Jesus was in charge of music.

I caught his eye and waved; he grinned back.

More people were coming to see Innie, and Andar and I slipped out to give them space. I hadn’t gone three steps when I was hit at the knees by a sturdy boy who was looking the other way. If Andar hadn’t caught me, I’d have fallen.

The boy did, comically, looking as surprised as an atheist at the Second Coming. Before he could get to his feet, a girl in an adorable sunflower-yellow dress caught up and gave him a swat. “Tag!! No touch-back!”

Lydia arrived in time to tell them both to watch where they were running, an admonition which seemed likely to do no good at all. Both chavos took off.

“That was Carolina, right?” I asked her. I’d only met them all once. “But wasn’t that one of Lupe’s boys?”

She nodded. “Miguel’s got a practice, so she asked me if I could bring Santi early. She’ll be along with the other three in an hour or so.”

I introduced her to Andar and we chatted for a minute or two before AJ came over, carrying Regina, their youngest, in the crook of his right arm. At the sight of more people she shyly buried her head into his chest.

I greeted him with a half-armed hug. “AJ, I just want to say, the job you did at padre’s house is amazing. Thank you so much!”

He looked even more handsome when he smiled, which he did often. “Happy to help, though Ximo had already done a lot. In fact, I’m hoping I can talk him into joining our crew.”

“Really? He hasn’t mentioned anything about that.”

“I haven’t talked to him about it yet. Wanted to sound out my boss first, but he’s been on vacation.”

I wanted to tell him that I thought Ximo might well be interested, but I decided I didn’t need to insert myself into that conversation. I just said something generally encouraging instead.

He nodded, then visibly switched gears. “So,” he said carefully, “what was up with your mom? My mamá wouldn’t tell me much, when she caught up with me and Abuela.”

Best to get the word out, and stop any bad rumors. “Because of the court stuff we went through to get a conservatorship, Ximo and I heard from her. She wanted to see padre, to apologize. But also to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? So, you finally find her, and she’s just going to disappear again?”

“She’s got a new life, a long ways from here. We all decided it was best if she stayed away.” Although that wasn’t exactly the question AJ had asked, I decided it was the more important information to get into circulation.

He shot a look at Andar, as if wondering how much he should say, then turned his attention back to me. “Mamá seemed pretty subdued when I brought her home, and Abuela was more, ah . . . .” He tried searching for a more diplomatic word, but gave up. “More bitchy, I guess, than usual. But neither of them wanted to talk about it. It was a little weird.”

“Seems like our folks had plenty of their own dramas, back in the day.” I shrugged. “Nothing we can fix, so I guess there’s no point losing any sleep over it.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded decisively. “You’re right.” He gave me a clap on the arm with his free hand and said, “It’s good to have you back, Carmen. We could use a bit more sense in this family!”

They were interrupted by an urgent demand for a bathroom break by their five-year-old, who was named after his paternal grandfather, so Andar and I wandered again. I was surprised at how many people were arriving, but I shouldn’t have been: Uncle Augustin was very popular with everyone at work, Innie had her own crowd, and of course the neighborhood itself was tight-knit.

There were people I knew, and many I didn’t. Some looked away, some met my eyes and some others looked lower. But one or two catty comments from a couple neighborhood girls I barely remembered was as close as I got to real conflict. I’m sure there were plenty of people there who didn’t approve of me, but they wouldn’t insult Uncle Augui by making a stink at a party he was hosting.

Tia Juana arrived, along with tio Javier, looking grim as ever. Their remaining children, Jo and Miggie, were with them, though Jo was the only one who made a point of coming over to see me. In light of Momma’s story, I wasn’t sure what to say to tio Javi anyway . . . and he was likely to be feeling equally awkward.

Abuela arrived with Gaby helping her; she was guided to a seat where some of the others of her generation had congregated. Gaby clearly intended to make a beeline for the exit just as soon as her task was done, but I gave chase and caught her just before she slipped away, leaving Andar behind me. “Hey, Gaby?”

She turned around, looking resentful. “What?”

“Listen, I know your folks would be here if I hadn’t come. I don’t want to be the cause of some breach between them and Uncle Augui.”

“A little late for that.”

“Maybe. But I could, you know, walk around the block or something, if they wanted to come and wish Innie good luck.”

“I’ve got a better idea: You start walking, and stop when you reach pinche Hawaii?”

I tried again. “Ximo’s taking over as padre’s conservator tomorrow. I shouldn’t need to be here all that often after that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Can you just check with your mom,” I pleaded. “She’s Innie’s godmother!”

“Oh, fine.” She pulled out her phone then gave me a pointed look. “You mind?”

I stepped away, giving her some privacy, and walked back toward the diamond.

Andar was waiting for me at the third baseline, his eyebrow raised. “That didn’t look pleasant from a distance.”

“Nothing to worry about,” I assured him. “Just trying to keep the peace, some. Or at least, limit the scope of the battle.”

“Ah. This would be about the relatives you said wouldn’t come if you did?”

I nodded. “Yeah, the oldest of the five brothers and his family. I don’t want Uncle Augi or his family caught in the crossfire.”

He slipped his arm back around my waist, which felt good. Right. “He knew the risk,” he reminded me.

“I know. I’d just like to do everything I can to keep a lid on it.”

Andar popped into the Men’s room, and while I was waiting for him Kels came out of the lady’s. I gave her a smile and a big hug. “Hey, Chica.”

“¿Que onda?” She returned my hug and then stepped back.

She looked better. Maybe, a bit less haunted. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not gonna break,” she said, sounding both amused and exasperated. “Jesus, I put on a skirt and Innie wants to institutionalize me!”

“Me, here, not Innie,” I reminded her. “Unlike the girl of the hour, I’m not allergic to wearing skirts.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Kinda glad I’m not the only one!”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. The wrap-around looks great on you. But seriously, how are things working out, staying with the Auguis?”

“They’re great,” she said quickly, then paused and took a breath. “Sorry . . . it’s just frickin’ Buttwipe, you know?”

I nodded. “Everyone talks, so everyone knows.”

“Right. So everyone’s watching me all the time, like they’re afraid I’ll fall apart in front of their eyes. And they ask a million versions of, ‘are you okay?’”

I winced. “Ouch. Sorry to add to that.”

“From you, I’ll take it. Look, I’m getting better. The hardest thing, though, is that I don’t just want to pick up where I was when Dace left. Or even where I was after papí went to prison. It’s taking me some time to figure it out, know what I mean?”

“You’ll get there,” I promised her. Wanting to change the subject, I added, “hey, thanks for helping Ximo out with the house. Was that just you, or did you bring a whole team?”

“Five of us.” She shook her head. “Ximo’d done his best, but, Jesus, did your padre ever stop smoking? Like, to sleep or something? I’ve seen less damage after frickin’ housefires!”

I groaned. “Tell me about it. When I put one of those towels up to my face, I thought I was gonna choke! You guys went above and beyond, let me tell you.”

“Nah. I owed Ximo big time after what happened with Dace, you know? We had to charge, but my boss is cool. Best fam rate.”

Just then Andar emerged from the men’s room and walked over, taking his place at my side. It felt nice.

Kels looked at him, then at me, then at us. “Yeah. Totally works.”

“I think so,” Andar agreed. “But just curious . . . why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Some people, you see them together and you just say, ‘yeah, absolutely.’ Looks right, feels right. Besides, you’re one of them lawyers, and she wants to be.” She grinned. “You can argue with each other.”

“Hey.” Gaby was suddenly there; I’d been too engrossed to notice her walking over.

“Yeah?”

“They do want to stop by for a couple minutes,” she said grudgingly.

“When should I go, and for how long?”

“They said they’d be here in five minutes or so. Maybe a half hour?”

“Wait, what?” Kels sounded indignant. “Seriously? Your folks won’t come over while Carmen’s here?”

I jumped in before things blew up. “It’s okay,” I said firmly. “I asked if they would.” I took a quick look at my phone and said to Gaby, “It’s seven thirty. I’ll make sure I’m not back before quarter after eight, okay?”

“Fine.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Kels hissed, “That’s complete BS, Carmen!”

“I know,” I soothed. “But it’s okay. I don’t need everyone to accept me. And I got all the good ones.”

She glared a moment more, but then she barked a laugh. “Fuck, you’re not wrong. I’d go with you, but I promised tia Consola I’d help, and anyway . . . .” She smirked. “Three’s a crowd.”

I took Andar’s hand and we strolled out of the park. There was no sense walking any more quickly, since it didn’t take very long to circle the town. Just a few blocks of houses, surrounded by fields.

We turned on Canal Street, which – naturally – followed the canal around the north end of town. Out past the water works, and St. Mary’s, once again closed up and locked for the night. Chavos rode by on beat-up dirt bikes, headed out to the long, flat roads that ran through miles and miles of nothing much. Some things haven’t changed.

Our conversation was muted. Just a few comments, here and there, as we passed landmarks from my childhood. Memories of First Communion, when all the little boys were cleaned and scrubbed, and all the little girls had pretty white dresses that weren’t strappy at all. The house that would decorate like crazy for Halloween, and the one that had the best Christmas lights.

We turned left on Buttonwillow Drive, though there was still a block of houses on the other side. I wanted to show Andar the Pride of Buttonwillow, the tree that gave the town its name. It was impossible to miss, standing alone with a big state historical marker in front of it.

He cocked his head, appraising it from a distance. “Kind of looks like a big bush.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I know. But it’s what we had, so we made the most of it.”

“Wait, he said, stepping back onto the street. He looked at me intently, even though the setting sun just over my left shoulder forced him to squint.

“What?”

He shook his head, then pulled out his phone. “Sorry. I’ll never forget the way you look just now, but I still have to take a picture.”

“You’re loco!”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, smiling as he put away his phone. “But for my money, you’re the ‘pride of Buttonwillow.’ The town can keep the bush!”

I laughed and kissed him, and kind of wished we didn’t need to go back to the picnic.

We kept walking, arms linked together.

“There’s my grade school,” I said as we reached Highway 58. Another building that looked the same as it ever had.

“Good memories?”

“Some. I had a teacher I just loved in second grade – señora Hernandez.”

When I didn’t say more, he reached up to caress my back. “Did you know you were trans?”

I shrugged. “I knew I didn’t fit, somehow. The chavos mostly tolerated me back then. I mean, I’d always be the last one picked for any sport, but I still played. I guess I envied the chavas, but I couldn’t have told you why.”

His arm returned to my waist and he bent to kiss my temple. “Does it bother you, when I ask questions like that? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head. “You should know what you’re getting into. I just hope I don’t chase you away.”

He squeezed his reassurance, and we turned east. The highway was the commercial zone, with old warehouses scattered on the south side. A few businesses clung to the north side, like the auto and diesel repair shop, the liquor store, the convenience store.

“Here’s the most happening place in the whole town,” I said as we walked toward Frosty Freeze. “The most likely place to bump into people you know, whether you want to or not.”

“It looks deserted,” he said dryly.

“I know. But it’s a Sunday night, and besides, half the town’s at the picnic.”

We kept walking. When we hit the only place to stay in the ‘downtown’ – an old motor lodge – we got a smile and a “buenos noches” from an older man who’d waited out the heat of the day before trying to transplant some flowers that were decorating the exterior.

When we’d gone a block or so further, Andar said, “I’ve never understood why people transplant flowers from one small pot into another one that’s just slightly bigger. Why not get the right sized pot to begin with?”

I chuckled. “City hombre.”

“There’s a reason?”

“Those were outdoor plants. Decorative. If the pot’s too small, the roots will choke on themselves, but if the pot’s too big, the soil will dry out faster and the roots will rot. You always need it to be in the right sized pot.”

“Huh.”

We kept walking. Soon, we could hear the music playing at the diamond. I checked the time on my phone, and was surprised to see it was already 8:30. “Time flies, when I’m with you,” I said, smiling up at him. “So what do you think of my home town?”

He took a moment to consider my question, and another moment while a semi roared past on its way to wherever. “I think it’s a great place to be from.”

I chuckled. “Seriously?”

But he just nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a good fit for who you are now, but that doesn’t make it a bad place. Maybe it was the right sized pot, when you were little.”

“It didn’t feel that way, a lot of the time. It’s a tough place for anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.” I thought about his comment some more, then shook my head. “Still . . . I don’t really know whether things would have been any easier for a kid like me, in a larger place.”

“I don’t remember Glendale being a great place for people who didn’t fit in.” He shrugged. “I did okay, but . . . kids are monsters, really. Even though they’re cute. It takes hard work to civilize them.”

“And plenty of parents don’t even try,” I said with a sigh.

We paused at the entrance to the field. Darkness comes fast in the desert and Buttonwillow hadn’t sprung for stadium lighting. But there were a few lights, and someone had brought a self-contained fire pit. I didn’t know whether it was legal – something that typically depended on drought conditions – but it was safe enough in the park. No one was going to complain.

Andar gave me a sideways look. “You ready?”

All things considered, I’d have preferred to continue our walk, but duty called. “I guess. Maybe we can get Jesus to play some music you can dance to.”

He laughed, and we went in.

We were half way to the tables when I noticed that Uncle Angel and Aunt Maria were still present. I saw their son Paco over by the keg with Miggie, too; one of the lights was right above them.

“It looks like they decided to stay,” I told Andar. “We can’t leave without saying goodbye to our hosts, but we shouldn’t stay long.”

“Your fam, your call,” he said. “Though I doubt your hosts would agree.”

I spotted Gaby and walked over. “Did they decide to hang out?”

She nodded. “Yeah . . . my padre said –”

But before she could finish her sentence, she saw that Uncle Angel was heading for us himself. When he arrived, he stood awkwardly, a few feet away.

“Uncle,” I said by way of greeting.

He cleared his throat. “You were right. We should be here, all of us.”

“Even me?”

“Maria and I . . . we can’t have you in our house. What you’ve done . . . .” He shook his head. “But we can’t let this divide the family. Tonight should be about Inés.”

It was pretty weak sauce, but it was more than I’d been expecting from them. I just nodded without smiling, and said, “Agreed.”

Still awkward, he bobbed his head, then went back to find his wife.

Gaby rolled her eyes at his retreating back. “Whatever.”

“You don’t agree?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “They’re always like, laying down the law, then changing their minds.”

I laughed. “Could be worse. My padre was big on laying down the law, too. ‘Never say this name,’ or that name. Far as I know, he never changed his mind on any of it.”

She thought about that. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be much better.”

“I had to stop caring when he kicked me out. But I should have done it a lot sooner.”

“Yeah, alright.” She waved an arm vaguely. “I got it.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Sorry I was a bitch.” She didn’t wait to hear a response.

“Was that their idea of being welcoming?” Andar asked rhetorically.

“Who knows? I’ll take it, though.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said bluntly. “You’re worth more than all of them combined.”

The party kept going, and Jesus did play some music that got a few people dancing in the dust of the infield. Mostly stuff that anyone could dance to, and we did, though there were a couple salsa dances that allowed for some skill. Ximo and Sherilynn excelled at those. The uncertain lighting had a magic of its own.

I kept it low key, not wanting to stand out more than I had to just by virtue of being today’s curiosity. I took the opportunity to show Andar some of the basics of salsa, and he proved to be more than up for the challenge.

Lupe had arrived without her three other children; in a rare moment of genuine parenting, her husband had taken them after practice so she could enjoy the party for a couple hours. She danced with her brother and her cousins – male and female – and seemed less careworn.

By 9:30 the crowd started to thin out; most people had work in the morning. AJ and Lydia took their kids home, along with Lupe’s Santiago, who was having a sleep-over. Joanne left with little JB fast asleep against her shoulder, tiny lips sucking on a pacifier. Most of the people who remained were family, though a couple of Miggie and Paco’s friends were still hanging out.

Andar got called over to the keg to tell some of the interested bucks where he’d gotten it, and I excused myself to use the facilities. I walked past the fire pit, which was still going strong though it seemed to have lost its audience, and waved to Uncle Augui, shutting down one of the grills. But a few steps later, as I walked further into a patch of darkness, I felt someone grab my ass and pinch, hard.

I spun around and saw a face I didn’t recognize. Thin. Bad mustache. Maybe twenty-five, tops, with breath that smelled beery. Back by the keg, I could see Andar, facing away . . . but several others were watching. Snickering.

I planted both feet and roared, “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”

The little pendejo stepped back, looking shocked, and raised his hands in a dismissive way. “Hey, babe, don’t get your panties in a wad.”

I stepped forward, put my hand in the center of his chest, and pushed hard. “Cochino!”

It wouldn’t have been enough, if he’d been sober, but it caused him to stumble backward. “Hey!”

The stupid wey stumbled right into Uncle Augui. One powerful punch to his kidney laid him in the dust.

“Nobody fucks with a Morales!” Uncle Augui’s friendly face was twisted in a snarl.

“Any Morales!”

The echo came from Uncle Angel.

I must have looked as shocked as Aunt Maria, standing behind her husband. “What?” he said, sounding annoyed. “You think your generation came up with that?”

The young wey managed to scramble to his feet, and he looked back to the crew by the keg to give my cousin Miggie a disgusted look. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Don’t look at me, Emelio!” Miggie said, all innocence.

Uncle Augui laid down the law. “It’s my diamond tonight. Get out.”

Attempting to regain the shreds of his dignity, ‘Emelio’ said, “Couldn’t fuckin’ pay me to stay!”

“Out!!!”

He left, and there was silence. Even the music was off.

It’s an ironclad rule of crowds – they congregate to a fight. A rough crescent had formed around the action, with the fire pit in the middle. Andar was with me; he’d moved even before I’d stopped shouting. But for the moment he held back, as if sensing the drama wasn’t over.

Innie stalked into the middle of the circle, the flames accenting the fire in her eyes and the fury of her clenched jaw. “No one fucks with a Morales?”

Several voices shouted back, “No-one!”

“Really?” Her scornful eyes raked the gathering. “I call bullshit!”

“Inés!” Her mother sounded scandalized.

“You know who fucks with us?” Innie accused. “We do! All the pinche time. Who was watching, when that cochino decided to have some ‘fun’ with Carmen?” She pointed straight at Miggie and Paco. “Who was smiling, thinking it was some kind of a joke?”

Aunt Maria looked like she wanted to argue . . . but she knew her son. “Is this true, Francisco?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about!”

“You suck at lying, ’mano,” Lupe said.

“It’s not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” Jesus was wearing one of his weird smiles. “You both dared him to. I was right here.”

“Dude!” Innie looked exasperated. “You coulda said something!”

He shrugged. “I don’t like Emilio.”

“What about Carmen, doofus?”

“Kelsey told me she was on the streets in LA for a year, right?” His grin got broader. “If Emilio was dumb enough to go after her, why should I save him?”

“Fine, whatever,” Paco said, sounding aggrieved. “It’s not the end of the pinche world! She got goosed.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Kels broke into the circle and caught my eye. She shook her head and mouthed the word “wait.”

“Would you do that to me, or Gaby?” Lupe scowled at her brother. “If one of your friends did it, would you laugh?”

“It’s. A. Joke! Okay?”

“You see any women laughing, Paco?” Innie was scathing.

“If I see any men laughing, I’ll crack some heads,” Ximo growled.

“I’ll help,” Andar said behind me.

“We’ve got each other’s backs, or we don’t.” Innie glared at Paco and Miggie, emphasizing every word. “How can we say we do, if we’re the first ones to stick the knife in?”

Again I moved to intervene, and again Kels signaled me not to. She inclined her head a fraction, to where tio Javier and tia Juana had joined Uncle Angel and Aunt Maria.

The dour man in the wheelchair turned his glower from his wayward son — well, sons, arguably, since I expected he’d have words with Jesus as well — and looked up at his older brother. “She’s right, Ang.”

Uncle Angel set his mouth in a thin line, radiating disapproval. “I warned you all what would happen, if Carmen stayed. Trouble. Fighting.”

“You think what the boys did was okay?” Uncle Javier sounded incredulous.

“Of course not,” Uncle Angel said irritably. “But what do you expect?”

“What do I expect? What do I expect?” With each iteration, tio Javier’s expression became more savage. “I don’t know what you expect from your sons, ’mano, but I expect a whole lot more from mine!” Thrusting a blunt finger in Miggie’s direction, he added, “Maybe you should take him!”

“Javi!” The warning in tia Juana’s voice was clear: You are taking this too far.

A log on the fire popped, and a spray of sparks shot up. Innie ignored it, intent, as we all were, on what Uncle Angel would say.

But he couldn’t find the words.

Aunt Maria broke the silence. “I expect better, too.” Looking at me, she said, “We’ve made our position clear. We don’t approve. But I’ve got no more tolerance for this sort of behavior than anyone here. Less.” Turned to glare at her son. “You shame us.”

This time Kels didn’t wave me off. “Okay, everyone. Stop.” I waited until I had everyone’s eyeballs. “Stop now, before we start saying things that aren’t so easy to take back. I know what that’s like, and there’s been enough of it.”

I looked over at the two instigators, wilting under the heat of their parents’ collective displeasure. “How was the beer?”

Paco scowled, but Miggie had enough sense to recognize a life-preserver when it landed around his neck. “It was good. Real good.”

I smiled. “Maybe a little too good?”

He nervously wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Maybe.”

“I’ll have a word with the guy who brought it.” I looked back at their parents. “Let’s chalk this up to a little too much to drink. Innie’s right — as usual. We should have each other’s backs . . . even when we make mistakes.”

“Especially when we make mistakes,” Kels said. “I’ve made plenty, and I kept coming back for more. But you guys still took me in.” Her eyes were filled with gratitude as she looked at Uncle Augui and tia Consola.

“That’s what family’s for.” Uncle Augui’s voice was gruff, like he was choked up.

“Exactly!” I said. “Not ‘us against the world.’ Just us, being here for each other.” Focusing on my senior uncle, I said, “Like when you decided to stay tonight, even though you don’t approve of me. Because it was important for Innie, and for your brother and his wife. Because family matters.”

Uncle Angel suddenly found that all eyes were on him. He shot Aunt Maria a look.

She shook her head. “Not this time, Angel. You decide.”

Gaby had somehow appeared close behind me. Her voice too low to carry, she murmured, “just don’t fuck up.”

We waited, and the silence stretched long enough to feel uncomfortable.

Finally, Uncle Angel looked down at his brother and smiled ruefully. “You were right. There’s no excuse for what they did, but . . . we’ve made our own mistakes, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Uncle Javi sighed heavily, and gave me a look that was filled with apologies that had never been spoken. “I have, for sure.”

I held his tired eyes in mine, but had no words that would convey the jumble of my thoughts, or the tangle of my emotions. But for those two men, my mother might have stayed. Things might have been better.

Or, quite possibly, not. The central problem in my parent’s marriage was internal, not external: Momma didn’t love padre. She never had, and odds were, she never would have even if she’d stayed with us. The first flush of attraction, even the fire of lust . . . it’s the rocket fuel you need to get into a stable orbit. I could appreciate that now, in a way I never had before meeting Andar.

Without looking away, I called out, “Hey, Jesus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I make a request?”

He laughed his strange laugh. “I guess I owe you one.”

I turned to him, shaking my head. “Not that, goof. You’re the pinche DJ. Can you find Shut Up and Dance With Me?”

“I’ll play it if you really want me to . . . but I’m not dancing.”

“That’s okay,” I said, smiling at him. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would think I’d directed the song title at him, but that’s just the way his brain was wired. I looked back at Andar, loving what I saw in his eyes. “I’ve got my partner.”

~o~O~o~

Abuela was sitting with padre, the last time I walked into that room in the ICU. He was scheduled to be transferred at 4:00, but I would be long gone by then.

“It’s done,” I told her as I walked in. “He’s sleeping?”

“Yes.” She was sitting completely still, her hands resting in her lap.

I pulled the other chair over and sat next to her. “You should have come to the hearing this morning. Ximo did well.”

She shrugged. “You said the outcome wasn’t in doubt.”

“No. The only strange part was when the judge told me I’d forgotten to include a bill of costs for my expenses, and she expected it within the week. She seemed almost angry when I explained that I didn’t intend to submit one.”

“Ah. She thought you did it for money.”

“That was kind of my sense.”

She nodded. “You made her feel small. Good.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll admit I enjoyed that. Andar says she’s a good judge, mostly, but I didn’t like her much.”

Her face turned slightly toward me. “You two are together now?”

My mind conjured up images of our talk on the drive back to his apartment, and the frenzy with which we’d made love as soon as we’d stumbled through the door, arms already entangled with each other. Of the slow, sweet morning, and our shower together. Of the tenderness with which he kissed me goodbye.

“Yes.”

“He is a good match for you.”

“I think so.”

She heard the smile in my voice and shook her head, as if I’d missed the point. “Most men, they want a woman who is quiet. Knows her place. Domingo was like that. For years, I pretended to be that woman for him.” Another eloquent shrug. “Eventually, he went back to Oaxaca to find someone who really was.”

I wondered, suddenly, whether that was why she’d been able to accept me, when other family members, closer to me in age, had struggled. “You can’t hide who you are forever.”

“No. With your investigator, I think, you won’t have to.”

“He likes it, that I challenge him. We challenge each other.”

“And, he lives here?”

I laughed. “The freeway runs both ways. I won’t see him for a couple weeks, and next time will be in Orange County.”

Again she shook her head. “You think I was suggesting you move back? No.”

“I do seem to cause trouble when I’m here.”

“Don’t be stupid. You challenge them, too. My sons. Their wives. Even their children. That’s good; they need it. But if you stayed, you’d become like them. You need a bigger world.”

“That’s not what you said when I first showed up,” I reminded her.

“I didn’t know who you’d become. And, Juan’s need was urgent.”

I glanced over at him. Even sleeping, he looked a thousand times better than he had two months earlier, but . . . . “It’ll still be a long road back for him.”

“Joaquim will manage. You were right about him.”

“You see it, too?”

“Me?” She laughed almost soundlessly. “I’m blind, remember?”

“It’s hard to, sometimes.”

“I still hear things.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Most people don’t grow up until they have to. You didn’t. Joaquim didn’t either. For you, the need came sooner, that’s all.”

I thought about that in the context of a conversation I’d had with her weeks before, concerning padre. Some people never grow up. Well, maybe he’d have another chance. I hoped so.

“What happened to you last night?” I asked quietly. “When everything blew up, you just disappeared.”

“You were doing fine.”

“Mostly, I kept quiet. I almost jumped in a couple times, but Kels . . . .” I stopped. I’d meant to ask Kels about that, but she’d disappeared when the dancing started up again. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Her silent laugh was back. “I told her to warn you, yes. I knew you would want to make peace.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Wrong? No. But Inés was right as well, and my sons needed to have their noses rubbed in it. They had to take responsibility for what happened. Especially Angel.”

“He wouldn’t have, if Aunt Maria hadn’t supported tio Javi.”

“I know,” she sighed. “She’s always been smarter than Angel.”

“For sure,” I agreed.

Funny, Andar had pretty much worked out why Kels had signaled me to wait. We’d talked about it on the ride home, and again in the morning. He’d had an additional reason to keep quiet himself, though. In that group, he’d told me, I’m an odar. I hadn’t needed him to translate; something about the term just screamed its meaning. But I hoped he wouldn’t be considered an outsider for long.

He’d also had a theory about why Abuela had kept out of sight, and I decided to find out if he’d been right about that one, too. “If you had intervened, they just would have resented it, wouldn’t they?”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “You’re learning.”

“That was Andar, actually. He’s from a big family, so he gets how they work.”

“It doesn’t matter how you learn, so long as you do,” she replied, suddenly sharp. She turned to face me fully for the first time since I’d sat down, and she looked impatient. “Your family needs you – whether they know it or not!”

I shook my head, both amused and disbelieving. “In small doses, maybe.”

“Of course.” Her tone suggested that my caveat went without saying.

I took a deep breath, then checked the time. “I’ve got to get on the road.”

She nodded, understanding. “Say goodbye to your padre before you go.”

I looked over at him. “He’s still sleeping.”

“He’s slept long enough. Wake him up.”

I rose and went to the bed. Someone had given him a close shave this morning; his usual bristle was gone. Sleeping, his left eye drooped a bit more, and his mouth still turned down some. But improvements were obvious.

I shook his arm gently. “Padre?”

He made a low noise, deep in his throat, then he blinked twice, slowly. He blinked a third time, and I saw that the corner of one eye was a little gummed up. I imagined how irritating it must be, to feel that and not be able to do anything about it.

I walked over the counter, grabbed a tissue, then came back and gently cleared it for him.

He managed to focus on me. “Gracias.” It came out stilted, but his voice, sure enough.

“Da nada, padre. I have to go, but I wanted to tell you that Ximo will be looking after you. The Court approved everything this morning.”

“Court?” He managed a miniscule head shake.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything’s being taken care of; your job is to get better. Okay?”

His eyes seemed to focus more on my face. “You . . . are . . . Car . . . men?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “Sí, padre. Carmen.”

“You . . . stories.”

After a moment’s confusion, I got it. “Yes. When you were in a coma, I told you stories. My stories. My life.”

His jaw worked, almost like he was chewing on what I’d said. Then he looked up, met my eyes, and whispered, “Gracias.”

His eyes closed. After a moment, his breathing grew even once more.

I turned back to Abuela, who had sat silently throughout my conversation with padre. “Do you think he knows who I am? That Carmen and Carlos are the same?”

She lifted her face, and her sightless eyes once again seemed to find me without difficulty. “Are they?”

I chuckled. “Yes and no, I guess.”

She used the chair arms to rise. “Show me.”

“I’m sorry?”

She reached out, found me, and brought her other hand to my face. Her fingers were dried from age and sun, and calloused from years of hard work. So many jobs, done and over. But raising her boys, and caring for their children . . . that was a burden she’d never managed to lay down.

Slowly and deliberately, she traced my jaw, my lips, my cheekbones . . . the bridge of my nose. Eyebrows. My hairline. She touched scars no human eye would detect and paused for an instant, only to move on.

Her expression was intense. Focused. When she was done, her hand dropped to my shoulder. “I see.”

“What do you see?” I whispered.

“What I needed to.” She gave a squeeze — probably the closest she would ever come to a benediction — then lowered her hand. “Adios, Carmen.”

“Adios, Abuela. I’ll be back.”

One last enigmatic smile. “I know.”

Walking back to my car, I found myself thinking back. Not to that first, panicked trip north in the dead of the night, after I’d gotten Abuela’s summons, but to the second one. By then, I’d realized that I couldn’t just do what needed to be done and return to my life unchanged. Unscathed. I’d discovered that, despite everything, I still cared about these people, and I knew how vulnerable that made me. I’d been scared.

I pulled the big sunglasses from my purse and put them on, in part to mute the sun’s glare, but more to hide the prick of tears as I remembered the pilgrimage I’d made that day. In my mind, it was almost like I was there again, seeing her gravestone through the swirling mist. Feeling the moisture that soaked the grass, and hearing the crash of waves and the cry of seabirds. Listening, once more, for her voice.

When I reached the car, I paused a moment to say a prayer to my personal saint. This time, though, it was a prayer of gratitude. For her presence, that somehow I still felt, and for the wisdom and the courage I could always draw from it. “You were right, madre de mi corazon. It was time.”

I fired up the Kia, and got the air conditioning going. Before I hit the road, I sent a quick text to Lourdes and Katie:

Homeward bound.

– The end

~o~O~o~

Acknowledgements

It’s a cool morning here in New England, and the leaves on the maples have already past the peak of their autumnal color. It’s hard to believe that I posted the first chapter of this story when snow was on the ground, nine months ago. For those of you who took the long journey with me, thank you. An extra thank you, as well, for every kudo that you left; sometimes, when the muse is absent, it’s hard to keep going. To fight the inner voice that says, “will anyone really care, if I miss the deadline this week? Or even just leave the job unfinished?” Your support makes all the difference.

It feels like every series develops its own community in the comments, and each community is unique. The community for this story was different, for example, than the community for Maximum Warp, even though some of the same people participated in both. It’s a different moment, and this is a different story. There were so many wonderful, thoughtful comments. I read every one and thought about them, and the story was better as a result. Sometimes I can even show exactly where and how (just by way of example, something that happens in this last chapter was triggered by a point BarbieLee made all the way back in Chapter 3!).

So thank you, thank you, thank you, to Dallas, Kimmie, Patricia, Joanne, Andrea, Rachel, Barbie, Erisian, Dorothy, Marco (“CuriosityItself”), Iolanthe, Catherd, Kay, Alyssa (“Kit”), Greybeard, Rebecca (“Sunflowerchan”), RobertLouis, Erin, Gillian Cairns, Sara (“SaraKel”), Shayna, AlisonP, Ricky, Eric, Bru, David (“DAB2640”), Max, Dave (“Outsider”), SammyC, Sue Ross, Taryn, Theide, Athena, Dee, Francesca, Hedwigdottir, Intrigue75, LisaCharlene, Mondial, Ms. Woolly, Samantha, Steph, Stillian, Tiffany, and tmp. Thank you for reading, for commenting, and for participating in this story’s community.

There were a couple of individuals who provided particular help at different points in this process. JessicaNicole gave me pointers on Spanish idioms, and Dallas Eden backstopped me on issues related to firearms and the scenes involving the shooting range. Joanne Barbarella and Sara Keltaine helped me think through the story as far back as a year and a half ago, when I was trying things out and writing drafts of some initial chapters.

But I have to save my final word for the amazing Rachel Moore (“Rachel MnM”), who gave me detailed feedback on something like 30 chapters of this behemoth. Rachel gets my characters and what I am attempting to achieve with each scene, and she’s not afraid to tell me when I’ve missed the mark. As always, you da bomb, Chica!

Good night, and joy be with you all!

Emma Anne Tate
20 October, 2025

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.