Page 75 of Roaming Holiday

I slip my shoes on and step into the heat, which is only amplified by the patio’s unshaded tile. The swirling tile designs make a path to the garden on the side of the house. All the while, she chats with Olive in Maldanian.

“Osé?” I ask, motioning to the array of growing vegetables that she might want. Callie has me pick the ones that she can’t easily reach, and hands me the phone so she can do some of it herself.

I expected to see Olive, but Cora smiles back at me. The expression in her bright blue eyes turns heartfelt. “Thank you, Nina.”

“What for?”

“Bringing Wesley back to us.”

Butterflies brush my stomach. “Oh, I don’t think I can take credit for that. It’s only luck that our car broke down.”

“Physically, sure. But I got a real glimpse at the brother I hadn’t seen in a really long time. I have a feeling that you’re part of the reason.”

“I, uh… we just—we just work together.”

She waves off my response. “Whatever the situation, I’m thankful for it.”

“Thankful for what?” Wesley says, coming up behind me and reaching for the phone.

“Seeing your ugly face.”

He places a hand on his heart. “Ouch, and to think you cared.”

So badly I want to shake Wesley and say this is what I wanted. The love he has for his family is genuine—and I got to see that even though I wish his broad smile was because of me.

36

WESLEY

We hang up the phone with Cora and Mom before eating dinner, and Niassa’s cooking is as good as I remember.

This house is steeped in memories. I should’ve told Nina we were coming here; the alternative was to wait up to three hours in ninety-degree weather before continuing onto a four-hour drive.

Telling her right away would mean explaining what my grandparents are like and, eventually, why I haven’t seen them in at least four years. I had to remind myself of those things first, which are consistently accompanied by the searing guilt and pain from what I let my life turn into. Daria had warned me to cut off my family a dozen times before I did. I could pretend for as long as I pleased, but physical scars are harder to hide.

Those were in the beginning of my life underground, when I was stubborn and craving action. I’d eliminate a target, fight my way out, escape wounded, and hunt the witnesses. It didn’t take long before death’s weight crushed my will. I cleaned myself up by the time Santiago became my sole employer.

Mom’s petrified expression at the scars littering my body is burned into my mind. The ensuing arguments made me realize that if I loved them even a little, I had to go. I became someone they didn’t recognize, didn’t raise. I became The Ghost.

But tonight, I came home. My mother was smiling at me again. My grandfather didn’t look scared of me.

“You like her, huh?” Niassa says, pulling me from my thoughts. Before I can answer, she adds, “Don’t lie to me, Wesito. You were a lovestruck boy at dinner.”

Nina is watching the sunset under the gigantic oak tree in the backyard. Every so often, I crane my neck from my seat at the kitchen table to check on her. “I’m not that obvious.”

“You are to your grandmother. Tell her how you feel.” Again, before I can answer, she adds, “And don’t you dare tell me it’s complicated.” She wags a finger at me. Growing up, it was nearly impossible to get away with something. Her perception is unnatural.

As much as I want to tell Nina everything, I know it would be selfish. She’s been through turmoil the last couple of months, and adding myself to the mix won’t help. I can’t do that to her. And not to mention my past; I couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“Niassa, I can’t.”

I’m grateful she doesn’t push the subject. She hands me a glass of water filled with fresh fruit. “Then don’t let her watch the sunset alone. Take this to her.”

I pretend my grandmother isn’t being a wingman as I head toward the woman sitting on a blanket under a tree. When Nina hears me approaching, she glances over her shoulder, the sunlight outlining her per usual. Mi angeli. My angel. She smiles.

“Hey.”

“My grandmother made this for you. It’s just water with a bunch of fruit. She drinks it almost every day in summer.”

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