Page 23 of Unspoken Promises

Why does Santi have to flirt with anything with a pulse? It’s never annoyed me much, but this time it does. I don’t want him messing with Ava. She’s… valuable to this organization. I don’t need her getting twisted up with heartache like all the other women who cross Santi’s path.

“So… you speak Spanish?” Dad asks. “How is that?”

She pauses.

Too long.

Maybe it’s nothing.

“Uh… I was homeschooled, but it was a cooperative. So I wasn’t just taught by my uncle. There were others who taught me, too, and some spoke Spanish. I learned from the time I was eleven so I’ve spoken Spanish more years than I haven’t.”

Yet another unique situation surrounding the mysterious Ava Scott. She was taught by teachers who spoke English and Spanish but homeschooled? Maybe she grew up in some sort of commune.

“You were raised by your uncle?” Dad asks.

“Yeah. It was just the two of us.”

I can’t see my dad’s face but I can tell he pauses to think the same thing I am. Why would a single uncle be raising his niece? And why would he homeschool her when I sure as hell know my parents looked at school like it was much-needed babysitting sometimes. If you were a single parent, even more of a requirement.

Santi heads straight in. “What happened to your parents?”

“My mom left me with my uncle one day and never came back.”

Dad’s voice is full of sympathy. “What happened?”

“We don’t know. She just disappeared.”

“That must have been a tough thing to cope with,” Dad’s words are filled with compassion.

I glance in the rearview again. Ava rolls the window down, closes her eyes, and the breeze flaps her red hair around a wistful expression. “Hardship prepares ordinary people for extraordinary destinies.”

“Mmm,” Dad agrees.

I go quiet thinking about what she’s just said, and I have a feeling Santi’s thinking, too. Maybe it’s true that hardship is preparation. But I’ve learned all too well there are plenty of cases where hardship didn’t need to happen so good would come of it.

Cancer took our mother far too soon, and I swear to the Lord above I still would have worked as hard, been as strong… I would have made her proud no matter what. I didn’t need her to be part of some hardship to make me work toward some extraordinary destiny.

But in Ava’s case, I leave it because I want her to believe beautiful things. It would be a travesty to pour a rainstorm over her sunshine. Anyway, who am I to say what might have happened? For sure, she’s extraordinary by any measure. Still so young, obviously extremely focused to have her skill level already. Very few people have her talent, or the grit it takes to get to where she is. Programming and cracking aren’t like other topics of genius. I have yet to see someone good at it who doesn’t work many, many hours to get there.

But despite her positive outlook and focus on the good, I don’t like hearing anyone didn’t grow up with what I had. My mom left this world far too early, and in the wake was a hell of a lot of emotional damage, but my childhood was filled with boisterous joy, two parents who cherished our family and demonstrated that love by working themselves to the bone for us. There was no denying I had a childhood everyone deserves despite some very dry seasons. And there were no questions about who we were as a family or what we stood for.

Despite my demons, I have a solid foundation. I never take my roots for granted. They keep me standing tall in the toughest of storms.

Moms are special forces. That Ava never really had that in her life is a goddamn shame. Moreover, no matter how hard her uncle tried, there’s no way that curious woman in the backseat ever stopped wondering why she was left behind.

I wouldn’t wish abandonment on anyone.

It sounds like Ava’s uncle was everything to her. There was a real affection in her voice when she spoke of him at Piggleton’s.I actually felt for her. She’s a grown woman, but we’re never too old to be homesick, and her tone and body language told me she misses him.

But one thing is for sure, it’s impossible to be lonely in Echo Valley. Even if you want to be.

“What you said about destinies,” Dad asks. “Is thatyoursaying?”

“I can’t take credit. It’s CS Lewis.” She takes the opportunity to segue. “Do you like to read, Luis?”

Santi and I can’t help but both go stiff. She only went and mentioned books.

Dad’s hands rub together with enough enthusiasm to start fire. “Well, funny how you mention it. Apparently at Town Hall, it’s a chance to talk about projects, hobbies… clubs. I want to start a book club.”

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