Page 45 of Freeing Camila

“To answer your question, yes, their missions can be dangerous. But that’s why they train so hard,” Kenna answered.

“And they always have each other’s backs,” added Monica.

“But I don’t think Wade had anyone go with him,” worried Cammie.

“Then it’s probably not as dangerous as you’re thinking,” Carly said, attempting to alleviate her concerns.

“Besides,” interjected Kenna. “If he works for a company like Condor’s Overwatch, he’s probably had extensive training.”

“He was an Army Ranger before,” Cammie reported.

“See,” Ashlyn said, her voice full of confidence. “He’s been well trained. He’ll come back to you.”

Cammie nodded even though they couldn’t see it, feeling a little better at having talked to them. Needing to lighten the mood, she asked Monica about her baby. They gushed effusively about the little girl, excitedly recounting all of her amazing accomplishments and milestones she had reached. A few more minutes of laughter and easy conversation passed before they said their goodbyes, already planning their next chat.

Feeling better than she had before the phone call, Cammie dug in the plastic bag beside her and took out the plastic bottle of bubbles she’d purchased at the grocery store. It hadn’t been a planned purchase, but seeing it on the shelf, she couldn’t resist. She imagined playing with bubbles to be one of the quintessential joys of childhood and she couldn’t wait to experience it herself.

She cracked open the cap, pulled off the protective seal, and dug through the tiny opening for the stick floating inside. Leaning over so as not to drip the soapy solution on herself, she brought the stick up to her lips and blew.

Nothing happened.

Putting the wand back into the bottle, she swiped it around a few times before trying again. This time, she started to see the beginning of a bubble before it popped. Frustrated, she started the process over again. Once more, the bubble popped before it was fully formed.

“You’re blowing too hard,” a small voice from across the sidewalk said. Cammie looked up to see a little red-headed girl she guessed was around nine or ten.

“There’s a trick to this?” Cammie asked, her previous assumptions about the toy’s simplicity shattered.

“Yup,” the girl answered, popping the P.

“Can you help me?”

The little girl looked over at a woman who was reading a book on the bench across from hers. It was obvious the two were related. The little girl was the older woman’s mini-me.

“Go ahead,” the woman prompted.

The girl skipped across the path to Cammie. Oh, to be young and have that much energy. Cammie handed the bottle to her new friend, who dug the stick out and brought it to her own lips, uncaring about the mess as the liquid dripped down her arm.

In astonishment, Cammie watched as numerous bubbles formed and released from the stick. They floated through the air, their luminescent forms catching the sunlight, creating swirling rainbows of color that shimmered and danced.

“See. It just takes a little bit of breath.”

“You’re very good at this,” Cammie remarked.

“I’m a pro,” she said proudly.

“I’m Cammie.”

“I’m Kaia,” she replied, then pointed to the woman on the bench. “That’s my mom, Kali.”

Cammie offered a friendly wave; the woman, in turn, gave a quick, almost shy wave back. “She’s shy. She always says I’m her total opposite.” Kaia laughed as she blew another bubble. “She calls me bubble because of my bubbly personality.”

“Guess that’s why you’re so good at blowing bubbles,” Cammie remarked.

“Excuse me,” a new voice interrupted them. Cammie looked up to see a woman approaching. Her dark hair was long and tied back at her nape and her skin had a rich, tan hue, characteristic of many Latina women. “Do you live here?”

Cammie hesitated wondering where the woman was going with her question. “I do.”

“Great,” she breathed. “I was hoping you could direct me to a decent cup of coffee.” Cammie noticed a subtle accent in the way the woman spoke, even though her English was quite good. Judging by her complexion, she surmised that her native tongue was likely Spanish. As if triggered by some unseen force, the cruel Spanish shouts and insults she had endured during her captivity flooded back into her mind, a torrent of painful memories suddenly overwhelming her.

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