Page 20 of Everything We Left Behind

Julian dribbled the ball to the center of the yard, cranked back his foot, and kicked, connecting hard with the leather. The ball soared into the air, over the adobe divide, and into Señora Carla’s yard. Julian groaned dramatically.

I waved a grill brush in the air. “Go get it before Señora Carla returns,” I said, assuming she went out to dinner as planned.

Julian darted through the wrought iron gate and ran to the neighbor’s. I scraped clean the grate and closed the lid so the grill could warm a bit more. “Ready for tacos, little man?” I asked Marcus. He pushed a toy truck across the grass.

“¡Un taco!”

“Say, ‘I want a taco.’”

“Taco!” he repeated, grinning.

“Close enough.” I smiled back.

Julian returned, ball tucked under his arm. He held open the gate for Carla. “The lady was sitting in her yard all by herself.” He blurted the words and slammed the gate. Carla jolted. She shot him a look and Julian grinned. “I told her she could eat with us.” He dropped the ball to the ground and juggled it across the yard, where he left it in the dirt.

Carla remained at the gate, even reached for it before her hand fluttered up and smoothed her hair. She’d clipped the slate tail at her nape, an elegant accent to her white-linen trousers and pale-pink blouse. She looked uncomfortable and ready to leave. She reopened the gate.

I set the grill brush aside and strode quickly across the yard. “You’ll stay for dinner?”

“I had plans to go out, but they ...” She kept her gaze focused somewhere on my chest. Her fingers flexed around the wrought iron.

“They what?” I searched her face for why she seemed indecisive about joining us.

Her expression briefly darkened, turned sorrowful. Then she schooled her features and lifted her chin. Her eyes didn’t meet mine. “They fell through.” She offered a small smile.

“Then stay,” I insisted. “We have more than enough fish.” I gently closed the gate when it occurred to me her reluctance might not have anything to do with her embarrassment over her plans falling through, or that we were strangers. “You aren’t allergic?”

“To fish? No. I love fish.” She wrung her hands.

“Then you’ll love our fish tacos. They’reel mundo famoso.” I led her across the yard and pulled out a chair at the patio table. “Drink?”

“Sí.”She sat down.

I grinned, studying her. “I bet you don’t drink tequila.” I tapped my nose and pointed at her. “Gin.”

She inhaled, the gasp just audible enough.

I clapped my hands. “Gin it is. One gin and tonic coming up.” I waved a finger, retreating toward the house. “Lime?” I called out from the kitchen slider.

“Sounds lovely.”

“Julian, come get the chips and salsa.”

After I mixed her drink and grabbed a beer for myself, Carla watched the boys while I grilled the fish. “What brings you to Puerto Escondido?”

She circled the plastic stirrer inside her glass. “It’s a place I’ve never been.”

“Have you been to a lot of places?” Julian popped a salsa-loaded chip in his mouth. He crunched loudly.

Carla frowned. “Yes, many.”

“Do you travel a lot?” Julian asked with his mouth full of chip.

Her eyes narrowed and I caught Julian’s attention, motioning at my mouth. Julian swallowed loudly. “Do you travel a lot?” he repeated.

Carla set down her glass. Condensation glistened on the base. “I used to.”

“Really? Where have you been?”

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