Page 76 of Deadly Evidence
The sound of Mia’s violin wafted through the open window—this time, something complex and lively, spinning through passages for which her bow was surely a blur of motion.
A deep, guttural sigh rocked through Vicente. The stubborn old Mexican was weeping.
“Oh, Vicente...” She went to him and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He jerked away, tipping his head so she couldn’t see his face. “Let me be.”
“But she’s leaving tomorrow. There won’t be another chance.”
Vicente’s head bowed lower.
“Vicente.” Anna fought the urge to shake him. “She’s your only granddaughter. Don’t lose her because of some sort of misplaced pride.”
He stood there still and unyielding as granite, until she finally gave a disgusted sigh and withdrew her hand. “So be it. It’s your loss, but I thought you were a stronger man than this.”
She was at the door before she heard his broken whisper.
“The music...it fills my heart...and tears it to pieces. Hearing her play, I know she is...mine.”
Anna paused, one hand on the door, and looked back. “Of course she is. Look at her eyes. Could there be any doubt?”
He turned toward her, his face a ravaged mask of grief. “Sí. There was. For all the years since her mother was born...and all the years since my Consuelo died.”
“I don’t understand.”
Waving his hand impatiently, he strode through the kitchen, brushed past her and headed for the barn.
Anna watched him leave, then she shut the door behind her and headed for the house. It was time for answers, and Jonah might just be the one who had them.
“What’s up, Mom?” Lacey looked up from her homework strewn across the kitchen table. “Isn’t Vicente coming up to make supper?”
Mom swooped in for a quick hug and a kiss on the side of her cheek. “He’s feeling a little under the weather. I might make something tonight and give him a break.”
Remembering the last time Mom cooked, Lacey grinned. “Or maybe Mia and I could. There’s some boxed macaroni and cheese in the cupboard, and we could heat some green beans.”
“What a nice offer, honey. I need to talk to Grandpa for a while, and then we can come up with something good, okay?”
Lacey shifted uneasily in her chair. “I don’t think he’s feeling so good. When I came home, Vicente was changing his bed...and when I looked in, he looked awful pale. He didn’t even answer when I said ‘hi.’”
“Did you see if he was using his oxygen?”
“Even sitting in the chair.” Worry slid through her as she struggled to ask the question that had been looming like a black cloud on the horizon for a long, long time. “Is...he gonna die?”
Mom gave her another hug. A tighter one, this time. “He will someday, sweetheart. We can just hope and pray that we have him as long as we can.”
Chewing on her pencil, Lacey watched her mom disappear down the hall, feeling as if a heavy weight had just settled in her stomach.
She’d known her great-grandfather wasn’t well, of course. The future had been pretty obvious for a long time. But hearing the words made it all so much morereal.
Maybe this winter, there wouldn’t be late-night checkers and card games.
And maybe there wouldn’t be those good times by the fireplace, listening to all the stories from long ago, when her great-grandpa had farmed with a team of horses and struggled to survive through the Great Depression.
Mia was already packing, and Lacey had overheard Brady tell Mom something about his “next job,” so he probably wouldn’t be around much longer, either.
Soon, there’d only be Mom, Vicente, and Dante here...and that soundedsooolonely.
Lacey ran a hand over the rubber-band bound stack of new mail on the table next to her. Her fingers caught on the ragged edge of a protruding envelope. Curious, she slipped off the band and spread the mail across the table.
