Page 58 of Vaquero
The time of grievinghadto end, because—if it didn’t—if he never let the sorrows of his past go—they would kill him. He had to relinquish the pain of losing Tomas and his anger at Bianca’s selfishness. He had to, or those negative emotions would destroy him.
Oddly, he suspected that his walking into the Pacific to kill himself might have pleased Bianca. She would’ve wanted something dramatic like that. She would’ve relished the attention of being a sailor’s widow. She’d always expected much from others but offered little in return. He had no doubt that his total sacrifice would’ve pleased her.
But Tomas? Julio knew in his heart that his son had truly and purely adored his father. That as tiny as he’d been when he’d passed, Tomas was in a better place now. Bianca had never been really happy anywhere. No doubt she was still as miserable as ever.
A bird on some nearby branch chose that precise moment to sing its warbling song. The brightest, clearest novena that Julio had ever heard burst out of the unseen bird’s throat. It was nothing less than an innocent, ordinary creature’s magnificent glory to God in the highest. A trumpet could not have formed more perfect, clarion notes. The music rang sweet and pure, straight up into the heavens. It touched his heart.
And Julio knew. Wherever heaven was, Tomas was there, and he was running with other children, squealing and dancing and playing and singing and…Dios!Tears Julio had never let fall, welled in his eyes now. Only these tears didn’t blind him. Instead, they let him see.
Quietly, he choked back the pain of losing his child again. His baby! His son! Yet as he choked, the pure love of Tomas echoed through that little bird’s song—straight to him.
Yes. Glory to God in the highest for giving that perfect child to me. Sucking in a cleansing breathe, Julio let his past go. His chest and belly expanded with the hope of a brand-new day. Because God had sent an angel to Julio, and that angel was Tomas. He wouldn’t want his father to waste away in sorrow. From the day he’d been born, Tomas had loved Julio as only a child could—with all his little boy heart. He’d been the single bright light in a life Julio now realized had been bleak and unforgiving. Tomas would want his father to be just as happy as he was now.
Meg’s sweet palm was at Julio’s jaw again, cupping him as he wept. He was making a fool of himself, yet Julio couldn’t stop. The floodgates had opened. With every tear that fell, a piece of heartache washed away. Meg was the answer he’d needed all along. She’d helped him remember, and she’d showed him what he’d professed he’d known all along. But hadn’t truly understood. Life, no matter how hard or difficult, was still worth living.
Blinking hard, he bowed his chin to his chest. There Meg lay, like a queen in his arms, her soft emerald eyes glowing with emotion. He saw sadness there, but he also saw compassion and trust, discipline and honor. He saw a warrior who had just fought at his side, one who’d given all she had to give. One who would’ve fallen to her death, tumbling out of this tree, rather than let him, Hotrod, or Charlie down.
Pursing his lips, Julio blew the regret he’d carried in his heart for too damned long, away. He let it go. All of it. The grief. The guilt. The agony. At long last, he just breathed. It was time. Tomas would want his father to do that. Julio did, too. Because Julio finally understood.
Life was a gift.
