Page 54 of Dead Set on You
My ears perk in anticipation.
“What was it?” he asks.
“Dios,” she says.God.“Prayer, Rafael. Like I taught you since you were little. That is who I turned to then, and every time since. But you see, I was so sad and lost, I had forgotten for a while.” She pats his hand. “Prayer is the easiest thing to do but the one we dismiss the most often. It is universal.”
That’s a lie.
I glance up to the ceiling, where Rafael so often seems to go for advice.
God, huh?
Anyone up there now?
Too bad I know the answer to that. Nope. Not for Annie and most certainly not for me. My heart squeezes in disappointment.
I feel Rafael’s gaze on me, and I keep my features reaction-free.
“And it worked?” Rafael asks.
“The doctors believe it was their medicine, but in my heart, I know it was prayer,” she says, her eyes on Rafael. “And if you wish, Padre Victor can meet with you—pray with you. He has better connections with the Big Guy.” His grandmother smiles, pointing up at the ceiling, a hint of Rafael’s ruefulness in the curve of her lips. “But prayer has to come from here.” She moves her hand and taps over the place where Rafael’s heartshouldbe. “So don’t lose faith.”
“I won’t,” he answers.
Abuela smiles. “Now, I have a celebration to get to,” she says. “We both do.”
She stands with surprising agility, touches his cheek, and shuffles to the door. I move to the side, squeezing into the room before she marches through me.
She stops in the doorway and says, “Ella tiene suerte de tener a alguien como túen su vida.”
I can only pick up some of the words,luckandlife, and I have neither. In fact, I’m feeling more frustrated than when we came here.
Rafael’s eyes shift to me as his grandmother leaves.
“Celebration?” I ask, not yet prepared to talk about what she said.
He toes the carpet. “Elena’s tenth birthday.”
“Something you forgot to mention?”
“We can go. If you don’t want to stay,” he says, his gaze sincere in a way that takes wind from my proverbial sails. “We can call Padre Victor or—”
“No. Stay.” I cut him off. I have some things to work out, and he may as well have a distraction instead of being mine.
Rafael disagrees with a shake of his head. “Evie—”
“I need a moment, so if you’d be a goodpartnerand go be with your family, it would mean a lot,” I say, leaving no room for argument. His mouth opens, but I cut him off. “Please.”
Rafael’s lips close around words—a rebuttal, most likely. But he’s wise enough to swallow whatever he was about to say and—too slowly—vacates the room.
Finally, I’m alone. Just me, my thoughts, and his grandmother’s words. I can actually think now that he’s gone and not looking at me in that way that makes me question if he’s a descendant of Count Dracula.
Refocusing, I think about prayer, something I once believed in. Mostly because of Annie and Great-Aunt Julia, who took us to church. Annie loved the choir’s singing, and I loved Annie and Julia, so I went. When Annie was gone, when there was no one who could bring her back—not even Great-Aunt Julia’s God—I stopped praying.
Maybe it’s time to start? Because what other option do I have? Not many. There isn’t a road map for fixing me. For getting my second chance. For checking things off my bucket list. For doing all the things I’ve put off.
So, when there isn’t a clear answer, you tryallthe possible answers.
A grandmother’s prayers or sacrificial offerings—I need to do whatever it takes.
