Page 21 of Legal Trouble

Noah wrenched his eyes closed and told himself a sudden gust of wind made them water, not a punch of emotion. Through all the darkness in his past, despite everything he’d put his parents through—and he’d put them through a lot—MamáandPapáhad remained steadfast at his side. After a tragedy in his youth, he’d crumpled under the weight of a grief no child should have to carry, and he’d turned to drugs and alcohol to dull his pain. And in the process, he’d nearly cut his life short.

Eventually, Noah had put his life back in order, but some sins could not be forgotten—or forgiven. Some sins haunted a man forever, and he knew his sins would haunt him until the day he died, a fate he fully deserved.

Because of him, a young girl was dead.

Hello,awkward. Thy name is Emma.

Emma didn’t know how to handle Esmerelda Whitlow. She kept her arm looped with Emma’s as they glided through the restaurant. Esme stopped at every table and addressed nearly everyone by name, the bracelets at her wrists jangling as she waved and gestured. Her tone was like warm honey as she bounced between Spanish and English. She talked like a marathoner ran, with purpose, stamina, and grace. She didn’t talk for talking’s sake, though. Everyone she spoke to seemed happier for spending those few moments in her presence. She was, in a word, dazzling.

Esme ushered Emma to an outdoor patio. Color bloomed through the space, and confetti covered the grounds and tables. Balloons stretched toward the night sky. In the center of the area, beneath an enormous archway of bright, beautiful paper flowers, a woman sat in a chair. Half a dozen enthusiastic kids surrounded her. One word from their conversation jumped up and caught Emma’s ear:bisabuela. They’d called her great-grandmother.

“She’s your mother,” Emma said, her words not a question but an exclamation.

“She is. She’s called Isadora, and she’s the reason we’re here tonight.”

Now that Emma was looking for it, she could see the resemblance between the ageless beauty beside her and the woman beneath the flowers.

Emotion knotted in Emma’s chest. She’d thought Noah had brought her here because he’d been embarrassed to be seen with her when, in fact, he was sharing her with his family. This wasn’t normal for a first date. She’d had so few of them, but no one had ever taken her to meet his family. Heck, family was such a foreign concept that the sight of all these smiling faces crowded together in this old-fashioned space nearly brought Emma to tears.

How different would her life be now if she’d had a family like this growing up?

Esme’s arm still draped through hers, the words came out before Emma could stop them. “I don’t remember my mother. She died when I was two. I don’t even remember what she looked like, just that her hair was like fire.”

“Oh,Chiquita, lo siento.” Esme wrapped her in a motherly embrace and drew her close. “Lo siento mucho.”

“No,I’msorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Hush now.” Esme stroked a hand down Emma’s hair. “Never apologize for speaking what’s on your heart. It’s somethingmipapáused to say. Then, he’d play me something on the piano to cheer me up.”

Emma ran the backs of her hands over her cheeks in case any tears had leaked free, but thankfully, her cheeks were dry. “If you had a piano available, I’d love to do just that. Playing always cheers me up, too.”

“Then, you’re in luck. Follow me.”

Esme steered Emma into a room partitioned off from the party by a sliding patio door, where a battered upright piano sat in the center of a small stage.

“It was my father’s.” Esme pulled the door closed, and the party chatter faded away.

Emma sat on an equally battered bench, lifted the piano’s lid, and smoothed her fingertips over the keys. She played a quick C major scale with her right hand and then an E minor with her left. Despite its age and apparent use, the instrument was well-tuned, so it wasn’t so much battered as well-loved. She could easily picture generations of Esme’s family gathered around this at one time or the other as music rang through the air.

Emma couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “As a kid, I wanted to learn to play piano more than anything, but my father thought it was a stupid waste of money. So I made arrangements with a local instructor to clean her house in exchange for lessons. Then, when my father…” She danced around a truth she didn’t want to speak. “…when he went away, my older brother took me in, and he bought me a keyboard. It wasn’t anything special, but it was full-sized. I paid for most of my college with a music scholarship.”

“Would you play something for me?Papá’sbeen gone for years, but hearing someone play always makes me feel close to him.”

“I know just the thing,” Emma said.

Esme draped herself elegantly over the top of the scarred piano. How many times, Emma wondered, had the older woman adopted a similar position as her father played for her?

As the music welled inside her, Emma closed her eyes and blocked out everything else. Muscle memory taking over, the pinky and index fingers of her right hand moved, delicate taps of the keys, like fairies dancing on ice, and the opening strain ofFür Elisefilled the air. This song began her love affair with the piano. As a tribute, she’d played it on her senior recital. Her brother had sat in the front row, so proud and handsome in his dress uniform, a smile splitting his face. It had been a perfect moment, and in her mind, she often went back there when she needed to escape reality.

For her, music was a magical portal, a way to step from the present and slip into a place where problems didn’t exist. The gentle rise and fall of this phrase was like being adrift on a raft in a calm ocean, but then the intensity changed. Now, she was spinning, faster and faster, dizziness overtaking her—until she fell back into the swaying raft again.

The phrase turned once more, this time going frantic with the slightest pounding on the keys. She was running, running, running… Then, she was back on the raft one last time, lost and content in the melody as she drifted away.

The last note played, Emma remained like a statue, suspended in the moment, but applause brought her back to reality. She turned to find the glass doors open. Isadora stood with Esme on her left and Noah on the right. Behind them, Junior stood with a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

Isadora curved her lips in a bittersweet smile, and tears shone in her eyes, making them sparkle like the stars in the overhead sky. She hobbled toward Emma, but Emma didn’t dare move, too afraid to break whatever spell had fallen over the party.

Before sitting beside Emma, Isadora grabbed a black binder. Hands trembling, she held it out to Emma. “My, myesposo—husband—played. This is his...”

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