Preston's Honor(40)

I was tempted to simply stand out there all night staring at the stars and thinking my own happy thoughts, but I didn’t. I let myself inside quietly. My mama was sound asleep in her chair in front of the TV that was still on. I flicked it off and grabbed a blanket from her bed, going to spread it over her when she stirred slightly. A piece of paper had been in her hand, and with the movement, it fluttered to the floor.

I picked it up and looked at it with interest. A letter postmarked from Texas forwarded from our old address to our current one. Confused and deeply curious, I hesitated only a moment before I opened it as quietly as possible and read the short note written in Spanish and signed from Florencia. “Florencia,” I whispered, causing my mama to stir and open her eyes.

She blinked at me sleepily, her gaze moving to the letter in my hand and then to the open drawer of the small table next to her where I noticed more letters addressed to my mama in the same looped cursive.

I looked back at my mama in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister in Texas, Mama? I have an aunt?” It had only ever been my mama and me. I’d always longed for family, just to know something about the people I’d come from, but once I’d understood that I was a product of rape, I never brought it up—not even to ask about my mama’s side. I just didn’t want to bring up the subject, knowing where it might lead. Maybe I was ashamed of my own existence, much like mama.

She sighed. “Yes. I wrote to her only once when you were a baby. She still lived in Mexico then and I let her know I was alive. That was all.”

“I’m . . . I’m glad to know we have family—and that they’re here in the United States, too. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She waved her hand as if it had nothing to do with me anyway and my heart sunk. “She has written me several times, but I have never written her back.” I had already deduced that much from my aunt’s letter. My aunt—Florencia—had also said that their mother passed away a few months before. I wanted to pepper my mama with so many questions, but she turned her head and closed her eyes again. As I had so many times over the years, I kept the questions inside, and simply covered her with the blanket.

Once inside the bathroom, I got in the shower, the soreness as I washed bringing to mind Preston and the joy in my heart. Everything else floated away. For the first time in my life I didn’t let my mama’s remoteness bother me. With Preston’s love I could face anything. Anything at all.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Preston



I spent the entirety of the next day alternating between the shame of my actions, the blissful joy of having made love to Lia despite how it’d happened, and the weight of knowing I had to tell my brother. Cole had asked Annalia to save herself for him, but he had been far from celibate in college. He hadn’t dated anyone seriously, but his bed had rarely been empty. And he hadn’t seemed to have any guilt about it. Maybe he envisioned them becoming more serious now, but that wasn’t going to happen. And anyway, he’d be leaving at some point, perhaps somewhere far away. I hoped fervently he’d be okay with what I was going to tell him, but it wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to.

Despite the hard physical labor of farm work, my mind insisted on turning the situation over again and again. On one hand I felt guilty and dishonest, and on another I felt completely justified in my actions. Lia and I both wanted each other. And we’d both held back from telling the other the truth of that desire. For years, it seemed. We’d talk about all of that later today when there was nothing standing in the way of us being together, especially ourselves.

I sighed, thinking of that long-ago race and wondering if that’s where everything had gone wrong, suspecting it probably was. But I could hardly wrap my mind around everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I needed to sit with Lia and untangle it all slowly. All those years when I’d thought about Lia, the word that had come to mind was mine, and I’d denied it, tried to push it away. It suddenly seemed like a stupid, worthless endeavor. We’d wasted too much time.

“What are you scowling about?”

I jerked my head up at the sound of Cole’s voice. He was approaching me where I’d been washing my hands off under the spout on the side of the house. I turned off the water and used the hem of my shirt to dry them off. “I didn’t realize I was.”

“Didn’t I always tell you that your face would eventually stick that way?” He sat down on the back stairs next to the water faucet I’d been using. “I think it’s finally happened. You’re going to have to wear that grimace forever.” He moved his face into a mockery of a frown and I couldn’t help chuckling softly.

Cole pointed his finger at me. “Ah! I’ve cured you.”

I used the still-damp hem of my T-shirt to wipe at my sweaty face. I needed a shower badly. I took a few steps and leaned against the stair railing. Cole was staring out to the fields behind me. He looked tired, probably still hung over. “Doesn’t look good,” he said.

I sighed. “No.” We’d have to talk about the details of the crops, the soil, the financial outlook for this year and next once I’d gathered all the information I could—I’d probably have a good picture by the end of the week—but right now, there was a topic that was more pressing: Lia.