Reckless Kiss

As much as I want to rail at her, her behavior since the shooting has quelled my impatience. For all her misguided beliefs, she’s making steps in the right direction, and it’s progress I’d like to continue.

“I’m going to make it right.” Leaning back in the leather chair, I straighten the cuff of my shirt beneath my blazer.

“How do you propose to do that?” She leans back in her desk chair, steepling her fingers at her chin.

Pushing off my thighs, I stand. “I’ll get Rich to help me determine the market value of the land, and I’ll gift it to the family.”

“No.” Winnie stands, holding up her hands. “I don’t want any part of this. What Manuel did was wrong. He seduced your grandmother, and my father was entitled to his revenge.”

“I confess I’m surprised to hear you take this position. You saw your mother’s letters, her complaints of neglect…”

“It doesn’t excuse what happened.”

“No, but it puts it in perspective.” Pausing at the door, I squint back at her. “I’m not doing it for my grandfather. I’m doing it for Angel.”

“It’s water under the bridge.” My aunt walks around the desk. “From what I gather they don’t need the money anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter. I promised Angel I’d fix things, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Winnie shakes her head, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Some things can’t be fixed.”

“This can.”

Beto’s house looms large and empty over the tree-lined road. I remember the first time I came here, and it was filled with music and dancing and family.

It’s a shadowy husk of that night—a night that ended in violence.

Looking up at the stone structure, I can’t help thinking he put himself here. His stubbornness, his vendetta, his refusal find common ground.

“You have to be able to see things from all sides if you’re going to change.” Valeria had said that night two weeks ago in the hospital waiting room.

It was the night she lowered her walls and we became friends.

Now I’m hoping I can do the same with this angry lone wolf. I press the button for the doorbell and wait. Minutes pass, and no one comes.

I follow the walk around to the back patio, where I smell cigarette smoke and music playing softly.

“Beto?” I open the metal gate carefully. “You back here?”

He’s at the iron table, a tumbler of clear liquid in front of him and a cigarette smoldering in the ash tray. He’s in a white tee this time with his black hair back in a small ponytail.

When I step through the gate, his dark eyes flicker up to mine, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a while. “What do you want?”

“Something we’ve never done.” Squaring my shoulders, I enter the patio.

“What’s that?”

“I want to have a civilized talk with you.”

He huffs a laugh, lifting the cigarette from the tray. “Is that so?”

I’m wearing a gray suit, and I don’t plan to stay long. I’ve got a plane to catch in an hour, and I’m looking forward to spending this evening miles away.

Reaching into my breast pocket, I take out one of two long envelopes. “For the past month, I’ve been searching for answers. I went to Harristown, I went to the county seat, then I went home. Y

ou know what I learned?”

“I’m not playing games. Tell me or get out.”