.

in love. He closed his eyes and savored the rich flavors on his tongue.

      “I’m the one that’s grateful. Thank you for braving the storm and helping me cover Esperanza.”

      He opened his eyes. He really shouldn’t have been surprised by anything she said. “You name your plants?”

      She smiled again, but this time it was a little tighter, not as bright. “It’s an Esperanza plant, the same name as my daughter. I planted it as a memorial for her.”

      Great going, Garrett. “Well, it’s a beautiful plant. And a beautiful name. It means hope, right?” He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Looks like we covered it in time.”

      Maybe he should leave...instead of staring at her like an idiot. Obviously, she no longer had her daughter. The baby stuff she said she had, it must have been...another reminder that children couldn’t always be protected from bad things. And now he was responsible for two who already had a tragic backstory. He took a deep breath and set the spoon down, his appetite gone. “Thanks for the soup.”

      “I’m glad I had it here for you. Are you finished?”

      A nod was all he managed. She took everything to the sink. The lights flickered as the thunder rolled through the house. She tilted her head toward the ceiling. “Doesn’t sound like it’s letting up.” The lights wavered again. “Follow me—I’ll show you the baby stuff I have ready for you and Pilar.” She walked through an archway that took them into a living room. Several mix-and-match sofas and chairs made for a welcoming room. He was surprised by the white sofa. The red floral sofa he expected, but the white one? How did she keep it clean? He didn’t know anyone who actually dared to have white furniture. Red, white and blue pillows and blankets were everywhere. Yellow flowers were tucked into odd containers all over the room. It looked well lived-in, the site of years of family events and memories.

      “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I appreciate you playing the sax on the balcony. When I’m working in the studio, I open my door to listen. You should come to church with me one Sunday. Pastor John is really into music. Did you ever play in a band?”

      He nodded and followed her around the furniture that looked as if they’d been salvaged from an old barn. “All through school, and when I joined the Marines, I played for them, too.”

      “Wow.” She stopped in front of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase and looked up at him, making him feel taller than his six-one. “I would have taken you for a football player, you know, the warrior type. I don’t think of soldiers as musicians. Do you play any other instruments?” She tilted her head as if trying to recalibrate what she knew about him.

      “I was a total band geek, marching and jazz. I play some strings, too, but I prefer the sax. I didn’t get any size on me until later in high school—I wasn’t a jock.” He cleared his throat. She looked as if she wanted to add him to her collection of odd animals now.

      He glanced at the shelf behind her, and a wooden display with a folded flag caught his eye. The flag sat above some medals and a picture of a young Hispanic male in dress blues. Next to that was a wedding picture. A very young Anjelica in a white wedding dress standing in the arms of the same soldier. Letters were etched into the wood: Estevan Diego Garza.

      She turned and looked behind her. “Oh, that’s my husband, Steve.”

      “He was a marine, too.” Way to go and state the obvious, Garrett.

      “Yes, one of the heroes that didn’t come home.” Graceful fingers touched the picture. “Being a hero was his life’s dream. He planned to become a firefighter or EMT when he got home.” A bright flash flooded the room in blinding light. Then everything went dark and silent.

      He reached out to touch her arm, but the lights were on again and she had her happy face back in place. “I’m sorry. I’m going on and on. You’re here to see the baby stuff.” A few steps and she opened a white painted door.

      Nerves started crawling again. Garrett’s skin became too tight for his body. The urge to escape and go back to his simple rooms had him feeling edgy. There was nothing wrong with beige. Beige was calming, very calming. A peaceful color for kids who needed a quiet place to heal. He liked quiet places.

      Concern in her eyes, Anjelica placed a gentle touch on his arm. “Are you okay?”

      She was the one who’d lost her soldier and a baby, but she was worried about him?

      “I’m good. We need to get this settled so I can figure out the next steps I need to take to make this right.”

      “Garrett, it’s not your fault the way things played out.”

      A corner of his mouth twitched. She actually had him smiling. “I don’t think that’s what you were thinking earlier.”

      “Guilty. Sometimes we dive headfirst into conclusions and judge too fast. Sorry. So are you ready to see the stuff?”

      “Lead the way.”

      * * *

      Anjelica stood at her daughter’s door. She had put so much planning and time into decorating this space. Each step had been documented and sent to Steve, along with images of her growing belly.

      Five years ago, she spent hours in that rocking chair, crying until every part of her body ached. After a while, she was able to visit the room without crying. The sadness was still there, but softer. The last few months, she kept telling herself to call her mom and sisters so they could help her pack it up.

      Now she knew God had another plan for this room. “Garrett, most of what Pilar will need is here.” She turned on the overhead light and waited for him to join her.

      In the middle of the room, she stopped and took a deep breath before she turned back to him. “This would have been Esperanza’s room. Nothing has ever been used.”

      Garrett stood in the doorway and scanned the room with a slow steady movement. “I can’t take your stuff from here.”

      “Why not? I was to the point of packing it up. It was made for a little girl. Everything your daughter needs is waiting for her.”

      His head jerked up. “She’s not my daughter.” Both hands dug into his hair, interlocking the fingers at his neck. With his head back, he closed his eyes and blew out a slow waft of air. “I guess by tomorrow she’ll be my daughter.” He closed his eyes, his jaw working twice as fast as before.

      She wanted to put her arms around him and soothe the pain. Instead she stepped away and placed her hand on the quilt draped over the rocking chair. Buela had made the blanket. “Garrett, you can do this. I think God brings people into our world that need us and vice versa. It’s been heavy on my heart that all the stuff was being wasted.” She walked to the white crib that was tucked into a colorfully painted cove that had once been a closet. Pink and green triangle flags hung over the bed. “Please let me give it to Pilar and your son.”

      Confusion marred his strong face as he watched her. “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of helping us?”

      Adjusting the blankets they had picked out so long ago, she smiled at his cynicism. “I can’t save every child out there, but I can help you save these two.” If she wasn’t careful, she was going to cry. She feared he would misunderstand and this could all fall apart. She stiffened her spine as she turned and glared at him, making sure not to show any weakness. “Stop being so suspicious and say thank you.”

      He walked around the room. Touching the rocking chair, setting it in motion. He saw the bags full of new supplies and clothes. “What’s this?”

      “While you were sleeping, I called a few of my family members and ladies from the church. They gathered some stuff you’ll need for the children.”

      In front of the chest of drawers, he stopped and looked at the wall.

      She had painted Esperanza across the upper part of the wall, surrounded by stars and butterflies. The whole room was decorated