14. Marco
CHAPTER 14
Marco
T he cemetery was quiet, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for a sacred event. I parked my car at the edge of the lot and walked slowly, hands in my pockets, until I got to her.
Camille’s gravestone was simple and elegant, just like she’d been. The words etched into the stone— Beloved wife, mother, and friend —were true because Camille had been all that and more.
I crouched down, brushing away a stray leaf that had settled near her name.
“I’ve fallen in love, Camille,” I told her, my voice rough.
There was no avoiding that truth. I rubbed a hand over my face, sighing deeply. “I don’t even know how to do this. I should feel like I’m betraying you, but I don’t, and that makes me feel like a pendejo .”
The wind rustled softly through the trees, and my eyes filled with tears.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I’ll always love you. But I think...” My voice caught, and I had to take a breath before continuing. “I think I’m ready to let you go. But I also don’t want to let go. I don’t want to lose you again.”
I remembered my wife, her smile and her positivity.
“I’m scared she’ll be taken from me too, and then how will I go on? I can’t lose you and her.”
Since Leah had taken care of me at my place—a new fear had emerged. What if Leah got sick? What if she left me for someone else? What if I lost her?
“Maybe it’s better to end it with her now. What do you think?”
I could almost hear Camille say in her Southern accent, “ That’s just plain stupid, darlin’ .”
There was always a chance you’d lose the people you love—there were no guarantees, and I knew that better than anyone else.
“You’d like her,” I told Camille. “She’s strong and wonderful. Has a big heart. Even bigger than yours. I didn’t think that was possible. She forgives. She cares. I’m very lucky.”
And, yet, I didn’t feel fortunate. I felt like fate had written another heartbreak into my life story.
“Give me a sign, querida . Tell me what to do.”
I stayed for a while, talking to Camille and imagining her answers. Finally, when my heart was full and empty, all at the same time, I rose. As I turned to leave, I saw Isabella and Sofia standing a few feet away.
Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, her face soft with understanding, and Sofia wiped tears off her cheeks.
“Eavesdropping?” I admonished good-naturedly.
Sofia walked up to me and hugged me. " Ay, Papi, te quiero mucho ."
Isabella wrapped her arms around both of us. “Te amo, Papi.”
The three of us sat on the grass, facing Camille. I knew they came here together and sometimes alone to be with their Mama as I did.
“She’d want you to be happy.” Isabella took my hand in hers, clutching it. “You know that, right? Mama loved you so much, and she wouldn’t want you to be alone and without love.”
Sofia nodded, her expression earnest. “She’d be mad at you, actually, for not taking a chance with Leah.”
I wrapped an arm around my girls, and they leaned into me.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Isabella said softly. “After Mama, I was afraid something would happen to you.”
“Me too,” Sofia added. “But that doesn’t mean we think about it all the time and live with that fear.”
“That would make it very hard to live a normal life,” Isabella agreed with her sister.
I looked at my daughters and looked at Camille’s headstone. You raised them right, querida . Just look at how wonderful they are!
Sofia pulled away and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “We love you, Papi. And we want you to live. Really live.”
“I thought that was what I was doing.” I felt my heart ease a little.
“You were grieving Mama…you still are.” There was no judgment in Isabella’s tone, just acceptance. “But it’s time to move on. Leah seems good for you.”
“And, really, you have us to thank for her,” Sofia added cheekily.
“Absolutely. If we hadn’t gotten you those salsa classes….” Isabella grinned.
“I think Mama would like Leah,” Sofia said thoughtfully.
“Agreed,” Isabella chimed.
I listened to them talk like I used to when they spoke with Camille.
It still hurt that Camille wasn’t there to see her daughters grow so beautifully. She wasn’t there when Isabella graduated from college, and she wouldn’t see Sofia walk down the same stage she once had with an engineering degree. She wouldn’t see them get married and have babies.
“You’re gonna have to be both Mama and Papi,” I remembered Camille telling me. “When you give them a step mama, you make sure she loves them like they’re hers. Okay? And, if they don’t like her, then no go.”
The girls hadn’t spent much time with Leah, but I knew they’d like her. There was nothing to not like. She would take them into her heart and treat them like she did her children, I had no doubt. But was she ready to be in a serious relationship with me?
The woman I’d seen at her son’s apartment was desperate for her family to take her back. Did that include Kevin? It had taken me this long to get over my wife, who had passed away. How long did it take for a woman to get over a man who was still very much alive?