rushed into the room, with Fox trailing. They'd been called to the hospital as they'd left the corrida, but it wasn't until Dr. Moreno began to offer his sympathy that they understood Miguel was dead.
Carmen would have struck Maggie a backhanded blow had the physician not moved quickly to block her way. "What did you do to him?" she cried. "We left him with you for an afternoon, and now he's dead. What did you do?"
Fernanda wailed even louder. Maggie stood, but she had no real defense. She had killed him. She'd been terrified someone would die that afternoon, but she'd never expected it to be her father.
Fox waited in the background. He caught Maggie's eye and nodded. When he could make his way past Carmen, he came to her side. "What does she think you did?" he whispered softly.
Maggie had no idea but guessed the truth probably wasn't among her grandmother's suspicions. Cirilda was weeping softly, and Dr. Moreno ushered her and her mother across the hallway into another private waiting room.
Fernanda wiped her eyes on a tissue and hiccupped. "You'll tell her we did all we could, won't you?" the nurse asked.
"Yes, I will. She's mad at me," Maggie replied. "She won't blame you. Do you have a supervisor who should be informed?"
Fernanda nodded and dissolved in another bout of tears. Maggie sat down again to hug her. "It all happened so fast, and you came running when I called."
"I should have been with him," the nurse moaned. "But he was only watching the bullfights. He wasn't doing aerobics."
The three of them hadn't moved before Santos came limping into the room. He was still wearing his red suit of lights. His right calf was bandaged, and his blood-stained pink sock drooped around his ankle.
"You were hurt?" Maggie asked, panicked anew.
"The bull's horn scraped my leg as he went down. It's nothing. I was told father had been brought here. Where is he?"
"He died," Fox said before Maggie could supply a more compassionate response. "Dr. Moreno is across the hall. He'll tell you what happened."
Santos's dark tan paled. "He's dead?"
Maggie nodded. "We were watching the corrida, and he was so proud of you. He was stricken suddenly and rushed here, but he couldn't be saved."
Fox showed Santos across the hall. When he opened the door, Maggie could hear Carmen and Cirilda sobbing, and indeed, their hearts were broken. She gave Fernanda a comforting squeeze and stood to pace. Before she'd taken three steps, Rafael entered the small room. He was also still dressed in his traje de luces. They'd left the house so quickly, with such tragic results, she'd forgotten he'd have to fight a second bull.
"Santos told me Miguel was here, but as I walked in, I overheard someone say he'd died. Is it true?"
Fernanda took several gulping sobs and nodded. "We fought to save him but failed."
"He saw your first fight," Maggie told him. "He was impressed, just as you'd hoped he'd be."
Sadness softened his features. "You were with him?"
"Yes, I wanted to see you, even if I couldn't bear to watch your whole fight."
Rafael braced himself against the doorjamb. "And he just died?"
"He had a massive coronary," Fernanda interjected. "There was nothing any of us could have done."
"I understand." Rafael straightened up and came on into the room to embrace Maggie. His embroidered suit was rough against her skin, and he smelled like sweat and the bloody dirt of the bullring, but his warmth felt awfully good. She took his hand and pulled him down into a chair and sat beside him. "They may let you see him if you wait."
He laced his fingers in hers. "I'd rather remember him as he was the last time I was with him, but I don't want you to be alone."
"Thank you," Maggie replied, but she knew he'd idolized Miguel and would surely curse her name if he learned the truth. The truth would also break his heart, and she'd never reveal he might have been specially groomed to be an organ donor.
Fernanda at last gathered her resources and went to contact her supervisor. Fox returned from the other waiting room and sat down with them, but he looked as detached as Maggie felt, and she couldn't blame him. He'd never felt part of the Aragon family, even if her father had adopted him, her grandmother and aunt hadn't welcomed him. Maybe like Santos, they'd met too many of Miguel's temporary women and children to have any love left