cottage from the eighteen hundreds that now served as a guest house, Maddie reached the tree line behind the lake and easily found the trail that headed toward the Rocha family cemetery. There had once been a split-rail fence at the entrance through the trees, but all that remained of it was rotted wooden posts. Over the years, the path had been marked by a stepping-stone in the shape of a cross.
Dead leaves crunched and twigs snapped under her feet. She knew it wasn’t far. Just over a small hill. She trudged forward, up the incline and stopped at the top.
There it was, directly to the right of the ancient, crumbling Rocha mausoleum. The square, pink marble grave marker with the angel statue on top. The angel that haunted MJ, just as Maddie’s angel pendant haunted her. Who knew angels could bring such demons into the lives of two little kids?
Nothing’s forever. Sometimes not even death.
Maddie jogged down the slope and stopped in front of the stone that read Gina Renee Montgomery, Beloved Daughter.
She traced her fingers across the letters. MJ never questioned why his mother was buried back here, but to her it had always been strange since no one in the Rocha family had been buried in the cemetery for a hundred years.
She and MJ used to bring candy and soda here, and he would leave some on her grave. Maddie bet if she looked around hard enough, she’d find soda cans buried in the dirt, tall grass and leaves. Dr Pepper was always his favorite.
They were so young and naive. Maddie never expected the lengths she learned Enzo went to in the name of keeping up appearances. That’s what he was doing. It had nothing to do with caring for any member of his family. He was a man obsessed with wealth and power, and wealth and power came from manipulating people. He couldn’t manipulate people who didn’t fear or respect him.
She glanced up at the sky between the tree branches. What do I do, she asked anyone up there who might have an answer. She waited for a few minutes, but an answer never came. Maybe it was one of those things you had to listen for in your heart.
Giving up, she made her way back to the lake. She slipped off her shoes, sat on the bank and stuck her feet in the cool water. Mud squished between her toes, but she didn’t care. The sensation was familiar and comforting. At least some things never changed.
She startled when a rock skipped across the water and jerked her head toward the direction it came from. MJ slid his hands into his pockets and rocked up on his toes. “I thought I might find you here.” He scratched the back of his head and turned his dark eyes out over the lake. “I need a ride to the bar to get my car.”
So, she’d been relegated to the position of taxi service in his life. She guessed that was a start toward forgiveness. She stood and brushed off her shorts, wiped the mud from her feet on the grass. “Does your grandfather know I’m here?”
He shrugged one broad shoulder. “I don’t know. Why?”
Standing there with his wavy dark hair, T-shirt that shifted with his lean muscles, and long legs in worn, faded jeans, she hated how much she wanted him. She wondered if she begged him, if he’d throw her down on the grass and take her right here beside the lake. God, how she missed the feel of his hands on her, his body and lips pressed against hers.
She clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. She wanted to run away from her own mind, her own thoughts and memories. There was no escaping them here, and definitely not with him standing in front of her.
“Maddie?”
She blinked a few times, making eye contact with him—here—now, in the present where he still hated her. “Sorry. I just wondered if he knew. I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t talk about you.”
The sharpness of his words sliced through her chest. “No. Of course not.” She blinked a few more times hiding her devastation while putting on her shoes.
They hopped in the golf cart, and as she drove them back to the house, she noticed him running his fingers across his swollen bottom lip. Despite her efforts to not think about his lips, she wished she could