Falling With Grace

Javier nodded as he ran a hand down his face, exhaling and sitting back in his chair.

I grabbed the photo of Joaquin standing in the middle of the shipping yard, his yellow safety helmet atop his head as he spoke to the logistics manager—who knew nothing of Joaquin’s involvement with Andrés Ortiz.

“Keep digging.” I tossed the photograph down and grabbed another of Joaquin entering his home, his wife kissing his cheek at the door. “Leave no stone unturned. I want answers, Javier, and I want them fast.”

Who the hell was she, and why was she interested in my shipments?

He dug his thumbs into his eyelids with a ferocity that mirrored the pent-up frustration festering within me. His slow and reluctant nod carried the weight of our shared annoyance.

I released my grip on the photograph, letting it fall with a soft thud upon the table.

A lilting, feminine laugh danced through the parted windows, causing Javier and me to exchange a quick, knowing glance.

In unison, we slid our chairs back from the table, the legs scraping against the floor in eerie harmony, then made our way toward the back door, our footsteps echoing in the sudden stillness.

Beyond the glass pane, a verdant world unfolded, bathed in the gentle radiance of the descending sun. And there, amid that beauty, was Mamá and Grace, standing together, engrossed in conversation, picking tomatillos with Manuel standing guard… not where he should’ve been—not whereGraceshould’ve been.

Javier pointed, his brows furrowed. “Did you allow that?”

“No.”I scowled. “I didn’t.”

Why would I allow my prisoner to frolic in the garden? She was supposed to be chained up with sleep deprivation and starvation until she broke down and gave me the one thing I wanted the most…her cooperation.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles cracking under the strain.

Mamá gripped Grace’s shirt sleeve and handed her a bright red tomato, undoing all of the hard work I’d put into her in the last week.

Grace bit into it with a greedy bite, the juices running down her chin and onto her shirt.

Wait…”She dressed her…”

Javier tipped his head back and gave a growing sigh. “Did she shower her too? Her hair is braided and shiny.”

“I’m going to kill Manuel.”

They moved through the garden, and Mamá pointed to a small white flower.

Grace bent over, her fingers holding the delicate petals from below, and smelled it—a smile across her supple lips, stirring something inside of me.

“I’ll handle it.” Javier moved around me, and I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from interrupting the one moment Mamá seemed like herself.

It was strange. She’d been slipping away into the Alzheimer’s abyss, her spark of joy dimming every week.

But now…she engaged in conversation, her eyes alight.

It’d been a long time since I’d seen her so happy. Maybe six months or so when I announced my engagement to Nadia. As her memories faded, she’d had less and less of those days of normalcy and happiness.

And then there was Grace with a beaming smile despite her predicament.

How was that possible?

Either way, she couldn’t be left around Mamá or anyone else.

“Let me. You find Sofia.”

I let out a slow breath as he nodded and retreated to the table.

How many of these moments did she have left?