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I was in my bedroom, door closed because Gina had been working the night shift at the hospital, and it was early morning, so she’d just gotten to bed. I called my mother and set up a time to meet later in the day. She lived an hour outside of the city, so I took my time to get ready, to think of what I’d say. She had no idea I’d gotten involved with Ursin Miller—no one did. We were going to come out as a couple at the end of summer. My throat ached from the constant ball, torturing me with tears and the reminder he was with me for far too short of time.
At noon, I was at my mom’s little cabin out in the country, outside the county limits. She’d been living there since my father’s incarceration and had no intention of moving back to the city. She also changed her name to her mother’s maiden name, Sanchez, and I had too. It was our way of starting over by going back to her roots.
We sat outside on plastic lawn chairs overlooking a wide-open field and blue-blue sky. It was peaceful. No question. Finally, after I’d left Ursin’s house, I felt like I would be okay.
“My darling girl, what is wrong?” My mother reached over the small table between us to touch my hand on the armrest. “I haven’t seen this side of you in a very long time.”
“Since Dad?” I met her eyes.
She smiled, nodding. “You were not your best when he was around. You were always … worried.”
I dropped my gaze to my lap. I’d worn my maxi-dress, and it didn’t quite feel right on me anymore. “Yeah, I never knew what would happen.”
“A lot of things happened, my love. A lot.”
I waited, feeling the breeze on my face. I closed my eyes and reveled in the vastness of nature and its ability to make a person feel whole. Or at least less broken.
“Do you remember the young lawyer who was a part of the DA’s office who prosecuted Dad?” My stomach roiled. Mom would see right through this question. I couldn’t hide anything from her.
She paused. If she had not worn sunglasses, I would no doubt catch her staring at me. Analyzing.
“You’re talking about Ursin Miller, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” We turned to face each other at the same time. And she took off her sunglasses, her dark eyes staring into me, my soul. She smirked. “He’s the DA now. Did you know?”
I nodded.
She surveyed me. “You have to tell me what you need to know. I can’t read your mind.”
She wouldn’t want to.
“You told me a long time ago that Dad murdered his father, and that was why he was determined to take down Dad and his cartel.”
“Yes, that’s not a secret, I’m sure.”
I wet my dried lips. “You also said that Agent Miller was on Dad’s payroll and he was murdered because Agent Miller betrayed Dad. Do you remember telling me that?”
My mother stood and paced in front of the two chairs. Distress colored her face, and I wasn’t sure if she’d say anything more. I thought she’d walk into the house and act like I never asked the question.
“I knew this day would come that you’d ask questions about your father’s trial. But I can see that you want to know about Ursin Miller and his father. Am I right?”
I nodded, feeling relief. Truth would come to light, and then I would know for sure I didn’t just ruin my relationship for nothing.
“Okay,” she whispered and sat back down. She looked out at the field before she spoke. “I will tell you everything about that, but you have to tell me why you are asking now.”
The answer was on my tongue. I loved him. But I caught it before it came out and confused, conflicted my mother.
“By chance, we met, and we’re—”
“Say no more.” My mother nodded, and there was an exasperation and a wistfulness to her tone. “I have the proof you want. Because it’s clear to me you’ve discussed this with him.”
I looked down. “It was the right thing to do.”
A full beat of silence passed again. “I took on the burden, and I was wrong to tell you then. You were just a child. But I had no one to talk to about these things. Everyone abandoned us, remember?” She shook her head. “I suppose justice is always done. Now or later. But now it’s your burden. And his.”
My mother took the rest of the afternoon to confirm what I remembered her saying to me when I was only fourteen years old. Yes, Agent Miller had been on my father’s payroll. And had intercepted a drug deal to keep the spoils for himself. And yes, this led to his murder that the law agencies assumed was due to Agent Miller being undercover, which he was. And my mother had hard copies of evidence that never saw the light of day. Money-wiring receipts. Printed photos. And conversations transcribed from recorded conversations that were destroyed right before our home’s raid.
I could take this to Ursin and prove I would never lie to him. But what would it prove to himself? Suppose it didn’t matter anymore. What he became now was out of my hands. It was clear he’d washed his hands of me.
