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“That’s what bothered you?” he asks, amused. “Not the killing you at the house part?”
“It’s not a date,” I repeat.
“I know.”
We continue on, and all the while, I eye him curiously. Where is he taking me?
That’s when I see an oasis created by a wide stream. Here, the grass is greener and thicker, the trees and bushes more abundant. It’s not a forest by any means, but it’s lovely, nonetheless.
I follow him to the shade beneath a pine tree, where we dismount. He ties the horses to a low branch and grabs apples from the pouch on his saddle for them.
“This place is amazing,” I say, going closer to the calm waters that flow over a rocky floor. It sort of reminds me of a fairy tale, the way the tree branches droop with their foliage and the tall grass sways in the breeze. Tiny wildflowers dot the scenery, enhancing that magical aura.
“It’s where you come when you need to breathe,” he tells me.
Breathe. Yes, I can imagine I’d do that a lot here. Fill my lungs with fresh air and expel all my worries. I shut my eyes and do it now, sucking in the scent of freedom as I inhale, then expel the ache of a past that nearly destroyed me.
When I open them, I find him staring at me intently. “What?”
“Has being here triggered anything?”
“Should it?”
He moves to the tree, running his palm over the trunk. “I brought you here shortly after you came home with me. You needed somewhere to run to. Believe it or not, you didn’t like me much then either.”
I huff. “What a shock.”
“Come.” He extends his hand to me, and I take it, allowing him to tug me near his horse. From the saddle, he removes a rolled-up blanket and a brown bag. “Are you hungry?” he asks as he sets the blanket on the ground.
“A bit.”
Sitting down, he pats the spot in front of him. “I made sandwiches.”
We eat in silent appreciation for a while, enjoying simply being. For the most part, I’m relaxed, more calm than I’ve been since I arrived at Las Cruzes. Except that every once in a while, I catch him peering at me with something in his expression I can’t pinpoint. Pity? Sadness?
“What?” I ask, unable to take the scrutiny.
“Still nothing?”
“No.” I shrug. “I’m sorry. Just tell me what it is you’re trying to get me to remember.”
“This is where you fell in love with me again.”
My lips part, but all I can get out is, “Oh.”
“Our first date was here. And this is where I asked you to marry me.”
Peering into my lap, I pretend to pick at something on my jeans. “Did you bring me here because you want me to remember, or because you’re trying to get me to fall in love again?”
“Both, I suppose.”
I swallow down the sudden knot in my throat that threatens to choke me. “It’s hard for me to imagine I’d ever forgive you for what you did. You abandoned me. You left me waiting, Santos. I waited for days and you never came back. You didn’t even bother with a note. How could I forgive something like that?”
“But you did.”
“How?” The question comes out as a plea, begging for an explanation for how I could have let go of something so painful.
“You found out what really happened. That if I’d had a choice, I would never have left you. It nearly killed me to know you were waiting for me but I couldn’t come.”
