Chapter 8 - The Security of the Garden
The house in El Refugio was different now.
The pink bicycle still sat next to the front door, but the heavy iron gate had been reinforced with a commercial digital lock system, and the high stucco walls of the back garden were now lined with rows of fresh lavender, rosemary, and thick bushes of red bougainvillea that grew over the security wire.
At 7:00 PM on a Friday evening, the air was cool, smelling of wet earth and the charcoal from the small grill Gabriel had set up near the patio.
Mateo sat in a plastic high-chair under the shadow of the lemon tree, his face covered in a thick layer of mashed avocado, his small fingers busy trying to dismantle a wooden spoon. Renata sat at the wooden patio table, her white plastic brace hidden beneath a loose-fitting green summer dress, her hands carefully arranging a set of drawing pencils in a tin box.
She was drawing a picture of Thunder—specifically, Thunder wearing a cape with a silver star on it, flying over a mountain range to rescue a group of lost sheep.
"Is the cape too long, Dad?" she asked, holding up the yellow paper as Gabriel stepped out of the kitchen carrying a tray of grilled chicken and tortillas.
Gabriel leaned over her shoulder, his hand—the one with the faded army tattoo of the paratrooper wings—resting gently on the back of her wooden chair. "The cape is perfect, Renata. A good guard dog always needs a long cape so the wind can see him coming."
Thunder gave a short, affirmative bark from his spot beneath the high-chair, where he was currently waiting for Mateo to drop a piece of tortilla.
Suddenly, the intercom by the front gate buzzed with a low, two-tone chime.
Gabriel’s posture didn't change, but his eyes instantly shifted toward the small monitor mounted by the kitchen door. The screen displayed the image of a woman standing outside the iron bars—a middle-aged woman with a faded leather handbag and a tired, worried face.
It was Elena, Lorena’s older sister from Metepec.
Gabriel walked to the gate alone, Thunder walking slowly at his right hip, his head low, his ears straight. When Gabriel reached the iron bars, he didn't open the latch; he stood behind the steel mesh, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.
"Elena," Gabriel said, his voice calm, polite, and completely unyielding.
"Gabriel," the woman said, her fingers twisting the strap of her bag. "I... I know you don't want to see anyone from our side. I understand. What she did... what she did to the children was a sin. My mother hasn't stopped crying since the newspapers ran the story."
"The children are recovering, Elena," Gabriel said. "They don't read the newspapers."
"I brought some clothes," Elena whispered, lifting a small plastic shopping bag from the grocery store. "Some little shirts for Mateo and a sweater for Renata. I... I bought them with my own money, Gabriel. Not hers. I work the laundry at the hospital in Toluca. It’s clean money."
Gabriel looked at the plastic bag, then at the woman’s tired, honest eyes—the eyes of a person who had spent her life working the night shifts while her younger sister was out spending other people’s retirement funds.
He reached through the steel bars and took the bag.
"Thank you, Elena," Gabriel said. "The clothes will be useful. The winter comes early in the hills."
"Can I... can I see them?" she asked, her voice cracking as she looked past his shoulder toward the green garden where Renata’s pink dress was visible through the leaves. "Just from here? I won't say anything. I won't come inside."
Gabriel shifted his weight, his tall silhouette opening up just enough to let her see through the iron bars. Fifty feet away, Renata was currently showing Mateo her drawing, the baby laughing as he slammed his wooden spoon against the tray of his high-chair, while the warm, yellow light of the setting sun painted everything in colors of honey and gold.
Elena looked for thirty seconds, the tears running down her wrinkled face in silent, gray lines before she nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
May you like
"Thank you, Gabriel," she said, turning back toward the street where the local bus was waiting at the corner. "You're a good man."
"I’m a soldier, Elena," Gabriel said softly as he closed the master security lock on the gate. "I just know how to hold the post."
