closed their eyes briefly in the approximation of a pre-meal blessing that the Cortez family had settled on. Eva Cortez didn’t believe in digging right in, but no one else believed in praying out loud.
The moment of silence gave Grace a peaceful sense of being at home. It didn’t last long.
“Grace,” Abuela said. “If you’re going to call on your gift, you know you need to pay the price, or the price will be taken twofold.”
Grace sighed.
“Abuela, I’m a police officer and this is a small town. I can’t just let my urges take over. And besides I wouldn’t want to - not really.”
Abuela put down her spoon.
“Listen to yourself, Nieta,” the older woman urged. “When your friend Ainsley didn’t want to be a wolf, what did you tell her?”
Grace sighed.
“That she needed to accept her true nature and embrace who she is.”
“This is who you are, Gracie. You’re special. It’s not your magic that makes you that way, but your magic is a part of you as much as your determination or your wit, or even your arms and legs.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Grace returned. “All you get is a craving for sweets and cigars.”
“At my age those extra helpings of dessert add up!”
Abuela laughed her surprisingly deep laugh and patted her little belly.
“You know, it wasn’t always this way,” Abuela said, hopping up to pour more tea.
Grace could feel a story coming.
“When you’re young and your blood runs hot, the magic has a bigger appetite. It triggers the emotions that already run so close to the surface of youth. You are lucky. For me it was anger. Any time I used my gift, I got mean as a snake for days at a time unless I found a way to let it out. One time I tried to keep it bottled up too long and ended up punching the shift-boss at the mushroom farm.”
“Abuelo?”
Abuela smiled, and for a moment looked thirty years younger.
“I felt so bad about it, and I was so scared to lose the job. I made him a big pot of my special Pozole. Once he got a taste, he forgot all about the punch. I made him a lot of Pozole over the years.”
Grace smiled sadly and thought of her abuelo in the rocker on her parents’ front porch. He was never too busy for a story or a boxing lesson.
“I miss him.”
“So do I. But he is always here with us.”
Grace straightened and looked around.
“Do you mean…?”
Abuela laughed again but softly this time.
“No, sweetie. Not like that. In our hearts and minds, same as anyone you love.”
“Did you ever think about…?” Grace knew her abuela could contact those who had passed on. They’d used those special skills together to try to contact Ainsley’s parents for her after their death. They had ended up getting a bit more than they had bargained for.
“Goodness, no,” Abuela said, shaking her head emphatically. “Your abuelo worked hard to get us to a place where we would be accepted for who we are. He deserves some rest. I’ll see him in good time. Meanwhile, don’t you feel bad or ashamed for one minute about any part of you. He would be proud of you. We all are.”
Their moment was ruined by the ringing of Grace’s mobile phone. The ringtone told her it was from the station. If no one picked up right away, incoming calls got bounced to one of the deputies’ phones. Dale was probably on the other line with his wife. Grace grimaced.
“Go on, then. You don’t get to be sheriff by ignoring your job.”
Grace stepped into Abuela’s bedroom.
“Officer Kwan-Cortez.”
“Um…I’m Lilliana.” The voice wavered, and she sounded a little muffled. “I’m a teaching assistant at the college. I…I have some information about the assault on the woman on Princeton Avenue.”
Grace thought quickly. No one should know that it was an assault. They hadn’t released any information at all to the public. Grace hasn’t even shared her suspicions with the other officers. She couldn’t, until she had something solid to go
The moment of silence gave Grace a peaceful sense of being at home. It didn’t last long.
“Grace,” Abuela said. “If you’re going to call on your gift, you know you need to pay the price, or the price will be taken twofold.”
Grace sighed.
“Abuela, I’m a police officer and this is a small town. I can’t just let my urges take over. And besides I wouldn’t want to - not really.”
Abuela put down her spoon.
“Listen to yourself, Nieta,” the older woman urged. “When your friend Ainsley didn’t want to be a wolf, what did you tell her?”
Grace sighed.
“That she needed to accept her true nature and embrace who she is.”
“This is who you are, Gracie. You’re special. It’s not your magic that makes you that way, but your magic is a part of you as much as your determination or your wit, or even your arms and legs.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Grace returned. “All you get is a craving for sweets and cigars.”
“At my age those extra helpings of dessert add up!”
Abuela laughed her surprisingly deep laugh and patted her little belly.
“You know, it wasn’t always this way,” Abuela said, hopping up to pour more tea.
Grace could feel a story coming.
“When you’re young and your blood runs hot, the magic has a bigger appetite. It triggers the emotions that already run so close to the surface of youth. You are lucky. For me it was anger. Any time I used my gift, I got mean as a snake for days at a time unless I found a way to let it out. One time I tried to keep it bottled up too long and ended up punching the shift-boss at the mushroom farm.”
“Abuelo?”
Abuela smiled, and for a moment looked thirty years younger.
“I felt so bad about it, and I was so scared to lose the job. I made him a big pot of my special Pozole. Once he got a taste, he forgot all about the punch. I made him a lot of Pozole over the years.”
Grace smiled sadly and thought of her abuelo in the rocker on her parents’ front porch. He was never too busy for a story or a boxing lesson.
“I miss him.”
“So do I. But he is always here with us.”
Grace straightened and looked around.
“Do you mean…?”
Abuela laughed again but softly this time.
“No, sweetie. Not like that. In our hearts and minds, same as anyone you love.”
“Did you ever think about…?” Grace knew her abuela could contact those who had passed on. They’d used those special skills together to try to contact Ainsley’s parents for her after their death. They had ended up getting a bit more than they had bargained for.
“Goodness, no,” Abuela said, shaking her head emphatically. “Your abuelo worked hard to get us to a place where we would be accepted for who we are. He deserves some rest. I’ll see him in good time. Meanwhile, don’t you feel bad or ashamed for one minute about any part of you. He would be proud of you. We all are.”
Their moment was ruined by the ringing of Grace’s mobile phone. The ringtone told her it was from the station. If no one picked up right away, incoming calls got bounced to one of the deputies’ phones. Dale was probably on the other line with his wife. Grace grimaced.
“Go on, then. You don’t get to be sheriff by ignoring your job.”
Grace stepped into Abuela’s bedroom.
“Officer Kwan-Cortez.”
“Um…I’m Lilliana.” The voice wavered, and she sounded a little muffled. “I’m a teaching assistant at the college. I…I have some information about the assault on the woman on Princeton Avenue.”
Grace thought quickly. No one should know that it was an assault. They hadn’t released any information at all to the public. Grace hasn’t even shared her suspicions with the other officers. She couldn’t, until she had something solid to go
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