The Heart of a Stranger by Sheri Whitefeather Page B

adjusting the blanket around her.
    He smoothed her hair, and bits of choppy information crowded his brain—dance classes, slumber parties, prom dresses.
    His sister wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was a woman now.
    And she was dead.
    Oh, God. He took a step back, watching Lourdes tuck Nina into bed. She kissed both children. Soft butterfly kisses. So sweet, so light and airy.
    Juan’s sister had drowned. A dark, cold river had swallowed her.
    He stood like a zombie. He didn’t want to remember this. He didn’t want his mind pulling him into a myriad of pain.
    Lourdes glanced up. “Are you all right, Juan?”
    He managed a quick nod, wishing he could kiss her children, too. Press his lips to their foreheads the way she’d done. “I’m fine.”
    She left a night-light on for the girls. A golden glimmer, he thought, in a mist of pink.
    â€œWill you sit on the porch with me?” he asked, after she closed the door.
    She gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    â€œI just need some air.”
    She followed him outside, and they sat in wicker chairs. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the sky dark and scattered with stars. A live oak in the center of the yard made a ghostly shadow, and the air smelled of fields, farms and ranches.
    â€œI’m starting to remember things.” He gazed at Lourdes. The porch light cast a buttery glow, illuminating the streaks in her hair. “I think I have a sister. Or had a sister. I’m pretty sure she’s dead now.”
    â€œOh, Juan. I’m so sorry.”
    â€œI can’t see her in my mind. She’s just a feeling. An emotion, I guess.” A dark cloud tugging at his heart, a nameless, faceless body floating in a river somewhere. “I don’t want to remember anything else.”
    â€œYou can’t stop your memories. They’re part of who you are.”
    â€œI know.” As the moon slipped behind the ghost-tree, Juan closed his eyes. “Cáco told me that I might start recalling bits and pieces. She told me to be prepared.”
    â€œI wish I could make it easier.” Lourdes brushed his hand, offering warmth and comfort.
    He opened his eyes to look at her, to drink her in. “Tell me about your past,” he said suddenly, wanting to know everything. All the secrets in her soul. All the mysteries of a young rancher with two small children. “Tell me about Nina and Paige’s father. Why youmarried him. Why you wanted to divorce him. How he died.”
    â€œOh, my.” She drew an audible breath. “His name was Gunther Jones, and I met him when I was in college.”
    â€œWas he another student?”
    â€œNo. Not Gunther. He didn’t think being book smart mattered. Life was fun and fast to him. He got bored easily, so he was always trying to make his own amusement.”
    â€œAnd that attracted you to him?”
    â€œYes, I suppose it did. He was so different from me. So wild, so aggressive. Gunther went after the things he wanted.”
    Juan tilted his head. “And the thing he wanted most was you.”
    She nodded. “Being with him was like riding a roller coaster with no safety bars. Thrilling, but frightening, too.”
    But the thrill must have worn off, Juan thought. “So what happened?”
    â€œI married him right after I graduated from college.” She clasped her hands on her lap. “My grandfather begged me not to. He tried to reason with me, but I insisted I was in love.” Shame edged her voice. “I left Painted Spirit and relocated to Laredo with Gunther. I walked away from this farm for a man who couldn’t even hold down a job.”
    â€œPeople make mistakes, Lourdes.”
    â€œI know. But I was such a fool to think I could change him. That once we were married, he would settle down. I’ve always been naive, I guess.”
    Juan frowned, and a fist of guilt jabbed him straight