Where Wings Grow

suddenly broken by the shrill screech of the landline phone, the one that a

ding in her chest, as if she already knew this call wouldn'

red, her voice sti

there was something in his tone, a seriousness that made her sit up ab

Fire. Foundation. What did they mean together? Wha

refighters are there now. Someone caus

s wearing, trembling. Luciano continued talking to her on the phone, his sentences staccato, writing down the condition of the building, hi

Luciano said, more quietly, almost as

ha

it's of Rafael. Burned, hal

loated between th

all Amelia managed to

melia drove without looking too closely, her frozen hands gripping the wheel. Her mind raced faster than the ca

harred wood, melted plastic, and something else, something sour, like the invisible trail of fear. The firefighters' lights were still fli

the car, a young fire

part of t

e la Vega. I'

h smoke and ash. Every step she took felt like a betrayal: of the children cared for there,

inst the frame, was the photo. Amelia saw it before it was pointed out to her.

. Her father. Implacable, with that stony face that had tormented her for so long. Soot mar

sti

and violent, as a symbol to send such a cruel message? How could they turn her family's history into

His face was tense, and as soon

is playing dirty, Amelia. This isn't just

aying anything, but her face w

t of t

melia stepped back a few feet and sat on a cement bench. She

lassroom, the first child given a scholarship. The effort invested not only i

is is a warning. They're telling us they know who we are. They want

than the smoke from the fire. How much was left unresolved in that

continue, right?"

e have to b

s of the

ing the structure. Everything pointed to the fire having started in

would be suspended until further notice. And Amelia felt that the fire hadn't consumed ju

said suddenly. "Gabriel. Tomás. Isabeli

in his eyes, there was something she

front yard. She approached the almond tree she and Gabriel had cared for so carefully and touched it with

ght of her children. Of their secret

n old wooden box she had kept since she was young. Inside, among papers,

ith the same feeling you h

no turning