This place in the hills had a comfortable feel to it, though, even though it was considered a mansion because of its size.
It didn’t sit low with the lake, but above it. Hidden behind walls of greenery, it rose from the ground as though it was built from the cream-colored rocks that lifted it above the water on their backs. It had numerous rooms—all decked out in plush furniture and up-to-date designer features as well as state of the art appliances—counted and checked by the guards not once but twice.
Plenty of natural light flowed in from the expansive glass giving an unrestricted view of the teal water below.
We had neighbors beside us and above us, stacked like carefully placed dominos in the crook of a hill. A hill that was closer to a mountain in terms of size. Below, a lined trail fringed by more vegetation and natural rock led to the boat dock—the murderous son had included the boat for free.
All the children made excited noises as they raced toward their assigned rooms. Marciano ran behind them, pulling up his pants as he attempted to keep up.
“Waits for me,ragazzi!”
I laughed, my heart feeling lighter from the sound of their excitement. If I had learned one thing from having children, it was that old bones might feel their years, but young ones feel nothing but the moment.
Being middle-aged meant somewhere in between. Something like purgatory for Catholics, maybe.
It would’ve been so easy to climb into the California King and curl up with my book and the views, but I knew that was not an option.
I set my pillows on the bed, almost afraid to sleep in the huge bed alone. I didn’t mind so much at my parents’ place, because it was the same bed I’d slept in for a chunk of my life. We had a history of sleeping there alone, me and myself, but this place? It didn’t feel familiar. Brando had always made wherever we traveled feel like home.
There wasn’t much time to dwell on the newness of my surroundings, though. As soon as our feet hit the floor, we took off running.
After what Violet had told me about Mia, I made it a point to reserve tickets for us at Ballet Austin. It was important to me that Mia understand that no matter what happened to me, her dreams were still valid. I could feel the hesitation coming off her in waves as we entered, her face on constant alert toward mine, gauging my reaction.
The only time I cried was after the ballet, when I took her hand in mine, my other on her face, looked her in the eye, and told her how proud I was of her. That a talent like hers was rare. Even rarer, to me, was her devotion to it and her love of it. She not only had the talent, but she adored the dance. It was hers.
To see her up the stage someday would be the honor of my life.
We both cried, holding on to each other, but after, she became more lighthearted, knowing that my feet and legs had carved a path for hers. Something Maja had told me years ago, after she’d retired.
My decision to support Mia came with its drawbacks, though. As her mamma, I saw both the potential for greatness, and the consequences that greatness could possibly bring. I knew first-hand the price, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the same fate for my daughter. But on the other hand, her happiness was my top priority.
Letting go of worries was never easy when it came to my kids, but I felt I had made the right decision—to encourage her, give her wings, and then put my faith above to keep her safe from the fall.
After we had arrived home from the ballet, we woke the boys up and raided the fully stocked kitchen. Taking our loot back to my room, we piled into the bed and watched movies until we all fell asleep curled up together.
The next two days were full of water activities. Mostly fishing.
If Brando would have been there to take them, I wouldn’t have thought twice about letting my children get in the water. Some areas seemed too murky for my tastes, and I decided against letting them swim. Marciano took this news as though it meant his world had ended. Then he did something none of my children had ever done—threw a fit.
Mia raised her brows, Mariano’s mouth fell open, and I glanced at Guido. Brando had never not been around to swim with them. Marciano had been stuck to me like glue since my return home, but he seemed to be missing his other half too. His father.
To make a point that we don’t cry, stomp our feet, and cross our arms when we’re toldno, we called it an early day.
Violet and I had made reservations to take a trip to the Hamilton Pool Reserve the next day, and since the kids were so excited, I decided to still take them.
We had to hike a steep, mile-long trail to get to it, making sure everyone was hot and ready to swim after.
The creek, connected to the Pedernales River, was known for its jade green pool, waterfall, and limestone outcropping.
Peter, Paul, and Mary, even Mitch, were looking forward to seeing the fifty-foot waterfall as it spilled into the steep box canyon below.
It took us a little longer than usual to make the hike. The weather was pleasant enough since we left early enough to beat the midday heat, but Mitch had invited some of his biker buddies over for a barbecue the night before—a get-together Guido resented for obvious reasons—and the older folks were more prone to complaining about the trek. Too much food and drink from the night before. And if they weren’t complaining, then they were keeping the line from moving at a decent pace.
I usually had no problem keeping time, or keeping ahead of the line, but after my accident, I was fine to be including with the “older folks.”
Once we arrived, the place took my breath away. It was a gorgeous swimming hole that reminded me of a smaller version of the Pacific. The water reminded me of pure jade glistening in the sun, so clear that the sun reflecting off its waters almost blinded me. It smelled clean and natural, and there were plenty of places to set a towel down and take shelter from the sun if it became too much during the hottest times of the day.
Most importantly, I felt comfortable with Mia, Mariano, and Marciano swimming here without Brando.
