Chapter One
Funerals weren’t happy on the best of occasions. Add in a host of complications, and it made for one headache-inducing nightmare.
Luna Salcedo doubted her wisdom in attending the small ceremony. After years of abuse, she’d mustered the strength to leave Manny, but the divorce hadn’t been finalized when he’d died in his jail cell last month. Even after weeks of preparing for this day while the authorities investigated Manny’s death, Luna felt ill-equipped.
She sat in the funeral parlor as a widow, but she didn’t grieve for herself. The torch she’d once held for Manny had slowly extinguished with each blow he’d given her body and every curse he’d screamed at her.
Had she ever loved him, or had it been infatuation? It was difficult to love someone who didn’t love themselves, and while Manny Salcedo was the most arrogant, self-absorbed, mean-spirited man she’d ever met, Luna had long ago realized it was an act to cover his self-loathe.
If anything, she pitied him. Drugs, violence, and alcoholism had driven the once-charismatic man to ruin, without a legacy to leave his girls.
Mercy and Skye were the only good parts of Manny left on this earth. Her sweet, precious daughters kept her going, gave her the strength she needed to move on, away from the abuse. Even then it hadn’t been easy, but in her gut, she knew it was only a matter of time before they became a target of Manny’s violence.
The preacher asked if anyone would like to share a fond memory of Manny. Luna dipped her head to cover her snort. She could share stories, but she doubted anyone would want to hear them.
His brother, Alejandro, stood, wiped at tears. Luna liked him, often wondered why she couldn’t have fallen for the good brother. He was everything that Manny wasn’t, but attraction had never sparked between her and Alejandro, whom she’d known several years prior to meeting Manny.
Alejandro’s choked up eulogy acknowledged his brother’s flaws yet touched on the intrinsic good deep in Manny. It was the tale of two brothers who’d suffered abuse at the hands of their parents and took different paths to cope with their trauma.
When Alejandro sat down an awkward silence filled the room. No one else rose to speak, offered a kind word. Was each guest there out of obligation and nothing more? She felt several pairs of eyes on her, and she refused to glance around.
Half the people in the room blamed her for Manny’s death, claimed he’d still be alive if she hadn’t put him in jail. She didn’t dignify their statements with a response. It had taken weeks for her to understand, even minutely, the damage Manny had caused to her ego and perceived self-worth. She wouldn’t allow his sympathizers to take away her progress.
She knew the truth. The law knew the truth. Even Manny’s own brother knew and never once tried to deny it.
A dozen sets of eyes watched her, waiting to see if she’d speak up, say any final words over Manny. If it was a show they wanted, they’d be sorely disappointed. She’d shown up, which was more than she’d originally intended. After years of handing it over, she’d learned to keep her dignity intact. She’d made an appearance, paid her final respects, and would slip out that side door as soon as the service concluded.
Not for the first time, she doubted her choice to keep the girls from the funeral. They’d been through too much for their young age. Mercy had no memories of her father, and Skye’s were limited. The ones she did have couldn’t have been pleasant. Years from now, they wouldn’t remember attending their father’s funeral, but they would be upset in the present, which made her decision easy. They had stayed at the shelter, playing happily with Tiffany, the childcare director.
Now that she was here, she wondered if she should have brought them. They’d never have another chance to see their father, lousy as he was. She drew a long breath, held it until she no longer could. The doubts left her as she exhaled. Part of the healing process was to learn how to trust her own judgment.
The service concluded. Luna sat frozen to her chair, unable to move. Reality hit her, and she cried the first tears since Manny died.
Tears of regret, that he’d died without turning his life around.
Tears of sadness, for her girls who’d never have living memories of their father.
Tears of relief, that she no longer needed to fear his release.
Tears of guilt, for feeling relieved.
She took a tissue from her purse, dried her eyes. Standing up, she squared her shoulders and held her head high. She filed in line to pass by the casket a final time. “Goodbye, Manny,” she whispered.
Clutching her purse, she rushed outside, had no desire to linger at the funeral. She slipped into the old, beat-up sedan the shelter had helped her purchase, and she clenched the steering wheel. Her throat tightened.
It was over, but it wasn’t.
Manny couldn’t hurt her anymore, but the emotional wounds he’d inflicted wouldn’t go to the grave with him. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.
A ray of light hit the miniscule diamond in her engagement ring. Even when she’d known her marriage was over, she hadn’t removed the rings. She’d held onto hope that one day Manny would change, and they could live a happily ever after.
So much for that. Fairytale endings didn’t exist in her world. She twisted the rings off her finger with a hard yank. Shoved them deep in the console where she couldn’t see them and be reminded. That chapter of her life was over. It was time to move on.
She drove to the exit of the funeral home lot, intending to make a left. At the last second, she opted for the scenic route and took a right turn instead. Maybe she needed to ride toward the sun, feel its warmth on her skin to take away the cold numbness of the funeral home. Maybe she just needed those few extra minutes to compose herself before she went home. Whatever the reason, she went with her gut.
As she drove across town, she watched for signs of fall. Bare branches. Leaves twirling in the wind. Women sipping their lattes while walking on the sidewalks with their cute boots. Canvas signs hung from churches and schools announcing fall festivals and promising hayrides and bonfires.
Once upon a time Luna had loved fall, but in the last two years she’d found it difficult to love anything. Except her daughters—loving them came easily. They were the reasons she’d never be able to hate Manny. Without him, she wouldn’t have Skye and Mercy.
