Page 245 of Vicious Temptation

Sixty

thiago

We pull up to the entrance of City of Miami Cemetery just as the last of the daylight begins to fade. The rusted iron gates are closed, but the clerk at the rental office assured us they usually aren’t locked.

Our flight was delayed for several hours because of severe storms, and by the time we finally took off, I knew we’d be cutting it close. At one point, I thought we might not make it here before dark, and I hated the relief that came with that thought.

A canceled flight or a locked gate would’ve given me an excuse to turn around without admitting that some part of me still wanted one. I’ve spent years avoiding this place, and now that I’m sitting outside the cemetery, I remember exactly why.

The man buried beyond those gates dedicated his life to protecting people. That’s who I wanted to be when I was a boy. I wanted to make him proud and wear his name with honor. Instead, I became someone who lies for a living, manipulates people who trust me, and carries out orders I never would’ve imagined following when I first pinned on a badge.

My gaze shifts to the woman beside me.

Remi trusted me enough to come here, even though I’m keeping the biggest truth of my life from her. Bringing her to meet the man whose legacy shaped everything I once believed only makes it harder to stomach.

She’s also been unusually quiet since yesterday.

It started when she abruptly canceled our gym plans. She told me something came up and promised she was fine, but she never explained what happened. This morning, she showed up for our flight with the same smile I know and love, though there hasn’t been much of it since.

Even the hours we spent stranded at the airport felt different. Remi usually fills every empty minute with something, whether she’s talking, teasing me, fidgeting, or finding a new way to entertain herself. Today, she spent most of the delay tucked against my side, quieter than I’ve ever known her to be.

I’ve asked countless times if she’s okay, and she tells me she is, but I don’t believe her.

Whatever happened still bothers her, but she got on that plane anyway because she knew how much it meant to me. I could push her for answers, but given everything I’m hiding from her, I’d be one hell of a hypocrite.

Despite every reason not to trust me, she’s still the only person I wanted beside me when I finally came back here.

“I don’t see a padlock,” Remi says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as I bring the car to a stop.

“Stay here.” I climb out and make my way to the entrance. The gates groan as I push them open, rust flaking from the black bars beneath my hand. I should turn around and get back in the car, but I force myself to look beyond them.

The last of the daylight filters through the towering oaks, casting long shadows across rows of weathered headstones.

My father is somewhere among them.

I glance back at Remi, give her a brief nod, then return to the car. Once I’m behind the wheel again, I ease onto the narrow road and follow the cemetery map to his section.

The landscape hasn’t changed so much as it has grown around my memories of it. The trees stretch higher into the sky, the shrubs fill spaces I don’t remember, and new headstones stand among the old. As I turn onto the next row, pieces of a place I haven’t seen since childhood begin to feel familiar again.

Pulling to the side of the road, I cut the engine. Remi leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Baby, I’ll wait here for now. Give you some time.”

I look at her, grateful that she understands what I need without my having to ask for it.

With a nod, I climb out of the car.

His grave sits near the end of the row. I can see the headstone from here, but I keep my eyes on the ground as I walk toward it, one step after another, until I stop at the edge of the grass.

Only then do I look up.

Raymond H. Braga

A Life of Honor and Service

My father.

I stare at the inscription, reading it again and again. Honor and service. Two things I built my entire life around because of him, and two I’m no longer sure I have any right to claim.