The Importance of Being Dangerous (32 page)

Forgiveness could begin with Griff, she realized. There would be no way to call or write to him in prison without the risk of be
ing traced back and discovered. Maybe she should send her letters to the condo in Belize, Unit 12D. There would be no way to show him the charter school she was going to start in New Mexico. So she would have to take pictures at every stage of the project and send them down there, too. By now, the sun had nestled low enough below the horizon's hairless foothills that the last reds were burning into blue. It occurred to her: she could sing to Griff on tape. She could send him anonymous songs of love and faith. She could send those to the prison from anywhere. Griff would know who it was. A thoughtful man like him was going to have a hard time in prison. Somebody would need to sing to him.

Then, like a distraction, what her father would call the secret to this path she was on presented itself in one tiny mirror: the outlines of Raquel asleep, her small fists curled below her chin, her angelic eyelashes closed to dreams, that softest skin. This child would have to forgive Sidarra one day, too, for yanking her clear out of her life. The school she loved. The places in which she secured her own little comfort. Her friends. Michael. And when that happened, Sidarra might finally have grounds to forgive herself.

 

ON THE NIGHT
when the Mercedes-Benz pulled into Alex's driveway just outside Santa Fe, New Mexico, she, Aunt Chickie, and the cat were all sick with Raquel's cold. By then Raquel was fine and fresh from a nap. It was almost ten at night, and everyone but her was so exhausted Alex nearly had to carry each of them into the house. Raquel was not tired at all. Her spirit caught hold of the newness of the surroundings and she could not help herself. The house was large but modest, at the end of a new subdivision by the edge of an endless field. It looked like the desert. The air was still warm, but a sweet-smelling breeze blew in from a distant mountain range. Inside the house you could smell the chicken dinner that still waited on low heat atop the kitchen stove. Raquel's
cousins were all asleep by then except Erica, now twelve, whose parents let her stay up. Erica showed Raquel her music collection, walked her through the house, and immediately wanted to hear all about New York City, where she had never visited. Then she took Raquel down to the finished basement, where Alex and his wife Claire were already showing Sidarra and Aunt Chickie what would be their new windowless home. The sparse room was large, clean, and U-shaped, with enough cast-off furniture to swallow echoes. On one side was a long green pool table. Alex explained that he hadn't had time or enough guys willing to dismantle it yet. Nobody had played on it in years, and there'd be plenty more room once it was gone. At the opposite end were sliding glass doors that appeared to lead out to a patio.

“What's out there?” Raquel chirped, her eyes huge with anticipation.

“Oh,” Erica answered excitedly, “that's the swimming pool! C'mon, I'll show you.”

The four adults watched them practically dance across the basement to the doors. They slid them open together and leaped outside.

“Mommy!” Raquel screamed seconds later. “Quick! Come look!”

Sidarra smiled awkwardly at her big brother and made her way to the doorway. There they shined above them and engulfed the moon by the millions: “Stars!” Raquel shouted.

Stars.