how I knew how frightened she had been.
Nobody except my mother called me Gabriel anymore.
I crossed the room and hugged her.
For a few seconds, she held me as if I were still seventeen and leaving Carmona for college.
Then she pulled back.
“You weren’t supposed to come.”
“You told me not to.”
“I know.”
“That practically guaranteed I would.”
A weak smile appeared.
Dad shut the door.
The three of us looked around the little room.
I noticed things I had missed through the window. Mom’s sewing
