A Greater Love (23 page)

“I think before we set sail,” Cristina said, “that maybe it’s time
No Name
had a real name. This could be the maiden voyage for our newly-christened ship.”

“What name were you thinking of?” asked Daniel.

“How about the
Ana Paula?
”

Miguel thought that was exactly right.

Chapter Nineteen

They sailed for less than an hour, the children enjoying every minute. Daniel was entirely happy, except he’d caught Cristina staring at him several times over the picnic basket. Once, when the children were involved with the items in his sea chest, she had cleared her throat as if to tell him something important. Then she clamped her lips before anything could escape.

What was she hiding? She’d never confessed what was bothering her the day he’d found Miguel. Was it so bad? Couldn’t she see that whatever it was, they would face it together? She said she loved him and he loved her—wasn’t that all that really mattered?

“Are you feeling up to going to the display tonight?” Cristina turned in the front seat of the car, directing the question toward Miguel. Both children looked tired, but happy. The frightened anger had left Miguel’s eyes and Daniel felt hopeful that one day his haunted look would entirely fade.

When Daniel had held his breath, waiting for the boy’s response to his confession, he’d understood that he loved Miguel and Sara. Until that moment he’d never fathomed Cristina’s need for a child so perfectly. He needed them every bit as much as they needed him. Perhaps more. Nothing could take the place of his love for Cristina, but, also, nothing could replace the love of a child. He’d prayed harder than he’d ever prayed in that moment of truth. He still couldn’t believe Miguel had forgiven him.

“We could go home and rest a bit first before we go,” Cristina added.

Sara smiled her angelic grin. “I wanna see the Baby Jesus again.”

Miguel looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he agreed hesitantly, glancing at Lucky. “But first I’d … well …”

“Come on, speak up.” Daniel said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “We need to be open with what we want. You may not get everything, but we’ll try to compromise on most things. I, for one, don’t really want to go tonight, but if you all want to, then I’ll come along.”

Miguel chewed on his lip. “It’s not that, it’s just … you see, there’s a man who got hurt, and he’s Lucky’s real owner. I think I should go see if he’s okay.”

The explanation made sense only because Daniel had spent the last six days pumping Sara for information. He was pleased that Miguel was worried about the man. “Does he live over by where you used to live?”

“Close by.”

Daniel glanced at Cristina and she nodded. “It’s a bit far, but you two can rest just as well in the car, I suppose.”

“But Lucky likes us.” While Miguel’s face was emotionless, Sara’s showed her misery. “Miguel, don’t take him back. Please.” She hugged the dog, who licked her cheek twice.

Daniel hated to interfere but knew he owed it to both children. “Sara, if Lucky isn’t yours, you can’t keep him. It’s not right. But that doesn’t mean we can’t ask the real owner about keeping him.” The furrow in Miguel’s forehead decreased slightly.

Because of the Christmas Eve traffic, it took them more than an hour to arrive at the cobbler’s shop. “It’s been fixed,” Sara said, eyeing the storefront. “Looks as good as new. Want me to go in with ya?” Her lower lip quivered.

“Naw. Stay here.” Miguel slipped quickly from the car.

Sara hugged Lucky so tight he gave a little yelp. “I love ya, boy,” she whispered. “Don’t forget me. I won’t forget you.” She let the puppy go. He bounded out of the car and into Miguel’s arms, wriggling all over with his customary excitement.

Daniel left the car and went around to stand with Miguel. “I’m really proud of you,” he told the boy. “I’d like to go with you, if you don’t mind.” A flash of gratitude swept over Miguel’s face. He didn’t speak, but nodded sharply.

The shop had been rebuilt, but wasn’t yet reopened, though Daniel could see a stocky man through the glass. He rapped on it to get the man’s attention.

“It’s him,” Miguel said. “He ain’t—he
isn’t
dead.” There was relief in his voice, but his arms tightened around Lucky.

The cobbler held up a finger indicating that they should wait, then he the put down a notebook and limped toward them. “We’re not open anymore,” the man announced when he opened the door. “You’ll have to take your shoes elsewhere. Unless you left a pair of shoes here before the bombing. You’re welcome to look, if you did. If we can’t find them or if they’re ruined, the insurance will pay for them.”

“We’re not here for shoes,” Daniel said. He nodded at Miguel, who swallowed hard. Tears made rivulets down his thin cheeks. Daniel wished he could grab both the boy and the dog and retreat to the car, but he knew he couldn’t do that, at least not if he wanted to raise Miguel and Sara knowing the difference between right and wrong, a line they hadn’t much practice drawing.

“It—it’s Lucky,” Miguel stammered. “I mean this puppy. I was here when those bombs went off. They took you away and he was all alone. I shoulda brought him back sooner. I took good care of him.” He thrust the puppy into the cobbler’s hands and turned away. Lucky sniffed the man and licked him a few times, obviously unafraid, then squirmed to get down.

The cobbler held on. “Wait!” he called. Miguel paused and looked up, trembling. “Thank you for taking care of him,” the cobbler continued. “I was worried when they couldn’t find him. His mother died in the explosion, but no one could find the puppy. I thought he ran away and got run over or something.”

“He’s a good dog,” Daniel replied, seeing that Miguel couldn’t speak.

“He’s grown a lot. I didn’t even recognize him. He must have eaten quite a bit.”

Daniel forced a chuckle. “Almost as much as Miguel.” He looked at the boy’s desolate face and plunged on. “Fact is, we’re going to miss him, especially Miguel here. You know, if you were willing to part with him, we’d be glad to buy him. For whatever you ask.” Daniel met the cobbler’s eyes, wishing Miguel was in the car so that he could explain how much the boy had already lost and how the puppy had given him comfort in the midst of grief and heartache. “Please,” Daniel added quietly. He could, of course, buy another dog, but Miguel already loved Lucky. Even now, the boy’s sad eyes drank in the last memories of his puppy.

The cobbler looked back and forth between them. “I can see you love him,” he said, lifting Lucky slightly. “And it’s obvious he loves you. Truth is, I would be glad for you to keep him.”

Miguel’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “But it’s my fault the boys ruined your shop. It was me they was throwin’ the bottles at. Because—because of somethin’ I did to ’em.”

The cobbler laughed. “Something they deserved, no doubt. But come now, it’s not your fault they chose such dangerous vengeance, is it?”

“Well …”

“Of course it’s not,” Daniel agreed.

“If you don’t take this puppy,” the cobbler said, “I don’t know what I’ll do with him. You see, I’m selling the shop and moving in with my daughter. I’m getting too old to work so hard, and I’ve decided to let her take care of me for a time. At least until my insides are mended. Anyway, she doesn’t like dogs, never did. Now, are you going to take this puppy, or do I have to find another boy?” He held out the dog.

A huge grin nearly cracked Miguel’s face in two. “Oh, Lucky, I get to keep ya! Thank you! Thank you!” He buried his face in the dog’s fur.

Daniel drew his wallet from his pocket. “I can never thank you enough. What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing, young man.” The cobbler’s eyes shone. “Just keep taking care of him—of him and the dog. That’s a fine boy you’re raising.”

“I know.” Daniel clasped the other man’s hand with a firm grip. “I’ll do my best.”

The ride back to the Cova da Piedade was considerably happier than the one to Campo Grande. “Is there anything else you want to buy for Christmas?” Daniel asked Cristina.

“I’ve done nothing but shop for the past few days. I think I have everything. We need to trim the tree, though. We should do it now.”

“Yeah!” Sara shouted. Lucky barked and Miguel smiled in satisfaction.

When they arrived home, they found a thin, gray-haired man pacing outside their apartment building. Daniel felt a twinge of apprehension, but the children ran toward him. “Senhor Fitas!” they cried, but stopped short of hugging the old man.

“Who’s he?” Cristina’s face also held uneasiness.

Daniel put on his business mask. “Let’s go ask.”

It didn’t take long for the children and Senhor Fitas to explain. “I worried when they didn’t come so long for the fruit,” he said, transferring the plastic sack he carried to the other hand. “I did some searching and found out about Octávia, the poor woman, and became even more concerned. I called the authorities and a man named António Bernardino gave me your address. I had to come for myself to see that they were okay.”

“We shoulda told ya where we was goin’,” Sara said.

“As long as you two are okay. I—uh, brought you some Christmas presents.” He lifted the plastic sack.

“Would you like to stay for tea?” Cristina asked over the children’s delighted exclamations. “We were just going to have some.”

“Well …”

“Come now. It’s a good day for it.”

“All right, then. I’d like to.”

The children and Cristina went ahead, but Senhor Fitas matched paces with Daniel. “I swear I didn’t know about Octávia. If I had, I would have tried harder to find them.”

“At least you tried,” Daniel replied. “I tried to send them to the orphanage.”

“But now?”

“We’re going to try to adopt them.”

“Having met you, I hoped that’s what you would say. I’m an old widower. I didn’t think I had a chance to keep them myself, but I’ve always regretted never having any children. I’ll always wonder what I missed.”

“You could be a grandfather,” Daniel offered. “My mother’s the only grandparent they’ll have.” He frowned, remembering Ana Paula’s gypsy parents. His statement was not quite true. What if Ana Paula’s parents wanted to be involved in the children’s lives? What if they fought him for custody? Forcing the thought away, he added, “They could use a grandfather.”

“I’d like that,” said Senhor Fitas. “If your mother doesn’t mind sharing them. How does she feel about her new grandchildren?”

Daniel smiled. “She doesn’t know about the children yet. She’ll find out tomorrow when she comes to visit. It’s sort of a Christmas present. She’ll never forgive me, of course, for not giving her time to buy them presents, but I didn’t know until today how things would work out. After the shock wears off, she’s going to be happy. She’s wanted to be a grandmother for a long time.”

In the apartment, Daniel helped Cristina lay out the meal. Cristina and the children had lemon tea, Daniel and Senhor Fitas a stronger blend. Rolls, ham, cheese, and two different kinds of cookies made up the remainder of their meal.

“You’ll have to come back sometime to try Cristina’s bacalhau à brás,” Daniel said. “It’s the best around.”

“I’d like that.”

“How about for the New Year? We never got around to having our annual Christmas party. We’ll have to have one for New Year’s instead.”

“I have some bacalhau already made.” Cristina said. “Plenty, in fact. Take some now and again at the party. Or, why don’t you stay and eat with us tonight? That is, if you have time.”

“We’re gonna decorate the tree!” Sara put in through a mouthful of cookie.

Senhor Fitas held up his hand. “Thank you. I’ve made plans with some friends for tonight, but I’d be happy to come for your New Year’s party.”

After Senhor Fitas left, Cristina showed the children how to wash the dishes while Daniel went to unearth the tree decorations in the closet. A short time later, Cristina came into the sitting room where they had placed the tree.

“I guess we’ll have to move the TV in here,” he told her. “We can buy another bed and turn the TV room into Miguel’s bedroom. He’ll need a place of his own. It’ll be crowded in here, though. Maybe it’s time for us to move.”

“There was a message on the answering machine,” she said in a distracted manner that told him she had not heard a single word he’d said.

“Who was it?” He opened a box of transparent glass balls.

“António.”

Daniel set the balls down. “What’d he want? Do I have to call him?”

“He said he had information about the children’s grandparents. Ana Paula’s parents.”

Daniel froze. “I told him to give us time.”

Cristina’s face darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to look?”

“I—I thought you’d know we’d have to.” He sat on the couch, feeling suddenly weary. “Where are the children?”

“In their room wrapping presents. But tell me, Daniel. What’s it going to do to them if their grandparents want them? After all we’ve been through! We may never see them again!”

“We’re not going to let that happen! We’ll fight. In one way or another we’ll be a part of their lives.”

“I want to be their mother,” she said, her voice agonized. “I want us to be a family.”

“So do I!”

She sat beside him and grabbed his hand. “Then use your influence to make it happen! Please.”

“I want nothing more than to do that, and I’m going to try. Except … about the grandparents. How would Miguel and Sara feel, knowing they had real family—”

“We’re their family now.”

“I know that, but we can’t tell them stories of their mother growing up, we can’t give them their family history.”

“We also wouldn’t teach them separatism and bigotry. Isn’t that what killed Ana Paula? For heaven’s sake, they abandoned their own daughter!”

“You’re right. But people change. I did. Maybe they regret what they did.” He paused, letting the thought sink in. “Do you want me to hide the children from their own grandparents? I will, if that’s what you feel is right. But you have to believe it. Do you?”

Cristina held his gaze for a moment more, then let her eyes drop in defeat. “Do you think they even know Ana Paula is dead?”