The three of us went inside. Rosa had made coffee, although I doubted any of us wanted it. She placed a glass of lemonade in front of me and then sat across from Gabriel at the kitchen table. I remained standing, my fingers wrapped around the paper with his number on it.
I wasn’t sure whether I was afraid of Gabriel or afraid of what he might tell me.
He set the folder on the table but didn’t open it immediately.
“Before we discuss your father’s documents,” he said, “I want you to understand something. You are not being sent away again.”
The words were simple, but they reached somewhere inside me that I had been trying not to look at.
I stared at him.
“I don’t know you.”
“I know.”
“You might change your mind.”
His face tightened, not with anger, but with regret.
“I might make mistakes. I might not know what you need. But I am not going to leave you on the side of a road.”
