Her mother came up behind her, slipping an affectionate arm around her waist. Sara had the beautiful coloring and luxurious dark hair of her Mexican mama. Today, Sara looked younger than her own daughter.

“No one is going to push you to do anything you’re not ready to.”

“I know, Mama.” She did know. But knowing it and feeling it were two different things. Part of her felt like she was still trapped in that dingy trailer with the man who’d turned monster.

“Good,” Sara approved. “I’ll continue to remind you until you don’t need reminding.”

She gave her mother a small smile. When the situation called for it, Sara could be tenacious, pushy even. “Let’s promise to be honest with each other,” she begged. Gloria didn’t want things sugar coated for her protection. She didn’t want to be the weak one anymore. She could face the truth and probably survive it.

“Okay.” Sara nodded. “I’ll go first. You’re too skinny. Too tired. You need good food and rest and time. Ten years isn’t going to be easy to overcome. But now that I have you back, I’m never letting go. Not even if you try to slip away again. I will fight for you this time.”

For a second, Gloria saw the whole mess through her mother’s eyes. The alienation. The distance. The pain of watching her only child lose herself to a man who was incapable of taking care. A daughter too weak to stand up for herself, Gloria thought wryly. “I’m so sorry, Mama.”

“For what, love?”

“For hurting you. For disappointing you.”

Her mother tsked. “You know what I see there?” she asked, studying their reflection.

“What?”

“Two very beautiful women who are going to have a very good life.”

Gloria felt her lips quirk at the corners. “I hope you’re right.”

Sara turned Gloria to face her. “Have faith, mija. You’re here now. That’s a start.”

Gloria felt the burn of tears. “Thank you for taking me back, Mama.” This was her second chance. She wasn’t going to need a third.

Sara rolled her eyes at the thanks that wasn’t necessary. “Go do your thing. Then come back. We’ll drink wine, and I’ll make salsa.”

It was a real smile now. “I’ll pick up the tortilla chips,” she promised.

* * *

Gloria straightened her shoulders and reached up to adjust the scarf again. She was more nervous standing here in the street, staring at the rambling three-story brick home, than she had been at Remo’s the night she left Glenn.

“Shit,” she muttered, losing her gumption and hurrying down the sidewalk. She’d take a stroll around the block, talk herself into it.