When Lily wasn’t looking, he flipped my ponytail, then said, “Lily, we’re trying to stall the Council before they question Milagro … or take further action, but they’re under pressure from Wilcox’s family. I don’t know how many days we have.”

“What? You can’t put a deadline on a recovery.” Lily’s forehead furrowing in irritation. “I’ve got a week of vacation left, and I planned to help transition Milagro to another therapist.”

“Maybe we could just figure it all out ourselves,” I said. “I can help. I can go undercover in a blond wig.”

“No,” Gabriel and Lily said together.

So after breakfast, I had another session with Lily. She wanted to talk about my grandmother, and I found myself happily reminiscing about my small abuelita and her affectionate embraces, her sweet smile.

“I still miss her, and I wonder what she’d think of the person I am now,” I said. “She wanted me to be happy.”

“What do you think would make you happy, Milagro?”

“Not what, but who. I saw a photo of Oswald and me and we were happy.”

Lily scribbled on her notepad, then said, “You can’t look to others for emotional fulfillment, Milagro.”

“Lily, if others can make you unhappy, it seems to reason that the opposite should also be true.”

After lunch, when I suggested having our session outside again, Lily agreed, but once we were working, she asked me to talk about my father.

“There’s not much to tell. He started with one pickup and some old tools and built up a good landscaping business doing corporate campuses,” I said. “His name is Ray and his slogan, ‘Let Ray D-light you with a perfect new lawn,’ was on all the trucks.”

“Would he be proud of this garden?”

“Oh, no. He likes manicured lawns and uniform borders of shrubs. He always made sure that he imposed order and symmetry on nature.”

“Why did your mother marry your father?”

“He’s handsome and a hard worker,” I said. “He devoted himself to providing for her.”

“So he’s a hardworking man who likes order and strict aesthetic standards, and lives with a dominant female,” Lily said. “Are you making any connections?”

“You’re the professional. You tell me.”

“Milagro, you’re supposed to work toward your own mental health.”

“If I go to a mechanic, he doesn’t charge me by the hour and make me guess what’s wrong with my car. He just fixes it.”

She glared at me for a moment. “We return to patterns that are familiar, our comfort zones.”

“This is the very opposite of my life with my family, so your theory is completely loony.” Her mouth set in a line, so I changed the subject. “Let me show you how to fan out rose canes to encourage bloom.”