“A pair of scissors could cut that fence unless Adam added barbed wire.” Vera looked from her husband to her daughter and back again. “I can see that you two are hiding something. Don’t worry. I’ll find out the truth. I always do.”

When she turned away, Mike let out her breath, and Miguel winked at her.

“We came ready for lunch.” He nodded toward the food bags on the counter. “How about a picnic?”

“Only if you show me the new gate.” She was looking at her daughter with intense eyes and Mike was staring back with an identical glare.

“My two Veras,” Miguel said softly, then louder, “I’ll do better than that. We’ll go to the cellar.”

“But it’s gone.” Vera’s voice was heavy.

He put his arm around her shoulders. “What we made there is here. You can tell her all about it. I’m sure she’d love to hear the story.”

“You just want me to stop causing trouble.”

“Then you wouldn’t be the woman I love.” He smiled at her and she smiled back.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“It was here.” Vera was looking at the leveled ground. “A tornado lifted the house but left behind the basement. The floor was the roof.” Her tone told of her sadness at the loss.

Michaela was listening to her mother but she was watching her father. He was frowning. It was slight but Mike could see it. She knew what the problem was. Vera was still fighting against staying in Kansas. When Mike was growing up, every summer Vera was supposed to spend three whole months in one place. That had been torture for her. Mike had learned to keep the secret that Vera had never been able to spend the whole time with her husband and daughter. She never left for long, not more than three weeks, but she did go.

When Mike was twelve, Vera had come into the bedroom to tell her daughter good-night. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have to go. Miguel will be here with you and he’ll—”

“I know,” Mike said. “Your feet are on fire.”

Vera looked startled. “That’s exactly what I feel, but how do you know that?”

“Sometimes I feel that way, too.”

Vera’s eyes widened. “Tell me what you mean.”

Mike thought for a moment. “I like helping Mom with the trees and I like Dad’s animals. I like Papi’s photos and I like the way you’re angry about everything. I like all of it.”

Vera was trying to understand, then smiled. “You don’t have just one passion.”

“Yes.” She yawned. “Uncle Kyle only likes selling things.”

“But you need more than just one.” Vera was looking at her daughter with new eyes. “If you spend too many days with one thing, does your whole body start twitching? Like a motor is inside it?” She smiled. “Do your feet burn?”