As I held the ticket for the ship that would take me to Panama to give my husband a proper burial, I thought of Cristóbal and how naïvely he’d followed me across the ocean, unaware that this trip would signify the end of his life and his dreams. Yes, he deserved justice. He deserved all the things I’d taken away from him. For the first time, I admitted that it had been a mistake to come here. I’d ruined the lives of all of those around me—not just Cristóbal’s. As I lifted my skirt to board the ship, I couldn’t help but think of Martin.

Aside from Cristóbal, Martin was the only other man I’d ever been intimate with. I couldn’t dismiss what we’d done—what I felt for him—as if it was a casual act like drinking a glass of water. Perhaps he could do that, but I couldn’t. Not only had I disgraced my husband’s name by being intimate with another man out of wedlock and so soon after his passing, but on top of it all, Martin had been my sister’s lover. I was so humiliated, so vexed. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in days. I was certain that by now, everybody in town knew that I’d been staying at Del Río’s hacienda.

But Martin never came to see me.

I must forget him. I would have plenty of opportunities to do so since I doubted that he would continue to work at La Puri—not when his dreams of owning the plantation that had once belonged to his family had come tumbling down with my very existence.

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 42

May 1920

The sight of my husband’s casket unleashed a turmoil of emotions. It was like opening a faucet; out poured all the pain and tears I’d been suppressing for weeks. Not only for my husband’s sake, but also for everything that had happened since my arrival in Ecuador.

For Martin. For my father. For my siblings.

I’d been doing everything wrong.

I hugged the casket, asking for forgiveness, and was unable to maintain my composure as the Panamanian authorities explained that Cristóbal’s body had washed ashore and a Jamaican fisherman had found him. The man had contacted the local authorities, who’d been aware that a couple of men aboard the Andes had been missing.

“But we suspect he died on impact,” said the somber officer, squeezing my shoulder.

* * *