Katrina wound up hanging out with us the rest of the afternoon, and was thrilled at the idea of a backstage pass and a seat in the VIP section for the show. I had a bit of an emotional twinge when Katrina sat in the seat that would have been Angela’s, but I told myself I was being silly and squashed it down. Angela certainly wasn’t going to use it, after all, and feeling somehow unfaithful to her by giving her seat away to somebody else did nobody any good.

After the improvised intro and the first song of the night (‘Blue Mood’ from Dark Times), Jackson took to the microphone.

“Y’all are gonna have to forgive Emmy tonight,” he said, indicating where she sat in an armchair, hugging her guitar. “She overdid it last night, forgettin’ that her body needs to heal. She’s still got a lot of recoverin’ to do, after all that happened. Lee and me, we told her that if she can’t keep still and let her body do the healin’ it needs, we’ll pull the plug on the tour so she has no choice but to rest. We made her promise to stay in that chair for the full show- we’ve got guys that can bring her whichever guitar she needs, or get her a drink of water- whatever. All she needs to do is sit in that seat and play and sing for y’all. Now, mind you, even in the state she’s in, she can still do those things better’n pretty much anybody, so we’re still gonna put on a great show tonight, I can promise you that.”

Waiting for the applause to die down, he turned to Emmy and asked if she wanted to add anything.

“Thank you, Jackson,” she said, and the giant screens behind the stage showed close-ups of her face as she smiled at him. “Yes, they did make me promise to stay in this chair all night, it is true,” she said to the audience. “They even got me this new microphone so I do not have to move,” she said, tapping the side of her face while the camera zoomed in to show an earpiece with a tiny little boom mic. “It is strange- it makes me feel like Pink, or Madonna or somebody like that whose performance involves a lot of dancing. Of course, I cannot do much dancing confined to this chair…” she said, getting the laugh she aimed for. “But I can sing, and I can play my guitar,” she said, tapping the body of her Gretsch. “And that is what you came to see, is it not?”

With that, she played the opening riff of ‘Fire Down Below’, a song from Dark Times that I’d never seen them perform live before.

“I can’t believe how Emmy is doing,” Katrina said about an hour in, cupping her mouth against my ear to be heard. “Earlier today she looked nearly done in, you know? But now she’s playing and singing like normal."

“That’s part of the problem,” I replied. “She really did overdo it last night, and she’s probably not doing herself any favors tonight, either.”

When the show wrapped up Katrina and I went backstage, and as I’d feared, Emmy was completely wiped out again. I apologized to Katrina, saying that I needed to get Emmy back to the hotel and into bed. When she said her car was parked at the hotel, I acquiesced and we gave her a ride back to the Marriott, but I gently hinted we were done for the night and she should head home and not expect to come up to our suite, which seemed to disappoint her.

“Wanna get together for lunch tomorrow?” she asked, looking hopeful.

“We’re leaving for Cartagena in the morning,” I told her. At her puzzled expression, I said, “Angela’s funeral.”

“Oh, right,” she said, visibly deflating. “Well, I guess I’ll just head home,” she said. “I had a real nice time today, you guys. Thanks for the show and everything.”

“It was our pleasure,” Emmy assured her. “It was very good to meet you- if you are ever in Los Angeles, you must come visit.”

Once I had Emmy relaxing in the bath, she asked me, “Why did you tell Katrina we are going to Colombia tomorrow? We are actually flying the next day.”

“Two reasons,” I said, massaging shampoo into Emmy’s fine white hair. “The most important one is that you really do need to rest, babe. All I want you to do tomorrow is sleep, eat a little, and sleep some more. You need to give your body the time to heal. The second,” I said with a sigh, “is that I kinda get the feeling that she wants more from me than I’m willing to give, if that makes sense. If all she wants is to be a friend, that’s fine, but it’ll be hard to keep up a friendship from opposite sides of the country. If she actually does want more… Well, that’s a non-starter.”

“She is very pretty,” Emmy said.

“She is, and she’s got a good sense of humor and looks good with no clothes on, but I am absolutely not looking for an Angela replacement,” I said. “I just need to concentrate on you, Em. You’re my wife- you’re my life. I loved what we had with Angela, but we don’t have that anymore. Now it’s just you and me, and we need to focus on that.”

Emmy sighed, resting her head against my hand. “That is not what I meant, Leah, and I am sorry if it sounded that way. I know that I am not good companionship right now, and I would hope you could find someone more… lively than I am to keep you company until I have my strength back.”

“I don’t need anybody else,” I assured her. “Your condition… It’s temporary, we both know that. If I can do anything to help you recover more quickly, well, you know I’m going to do it. You are the center of my world, Em. You are.”

“Thank you,” Emmy whispered, sinking lower into the water.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

We took Eddie and Nick with us to Cartagena, sending everybody else to Cleveland to work with Grant and Jody until we returned to the US. We’d be well out of reach of any of the New York cell down there, and we had plenty of people on the ground in any case.

Once we’d gotten through customs and made our way out into the terminal, we spotted Mamá, Papá and Cecy immediately. To be honest, I wasn’t sure of what sort of reception we’d get from the Castro family, but as we drew close Mamá opened her arms and rushed in to give Emmy a tearful hug.Emmy almost literally fell into Mamá Castro’s arms and the two started weeping loudly, holding each other up. I turned to look at Rafael, and saw in his eyes that he felt the same way I did, so I stepped in close and gave him a long hug, too. Neither of us bawled the way that Mamá and Emmy were doing- no, we just held each other tight, expressing our emotions through the solidity of the physical contact. When we eventually let go, he held my arms and looked me in the face.

His eyes were just as moist as my own, but he said, “Stay strong, Leah. Don’ let despair win. My Angela, she loved your strength- remember that.”

Emmy and I rode in the Castros' car while Eddie and Nick rode with Ricky in the ‘company’ van to our hotel, the same one we’d stayed in before. At check-in they were about to assign us the same suite as we’d stayed in last time, but I requested a different one, even if it wasn’t quite as nice. I didn’t need the memories, and neither did Emmy.

Eddie and Nick walked with us over to the Castro house, but left to check out the neighborhood once we were safely inside.

“They are welcome to stay for dinner,” Mamá said, but the two insisted that they wanted to get to know the area, so she didn’t put up much of a fight.

Dinner was a somewhat somber affair, but it wasn’t for lack of trying to keep it light. We just all had Angela’s death on our minds, and that wasn’t going to simply go away.

After dinner Emmy went to lie down in Angela’s old room. After I tucked her in, I went back down to the kitchen to talk with Mamá Castro.

“Mi nena Emmy,” Mamá said, handing me a cold glass of avena when I sat down at the table. Angela used to make the stuff every now and then, but for whatever reason hers was never as good as the stuff her mother made. “She is suffering very much.”

“She is,” I agreed. “I am, too, but nothing like Emmy is.”

“She will be very sad for a long time, I believe. It is a terrible thing to lose a baby, but to lose the one you love also…” Mamá said, staring into her own glass of the milky white drink. Angela had told Emmy and me that her mother had miscarried her first baby, which was a big part of Angela’s nervousness about her own pregnancy- and probably also why she insisted we not buy any baby furniture until the girls were born. Which, of course, wouldn’t happen now.

“Mamá,” I said. “I am so sorry that I couldn’t protect her- it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I could not watch the videos that are on the internet, but Rafa did, and he told me how it happened. He said you were ambushed. He said there were nine of them to the two bodyguards and you. He said that you fought like a demon, but there was nothing you could do. He said you were incredible, but they caught you by surprise.” She took my hand in hers and held it, looking me straight in my eyes. “Don’t apologize for something you could not prevent. I miss my Angelita very much,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes, “but I do not blame you. It is the guilt of those terrible people who would attack pregnant women, not of you.”

Sighing, I said, “In my mind I know that, but in my heart…”

“Rafa thinks I don’t know about his time in the military,” Mamá said, squeezing my hand. “But I knew what he was doing, and how dangerous it was. Every time he went on a mission, I knew there was great possibility of him not coming back to me,” she said, pausing to wipe away her tears. “But that was the man I married, so I simply kissed him goodbye each time he left. I had chosen him, you see. And mi Angelita, she chose you and Emmy. She chose you, even knowing that you have enemies who would see you two dead. Mi Angelita, she was inocente, but she was not… naive. As I was not naive about Rafa. I prayed that he would come home to me, and gave thanks to God when he left the military, but I never once demanded that he not do what he must do. Angela, she told me that she worried for you, as I worried for mi Rafa. But she was like me. She knew that you are who you are, as was mi marido. Weep for our beautiful Angel, but never believe that she did not know the risks.”

“Mamá, we were going to have a life together,” I said, tears flowing freely now. “She deserved the best I could give her.”

“You did give her the best,” Mamá assured me.

When I went to collect Emmy to take her back to the hotel I couldn’t bring myself to wake her, so after making sure it was O.K. with the Castros, I just slid into that little bed that had belonged to teenaged Angela and spooned Emmy through her fitful night's sleep.

The next day was Angela’s service, held at a surprisingly modest but ancient church a few blocks from the Castro family home. Emmy and I sat up front with the family- apparently the Castros had pushed back against relatives who’d said we weren’t really family, telling the naysayers that we were more family to Angela than those cousins and uncles and aunts had ever been. Andy and Jenna, true to their word, had flown in early in the morning to attend, but they were back in the middle rows of pews.

I’d been worried that Rafael and Mamá would resent us for their daughter’s death, so their continued acceptance of us meant more than I could ever say.

I didn’t understand much of the actual service, but the ceremony was very touching. From what Rafael had told me, this was the same church and same priest that had baptized Angela as well as performed her First Communion when she was ten. He was clearly very emotional about eulogizing a girl he’d seen grow up, his voice full of emotion, even though I couldn’t understand many of the words.

I didn’t even try to stop my tears as they flowed, and neither did anybody else, from what I could tell.

When the ceremony was over we walked back to the Castro house. Rafael and I dropped back a little behind where Emmy walked with Mamá and Cecilia, who were talking to Jenna and Andy.

“I had worried that Cardeño boy would attend,” Rafael admitted. “I do not know what I would have done if he had come.”

“You didn’t need to worry about that,” I said, my voice low. “He was killed in a robbery two nights ago, after leaving a nightclub in Bogotá. He was stabbed when he fought back.”

“I see,” Rafael said, nodding, but saying nothing more.

“Crime is a real problem in Bogotá,” I said. “People need to be careful.”

“Yes, it can be a dangerous city,” Rafael agreed. Glancing around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, he asked, “These men that killed my baby- do you know who they were?”

“I think so, yes,” I said, my voice low.

“And you are going to go after them, too?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Make certain they pay,” he said.

“They will pay,” I assured him. “We know their headquarters, but they don’t know that we know. We’re just waiting for them to relax, convinced that they have escaped.”

“Tell me if there is any way that I can help,” Rafael said.