Clutch Hit by Faith O'Shea (books to improve english .txt) 📕

paid close attention to Seb and Rique, who seemed to know when to stand, when to sit, and when to kneel. Open worship of Catholicism had returned to the island in the last decade. It had never disappeared completely when religion was deemed the opiate of the masses and all but forbidden to its participants, but it had quietly carried on in the face of church closings, in spite of the choice given. It was socialism or muerte. His mother never had any use for it, had lived her life according to her own tenets, and was never willing to follow those set by others. She had her own code of honor, that she’d learned from his grandfather and she’d passed it down to him.

The cemetery was another surprise. The dead in Cuba weren’t buried in green space, with trees for shade and benches for sitting. At home, the bodies were entombed in caskets, but they were not placed into the ground, but laid to rest in previously occupied crypts that lined the street. They had too many dead to bury and not enough space for them, so after a few years, tomb workers would jimmy off the lid of an occupied crypt, take out the disintegrating casket, which would be moved by the family to another spot, guide the new coffin in, and close it back up. When his grandfather passed, he and his mother had to sidestep the moldy flowers that had spilled out from the exhumed boxes to get to his burial place. Now, as he looked around the acres of greenery, the monuments telling the story of life, he was baffled. The Americans spent lavishly even on death. He would follow their lead, and with the infusion of cash from his signing, he’d have a mausoleum built in Uriel Arteaga’s honor and have him moved there for all eternity. It would be a way to commemorate a life that had meant so much to him.

The mercy meal was the culmination of the two days of mourning. Everyone gathered together to celebrate the life of the deceased. He’d sat with Seb and Rique, along with some other players for the team. He’d kept Alicia in his sight all throughout the meal, wishing he could have had a more public relationship with her than what she’d left him with. It was only when she rose, checking her watch that he knew she’d soon be leaving. He didn’t want to let her go without at least a good-bye.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Allie checked her watch. The meal was just winding down and she had to get going. Her suitcase was packed and waiting at Mateo’s condo. She intended to pick it up and leave her car there, take an Uber to the airport. Her nerves were beginning to get the best of her. With shaking limbs, she offered her final condolences to the Farina family and began weaving through the dwindling crowd toward the exit. Mateo stopped her before she could get there.

She felt a flutter in her chest when his hand took hold of her own. He looked so good in his suit, his unruly waves sitting disquietly around his head like a halo.

“You are leaving?”

“Yes. I’m meeting Jelani in just over an hour at the gate.”

“I will be thinking of you. Missing you.”

The song of the same title sung by Alison Krausse and John Waite came streaming into her head, the soft, mellow voices adding to feelings of regret. He did make her smile, set her heart to beating in a crazy rhythm, and she was beginning to think she was not only going to lose the fight but her heart as well.

She touched his cheek with her hand, oblivious to anyone who might be witness. What she wanted to do was lean in for a kiss, feel his lips on hers, and the need was so acute, she stepped back and away.

“I’ll be back on Saturday. I promise I’ll get this done for you.”

“I know I can trust that you will.”

She thought about those words in the Uber ride to the airport. Trust. He trusted her with one of the most critical moves of his life. And it came so freely.

She hadn’t been able to do that since she was four, the day her mother had walked away for the first time. Her life had been solid, and then, suddenly, she’d been freefalling, with nothing to grab on to. Even though her mother had explained some of it, she still didn’t understand the ins and outs. Was her father Ida’s touchstone? Did she need to return from time to time, to test the quality of their relationship? It might have been what her mother needed, but every time she breezed back into their lives a dark cloud came with her. It hovered until it burst, washing away any foothold gained, when her mother walked away again. Ida might have been back ten years this time, but the dark sky remained.

When Steve had cheated on her, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She’d taken the risk with him, and she’d gotten burned. It was another lesson in love. It didn’t come without bumps and bruises. And it didn’t last forever.

Her eyes fluttered closed. Maybe it did. Her parents had been together, off and on, for over thirty years. She wondered if Rumi had a treatise on that.

When the driver pulled up to the airport terminal, he lifted her carry-on out and placed it at the curb. She muttered a thanks and carried her bag in through the revolving doors wishing that Rumi hadn’t popped into her mind. He’d brought Mateo with him and she didn’t want to feel his presence. It was too invasive, too consuming. She couldn’t afford another lesson in inconstancy. His abandonment would be bigger, hurt more than any that had come before. Better she end it before it happened. Taking control wouldn’t necessarily mean less pain, but it would lessen the disappointment. A heavy