Dare by Celia Juliano Page B

going on. I hope we can resolve this—what’s past is past.” His voice, and expression, softened. “Let’s go. Sophia’s in the kitchen.”
    She nodded. Her mouth dried, a too-floury pie crust. The kind of relationship she dreamed of needed family support, not division. She believed Joey needed that too. Whether he wanted a serious relationship was another question. She hadn’t heard from him, but Grandpop had said he was busy with work. And he probably needed space to decompress. She and Jorge had talked sometimes about cops, after she’d told him her dreams, and her hopes about Joe. Jorge had dated a cop once, and he knew many through his work as a prosecutor and then a private practice criminal lawyer.
    She followed Carlo into the kitchen. It hadn’t changed much since high school. The oval pecan table near the windows covered in colorful curtains, the hutch, the rows of counters and white cabinets, and the island where bread-making had been done, and snacks put out, and kids gathered around. Sophia stood by the stove. Ariella’s shoulders eased down, remembering happier times.
    “Ariella’s here,” Carlo said.
    Sophia turned and tried to smile, but it was only a slight quirk of her lips. “Ariella, thanks for coming. You could put those on the table if you like.” She picked up the casserole dish she’d been taking out of the oven and placed it on a hot pad on the table. “I made the chicken and rice casserole recipe your mom had given me.”
    Ariella nodded. Mamá and Sophia had been fast friends. They’d sat in this kitchen for hours, cooking, sewing, talking, and organizing programs for the church, especially the women’s group.
    Carlo touched Ariella’s shoulder. “Would you like something to drink?”
    “Yes, please, some water.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
    “Let’s sit,” Sophia said, motioning to a chair.
    Ariella slid into the seat, where Mamá had sat countless times. Carlo set a glass of water in front of her. She sipped it, the coolness easing the tightness in her throat. Carlo then set a salad on the table and sat next to Sophia, between them. The red gingham curtains were drawn back. Ariella studied the bare branches of the tree out back. Soon, it would bud with new growth.
    “We’ll say grace then eat,” Carlo said in a quiet voice. He said a quick prayer before serving the food.
    Ariella ate a few bites. She hadn’t had Mamá’s arroz con pollo since…the night before they’d died. She set down her fork and took a sip of water.
    “You okay?” Carlo asked.
    She nodded. “Just brings back memories, being here, and this.” She motioned to the casserole. “It’s delicious, Sophia. Thank you.”
    Sophia’s eyes softened, the tightness in her features almost gone. “I miss her. She was my best friend.”
    “She used to say you were her sister,” she whispered. Which had made Sophia’s coldness to her after her family’s deaths that much more painful.
    Sophia bowed her head, her eyes closed. Carlo encircled his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.
    “She was so worried about you,” Sophia said, her voice wavering. She leaned into Carlo. “I judged you. I let my own pain and past get in the way of doing what your mom would have wanted me to do. I’m concerned about my son, but it’s past time I honored her memory by accepting you.”
    “I understand. I’m not proud of some of my choices. I can’t change them. But I can change by letting go of the shame. I’ve asked for forgiveness and I’ve felt some peace about it. Joey’s helped me with that. He’s a good man. I want to make a new life, a life I can feel proud of, one my parents would have been glad about too.” She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.
    “Did you embroider that?” Sophia asked.
    “Yes.” She held it out. “Mamá did this side.” She fingered the delicate floral stitch-work. “And I did this part last year.” She turned it and showed the vines she’d