been examining Native American pictographs along the canyon wall for more than two hours, and he couldn’t get over the genuine delight in Isabel’s dark eyes. He could tell from the goosebumps on her arms that she was uncomfortably chilly, but she’d wanted to keep going and see as much as possible before lunch.
She gave him a bright grin, pushing her black sunglasses up on her nose. “You know what they say about touring your own backyard. And Rico would rather have had a root canal than spend a day looking at pictures and rocks.”
Eli wondered what that said about his own history nerd quotient. “My dad used to bring me and Owen here when we were kids. Good way to burn off that excess testosterone.” He followed Isabel to the next drawing.
She wrinkled her nose and pushed the glasses north again. “I can imagine. Nilo will have to get a little bigger, though, before I can bring him out here. He’d give me a heart attack on these cliffs.”
Eli turned to follow Isabel’s gesture indicating the sweeping sienna and terracotta panorama of boulders, the sheer drop-offs to the Pecos River, and rocky trails zigzagging along the canyon. He smiled. “God’s playground.”
Isabel wandered over to lean against the guardrail, and Eli followed. Quiet, they stood absorbing the grand, wild starkness of the scene, and Eli remembered something he hadn’t thought of in years. “The summer I turned thirteen, Dad took us camping in the Grand Canyon. We had so much junk in our backpacks, I thought we were gonna die before we made it back to the top.”
Isabel laughed. “Must be a guy thing. My dad took my brother when he was fourteen.”
Eli leaned down to rest his elbows on the top rail and looked over at Isabel. There was so much he wanted to learn about her childhood, her family. “What’s your dad like?”
She glanced at him over the top of those slip-sliding glasses. “You’d like him. He’s the one who got me interested in history. I think we’ve visited every fort in the west.”
“Is he—are your parents American by birth?”
“No.” She smiled. “They were both born in Piedras Negras and immigrated before I was born. My grandparents are still there.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Mama and Daddy started out as migrant fruit pickers. We moved all over the Midwest when I was small, then they made enough money to buy a truck and a little camper. That’s what we did our traveling in. Eventually we settled in San Antonio.”
Eli tried to imagine Isabel as a bright little Mercedes-like sprite. “So you went to high school there?”
“Yes.” She sighed, and somehow he knew she was thinking about her late husband.
He didn’t want to open a discussion about Rico. “Where’d you go to college?”
“UT San Antonio, but I barely got started.” Eli couldn’t interpret her expression, so he waited for her continue. Finally she looked at him. “I’m not very well-educated.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been jabbering about ancient American history for three hours.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, that. That’s just what I’m interested in.”
Eli nudged her shoulder with his. “Isabel, that’s what education is. Studying something you enjoy. Being able to talk about it.” He reached up and teasingly removed her sunglasses. “You’re either gonna have to get some smaller shades or a bigger nose.”
She crossed her eyes. “Can’t do much about the nose.”
Which was a good thing, Eli thought. It was perfect like it was. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. So if you could go to college again, what would you study?”
“Secondary ed. History.” She lifted her chin. “I’m going to go to UTSA when I move back to San’tone. Mama said she’d keep Danilo for me while I’m in class.”
Eli had managed to forget all about Isabel’s intention of moving. “You could go to college down here somewhere.”
She gave him a funny look. “Eli, I have to sell the house in order to
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