Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [80]
Rosie?
Kate watched in amazement as Tick continued. He must’ve been one hell of a cop. The DEA, FBI, or DOJ would snap him up in a New York minute if he put himself on the market.
Rosita stood up, removing all the paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils from the table. She seemed comfortable doing this, so no one asked her to stop. She found a damp kitchen sponge and proceeded to wipe the crumbs from the counter, then the table. When she was finished, she wiped out the sink, then neatly folded a kitchen towel, placing it next to the sink. She looked around. When she saw there was nothing else that she could clean, she sat back down.
“I don’t usually . . . well, what I mean is, I have been around some very bad men. I don’t always trust them.” She looked at Tick as though she wanted to burn his face into her memory. “You have good eyes. I . . . Yes, I will trust you. Where do you want me to begin?”
The small kitchen was so silent you could’ve heard the proverbial pin drop. Even Bird managed to keep his trap shut.
“The beginning, Rosita, that’s always the best place to start.”
Chapter 18
Rosita chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before continuing her story. She placed both hands in her lap, one atop the other, as though she were posing for a formal photograph. With her dark hair free of the tangles and grime, it reminded Kate of a rich warm cup of coffee. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears, leaving a silvery glaze over her deep brown eyes. Rosita cleared her throat as an adult would do. “There are some things that I do not remember clearly, so I cannot be totally sure of everything. I don’t want you to think I am telling a lie.” She looked at Kate directly in the face as she said this, as though if Kate even thought she was telling anything but the whole truth, she would break down.
Kate reached for her hand. “Just tell us what you remember. I expect it would be impossible to remember every single detail, right, Sandy?” Kate kicked her friend’s leg under the table, and Pete jumped. Kate almost laughed. Damn Sandy. She already had poor Pete wrapped around her leg. Later, she would comment on how fast she worked.
Sandy chimed in, “We don’t expect you to remember every last detail, sweetie. Just tell us what you can.”
Rosita nodded. “I think I was around three or four when my parents were taken to Miami, though I am not sure. I remember crying when they left me with Aunt Constance. I think she is my father’s sister, but I’m not sure of that either. She taught me how to speak in English. She said someday it would pay off. I never knew what she meant.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I still don’t understand. But then Mateo came along, and Aunt Constance said that I must work very hard so she could send me to Florida to live with my family again.
“I think I was about seven or eight by this time. I remember crying because I could not remember my parents’ faces anymore. There were no pictures. They were just like a shadow in the back of my mind.” Rosita paused. “You understand this, Miss Kate?”
Amazed at the child’s keen perception, Kate wanted to tell her she totally understood where she was coming from since she’d felt the same way about her grandfather after he’d died. She had pictures, but it wasn’t the same as actually seeing him. She’d remembered the smell of cigars, his spicy scented aftershave for years after he died. Then the memories became cloudy and vague. So yes, she knew exactly what Rosita referred to. “Of course I understand.”
Rosita took a deep breath. “I did everything Aunt Constance asked of me. I spent three hours every day studying English. Aunt Constance said I should not listen when she and Mateo spoke Spanish as it would ruin me for the future. So I forgot much of my native language because Aunt Constance insisted speaking English would pay off. She used those words a lot. I still don’t know why.
“After English studies, I would polish silver for the rich and undeserving, that’s what Aunt Constance always called them. Mateo brought all kinds of beautiful silver