The sunlight was warm on Kayla's face, warm and very bright. She stood next to Elizabet on the sandy concrete of the Venice Beach walkway and looked out at the crowd of people walking along the beach, playing in the sand and swimming in the water. "Do you see him?" she asked Elizabet, who was also scanning the crowd.
"I don't know what he looks like," Elizabet said ruefully, "so I have no idea who he is."
Kayla saw him then, standing at the edge of the crowd, next to a couple of girls gawking at a weightlifter working out on the sands.
Ramon looks thinner, she thought, and a little pale. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before. He saw her and waved, walking toward them.
"You must be Elizabeth Winters," Ramon said, nodding to her.
"Elizabet," the older woman said. "No 'h' on the end."
He stood for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at Kayla. "You look like you are well, querida," he said. "Are you?"
"I'm okay," Kayla said. "How 'bout yourself?"
He shook his head. "It's been very difficult. Mama has not been herself, these weeks since Carlos and Roberta's deaths. It's hard for her."
"I'm sorry," Kayla said, and meant it.
"My life is different, too," he continued. "After what . . . what happened with Carlos, I told the other Tyrone Street Boys that I was through with them, and I went to the policía. They offered me a job, working at the prison camp in Malibu where they send young kids from the gangs. And they'll help me finish high school at night, too. Maybe working at the gang camp will make a difference, maybe it won't. I don't know."
He sighed. "I miss my brother. I think I'll always miss him. But I can't go on living his life. It's hard to walk away from my friends in the gang. . . . "
"Most of the time, the right thing to do isn't easy," Elizabet said gently.
"I know, I know. Life is never easy," he said simply. "That's not the reason God put us here on earth. I don't know the reason God put us here, but I know that isn't it. At least, that's what Mama says. . . . I look at Kayla here, at what she's learned to do, the price she pays for helping people, and I think I have to at least try to do the same. I have to try. . . . "
Ramon seemed to run out of words, and stood there looking at Kayla, his eyes lingering on her face.
Elizabet cleared her throat a little awkwardly. "Well, would you kids like some lunch? There's a good sandwich place just up ahead; we can get sandwiches and sodas."
"Thank you, Miss Elizabet," Ramon said. "That would be fine."
They walked in the direction that Elizabet pointed, weaving through the thick mass of people on the walkway. A pair of boys on skates zipped past them, a little too close; Ramon took her hand and pulled her to one side. He didn't let go of her hand, after the boys were past, and they continued walking, hand in hand, following Elizabet through the crowd.
No, it wasn't going to be easy, learning to live with who she was, and what she could do. Kayla knew that. But right now, walking in the sunlight with Ramon, she knew that that didn't matter.
Because it was going to be all right.