* * *

From his spot in the last row, Oscar was smiling at Gwen too. She was doing well up there with her speaking, better than he would have imagined. Seeing her in her element, and driving through the surrounding neighborhoods to get to the park, he had a greater appreciation for what she did.

“She’s like to faint up there in this heat,” a mother said from the row in front of him.

“She’ll be all right,” Oscar told her. And he knew that she would be. She’d handled a hell of lot tougher than this.

Beside him, Lily was wiggling impatiently—just a little bit longer, he told her. On her other side sat Claudia. He’d seen a couple of the other men watching her and had felt not the angry possessiveness he might have a year ago, but pride. He knew that if they looked down at her hand, they’d see the simple diamond engagement ring. They were to be married at the end of summer. And then they’d start working on a brother or sister for Lily.

It had taken Oscar three weeks to fight off the infection from the bullet wound, another couple of months for the shoulder itself to heal. He’d undergone surgery to sew his shoulder together, and now it was fine, except for the dark raised scar the size of a cigar that bisected his lion tattoo, and the pain he sometimes felt when he lifted his arm. He’d even started working out again, although he didn’t go to SportZone—it was too strange being there, with Tracy gone. He hadn’t missed much in terms of work, since there wasn’t much to miss, but when he went back in the fall, he represented a few more buyers—including Gwen—before going to work for his uncle David. Now he spent his days visiting the same neighborhoods he had as a realtor. He’d downsized and simplified—traded the BMW in for a Kia, bought tidy, more casual clothes. Although there were aspects of the old job he missed, there were also things he gained—the satisfaction of working steadily and hard, and seeing tangible results. Getting a paycheck every other week. When they were done here, they were going shopping for a new sofa and table; before she moved in, before they were married, Claudia wanted to replace his bachelor belongings.

* * *

Gwen stepped down off the stage to receive a flurry of thank yous and hugs from the families. Oscar and Claudia approached, and she thanked them for coming. Todd, who’d reappeared, gave Lily a hug and congratulated Claudia on her engagement. He and Oscar shook hands and clapped each other wordlessly on the back.

After Oscar and Claudia left and the crowd dispersed, Todd helped with the cleanup, folding chairs and picking up fallen streamers and untaping signs from posts. When everything was in order, he came back, looking sweaty and a bit sunburned.

“So, now that the school year’s over, do you have any summer plans?” he asked.

“Actually,” said Gwen, “remember Ranger Montez? She called me a couple of weeks ago and invited me on a hike she’d leading up in Mineral King.”

“Oh really?”

“I think she feels bad about what happened last year,” Gwen said, blushing. “She said she wants to show me another side of the Sierras.”

“She didn’t ask Oscar and me if we wanted to see another side of the Sierras.” He smiled. Awkward as this was, he didn’t begrudge it. Sure, he’d wondered if there might be something between Gwen and him—despite their differences, despite his sadness about the end of his marriage. But they were good as friends too, and he’d be fine with that. She was meant to be in his life, no matter what.

Gwen smiled and looked away. What could she say? She wasn’t sure what Jessica’s invitation meant either, but she’d been glad for it. She had thought about the ranger often in the months she’d been back. She felt a bit nervous about going to the Sierras again, but this—a day hike, no camping out, in the company of a ranger—seemed like to good way to do it. And she would be happy to see Ranger Montez again, whatever it meant. Jessica was a good one.

So was Todd. She was aware of this as they stopped by the potluck reception that the parents had put on, and ate plates full of tamales and fried chicken, mac and cheese and chilaquiles, carnitas and cornbread, flan and bean pies. She watched him interact with the families—nodding and bowing respectfully; shaking the hands of the young scholars with gravity and tenderness. She and Todd were so different, and she was aware of that here more than anywhere else, where he looked so out of place. And yet they were connected, and she did not want that to change. She wondered, half-smiling, what would piss her mother off more—if she brought a white man home for Thanksgiving, or a woman. Neither of them would try to tell her what she couldn’t do. She would never let anyone tell her that again.

After they’d eaten, they walked across the park and back toward their cars. It was almost one o’clock now, and the park was full. On two baseball diamonds, Little League games were underway; boys and girls of about twelve years old wore crisp uniforms and new-looking gloves. The soccer field and basketball courts were teeming with kids. In one corner of the park, the farmer’s market was still open—dozens of booths were packed with fresh produce and fruit, home-baked goods, brought by farmers who’d driven in from the Central Valley. Beyond the farmer’s market was the playground, where children played on new swings, slides, and seesaws, and dug in sandboxes, while their mothers—and even some fathers—watched from the side. A few hearty souls were still jogging despite the midday heat, and a group of senior citizens were using the leg press machines. They passed a large stage and sound system set up for an afternoon concert; people of all ages were already beginning to gather.

“I had no idea this was here,” Todd said.

“These people have always been here. There just hasn’t been a place for them to come.”

Things weren’t perfect, Gwen knew, not by a long shot. Here in this oasis, with its fresh grass and new sports facilities and large shading trees, it was lively and safe—thanks to overdue county funding and community-minded—finally!—police and stubborn residents who demanded the right to enjoy their own neighborhood. But there were families in the housing project just across the street who were still afraid, because of gang boundaries, to come to the park. And in the other housing projects and other neighborhoods, just out of sight, the despair, drugs, and violence continued. Beyond this area of green, beyond the sight of the police, there was trouble still, trouble not easily fixed, trouble as old as the city itself.

But Gwen didn’t want to think about that now. She was proud of the kids whose success she’d been a part of, proud of the families, schools, and community that produced them. She felt comfortable in the presence of this man, who—whatever he was to her—did not question what she could do or who she could be. Tonight, she’d go for a jog with Timber around her new neighborhood. She’d come home and drink a glass of wine on her upstairs patio, and look out over the city she loved.

As they headed toward the edge of the park, past the trees, the mountains came back into view. There, in those mountains, she’d started to hike and first learned to trust her body. There, she was with Robert on what might have been the last happy day of his life.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Todd said.

They both stopped and looked. Even from where they stood, they could see the folds of small canyons, the lines of a trail, the antennas on top of Mount Wilson. A few more clouds had drifted in over the range, and it was dappled now in shadow and light. She loved these mountains, despite everything—these, and the San Bernardinos to the east, and the grand, untamed Sierra. They would stay there at the edge of her city, her life, to return to whenever she needed.

“Yes, they are,” she answered. She smiled at Todd with an understanding that didn’t need to be spoken, and they turned and walked out of the park.