Enrique, with his tobacco-blackened teeth and leathery skin, stood with his arms crossed, glaring at a group of children who had just trampled his flowers. He’d claimed the courtyard years ago and Gabriel had been the object of that glare when he was a child and the vines were barely knee-high. Now they climbed halfway up the far wall on a handmade trellis that Enrique extended every few years. Their scent filled the courtyard, masking the sour smell of the city beyond the walls. The vines were in full flower now. Later in the season, they would bear fruit. Paper lanterns were hung on ropes crisscrossing the patio. A small band was setting up their instruments in one corner. Soft music echoed off the crumbling brick walls. Friends he had known all his life, the people he counted as family, came forward as he entered with hugs and smiles, warmth and laughter. Grinning, Gabriel stepped forward and let that warmth envelop him. He was home. *** Iada watched Gabriel greet the people gathered here.
