“Why not?”

“Because if they have a million dollars before the hearing, Javier will never win.”

I rage at the impossible choice. Destroy a family to save one, or destroy one to save them all.

“But, there’s a legal solution. I’ll hold the funds in your trust account until Javier’s hearing on June fifteenth. You’ll be gone by then. I’ll release the money that day no matter what happens. But it’s imperative that none of them knows about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because if ICE finds them and they have to testify that they’ll suffer hardship without Javier, they’d be lying under oath if they knew your sacrifice. No one will know what you did here today until you’re gone.”

“I don’t care about that if it helps them.”

“One million dollars will help them. But you should take some of the money to see you through the transition.”

I think this through. I want none of it but how am I going to get home? I can’t borrow from Reagan. The ticket alone will be about $2,000.

“I’ll take ten thousand, as much in cash as possible.”

Bob nods and goes to speak to his accounting manager. Reagan and I hold each other while we wait.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” Reagan sniffles.

“Let’s not please. I’m barely standing.”

“I’ll come see you right after Javier’s hearing. I’ll bring your stuff, and we can just be for a while.”

I nod in her arms and bury my face in her red curls. Sooner than time can possibly move, Bob returns with an envelope of cash and a check. I sign and he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“When do you leave?”

“Today if I can find a flight.”

Reagan whimpers but Bob nods. “If you have to face it, start now. And if you stay, you may have to testify that you witnessed Javier’s illegal work. You help them more by being gone.”

“Thank you, Bob. For everything.” These years were worth it for people like him.

He starts shaking my hand, but at the last moment pulls me into his chest for a grandfather hug. He walks us out, and waves as Reagan races us to our next stop.

At Casa Solis, Maria is in the kitchen. The girls have a playdate and Antonio is with them. All the better. I can’t say goodbye to them. I tell Maria I love her con mi corazón y alma. I tell her Javier’s orders about the girls. I tell her she has a new daughter in Reagan. Then, I take her hand. Time for the truth. Or part of it.

“Maria, the lawyer says I need to go back to England for a while. I need to take care of the cottage too. Mr. Plemmons is getting old. I can’t abandon it.”

She looks at me for a very long time, the lines on her face now full wrinkles. She doesn’t speak. She knows there are other reasons so she doesn’t fight me. Her eyes brim with tears.

“¿Y tu amor?”

“He’ll go on. As will you. You know how you’re not telling the girls about Javier because some things are better not known until the end? Look at me. Whatever the end, the girls will be okay. Do you trust me?”

“Con toda mi vida.”

With her whole life. She holds my face with her nutmeg-scented hands and marks a cross in the air, over my forehead.

“Bendita,” she whispers as she blesses me. She stands slowly and takes my hand as we trudge to the door. At the threshold, she kisses my cheeks and combs my hair with her fingers.

“I love you, Mamá.”

She has earned it.

Maria closes her eyes and puts her hands together in prayer. Keep my girl safe, keep her safe.

* * * * *

In the car, Reagan takes over with the plan for my last two stops. I wait outside Aiden’s house while she packs my things. I recite the periodic table in English, Spanish and Italian as I wait. Finally, she bursts out with my rucksack, Benson on her heels. He looks severe but holds out his hand. I take it.

“Would it be futile to ask you to ignore everything you heard today?” Benson’s voice is staccato as if he wishes he could say more.

“I could ignore what I heard but not what he admitted. Whatever his reasons, the price was too high.”

Benson looks like he’s choking on unspoken words.

“Goodbye, Benson. If you’re ever in England alone, call me.”

His forehead shifts and locks, his eyes widening in terror. “England?”

“It’s my only home now. Thank you, and thank Cora, for everything.”

“Solis may still make it,” he protests, running his hand through his hair. He doesn’t understand that even saving Javier couldn’t fix losing Aiden. “What about Bob? Your green card? Your future? You said you were signing,” Benson presses urgently. His voice is higher than I thought it capable of getting. I risk a peck on his cheek.

“Take care of him. Make sure he sees Corbin.”

I turn quickly and get in the car, while Benson stares at me without blinking. Reagan hits the gas. In the rearview mirror, I see Benson sprint inside. I leave a similar message for Corbin from Reagan’s phone. Bless its lithium heart, it waits until I hang up to die. We’re all running out of life.

In our apartment, I pack my parents’ treasures and clothes for the next two weeks. When I open my knickers drawer, his shirt button rolls forward. I shove it back. I watch everything outside of my body. When dreams end, unfortunately, they don’t kill you.

At PDX, there’s only one flight at 6:55 p.m. $2,050. It’s 6:10 now. How can a day undo four years in mere hours? But if lives have to end, let it be mine. If I brought you to life, I want you to live it, he said. The memory sends my chest into convulsions. I feel like I’m missing something vital, but I have no power to analyze it because his admission overrules everything. So many unknowns we still have about each other. It was a beautiful beginning amidst a most devastating end. The abyss of his extinguished light yawns under me, livid because I escaped it once. This time, the ravenous depths claim me as I fall.

I vomit in the restroom until nothing but acid comes out. Reagan holds me with words I don’t hear. By the security line, she picks up The Oregonian and looks at me, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Your tradition,” she sniffles, and tucks it inside my rucksack, probably next to my first newspaper that I bought in the States.

We hold each other until they call my name. Elisa Snow…exactly like in my nightmares, but Reagan is here until the end.

“Take this,” I say, pulling the camera he bought me off my neck. “These are all our spots, all our life. Go visit them for me sometime.”

Reagan takes the Nikon, sobbing.

“I love you with my life,” I tell her.

“I love you too. I’ll see you in two weeks. I’ll bring any American man I can find along the way to marry you and bring you back.”

Security attributes my pallor to anxiety and walks me to the gate. Reagan waves behind the liquid curtain of my tears until I can see her no more.

Inside the plane, I stuff my rucksack under the seat and stare out of the window unblinking. I don’t want to miss a glimpse of my American un-dream. In the distance, the sun sets over the West Hills that nestle his home. I wonder if my soul is still on the Rogue. It will never catch up with me in England. It will always float here, keeping tabs on the Solises, Reagan and him. I guess if you travel far enough, the soul splits.

Beneath me, America fades. Perhaps it’s the height or the hollowness inside, but on this flight, I’m not carrying ghosts. I am one. Shivering, I reach for my rucksack to get my scarf. Aiden’s dog tag comes out of my blouse but I ignore it, because as I unzip my pack, on the very top, held with a purple ribbon are the yellowed, sealed envelopes and a folded white note.

I reach for the note, wondering if it can bring me to life. My ghostly fingers make contact with the crisp piece of paper but they no longer touch. They simply work: grip, pick up, unfold. I read the unfamiliar slanted handwriting, one blurry letter at a time.