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Guilt stabbed me as I recalled our previous conversations about me being a workaholic. She didn’t need to know about the extracurricular activity outside of my medical occupation. Vengeance had reigned supreme for a long time, and staying away from her kept the darkness at bay.

“We talk on the phone.”

“Not the same,” she huffed, and the bag of crystals shifted on her belt. “That’s an excuse for lazy business executives who care more about money than family.”

Ouch.

I kept my mouth shut. A man knew when he was going to lose a battle, no matter what excuse he could offer. Feeling resigned, my gaze landed on the crystals. She’d given me a pouch, believing they could ward off evil spirits and such. I prayed she wouldn’t ask me about it, because I had no idea where I’d placed it.

Though I loved holistic medicine, crystals and tarot cards weren’t for me. Science still ran in my blood. Despite that, I wanted to change the world’s perspective on alternative medicine. It didn’t get the attention it deserved. But it would one day. I’d make sure of it. It was the future of healing. I’d invested a lot of time and money in this field.

A man with an open mind allowed innovative ideas to manifest. Just because I understood the world of allergies and infectious diseases didn’t mean my ambitions ended there.

Ambition was a force of nature. It had helped me survive when the world appeared dark and dire. It had given me strength to obtain the things I wanted. Ambition made me a billionaire.

Grandma Morena flicked an inquisitive look at me. “Why are you growing your hair long?”

Here we go again.This topic was getting boring.

I raked a hand through my hair. “I skipped my barber shop appointment to hop on the first flight to see my favorite grandmother. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I grabbed the basket from her hands and draped an arm around her small shoulders, praying she’d change the subject.

She jabbed a strong finger into my ribs. “You don’t think I can spot a lie? Don’t forget who raised you.”

“I’ve been busy and haven’t had time to get a trim. It’s the least of my worries.”

Those were all truths. I had been busy, and a haircut wasn’t a priority compared to the other issues swimming in my head. If she knew I was using this physical change as an experiment, she’d probably understand. But that conversation would encourage more questions.

I didn’t have time for that.

“Things okay at the clinic?” she asked, concern weighing on her face.

“It’s growing fast. There are three new doctors on rotation now.”

“Good.” She nodded slowly. “Your parents would’ve been proud of what you’ve accomplished.” Her tone had softened, and I knew she’d already forgiven me.

My father had died because three vile men entered our home without cause and shot him. My dad was an innocent man, but they didn’t want to hear it. He died from an infection he’d acquired from the awful wound. My family didn’t have money back then for treatment. Like most areas in the world, Brazil had its political issues where the common people ended up suffering the most. My mom passed away in a car accident when we immigrated to the States.

Their loss changed me, pushing me to become a doctor. It made me feel better knowing that I had the power to help if my loved ones were hurt.

I squeezed Grandma’s shoulder, appreciating her more than she knew. When her shop was in Providence, it had been easy to visit her. But the winter worsened her arthritis, so she moved to a warmer climate and found her niche in a like-minded community of mystics.

Grandma Morena looked up at me. “How long are you staying this time?”

“Three weeks. I’ve got a few seminars to attend, colleagues to meet up with, and business to review at the Holistic Farm.”

“Dinner next Saturday.” It wasn’t a question, but a firm statement that also served as a command from a woman who had my respect. “After that, I’ll think about forgiving you for abandoning me.”

Her words cut straight to the quick, and a dark memory flashed in my mind.

Mommy holds my hand, guiding me through the forest behind our house. We follow Grandma Morena as she leads us to a path covered with tall plants. I can’t see our village anymore. The only sounds I hear are our feet stomping on twigs. I’m breathing hard because I’m tired. There are so many bugs here. A bug almost flies in my mouth, but I swat it away. Yuck.

I glance at my mom. She looks stressed and scared. I know she’s sad because I’m sad too. Mom and Grandma buried my dad in the backyard last night. They thought I was asleep, but I watched them through the window. I couldn’t sleep because I miss my dad.

I hate those three men who killed my dad, especially the man with the red birthmark who shot him. They’re evil. They killed my neighbors too. I don’t understand why this is happening.

The evil men with big guns always come to our town, yelling and pushing people. They pushed my mom’s friend, and she fell and hit her head against a pole. Grandma had to help her stop the bleeding with herbs. I wish the police would arrest these mean people, but they don’t care. Maybe they’re scared too.

I’m only six years old. I’m too small to help.