Page 2 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)

VIOLET

Dear Graham,

I hope this letter finds you soon. I know I told you not to expect a letter from me…

but here I am, writing you one. I think about the day you came into the diner all the time.

I thought you were the most handsome man I had ever seen in your uniform.

My heart beat so hard as I took your order.

I was so scared you would be able to hear it.

I can’t believe you only came to the diner to order something for your aunt, and now look where we are.

Since you left for deployment, every time the door swings open and the bell chimes, I hope to God it’s you.

I know you don’t know when you’ll be back, and I know it’s only been a week since our last day together, but maybe when you do come back home, we can go to Wrightsville Beach like we promised.

Sincerely,

Grace

M y abuelita smiles as I read her one of the letters she asked me to.

I sit in a chair with her next to the hospital bed, holding a slightly crumpled paper that has aged and now carries a yellow tint with both of my hands.

Her once-red hair, now almost entirely white, falls to the side of the pillow, and her freckles move downward as a frown replaces her once-blissful smile.

Today is a good day; she has some strength and was able to walk around the pond outside Greenville Hospital. She texted me this morning to come over and said she was cashing in on her one request for me. To read her these letters.

Ever since her cancer diagnosis, she’s wanted to spend more time with me. Since my grandmother means the world to me, I will do whatever she asks.

She’s always warned me to stay away from all military men since I was a little girl, and I never knew why. Maybe now I’ll get my answer. I always assumed it was because we live in a military town. She’s married to my non-military-affiliated grandfather—a retired mailman.

It’s not only the cancer that she’s been fighting. Her Alzheimer’s diagnosis was something so unexpected. Ever since that day, she had one request from me, but didn’t tell me what it was.

Until today.

After I graduated from Basic Training, I immediately attended Airborne School for three weeks.

Jumping out of planes was exciting. I thought I would be scared when I did my first jump, but the adrenaline and excitement overpowered my fear and fueled my confidence.

After getting my jump wings, I went to North Carolina—home of special operations.

I survived Selection. I was the only female in my class, and I worked hard to succeed.

My hard work has paid off because now I’m on leave, soaking up every moment with my grandparents before I head to the course.

“ Abuelita …may I ask you something?” I fold the handwritten letter, placing it back into a small wooden box.

“Yes, mija ?” she rasps as she shifts in the bed, snuggling with her blue teddy bear. She’s had that blue teddy bear since she was a teenager.

“Why these letters? Who is this man?”

My grandparents have been in love for more than half their lives, and she’s now revealing that she shared her heart with someone other than my grandpa?

The sun outside her window shines through, casting golden rays across her face.

“ Mija. This is my one request.” She intertwines her hands on her lap.

“I know you have a busy life with work, and I know you’re leaving again soon.

Please read these letters to me whenever you’re home.

I want to remember my first love before I can’t anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I love your grandfather.

We have a beautiful life together, but I truly believe that in life you can love more than one person, even though I chose your grandpa. But my first love? He was Graham.”

My mouth opens.

“ Abuelita !” I palm the box to my chest in disbelief.

She had loved someone other than my grandpa?

The last time I remembered, she had been with him since she was nineteen.

He was her first and only boyfriend. “I don’t think Grandpa would like this, Abuelita .

I don’t think he would want me to read these letters.

Is Graham the reason why you’ve wanted me to stay away from dating a military man all these years?

” I close the wooden box and slide it onto the tile floor of the room, tucking it under her bed where it once was.

Of course, I know I can make my own decisions at twenty years old, but her words have been engraved into me since I was a child. It hadn’t stopped me from joining the Army, though—a decision I made to honor my late veteran father.

“Your grandpa knows all about him. This is between you and me, okay? This is my only request, por favor ?” She pleads with me, her eyebrows raising.

I could never tell her no. I glance over my shoulder to ensure my grandfather stays out of the loop. Luckily, he’s nose deep into the local newspaper, his pen in hand, working on the crossword section.

“Well, why did you marry my grandpa over Graham?” Curiosity gnaws at me. Why did she end up with my Grandpa Ramon if she loved this Graham?

She smiles again, her light brown eyes glistening with pride.

“Be patient. One letter at a time. Is that okay? Then I’ll tell you why I chose your grandpa over Graham.”

I chew the inside of my lip.

“Fine. One letter at a time.” I agree, sitting up straight, I kiss her on the cheek. “Text me when you want me to read another one.

“Of course, Violet.”

“Can I ask one question, though?”

“Of course.”

“Was he in the Navy? We live near a Navy base, so I assume he was a sailor.”

“No, mija . He is not. Graham was a Green Beret. He sent me these letters from Vietnam.”

“Wow…Grandma, a Special Forces soldier?” My brows wag up and down as I simultaneously give her a cheeky grin.

Nice. Go, Grandma.

A pinch of red paints her cheeks, and she giggles like a teenager. I haven’t seen her smile like that since her diagnosis. Seeing how much she lights up while taking a trip down memory lane brings me peace. If reading these letters makes her blissful during a hard time, I’ll be patient.

“You surprise me, Grandma.” I cross my arms, narrowing my brows.

“Why?”

“You’ve warned me time and time again all my life to stay away from military men, and you’re telling me you fell in love with one?”

She grows quiet. Her silence says it all. She isn’t sure what to say. She hugs her teddy bear tighter, and it’s like I struck a nerve. I hadn’t meant to, and I take this moment as my exit.

“I’ll see you later , Abuelita ,” I lean forward and kiss her cheek again.

“ Que Dios te bendiga, te quiero mucho .”

“ Te quiero más .”

She turns on her television, flipping the channel twice before setting the television remote down at her side. She’s watching one of her favorite movies, Beethoven .

“Goodbye, Grandpa. I’m here for one more day, then I’m leaving for North Carolina.”

He places the local newspaper back onto his lap.

“We’re very proud of you.” He smiles and leans into my ear. “She worries about you, but if going into Special Ops makes you happy, she’s happy. Give your mom some time to come to terms with your decisions, though.” his voice and hands shake against my forearms as he whispers.

He knows my mother wants nothing to do with my choice to join the military but doesn’t get involved.

I feel like she doesn’t understand how special it is to make it through Selection—a rigorous and challenging set of events where you’re tested both physically and mentally.

The class started with over four hundred candidates, and only thirty of us were selected to move on to the Special Forces course.

“Don’t worry about my mother and me,” I reassure him.

I straighten my back, return the smile, and suppress the ache in my chest as the concern for their well-being pricks my mind. I don’t need to cry every time I see them.

“I’m glad she has you when I can’t be here.” My tone is light as I take another step away.

“Focus. You go and be great. We’ll be here, cheering our granddaughter on.” He places his freckled hand on the ends of his bright red, fuzzy plaid sweater. He grabs his pen and adjusts his reading glasses before returning to his puzzle.

I pivot around on my foot, the soles of my shoes softly squeaking. Before I leave, I look at my grandma one last time and take a mental picture of her alive and happy. She’s so focused on the present, enjoying simple things like watching her favorite movie while poison floods her veins.

Even in the darkness, she smiles.

I walk down the hallway toward the exit.

I say goodbye to the nurse who’s administering her chemo and remind her to call me if anything happens.

Typically, I’m not allowed back here when she gets her treatment, but they made a one-time-only exception.

About five minutes later, I leave the hospital and head towards the visitors’ parking lot.

I pull out my keys and hit a button twice to get into my white sedan. Sitting inside the driver’s seat, I text my mother.

Me:

Grandma is having a good day today. I’m on my way back home.

Ma:

Okay.

I’m surprised she texted back so fast. I take it as a sign to try to have one last conversation with her before I leave again.

I stare at my screen and scroll through my photos, a habit I like to do when I’m stressed.

I scroll all the way to the top, where I find pictures of the four of us—my once-complete family: my dad, my mother, and my older sister, Isabella.

My father’s black peppered hair is short and combed to the side.

His large, circular prescription glasses are on his small nose.

The sun shines on our olive skin, and my sister is dressed in her outfit of pink head to toe, with pink lipstick.

I’m holding onto my mother in my jeans and striped, dark blue sweater.

It was my sister’s celebratory dinner for college graduation at the local Italian pizza place.

I turn my phone off before grief can come back in a harsh wave and swim out of the memories.

As soon as my car turns on, I make my way towards Mom’s house.

We live in a cozy one-story, three-bedroom home in a neighborhood near the Catholic church I grew up attending every Sunday morning.

As I drive out of the hospital vicinity, dread slowly creeps into my chest. It doesn’t feel like my home anymore, not since my father passed away.

Ever since he died, my mother has too. A cold aura now replaces her warmth.

I wish she would accompany me on the visits with my grandma.

I die slowly every time I see her receive treatment. I can’t lose her. Ever since she got diagnosed, I’ve been on edge, terrified at the thought that she won’t be here anymore, even though she is here.

My throat constricts, and I’m doing everything I can to fight the dry tightening in the back of it as I park my car in my mother’s driveway. I sit there, listening to The Fray, and suck in a breath.

Everything feels like it’s going to shit lately. But it’s too late to change it now. There’s nothing left for me here anymore.