the crowd, reminding herself that love is thicker than blood. She was nothing like Harriet or David. She was Rosa Bolívar.
She looked into the green eyes of the burly guard who stood on the inside of the entrance gate. During her approach, she’d watched him. He seemed patient and respectful of everyone. “Excuse me, sir,” she said through the fence, keeping her voice steady and calm. “I’d like to see David Martín.”
He cocked his head to the side. “David Martín?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but that won’t be possible. He doesn’t have anyone on his guest list.”
“This is very important. How do I go about being put on his list?” If she didn’t see David today, she knew she’d lose her courage.
“Excuse my French, but the warden would need a hell of a reason to approve a visitor.”
“May I speak to the warden then?”
“Don’t waste your time.”
Other spectators listened while pretending they weren’t. Rosa ignored everyone, except the guard. She was on a mission and wouldn’t be turned away.
“Would you please call the warden for me? I’d at least like to try.”
“Fine. But, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
He walked further back onto the lush green grounds toward a tall brick wall that surrounded the prison and made a call.
“They won’t give you permission,” said a fifty-something-year-old, white male over her shoulder. “I’ve been trying for two weeks.”
“They have to,” she whispered to herself. “They just have to.”
The officer shook his head as he returned. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Panic gripped her almost as tight as she gripped the fence. “But, I have to see him. It’s extremely important.” Afraid of losing her chance forever, her mind scrambled for bait to throw out they couldn’t resist.
He leaned against the fence. “I’m not trying to be smart, but everyone thinks their reason is important. The warden’s an extremely busy man.”
“Tell the warden I’m David Martín’s daughter,” she whispered to the guard.
His boisterous laugh turned many heads in their direction. “You won’t give up, will you? David Martín doesn’t have any children.”
She rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he tell she was trying to keep this on the down low? “But he does,” she continued, softly. “Please call the warden and tell him.”
He walked away mumbling, “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” He called the warden and told him about her claim.
“Hey, Rolland,” yelled the man standing behind her. “Tell the warden, I’m his long lost son.” The gathering crowd joined in the laughter.
Rosa glared over her shoulder at the man, and everyone went silent. Slapping the snot out of him wasn’t an option. “I suggest you step off now,” she warned.
Taken aback, the man stared into her eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. His own eyes opened wide with recognition, then widened with fear. “Oh, my God. You are his daughter.” He stepped around her, shaking the fence. “Rolland, Rolland, she’s telling the truth. She’s telling the truth!” He pointed at her. “Look at those eyes.” Fear clearly etched on his face, he turned to her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Martín. I meant no disrespect.”
Many people had said that she’d be put behind bars for killing someone with her evil eye someday. She hadn’t meant to whip it out, but the eavesdropping jerk had worked her last nerve. She bowed her head slightly. “No problem. And my name is Bolívar, not Martín,” she said proudly. The man behind the bars helped to conceive her, but he wasn’t her father, and she wouldn’t accept his name.
* * *
“What are you drawing?” Samson asked in Spanish. David only had three days until his execution, but Samson wasn’t ready to give up on him. He’d given David a sketchpad, colored pencils and an art eraser, encouraging David to feel again, to see that he had someone to live for. He peeked at the picture. David had drawn the flower of a