He rubbed his forehead.
“This is ridiculous.
We’re family.”
Behind him, one of the children looked from Carlos to me.
I kept my eyes on my son.
“Family knocks too.”
Carlos let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“You locked your own children outside because of a group chat?”
There it was.
The version of the story he preferred.
An old woman had become emotional about a telephone chat and ruined everyone’s weekend.
I reached through the bars and tapped José’s notebook with one finger.
“No.
I locked the gate because that group chat finally showed me what had already happened here.”
Carlos stared at me.
I opened the notebook.
The leather creaked softly.
There were decades inside those pages.
I turned to the year José and I bought the first section of land.
“Read this.”
“I don’t need to read—”
“Read it.”
Maybe it was my voice.
Maybe it was the locked gate.
Maybe it was the deed still in his hand.
Whatever the reason, Carlos obeyed.
His eyes moved over José’s handwriting.
Land installment.
Market earnings.
Money from preserves.
Remaining balance.
Another page recorded the well.
Another listed roof timber and tiles.
Another showed what we paid for the first lemon trees.
The numbers were small by the standards my children knew as adults, but when José and I wrote them, each one had mattered.
There were weeks when a repair meant we bought no new clothes.
Months when a poor market meant we delayed replacing something that leaked or cracked.
Years when the farm grew because we did not spend money anywhere else.
Carlos stopped turning pages.
“What is this supposed to prove?”
“That this place did not appear because you wanted somewhere to barbecue.”
His jaw tightened.
Diego looked down.
I continued.
“Your father and I built it.
We paid for it.
We repaired it.
After he died, I kept paying the taxes, the caretaker, the roof, the pump, the electricity, the sheets you sleep in and the food you expect to find.”
Laura spoke quickly.
“We never said we didn’t appreciate it.”
I looked at her.
“No.
You stopped saying anything at all.”
Her mouth closed.
I did not raise my voice.
That seemed to make all of them more uncomfortable.
