In my dorm room after lunch, I'm sorting through my gear when Juana comes strolling in with a smug grin. She only looks like that when something is up. Without waiting for an invitation, she plops onto the bed.

Setting aside the gun I was about to clean, I cross my arms. "And? Did you get it?

"I did." She produces a small box from the side pocket of her cargo pants. When I try to snatch it, her arm shoots up to get it out of my reach. "Not so fast, Casanova. What about Varela? Did you ask him?"

At first, I'm tempted to keep her in suspense but decide I don't have time for childish games. "Yep, and you're in. We've got a location on Alejandro Ortiz and will be moving out at twenty-three-hundred hours sharp for a rescue gig. You're the number two on my team."

Excitement jumps from her eyes. "Tomás, you're a star. Was it hard to convince Varela?"

"Nope. He asked who I trusted to be my deputy troop leader, and I said I wanted you. He hesitated for a moment, but it's a done deal."

"I can't believe it. That's real combat." She bites her lip, undoubtedly close to squealing. With the biggest grin, she sets the small box on my nightstand. "And here is your test. When is the wedding?"

I frown. "Aren't we moving a little fast here?"

For a second, she squints at me with this are-you-serious expression. "C'mon, Araya. Don't tell me you didn't propose when your little orphan girl told you that you knocked her up. That's the only decent thing to do."

"We aren't even sure yet. Hence, the test."

"How many days is she past her period?"

"I dunno. I think she said a few weeks."

"A few weeks? Fuck, that's sure enough. You should've proposed."

"Well, I didn't."

"I hope you at least pretended to be thrilled."

I stop in my tracks. "What if I didn't?"

She groans. "Come on, Tomás. Don't tell me you made every guy mistake in the book."

"Well, she sprang it on me right after we came back from the ambush on the settlement. She caught me in a bad moment. I was confused." I omit the scared-out-of-my-mind part. It's none of her business.

"Confused? Hell, how do you think she feels? She was probably terrified to tell you in the first place and then you confirmed her worst fear by being an asshole. Everyone knows that pregnant women's hormones are through the roof, making them all weepy and emotional. She probably worries about all kinds of shit, but no. Instead of being the understanding and supportive boyfriend, you are just like anyone else who feels that sex for a man is limited to three minutes of fun without consequences. But news flash, Tomás. This is just as much your problem as it is hers."

"Sure it's my problem, but that doesn't make it any easier. Hell, she hit me totally out of the blue, so excuse me for not jumping up and down like an idiot. This pregnancy wasn't exactly planned."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't act like such a wuss. You're a man. Take control of the situation."

That's inevitable. I never expected Rosanna to deal with this alone. "So what do you suggest I do?"

"For now, forget the test. Tell her you're sorry for being a jerk and that you want to be there for her. Then propose. If you do it right, she might let you out of the doghouse before the wedding."

"And what if it's a false alarm? I mean, there are other reasons why girls are late other than pregnancy."

"You were going to marry her anyway, right? Because if not, you shouldn't have had sex with her in the first place."

"I suppose."

She rolls her eyes again. "There is no suppose about it. Premarital sex is only okay if you tie the knot eventually. Otherwise, it's a sin."

"Killing is also a sin and we still do it."

"Well, yeah, the world isn't perfect." She picks up the box with the test and drops it into the garbage bin. "Now go and do the right thing, Araya, before it's too late."

~~~~

The entire drive to the orphanage, my mind once again runs on overload. Although I totally see Juana's point, the idea of proposing to Rosanna is almost as scary as becoming a father. What if I blew my chances already and she only agrees to marry me because of her limited options? Or worse—what if she rejects me? All in all, my life just went from complicated to screwed up. Besides, how can I propose on the day I killed a man in cold blood? That's just sick.

Pulling up in front of the administration building where Pearson has his office, I get out of the car. The first person I run into is my brother Mateo.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Tomás. Who do you think you're talking to? I can tell something upset you."

I'm not going to get into this with him. He not only loves to lecture and remind me that I made a mistake by becoming a soldier, but he's also an unbearable know-it-all. I can already hear his speech on contraception. Must be that teacher thing he does. All the staff Pearson has ever hired to burn knowledge into our brains are a chip off the same block.

"Like I said, it's nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

It's my turn to squint. "I used to live here, Mateo. Maybe I came by to say hello to you guys."

"You never just stop by to say hello."

I snort under my breath. He's got me there. "Okay, fine. I want to play the violin."

"So something is wrong. You never play the violin anymore unless you feel like crap."

Another good observation. Since I'm always working and any spare minute is spent with Rosanna, my violin is only used as a picker-upper these days. I simply lack the time for proper practice. Not that it would matter. For the occasional get-together with my friends, I'm good enough and in times of war, no one has patience for music.

Not in the mood for further discussions, I stroll into the administrative building without giving him the benefit of another glance. Pearson is not in the office, but I know where he stores my old violin. When I signed up for the army, the prick didn't allow me to take it, something that caused quite a few shouting matches before I gave in and agreed to solely play at the orphanage. Suited me fine in the end since I get smirks whenever someone finds out I play an instrument. Tough guys in Malaguay aren't into sissy hobbies. We play cards for money or punch the crap out of another dude in the boxing ring.

I open the small closet and take out the case, my fingers already itching to strike the bow. After I unfasten the catches, I swing back the lid. Gazing at the dark red of the wood, I let my fingers run over the smooth surface. It's amazing the sound such a small instrument can make. And the variety of tunes. The concept of music is fascinating.

I tuck the violin under my chin and start with something slow to soothe the turmoil in my soul. Eyes closed, I let the tension escape as I play the strings. Calmness spreads from my fingertips with every strike of the bow. I get lost in the melody, my breath easing. As I move on to something wilder, more and more of the built-up pressure leaks from my chest. The stench of blood, the screams of the man, his lifeless, cut-up body that I just left behind as I was running for the bathroom; all those horrible snippets that race through my mind evaporate with the melody. The way the violin erases my pain is my miracle—my salvation—the secret weapon that keeps me going.

Switching back to softer tunes, I envision my son. From a young age, I'll teach him how to play the violin, share with him my love for music. Of course I will also show him how to pack a good punch. The last thing the world needs is another wimp. I smile as I play the strings. Maybe preparing a child for the world out there and helping him succeed isn't that bad after all.

One last strike of the bow and I open my eyes. When I lower the instrument, I meet Pearson's gaze. He's leaning in the doorway, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I'm always amazed that you get better every time you pick up that violin." He chuckles with bitterness. "And the sad part is, you aren't even trying. There are people that would give their arms and legs for that type of talent."

"If they gave their arms, they wouldn't be able to play the violin, so the talent would be wasted."

"Don't be a smart ass."

I smirk. "Yes, sir."

He walks into the room and drops into the chair behind the desk. "Mateo said you're upset."

"Mateo says a lot of things."

"So he is just mistaken then. You didn't come here and pour your heart into your music because something is wrong?"

Pearson isn't someone who can be fooled. And the bad part is, he'll keep poking until I give it up, even if it takes months. "I did something today I'm not proud of."

He stays quiet, damn well knowing he'll get a smart remark if he tries to rush me.

"I killed a man."

"You've killed before. It's the nature of combat."

"Not like this. This one was in cold blood." I clear my throat to shake the tremble from my voice. "I tortured him."

He stares at me until I twitch.

"It's good that you feel like crap. It shows that you have some of your humanity left. You should be proud of that, Tomás."

"Did you ever torture a man and kill him?"

"Yes."

"Varela said it gets easier. Does it?"

"I guess it depends on the person. Didn't get easier for me. Stuff like that made me quit the Marines."

"And the guilt. Does it ever go away?"

"Again, that depends on you. I found that helping people made up for it. That's why I built this orphanage. Taking boys in and turning them into good men was my way to redeem myself."

"And now I've failed you."

"No, Tomás. It takes a lot more to fail me."

My laugh is incredulous. "How can you say that? I left and became a soldier. I failed you in every possible way."

"You did what you had to do." A sad shadow crosses his face. "And your choice didn't stop you from coming back here. You never gave up on your music—or your studies. Granted, I would've preferred if you had stayed and turned into a teacher like Mateo, but to be honest, you are too stubborn for that. Ever since you were little, you wanted to fight for your country. I guess you got that from your mom. She loved Malaguay and always wanted what was best for the people. She'd be proud of you, Tomás."

My smile is crooked. How can a mother be proud that her son turned into a cold-blooded killer? Though maybe I'm too hard on myself. The rules in combat are different. War doesn't reward soldiers who can't get the job done. They die instead.

"I should go." One more stop to make before I leave for the rescue mission tonight. Playing the violin has put things into perspective—at least with respect to Rosanna—and it's time to step up to the plate and act like a man.

"Well, I'm glad we had this chat. As you know, this will always be your home. If things get to be too much, you can come back."

"Thanks, I appreciate the offer." We both know it'll never happen. The orphanage only bears witness to my past. It can never become my future.

With care, I set the violin back into its case and stow it away together with the bow. When Pearson pulls me into a bear hug, my mind is miles away. He won't be as forgiving once he finds out Rosanna is pregnant. That will be a fight I could do without.

Back in the Jeep, I let the tires spin as I take off. My drive ends a few hundred yards up the forest path and I pull into my usual hiding spot. Tracking through the woods, I approach the orphanage from the back just like I did last night. As luck would have it, Rosanna is outside, hanging up laundry with her friend Dolores. With the shed as my coverage, I whistle through my teeth to get her attention. That also attracts the damn dog, who finally decides to get on his job and check out the unexpected visitor after some stretches and shakes.

His tail wags like crazy as he trots over. Pressing his head against my knee, he almost trips me. I stroke him behind the ears to keep him from jumping up.

"Hey, Bear. How is my good boy?"

The words get him all excited; when Dolores pulls his collar, I give her a thankful smile.

Rosanna gets on her tiptoes and pecks my cheek. Awkward silence follows until Dolores giggles. She and Rosanna exchange a glance. I roll my eyes. Girls.

"Can you get away for a few hours?" I ask Rosanna.

"Now?

"I have to leave tonight and it's kind of important." I gaze at Dolores with pleading eyes. She has covered for us before.

"You guys go. I got this."

Grabbing Rosanna's hand, I pull her behind me until we reach the Jeep. We drive with the top down and I love how the wind whips through her hair. She glances at me a few times, but her usual smile has vanished from her lips. Only pressing silence stands between us. No doubt she's still miffed about last night.

When we get to the forest path that leads to our secret hiding spot, I speed up the hill. At the end of the road, I kill the engine. The rest of the way is a good hike of about half a mile. I grab the picnic basket from the backseat and follow Rosanna down the beaten path. It's almost all incline from here as we get deeper into the mountains. The trees give way to a rockier terrain and gravel replaces the soft forest ground. I help Rosanna climb over a natural wall that marks the end of the path. From here on in, only a few people know the secret passage. Felipe was actually the one who discovered it when he tried to find a spot where he could pitch a tent and get laid.

I keep my hand under Rosanna's elbow to steady her as we make our way across the stony plateau. A few times, the weight of the basket threatens to throw me off balance and I sway. The rocks end when another beaten path begins. Walking through a narrow gulch with tall mountain walls stretching to our left and right, we finally reach our destination.

Pool's Rock.

A gift of nature.

I take a deep breath and let my gaze roam. Three tall mountain walls surround me in a protective embrace, the front of the plateau open to a steep ravine offering a view of the serene mountains with their fields and a few scattered houses. The small passage Rosanna and I took is the only way in and out. Although plateaus like this aren't that uncommon in Malaguay, the waterfall that feeds a small pond makes it a special place. Droplets of water fall under the sun with the excess cascading into the ravine.

The constant movement keeps the water cold, but the challenge to stay warm in each other's arms during and after our swims is what makes it fun. I pull a thick blanket from the basket and spread it out over our favorite rock a little way from the falls. The stone is so leveled and smooth that it's quite comfortable, especially when we bring sleeping bags. In this exact spot, I made love to Rosanna for the first time a little over a year ago. Many times followed. When we want to be alone, Pool's Rock is our sanctuary.

Rosanna pulls herself up and hugs her knees with her back resting against one of the rocks. A reluctant smile unfurls from the corners of her mouth. "So what do you want to talk about?"

Sitting down next to her, I fold my legs underneath me. "I was thinking about last night." My shoulders deflate and I sigh. "I'm so sorry, Rosanna. I acted like such a douche and never even considered your feelings. Of course I'm happy about the baby. I guess I was just scared."

"I'm scared, too, Tomás. I mean, it's not like we planned this."

"No, but we never used protection. It was just a matter of time."

"I guess."

"And no matter what, I want to be there for you."

She plays with the tip of her thumbnail, avoiding my gaze. "Did you bring the test?"

"Forget the test. It's not important."

This time, the smile hits her eyes. I bend forward and peck her lips before pulling a water bottle from the basket.

She catches on, fanning air into her face with a folded napkin as if she were royalty. With her lips pursed, she regards me. Her nose is stuck up in the air. "Tomás, dear. Would you mind pouring me a drink?"

I bow my head. "Straight away, milady."

When I pretend that the twisty top of the bottle is a cork, she giggles. I spiked the water with granadilla juice—her favorite—and the mixture I pour is the same color as champagne.

With a bow of her own, she accepts the plastic cup. Her smile is still not as wide as usual, but I'm getting there. "Are you sure you don't want me to take the test?"

"Absolutely." It's now or never. Shifting, I get on one knee and loop my fingers with hers. "Rosanna Velasquez, I don't have a ring to give you or much to my name, but would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes cut into me. A hint of doubt still overshadows the joy. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it." My lips curl into a genuine smile. "Even if the pregnancy turns out to be nothing, I want to marry you. There'll never be another woman for me in my life."

The doubt dissolves in an explosion of bliss. Her whole face beams with happiness. "Then I'd love nothing more than to be your wife and the mother of your children."

~~~~~

© Sal Mason 2018

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