Chapter Three
There were still stars visible in the sky when Elena woke the next morning. Jose was sleeping peacefully, and she was so happy waking with him still at her side that she began to believe there was no dream happening here at all, no altered state of reality where she’d been transported by angels for god knows what reason. This wasn’t Spain; this wasn’t Nikos; this was a much more substantial reality than that—this place in the middle of the Arizona desert. She couldn’t figure it any other way.
Away from the bed, in the corner of the living room, was Jose’s guitar smiling to her from the dark space. The old Mexican instrument was nearly too big for her arms to hold, it felt so much like her cello. Good idea that she’d not brought her instrument with her on this trip, the dear
