Read A Blossom of Bright Light for Free Online Page B

strap.
    â€œHere,” he said. “If you look out from this angle, you can see the Hudson River.”
    The señor’s touch felt greasy and unclean—even through her dress—though Luna couldn’t say why. She pretended to be annoyed by something Mateo and Dulce were doing and used it as an excuse to break away. How much longer is my father going to be?
    Papi emerged from the office a few minutes later, shaking Mr. Katz’s hand. He looked pleased, if a little unsure.
    â€œWhat do you think, Adam?” Señor Gonzalez asked the lawyer.
    Mr. Katz took off his gold wire-rimmed glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He seesawed his head back and forth.
    â€œLook, even a continuance at this point would help. It would buy Mr. Serrano some time at least.” The lawyer smiled at Papi and gave him a thumbs-up like he was a kid at a baseball game praying for a homer. “Hey, if my partner Steve Schulman gets elected in November, who knows?”
    Afterward, Papi bought two slices of pizza at a pizzeria down the street and cut each in half for the four of them to share. He looked happier than he had in many weeks.
    â€œThe señor, he complimented all of you,” said Papi. “He told me I had a nice family. Especially you, Luna. He said you were a lovely girl.”
    Luna fingered the spot along the back of her bra strap where Señor Gonzalez had placed his sweaty palm. She would scrub the spot as soon as she got home. But for now, she forced a smile.
    â€œHow nice.”

Chapter 5
    J immy Vega pressed his hands against the display window at the Lake Holly Hospital nursery. He counted nine babies: two preemies in special incubators and seven others swaddled on their sides in open bassinets. Most were napping: fists curled, eyes shut, their little mouths sucking furiously. They all looked so—animated. Like little surprise packages of stored energy and talent just waiting to explode on the world. Vega thought of Baby Mercy, the package that would never get to be opened. His heart felt like someone was scraping sandpaper across it.
    â€œSir? Can I help you?” asked a nurse in Winnie the Pooh scrubs. “Visiting hours aren’t until after two on Sundays.”
    â€œOh. Sorry. Is Marc Feldman around? They said he was on call today.” Vega pulled out his badge. He’d forgotten the hospital had recently beefed up its maternity ward security.
    â€œI’m afraid Dr. Feldman just went into the OR. An emergency C-section. It’s likely to be a while.”
    â€œHow about Joy Vega? Is she in?”
    â€œHis intern? I think she may have left already.” The nurse read his badge. “Vega—are you related?”
    â€œShe’s my daughter.”
    â€œWhy don’t you have a seat in the visitor’s lounge,” said the nurse. “I’ll check if she’s still here.”
    Vega sat down on an orange vinyl couch and thumbed the magazines spread across the coffee table. No Sports Il-lustrated s here. Only American Baby and Babytalk and Pregnancy & Newborn. Everywhere Vega looked, he saw babies. Even on his iPhone, Mercy was there, staring back at him like some darling new family addition. There was no escaping the ghost of what he’d done.
    He tried to remember what Joy was like as a newborn, but the images were fuzzy, bathed in the sleepless stupor and panic of being a brand-new cop, husband, and father all at once. He was barely twenty-four at the time. Too young, he realized now. Too immature on every front. It took him about three years to get the hang of being a cop. Wendy would argue that he’d never gotten the hang of being a husband. As for the father part, well—he’d done a hell of a lot better than his old man. At the very least, he’d stuck around.
    And now Joy was all grown up. A college freshman. Vega had seen her exactly four times since she’d started classes seven weeks ago—which