November 2008
She snaked her hand out under the blanket and tried to reach for her still full wine glass. Horatio gave it to her knowing that she might need it as an encouragement. She took a long sip of it and then gave it back to Horatio.
„I do not want to talk about things that happened a long time ago and I do not want those emotions coming back. They were bad enough back then, but now. Can´t we talk about something else?" she was trying to escape. Both of them knew it, but he would not let her suffer because of buried feelings and emotions. That was not going to happen. It was still pretty early and they still had a few hours to talk and they would.
"Sweetheart, please do not try to change the subject." She hit his chest with her fist and then continued staring at the beach. He decided to try it and to be bold. He picked one of her great-grandparents. "Marisol, how about you tell me about you great-grandfather Eric. How was he? What was he like?" He could feel her tense in his arms and knew immediately that he had hit a sensitive spot.
"Horatio please, do not make me, do this." He moved her so that he was looking directly into her eyes. "Yes we are Marisol." Marisol was surprised at his strong voice which held a little authority in it. It did not scare her but it surprised her. She knew that she could not really argue with Horatio when he used that voice. He saw that she was surprised at his voice but he needed her to let the emotions out and he needed to know why he saw fear in her eyes.
He then used the voice again, he only used with her and the children. "Sweetheart what are you afraid of?" he could the surprise in her eyes. "I do not want to go back to those years of my childhood and youth. Those years are in the past." He shook his head. "You are afraid of those feelings and of those memories." She was shocked that he said it out loud and that it was true.
"I know that you trust me. Can you trust me enough to tell me about Eric?" she nodded. Four hours after they left Miami and 4 pm she was finally willing to talk to him. He just hoped that it would not be this hard every time.
"He was a Cuban man, who came to the states with his wife Marisol and my grand-parents Jaime and Maria and my parents. He loved smoking Cuban cigars and loved to watch us play. He told us stories about Cuba and the time when grew up and lived in Cuba. He was a funny guy and always told funny stories." The emotions were clogging her throat. Horatio tightened his embrace on her and kissed her temple. He kept quiet knowing that she needed to do this at her pace.
"We all loved his stories. Eric was a teacher in Cuba. He always wanted to take us to Cuba so that we would know where our family came from, but with Castro it was too dangerous. He told us about the beautiful Landscapes and how I looked almost like" she broke off because the emotions got too much of her. Horatio felt his shirt getting damp and stroked her back. "Then one day, when I was 16 I came home from School and my parents were wearing black. Isabella then told me what happened. He died peacefully during his sleep when he was 95 years old."
The emotions really got the better of her and she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. Horatio just held her and allowed her to get part of her grief of her chest.
After she had calmed down he carried her to the bed in the master bedroom and lay down with her, surrounding her with his arms, legs and the blanket, trying to keep her warm and protected. "I am grateful that you told me about Eric." She nodded against his chest. I am just glad that I do not have to do this alone." He made her look at him. "You will never have to do something alone again." He kissed her and them heard her breathing evening out." He knew she must have fallen asleep and was glad because she needs her sleep and her rest.