I don't own these characters, I don't make money off them, I just enjoy reading and writing about them.

Alejandro in these stories portrayed by Henry Darrow.

Alejandro pulled on his jacket as he called to his son. "Diego, are you ready?"

"Coming, Father," was the reply. Diego soon entered the hallway, dressed in one of his nicest suits. Alejandro eyed him approvingly, but noticed that his son was still acting depressed and withdrawn. He could blame Diego's mood on today's date, but he thought it was more likely something else. Something that needed to be addressed. Immediately.

They exited the hacienda and mounted their horses, which were being held by a servant. Then they rode in silence toward a hilly area not too far away. Once they reached their destination, they left the horses tied under the shade of a tree, and approached a well-tended area where a headstone stood. Alejandro stopped and let Diego precede him, to pay respects to his mother in privacy.

Diego stood before his mother's resting place, his head bowed and his shoulders sagging. He stayed for a good while longer than usual, before kneeling and placing a red rose at the base of the stone. As he stood, Alejandro walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk," he said. Diego turned to face him, looking at his father in surprise. This was not the usual way they paid respects.

Alejandro sighed, then said quietly, "I must apologize to you, son. I have not been the kind of father you deserve."

"What?" Diego looked confused. "You are the best father a son could ever ask for."

The elder don shook his head. "No. Since you returned home from Madrid, I have been a disgraceful father." Diego started to say something, but Alejandro held up his hand. "Let me speak!" He took a deep breath, then looked his son in the eyes. "I realized something this morning, on the anniversary of my wife's death. Something I have forgotten these past years. You're not just my son; you are her son as well. When I look at you, I expect to see myself. I expect you to be like me, like a de la Vega!"

He looked away for a moment, then continued. "But how can you be, when I see the best parts of Felicidad in you as well? Her gentle spirit and patience - attributes I am definitely not known for. And my temper; well, I am sure it was the most exasperating part of me for your mother to endure. But she did, just as you do now."

"I was so proud when you were born, Diego. We both were. And as you grew older, you became more like each of us. You were quite the hellion as a youngster, you know." Alejandro smiled at the memory. "Exactly like your father. But you had a quiet side as well. I remember you sitting beside your mother as she played the piano, enraptured by the music. I protested when she arranged for you to take lessons, but she was insistent. Now you entertain and impress our guests with your beautiful music."

"And then you discovered your mother's painting supplies. You were a mess by the time we found you, covered in various colors from head to toe, and using a brush to put circles on the floor. We both laughed as we tried to clean you. And soon afterward, Felicidad bought a small paint set for you, and began showing you how to create the stunning artwork you now produce." Diego smiled, remembering his mother posing for him as he attempted a portrait of her.

"But her greatest influence on you was her love of books. She filled the library with all sorts, and had a special section on a lower shelf, full of children's books for you. She knew that books were full of knowledge that could open up whole new worlds for those who read them. And she was determined to open those worlds to you. Do you remember her reading to you every night when you went to bed?"

Alejandro looked at Diego, whose eyes lit up at the memory. As a boy, he had struggled to stay awake as long as possible during those sessions, because the longer he was awake, the more of the stories he would hear. He was particularly fond of adventure stories, and tales about foreign lands.

Alejandro chuckled quietly. "Your mother never knew this, but sometimes I would be just outside your bedroom, listening as she read. She was so expressive, even I could almost see the events she was describing. And when you finally fell asleep, I came and helped her tuck you in."

Then Alejandro was silent for a moment. "Since you returned from Spain, I have treated you badly at times, and I have said things that have hurt you. I know that. All because you are more like your mother than you are like me. And I am ashamed for doing that. I want you to know I am going to change. I'm going to celebrate the son you are, and be proud of you in everything you do. Because you are our son. She would be so pleased with the man you've become, as I am too. I'm only sorry I haven't told you this long before now."

Father and son looked at each other for a moment, then Diego pulled Alejandro close in a hug. "Thank you for telling me this, Father. I - I needed to hear this from you, more than you can realize. You don't know how much you mean to me. Someday, I will show you how you have influenced me in ways you can't imagine."

Alejandro pulled back, nodding at Diego before briefly pondering his son's statement. Then he placed another rose on his wife's grave. "These are the most beautiful roses our gardens have ever produced," he noted. "Whatever you did to the bushes worked better than I could have anticipated. How did you discover ways to improve them?"

Diego grinned, then started to say, "Well, I learned..."

"It from a book!" He and his father finished the sentence in unison, then they laughed.

"Diego, promise me something."

"Anything."

"If I ever lose my temper, and start to say something to you that I will regret, just remind me of the roses. Will you do that?"

"I don't think I'll have to, but I will if the need arises," Diego promised.

As they walked back to their horses, Alejandro noted that his son had a spring in his step that had been missing for far too long. "Felicidad," he whispered. "We have our son back."