By Angel del Corazón When my grandmother Willow was three years old, her mother Rebecca chose Fearless Neely, a young mild-mannered Bahamian girl, to look after her strange daughter. Willow’s mixed up reactions to the simplest stimulus grew more pronounced each year, or satanic, as Rebecca saw it, until she could no longer abide the…

By Angel del Corazón By the time Willow reached puberty, her mother decided to check on her spiritual growth. As her family walked home one Sunday afternoon, Willow followed behind, her slender figure swaying on her spindly legs, the greenish tint in her hair glittering in the sun. Rebecca retreated to her side and in…

By Angel del Corazón Tears of happiness rained down her cheeks. “Are you hurt?” His apparent fear of the water upset Willow and she laughed. This was not a good sign. She also couldn’t deny that the promised one was a stocky man unlike Thomas. And yet hadn’t her sweet cousin freed her from that…

By Angel del Corazón On a sunny morning in December 1932, Captain Robert Porecca walked from his cabin onto the gleaming teak deck aboard the Stella Maris, a sleek, seventy-five foot yacht, and lit a cigarette. A small wave rocked the boat in its berth at Prince George Wharf; sunlight winked off the brass fittings.…

By Angel del Corazón Rocco and Willow landed in Key West, the southernmost point of the continental United States. My grandmother was seventeen years old in the winter of 1927 when she stepped onto the porch of her pretty new home. It was a “gingerbread house,” and in those days, families designed the woodwork trim…