A bit implied he didn't know her all too well. A bit was a friendly acquaintance or a distant family friend. A bit wasn't a stranger at the door searching for her husband.

Valencia took a step back to allow this Ana into their home. Every instinct screamed at her to slam the door closed, to deny this judas and her false claims. However, Ana was searching for her husband, and how many English speaking Don Juan's were there in their small town? (One - the answer was one.)

Her husband.

Her husband.

"Don Juan." Ana returned the greeting in her continued cool demeanor. "It's been awhile. Did you get my letter? We have something private to discuss."

Any thoughts of understanding English were quickly vanishing as Valencia listened to this woman speak. The accent was so thick, her words came so quickly, that she only had the loosest grasp on their conversation. There was, however, no mistaking the look Ana shot her at the end of her comments, almost like she meant to see Valencia out or force her into submission. Valencia's back straightened, her dark eyes narrowing into slits as her stubborn resolve sank into place.

This woman — this Ana — wouldn't make her cower in her own home.

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