One day, eight months after the transplant, fate intervened again.
Carmen was off duty, walking through Retiro Park in Madrid, enjoying a spring afternoon. She sat down on a bench to read a book when a ball rolled to her feet.
“Sorry!” shouted a child’s voice.
Carmen looked up and saw a little girl running towards her. She was wearing a pink cap and had short hair, growing back strong after she had lost it. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort.
A man was coming behind her.
Carmen froze. It was Diego. He looked ten years younger than he had that day on the highway. The wrinkled shirt and tie were gone, replaced by a casual t-shirt and jeans. And most importantly, the despair had vanished from his eyes.
Diego stopped when he saw her. He squinted, recognizing her but initially unable to place her outside of her uniform.
“Excuse me…?” he began, and then he recognized her. “My God! It’s you! The A2 agent!”
Carmen smiled nervously.
“Hello.”
Diego approached, and for a moment it seemed he was going to hug her, but he stopped himself
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you,” he said, with an intensity that made Carmen blush. “That day… if you hadn’t helped us get there… the doctors said we would have missed the window for pre-treatment. We arrived just in time.”
He looked at the girl, who was now hugging his leg.
—This is Luna.
Luna looked at Carmen with curiosity.
“Hello,” said the girl. “Are you the speedy police officer?”
Carmen laughed, and the sound was like a release.
—Something like that. Hi, Luna. I’m so glad to see you doing so well.
“Dad says an angel gave me his blood,” Luna said with the brutal innocence of children. “And another angel drove us. Are you the angel who drove us?”
Diego had tears in his eyes.
—Yes, darling. She’s the car’s guardian angel.
Carmen felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to shout, “I am the two angels! It’s me!” But she couldn’t. There were still four months to go before the anonymity would be lifted.
“I’m glad I was able to help,” Carmen said simply.