Her innocence reminded him of the toddler he’d photographed once in a remote Costa Rican village. Spending time photographing the villagers and volunteers as they toiled at constructing a rustic school building and the eco-brick steps leading up a slight incline to the site had been a humbling experience for him. One of many over the years.
Cece caressed her daughter’s hair, her expression gentle with maternal love when she looked over at him. “It’s good to see you, Ale. Even if it is like this.”
She thrust her chin at the Ilizarov external fixator with its four rings and multiple K- and olive-wires piercing his shin, holding his tibia in place. Lulu had already been warned to keep her distance from the cyborg-looking contraption after racing over to greet him and nearly bumping against the rings.
Carajo, he winced just thinking about the agony that would have caused him.
“Gracias,” Alejandro replied to Cece.
He wanted to tell her it was good to be here. But they all knew it be a lie.
He didn’t belong here. Among them. He had always itched to be outside, not cooped up at the restaurant. He was more interested in seeing their small island from behind the lens of his camera. Capturing the beauty, wonder, and details so many missed in the busy-ness of life.
Making his own way in the world, not following someone else’s.
His eyes drifted shut on the past. The differences between them that still held true today.
This visit was only for a short time. Until he was healed enough to have the external fixator rings and pins removed, allowing him more mobility. Then he’d be able to handle the stairs at his townhouse in Atlanta, and he’d be fine on his own. As he had been for years.
Getting out of the wheelchair meant getting back to the job that gave his life purpose. And helped silence the occasional cry of loneliness that howled in the dark of night when his defenses were low.
“I still think we should have driven straight to the emergency room when we arrived here,” his mami said, concern lacing her words.
“He swiveled his head on the back sofa cushion to meet her worried gaze. “Let me rest a few minutes, then I’ll remove the dressings and clean the sites. I’m sure everything’s okay. I’m just tired.”
“Bueno, I would feel better if you saw a professional.” His mami ran her fingers through his hair once again. The loving gesture both soothed and pained him.
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine,” Alejandro assured her.
“Humph, so I am silly for worrying about my son now, ha?” she demanded with a sniff.
Arms crossed as he leaned against the far wall, Ernesto returned Alejandro’s exasperated grimace. They were familiar with this routine. When their mami was like this, you better pack your bags. Elena Miranda had a first-class ticket for you on a guilt trip you couldn’t avoid.
The fact that he’d held firm in not returning all these years, despite her heavy-handed attempts to lure him home, spoke of the yawning abyss separating Alejandro and his father. The bridge connecting them having long been burnt to the ground.
“A mother should not worry and want what’s best for her children?” his mami droned on.
“I didn’t say—”
“Bueno, since you refused to go see the doctor. I asked someone to come see you.”
If he didn’t feel like death warmed over, he might have laughed at her over-protective, nature. “Mami, few doctors make house calls anymore. Not the ones my insurance company will cover anyway.”
“I didn’t call a doctor. I called familia.”
Fatigue weighing down his body, Alejandro slowly shook his head, not following. They didn’t have any physicians in their family. “What do you mean?”
Her brows furrowed, his mami exchanged a worried glance with his abuela, then sent a familiar “don’t say anything” parental warning at his brother who in turn threw an apologetic grimace Alejandro’s way.
Unease slithered down his spine.
“We only need someone with enough medical experience to properly clean your wounds and tell me if I should make you go to the hospital,” his mami said. “When the physical therapist comes later this week, I can ask any new questions I have.”
“Someone with…wait…” Alejandro shot a what-the-hell, how-could-you-let-her glare at his traitorous brother.
Ernesto ducked his head, a sure sign he knew what their mami was up to but refused to, or more like was wise enough not to, get in her bulldozing way.
“Mami,” Alejandro’s voice sharpened. “Who did you call?”
Her eyes narrowed at his gruff tone. A warning for him to curb his disrespect.
The stubbornness tightening his mami’s lips and the calming hand his abuela laid on his left forearm answered Alejandro’s question.
Dread descended like a dark storm cloud rolling in from the ocean.
“Por favor, tell me you didn’t—”
As sharp knock on the front door interrupted him. The hinges creaked in protest as the door slowly opened.
The rich, lilting voice that haunted his dreams, no matter how hard he tried to banish it, called out a hesitant “hola” as Anamaría Navarro stepped inside.
“Anamawía!” Lulu squealed.
Dark curls bouncing, his niece hopped off the loveseat. Her pink sandals slapped the grey and white tile as she ran with open arms toward the woman who’d unequivocally closed her heart to him.
The woman he hadn’t spoken to since their last Skype video chat over a decade ago. The night she shattered his youthful, naive dreams.
Lulu’s skinny arms wrapped around Anamaría’s thighs in a tight squeeze. Joy lit his ex’s hazel eyes, sucker punching him with vivid memories of her greeting him with a similar glee.
She bent to rub a hand on his niece’s back, her long dark ponytail swooping over her shoulder. “Hola, Lulu, this is a nice surprise.”
Lulu craned her neck to look up at Anamaría, adoration dawning over her cute face. Damn if Alejandro couldn’t help but understand exactly how the kid felt. No matter how often he called himself a
