Holiday Home Run

by Priscilla Oliveras

  Mami sat at their table in the front row, eyes glistening with tears, hands clasped in prayer at her chest as she sang.

  They had a frank conversation ahead of them. One Julia had been dreading. No matter what though, Julia knew she’d remember this moment.

  Remember and cherish it for years to come.

  Chapter Eleven

  “How come you never told me, nena?”

  Julia’s shoulders sagged at her mami’s simple question.

  They sat in the backseat of a private limo Ben had ordered for them after everything had finally wound down and Rico, Bernardo, and the rest of the kids had piled back into their vans.

  Once the kids had left, Laura had shooed her off, telling her the event planner could handle the post-event wrap-up. “Your mother mentioned how anxious she is to see Rosa and the rest of the family. Don’t worry about a thing here. You and I can chat in the next couple of days about where you’d like to go from here.”

  Moments later, Julia and Ben had stood in the shadow of a large Christmas fir in the grand hall, partially hidden from others bustling about in cleanup mode. “Let me order a car for you and your mom. You two need some quiet time together, before the hoopla of the parranda when you get to Rosa’s.”

  “Are you still planning to come?” Julia had asked.

  “Is the invitation still open?”

  That he cared enough to ask, to not push like she’d accused him of earlier, made her even more hopeful that they might have something worth pursuing.

  “Of course,” she had answered, brushing his cheek with a kiss.

  Then she and Mami had left, with Ben promising to follow shortly.

  “I was worried about disappointing you and Papi,” she admitted now as the limo sped down the highway. “El nego-cio means so much to you.”

  “Sí, but it is just that, a business, and we are familia,” Mami answered matter-of-factly.

  Julia stared at the blurry city lights in the distance, wondering if somehow she’d lost clarity. Or if Mami simply didn’t recognize the pressure she’d put on Julia.

  Ben had been right. She owed it to herself and her familia to be honest with them. If not, nothing would change.

  Scooting sideways on the leather seat, Julia faced her mother. “You’ve been grooming me to take over for years. Earning my business degree ‘would benefit us,’ you said, remember? And yes, the knowledge will help me run the company, but not once did you ask if that is what I wanted.”

  “And why would you not want to own your own business? To have a successful company handed down to you?” Mami scowled at her, the same disapproving look she’d given all her kids when she was unhappy with their behavior.

  “Because catering isn’t all I want to do,” Julia answered.

  “The company I have built up is not enough for you? Is that it?”

  The hurt lacing her mami’s voice pierced Julia’s heart. “Mami, I am so proud of you. What you have accomplished, going after your own dream, it fuels me.”

  Mami huffed with displeasure, but in the wavering light from the passing streetlamps Julia thought she caught Mami’s mouth curving above the edge of her scarf.

  “The boys are going after their dreams,” Julia went on. “Maybe Alfredo’s has changed, coaching and managing now instead of playing ball, but we have always championed them. I’m sorry for keeping this from you. I just . . . I only hope, some day, you can be as proud of me as I am of you.”

  Her throat thick with tears, Julia wiped the moisture under her eyes with her gloved finger.

  “Ay nena, I’m already proud of you. I have been since the day you were born.”

  Mami opened her arms for a hug and Julia fell into the embrace.

  Relief flooded through her, releasing the tears she had struggled to keep at bay.

  They held on to each other tightly. Julia breathed in her mother’s floral scent, the same one she’d worn for as long as Julia could remember. It conjured memories of similar hugs, shared love, and the security of familia.

  “Tonight was increíble,” Mami said when they had finally pulled apart and she dug in her purse for tissues.

  Julia blew her nose as she nodded. “Yes, it was definitely incredible. Especially the amount of donations! Ben and the kids did a fabulous job encouraging people to give more.”

  “Mm-hmm, and speaking of Mr. Benjamin Thomas . . .” Mami arched a brow, a knowing smirk on her gently lined mouth. “He seems muy interesado in you. Is there something I should know about?”

  Excitement swirled with longing in Julia’s chest. Ay, how she hoped Mami was right and Ben truly was very interested in her. “I’m not sure. I mean he says . . . but it’s too early to tell.”

  “Bueno, I knew your papi was the one the first time we met. The night he tagged along with his brother when Reynaldo’s trío played at my cousin’s birthday. All the girls were crazy for the musicians. Not me.”

  This story had been told and retold countless times, yet Julia never tired of hearing it. Or seeing the wistful look of young love blanketing Mami’s face.

  “Sí, but with Ben and me, the situation is different,” Julia said. “You know I’ve stayed away from dating athletes. And even though he’s no longer playing, broadcasting will keep him on the road. If he decides to move into coaching, baseball will dominate his life. I’m not sure I’d want that.”

  “Ay nena, with the right person, someone who looks at you the way I saw Ben looking at you . . . The way your papi looks at me . . .” Mami raised a finger, emphasizing her point. “You are happy no matter what the situation is. As long as you have each other.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben headed up the darkened stairs at the Fernandez sisters’ childhood home, pausing to glance back down at Julia’s mom and her cousin Rosa.

  Both women stood at the bottom, shooing him up with encouraging hand waves.

  He could have changed out of his tuxedo at the Wintrust Bank Building, but his clothes had been in his car and he hadn’t wanted to waste any time getting out to Oakton. Anxious to see Julia, hoping things had gone well with Paula on their drive to the suburbs.

  At the top of the stairs he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, then he turned right on the landing. The bathroom should be the second door on the right, according to Rosa’s instructions.

  Halfway down the hall, a door on the left opened.

  Julia jumped, giving a startled “Ay Dios mío” when she spotted him.

  Light from the bedroom streamed into the hallway, leaving her face in shadows while outlining her trim figure in a golden aura.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “Your mom sent me upstairs when I asked for a place to switch out of this monkey suit.”

  Julia pressed a hand to her chest. “No, that’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else up here.”

  Leaving the door open, she moved into the hallway. Dressed casually in slim-fitting jeans, a shapely black sweater, and ankle-high, thick-heeled boots, her long hair now loose around her shoulders, she looked beautiful.

  Heart pounding, Ben waited for her to approach. Pleased to have this moment alone with her before they met up with everyone else downstairs.

  “I’m glad you came.” She stopped several feet away, her expression, if he read it correctly in the half shadows, a sweet mix of hopeful pleasure.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” he said.

  There was no missing the flash of her smile at his response.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me before the fund-raiser tonight.” She edged closer.

  Every cell in his body screamed for him to meet her halfway, swoop her into his arms, and kiss her till neither one of them could think straight.

  But he owed it to her. Hell, he owed it to himself, to give her the time and space she had asked for. No pressure.

  No matter how hard it was for him to keep his feet rooted to their spot. Allowing her to take the lead h
ere.

  “And what have you been thinking?” he asked.

  In the living room, someone turned on some music. The merengue beat of a parranda tune carried up the stairs to them, a sound Ben would forever equate with the amazing woman in front of him.

  “That, despite my not-so-secret secret desire to stay here and the fact that I’ve missed my familia in Puerto Rico, even though I have Yazmine, Rosa, and Lilí here, there’s been someone else lately who’s helped me forget about that spurt of homesickness I’ve been trying to squelch. Someone who makes me want to stay in Chicago even more.”

  Forget waiting for her to reach him.

  Dropping his duffel on the floor at his feet, Ben closed the distance between them. Sliding his hands along her hips, he dipped his head to press his forehead against hers. “Please tell me I’m the someone you’re talking about.”

  Julia gazed up at him, her minty breath warming the little space separating his mouth from hers.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  That’s all he needed to hear.

  Capturing her lips with his, Ben kissed her the way he’d been longing to do from the moment he’d watched her slip her wool coat off her shoulders revealing the amazing red dress she’d worn to the fund-raiser.

  Julia’s arms looped around his shoulders, her fingers digging into the short hair at his nape. She moaned with pleasure, opening her mouth for him.

  Wanting more, he deepened the kiss. His body tightened with need.

  Downstairs laughter rang out. The raucous interruption reminded Ben that her family waited for them to join the party.

  Reluctantly he broke their kiss, trailing soft nips along her jaw before finally forcing himself to pull back. Gently he tucked Julia’s hair behind her ear, then dropped a kiss on her smooth forehead.

  “I’m not sure what lies ahead either,” she said. “But if you’re on Team Julia, I wanna be on Team Ben.”

  He chuckled, recalling his cringe-worthy admission earlier.

  “I’ve been a little lost since I had to retire. But being around the kids the past few weeks, being around you”—he cupped her jaw, warmth and something he felt sure was love blossoming in his soul—“you’ve given me a sense of familia I’d only found in baseball. As far as I’m concerned, I want there to be a Team Us.”

  A huge smile curved Julia’s sweet mouth. It shone in the depths of her hazel eyes.

  She brushed her lips gently against his, then rose up on her toes, her arms squeezing him in a tight hug.

  “Team Us,” she whispered in his ear. “Knocking it out of the park together.”

  Feliz Navidad—Merry Christmas Wishes to You!

  Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday, so I jumped at the opportunity to be part of this anthology. I adore the idea of sharing a romance that blooms during this heartwarming time of year, when familia and friends gather together.

  Holiday Home Run gave me a chance to introduce readers to one of my beloved Fernandez sisters’ favorite cousins—Julia, named for my abuela. Julia’s a confident, creative woman with a strong devotion to her familia and her career—and who, like my abuela, also happens to possess an insane amount of baseball savvy. Then there’s Ben, an ex-MLB player my abuela would have loved to watch on the pitcher’s mound. As a fan of telenovelas, I think she would approve of this baseball- and Christmas-inspired romance.

  I had such fun writing about Julia and Ben! From losing myself in childhood memories of caroling late into the night at parrandas, to creating holiday outings for Ben and Julia in one of my favorite cities, to introducing readers to aspects of my Latinx culture that are as much a part of me as the “rr” that easily rolls off my tongue when I speak Spanish.

  I sincerely hope you enjoy this little peek into my Latinx culture and find yourself falling in love with the Fernandez familia as much as I have. May the music, revelry, and joy of the holiday season bring you and yours much peace, love, and happiness. And maybe a little salsa dancing, too!

  From mi casa to your house, I wish you a Feliz Navidad!

  Abrazos / Hugs,

  Priscilla Oliveras

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Anchored Hearts by Priscilla Oliveras!

  Click here to get your copy!

  ANCHORED HEARTS by Priscilla Oliveras

  Chapter One

  “Mami, you’re kidding me, right?” Anamaría Navarro slowed her Honda Pilot for the red light at the intersection of White Street and Glynn Archer Dr and gaped at the dashboard screen as if her mom could see her shock.

  “Nena, why would I joke about someone’s health and a mamá’s worry for her child? How could you think that of me?”

  Anamaría bit back a frustrated sigh. Ay Dios mío, talk about exaggeration. The Cuban mami guilt coming through the line was thicker than the humidity enveloping Key West outside. And late June in the Keys was no-joke hot.

  “We’re not talking about a generic ‘someone,’ Mami, and you know it.” Anamaría pressed. “This is—”

  “Excatmente. This is familia. So, you will go and help. Because it is what familia does,” her mami insisted.

  ¡Coño! Anamaría smacked the butt of her palm on her steering as she mumbled another damn! She didn’t have to be video chatting with her mami to see the reprimand on her softly lined face. The parental disappointment and expectation were evident in the firm tone.

  The light turned green, and Anamaría checked her rearview mirror for traffic moving into the left lane next to hers. When she glanced forward again, her gaze caught on Key West Fire Department Station Three nestled on the far corner. For a hot second she considered pulling into the station’s parking lot. Whining to her brother Luis about their mami’s unreasonable request.

  But thirty years of living with and loving a Cuban mami told her the whining would do no good. It wouldn’t change their mother’s mind.

  Frustration bubbling, Anamaría flicked her blinker down to signal her intent, then executed a smooth u-turn.

  “Mami, I already told you, I only have an hour and a half before I go into back-to-back-to back workout sessions with clients. I was running home to make a protein shake and update something on my website. I don’t have time to go play nursemaid.”

  Especially not to him.

  Her gut clenched. Her heart fluttered the tiniest bit. Anamaría grit her teeth, ignoring the reactions to the man she’d fought hard to forget.

  On the other end of the line, the maternal guilt factor upped the ante in the form of a heavy, downtrodden sigh. “That is plenty of time, nena. Elena is worried Alejandro’s wounds may have become infected on his long trip home. You will put her fears to rest by checking his injury. This is nothing different than getting a call when you are at the station. Do you not want to help her?”

  Anamaría bit down on the “not really” that sprang to her tongue. It would be a partial lie anyway. “Of course, I’d do anything for Señora Miranda. Pero esto—”

  “But this, nothing. I know you and your good heart. You will go because she asked for you. Porque she needs you. Now tell me, how close are you to the Miranda’s home now? ¿Ya casi llegas?”

  A surprised puff of air rushed from Anamaría. How the heck did her mami know to ask if she was almost there?

  Annoyed, if somewhat bemused, Anamaría glanced at the dashboard display again where “La Reina” scrolled across the screen. Not for the first time in her life she wondered if her mami, aka “The Queen,” had managed to implant a tracking device in her children at birth. Somehow, Lydia Quintana de Navarro had this uncanny ability of keeping close tabs on her four kids, even though they were all now adults.

  “Sí, I’m about five minutes away,” Anamaría muttered as she continued heading south on Flagler, the marquee for Key West High School visible ahead in the near distance.

  “Muy bien. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing.” Damn, her mom didn’t even try to hide her smugness. “Please be nice to Alejandro. Pobrecito must be in so much pain.”


  Anamaría rolled her eyes. Poor thing? The idiot should have been more careful if he planned to hike the Puerto Rican rain forest alone.

  “I’ll be polite. That’s the best I can promise.”

  The odds of her being nice to the man who had broken her heart were about as high as a snowball’s chance of surviving a Key West summer day. There was damn good reason why she hadn’t spoken to Alejandro Miranda for over ten years.

  “Por favor, dile que sigo rezando por el,” her mami insisted.

  “Mami, I’m sure he already knows you’re praying for him.”

  In fact, prayer chains had been activated throughout their comunidad the second news had reached them of Alejandro’s scary hiking accident a couple weeks ago. Despite his asshole behavior before and in the months after their breakup all those years ago, even Anamaría had murmured a few “Our Fathers” for his recovery. That Catholic school guilt could be a real revenge squasher sometimes.

  Still, she had no desire to play messenger pigeon to the man she had nothing left to say.

  Fingers gripping her steering wheel, she made the left onto Bertha Street, then shortly after turned right onto Laird. Her breaths came shallow and quick the closer she drew to the house that had been her second home since eighth grade at Horace O’Bryant Middle School.

  Well…

  Except for those first few months after high school graduation. When it’d been too painful for her to visit. To even drive down this quiet neighborhood street.

  The same way it had been with so many other places around Key West. Memories flying at her in quick succession. Sharp cross-hook-upper cut jabs delivering blows as if she were a punching bag.

  Gravel crunched underneath her car tires as she parked in front of the Miranda’s place. Her gaze cut to the cinderblock and peach-painted stucco privacy wall edging the single-story home’s perimeter. Through the white-painted wood peep-through border at the wall’s top she stared at the front door.