Merry Ever After

by Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Lucy Score, Marie Force, Tijan, Kennedy Ryan

  “I don’t want you to hide anything from me, Dee, especially worries about me. I’ll ask around about a good therapist and get us in there in January, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And in the meantime, you’re going to help with the Nochebuena preparations tomorrow while I do my thing at the hospital.”

  “No, I want to go with you.”

  He kisses the words right off my lips. “You’re going to be with your family like you are on Christmas Eve every year. There’s nothing you can do for me but lose an entire day sitting in waiting rooms. You won’t even get to see me.”

  “But I’ll be near you.”

  “There’s nothing you can do, sweetheart, but shiver in overly chilled waiting rooms. You’re already cold all the time. That’ll make for a miserable day for you when you could be having fun with your girls. I promise I’ll come straight to Abuela’s the second I get out of there.”

  I think about that for a second. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do if I go with you?”

  “One thousand percent positive.”

  “All right, then,” I say on a long sigh. “I’ll do it your way, but I’d better be the first to know if there’s anything wrong.”

  “There won’t be anything wrong, and you’ll always be the first to know everything.”

  “I guess I can live with that if it means I get to live with you.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says with another sweet kiss as he gathers me in close to him. “Now get some sleep. You’ve got a pig to roast tomorrow.”

  Carmen

  The smell of the roasting pig is making me want to vomit, but that’s not surprising since every smell makes me sick lately, or so it seems. I’m constantly swallowing bile as my stomach churns relentlessly. No one told me pregnancy was going to be this difficult. Sure, I’ve heard stories about morning sickness, but it’s the all-day sickness that’s killing me. And after a miscarriage earlier in the year that no one knows I had, I’ve held off on telling people about this pregnancy for fear of having to take it all back if this one doesn’t take either.

  “What’s wrong with you?” my mom, Vivian, asks me when we’re in Abuela’s hot, crowded kitchen with the other women in our family, less my cousin Maria, who’s stuck in LA.

  “What? Nothing.”

  She raises a dark brow that lets me know she sees right through my bullshit. As the only child of a woman who suffered nine miscarriages before she had me, trust me when I tell you that not only does she see through my bullshit, sometimes I feel like she can also read my mind. “Are you fighting with your sexy neurosurgeon?”

  “No, I’m not fighting with Jason.”

  “Well, then, what is it? This is your favorite day of the year, and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

  Before I can come up with a reply she’ll accept, she takes me by the arm and all but perp-walks me outside, thankfully to the front of the house and not the back where the pig is roasting in the above-ground Caja China that Abuela bought years ago for Nochebuena. It replaced the hole in the ground where the pig used to be roasted.

  My cousins Nico, Milo and Dom, all of whom are actually from the Italian side of the family, were recruited yesterday to go with Abuela to choose the pig. They were also in charge of cleaning and preparing it for roasting. I can’t think about that process, or I’ll lose the meager contents of my stomach. “Tell me what’s wrong so whatever it is won’t ruin both our days.”

  “Nothing is wrong, Mami. It’s actually something good.”

  Again with the eyebrow.

  “We were waiting to tell you—”

  She lets out a shriek that the entire neighborhood probably hears and wraps me in a hug so tight she nearly squeezes the puke right out of me.

  “Mami! Stop your screaming before someone calls the cops!”

  “A woman is allowed to scream when she finds out she’s going to be a grandmother, and why in the world didn’t you tell me before now?” With her hands on my shoulders, she holds me back so she can give me a full inspection. “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem other than feeling like I’m going to die every minute of every day.”

  She winces. “I was like that with you, too, but not with any of the others. That’s how I knew you were going to stick.”

  That information renders me nearly speechless. “Really?” I ask in a higher-than-usual tone.

  “Yep. I swear I subsisted for months on wafer crackers and ginger ale.”

  “That’s what I’ve been eating, too.”

  “And the smells!” She makes a revolted face.

  “Oh my God! The worst. The pig is taking me over the edge.”

  “Then let’s get you out of here for now.”

  “I can’t leave.” Just that quickly, I’m battling tears, which is another thing that’s been ridiculous lately. Jason laughs at how I cry over everything. “I’ll miss all the fun.”

  “No, you won’t. You can come back later when everything is cooked, and the scents won’t be so pungent.”

  “We don’t want people to know yet, Mami. I’m not even three months. I want to wait awhile longer.”

  “I won’t say anything.”

  Now it’s my turn to give her the famous eyebrow.

  “I won’t! I swear. I certainly understand about being superstitious. After the fourth time, we didn’t tell anyone.”

  She’s so rarely referred to her difficult road to motherhood, preferring instead to focus on the joy she found in finally having me.

  “I have no idea how you managed to get through that nine times.”

  “It was brutal, but I wanted you so badly that I kept trying, and you, my precious girl, made all the struggle worth it from the second you took your first breath.” She sweeps my hair back off my shoulders. “And now you’re going to make me an abuela.” Fanning her face, she fails to stem a flood of tears.

  I hug her. “I’ve been dying to tell you.”

  “I’m so glad you did and that we have this sweet secret. There’s nothing you could give me for Christmas that I’d love more than this.”

  “I had a feeling.”

  “Go home, rest up and come back later to enjoy the party. If you’re anything like me, everything is better later in the day.”

  “Yes, it is. What’ll I tell everyone?”

  “I’ll tell them you have a terrible headache, and you wanted to go home and lie down so you can be here for tonight.”

  “Thank you. The pig took me over the top.”

  “I had the same issue the year I was expecting you. I couldn’t come to Nochebuena at all that year.”

  “I can’t imagine it without you there.”

  “I cried all night, and Daddy was right there with me the whole time, telling me I’d have a lifetime of holiday celebrations, and missing one wasn’t going to kill me.” She laughs in a low, husky tone as she rolls her eyes at her own foolishness. “I was so dramatic then.”

  I bite my lip to keep from telling her she’s never outgrown her flair for the dramatic.

  “Oh, stop it! I can hear what you’re trying not to say!”

  We lose it laughing. It’s the best laugh I’ve had in weeks, and we end up clinging to each other as we wipe away the good kind of tears. We’ve had more than our share of the not-so-good kind, especially after I lost my first husband when we were twenty-four. “Will I be able to read my child’s mind the way you read mine?”

  “God, I hope so. You never could keep anything from me, and it seems you still can’t.”

  I give her a saucy, defiant look. “You didn’t know I was pregnant for a whole month.”

  “I suspected you were.”

  “You did not!”

  “Ask Daddy! I told him your cheeks were fuller, and you had a glow to you.”

  “My cheeks are full of puke, and the glow has to be a gorgeous shade of green. Jason says he’s afraid to hug me lately out of fear I might spontaneously puke.”

&
nbsp; “My poor baby. It’s so dreadful, but so, so worth it. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and this baby will be that for you, too.”

  “Thank you, Mami. I’m sure it’ll all be fine once I get past this lovely stage. I think I’ll take you up on the offer to make up a headache for me so I can go home for a while. Would you mind grabbing my purse and keys off the counter? I can’t go back in there.” What normally makes my mouth water in anticipation of holiday feasting is having the opposite effect today.

  “Wait right here. I’ll be back.”

  While she goes inside to retrieve my stuff, I focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. I’m not sure why that helps suppress the nausea, but it does, and I’ll take what I can get. My phone chimes with a text to me and Dee from Maria.

  There may be hope. Austin and several of his teammates are chartering a plane to get us back to Miami! She includes the praying hands emoji.

  Oh, thank goodness! It wouldn’t be Nochebuena without you!

  What she said, Dee adds. What’s your ETA?

  Hoping by six. The plan is to fly south to avoid the weather in the Plains. Gulp. I’m scared.

  They wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t safe, I tell her. Try not to worry. We’re so glad you’re coming. Keep us posted!

  Will do.

  Mami returns with my purse and keys. “I told the others about your headache, and they said to feel better and get back here for the fun later.”

  “I will. Thank you for this. I just heard from Maria. Austin and his teammates are chartering a plane.”

  “That’s great news. We were just saying she has to be having a meltdown over possibly missing Nochebuena.”

  “She is.”

  “Now get yourself off to nap. Whatever you need, Mamacita, whenever you need it, you tell your Mami, and it shall be.”

  Hugging her, I blink back ridiculous tears. “What would I ever do without you?”

  “Your life would be too boring to bear without me.”

  “I hope I never find out.”

  “Text me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine. Jason is taking a half day today, so he may even be home when I get there.”

  “Tell him I said to take good care of my baby and her baby.”

  “I will, but he’s been amazing, of course.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  She’s still standing outside the house to wave when I drive away. I wonder if she’s going to go back inside and tell the others I’m pregnant, but then I decide she won’t do that. After what she endured, she knows why this is a secret that needs to be kept until we’re sure. And if she does tell people? Oh well, it’s not like they won’t find out eventually.

  I never told any of them about the miscarriage I suffered in August. I didn’t even know I was pregnant when I was already losing it. The whole thing was sad and traumatic. I made the choice to keep it between my husband and me because we were both too raw to have my entire family descend upon us, wanting to help.

  There was nothing anyone could do, and as long as Jason and I had each other, we got through it. My doctor told me to expect it might take a while to conceive again, so we were surprised when it happened quickly. But I’m still superstitious and slightly worried that history might repeat itself. How did my mother go through that nine times? How and where did she find the wherewithal to keep trying after an ordeal like that?

  After having it happen once to me, I have all-new respect for the fact that she stuck with it long enough to get to me. It’s interesting that, until it happened to me, the concept of nine miscarriages was just words to me. I had no earthly idea of how devastating an ordeal a miscarriage is.

  I spent days sobbing in my husband’s arms, thinking the world had ended, which, with hindsight, I blame on the hormonal overload.

  Jason was a freaking saint through the whole thing. He never left my side until he absolutely had to go to work, because, you know… brain surgeon. People needed him, so I had to let him go. But I took three days out of work, waiting until I was certain I could get through the day without hysterics before I went back to my job in the Miami-Dade General Hospital’s public relations department.

  But I was sad for a long time afterward and shocked to find out I was pregnant again so soon. Now, I’m anxious—and nauseated—all the time. What my mother said about being nauseated only with me gives me comfort. Maybe feeling like shit is actually a good sign.

  When I arrive at our place in Brickell, I take the elevator to the seventh floor and am about to put my key in the door when it opens to reveal my husband dressed in running clothes.

  “Oh, hey,” he says, surprised to see me. “You’re home.” He takes a closer look. “What’s wrong?”

  “Couldn’t handle the smell of the pig roasting.”

  “Aw, poor baby.” He puts an arm around me and guides me into our gorgeous condo, which is even more so decorated for the holidays. I absolutely love our view of Biscayne Bay and never get tired of watching the activity on the water.

  We sit together on the sofa, Jason with his arms around me and my head on his chest.

  “What can I get you?”

  “This is helping.”

  “I got plenty of that anytime you need it.”

  After being widowed so young, I’d gotten used to soldiering through life’s challenges on my own. Doing it with Jason is so much better. “Did you hear from your mom? Is her flight all set for the morning?”

  “It is. She’ll be here by noon. She and my brother are going to my grandmother’s tonight. Speaking of my grandmother, I had a nice chat with Mimi on the way home. She says to say hi to you.”

  “Glad you got to talk to her.” I stifle a yawn. My eyes are so heavy, you’d think I didn’t sleep for ten hours last night.

  “Let’s put you down for a nap so you’ll feel up to going later. It’s not Christmas for you without Nochebuena, so we gotta get you there.”

  I take the hand he offers me and let him help me up. “Not sure I can do it. The pig took me over the top, and that’s never happened before.”

  “You’ve never been pregnant for Nochebuena before.”

  “True. What if I don’t feel up to going back? People will know something’s up. I told my mom—”

  His brows rise so high they nearly touch his hairline. He certainly knows by now the way news travels in my family—at the speed of light times a million. “You did? I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone yet.”

  “She was worried, and I didn’t want her to be.”

  “Will she keep a lid on it?”

  “I think so. She understands better than anyone why we’d want to sit on it for a while.”

  “I keep thinking about them going through what we did nine times.”

  “I know,” I say with a sigh as I settle on the bed.

  Jason lies down next to me and pulls a throw blanket over me.

  “You were going for a run.”

  “I’d much rather snuggle with you.”

  “Not that I’d ever say no to that, but if you don’t run before tonight’s epic feed, you’ll be miserable.”

  “I keep forgetting how this feed is even more epic than Sunday brunch.”

  “This feed makes Sunday brunch look minor league, and it lasts for hours.”

  “I remember from last year. I couldn’t move for days after.”

  “Exactly. Go run so you won’t hate yourself later.”

  “First I need a kiss to hold me over.” He tips my chin up to receive a soft, sweet kiss. “Will you be okay?”

  “I will. I promise. I just want to sleep.”

  “Should I wake you to go back to Abuela’s?”

  “By four thirty at the latest.”

  “Will do. Sleep tight. I love my gorgeous baby mama.”

  “She loves you, too, and promises to forgive you for doing this to her in ten to fifteen years.”

  His laughter makes me smile even as my eyes close. I can�
��t keep them open for another second. That’s the last thing I recall before he’s kissing me awake hours later. The first thing I notice is how good he smells.

  “Wake up, my sleeping beauty.”

  “Don’t wanna.”

  “You can’t miss Nochebuena.”

  I give myself another second before I force my eyes open to view the face of my adorable husband. This is our second Christmas together, and I continue to be amazed by how fast the time goes by. After I was widowed when my police officer husband was killed on the job, time seemed to come to a complete stop. Now it seems like the days fly by so fast I can barely keep up.

  “What’re you thinking about?” He kisses the spot between my brows. “You’re doing that thing you do when something’s on your mind.”

  “Just thinking about Tony and you and life and how amazing and painful it all is.”

  “You must miss him even more at this time of year.”

  “I do. He loved Nochebuena and was the one who went with Abuela to get the pig every year. That was their special outing together.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  “Thank you for helping me keep him close.”

  “He’s part of you, and I love every part of you.”

  I raise my hand to his freshly shaven face and draw him into a kiss. “Let’s get going so we don’t miss any of the fun.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  Abuela

  Nochebuena is my favorite day of the year, but I might be getting too old for the work that goes into it. Don’t get me wrong—I have outstanding help from my daughter, Vivian, and our wonderful extended family, but it takes weeks of preparations and planning to pull off this Christmas Eve spectacular. Every year, I swear I’m going to turn it over to a younger member of the family, and every year, I end up committing to one more time.

  “Where do you want the avocado and tomato salad?” my sweet, special gentleman friend, Alfredo Muñoz, asks.

  “Garage fridge, please, and then remind me it’s there later when I can’t remember where I put it?”

  “You got it, mi amor.”

  I want to sigh every time he calls me that. My love. They say there’s no fool like an old fool, and I’m the biggest of old fools, because that man makes my knees weak every single day with the way he looks at me and speaks to me and treats me like I’m the most precious thing in the entire world to him.