Anchored Hearts

by Priscilla Oliveras

  Sure, some things had changed. Cece and Ernesto had been about to start high school, barely making heart eyes at each other, when Alejandro had flown the restrictive coop his papi ruled. Curly-haired, pudgy-cheeked Lulu hadn’t even been a thought in her parents’ pre-pubescent minds. Now they were a family of three, with another about to arrive. And he had missed it all.

  But the old portrait of his papi, mami, Ernesto, and him, snapped at the Sears studio twenty-plus years ago, still hung in its clunky frame on the pale blue wall above the love seat. A throwback frame you wouldn’t find in any gallery that displayed Alejandro’s prized photographs today.

  Worse, the strange mix of disappointment and hope on his mami’s, abuela’s, and Ernesto’s faces weighed as heavily on his shoulders now as it had back then.

  Twelve years away and still he sensed their keen desire for him to quit shirking his responsibilities. To come back and work alongside his papi, preparing to take over the restaurant someday. A life sentence that would shackle Alejandro’s dream of traveling and photographing the world.

  It was the reason why he had stayed away for so long. Well, one of several.

  “Your papi is sorry he couldn’t be here to welcome you home,” his mom said. She slid to the edge of the sofa, leaning forward to plump the leaf green throw pillows cushioning his injured left leg resting on top of the rattan coffee table.

  “Por favor,” he muttered. “Let’s not pretend. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to fall off that rock ledge in El Yunque and wind up in this damn—”

  “¡Oye! Language!” Ernesto interrupted. He jerked a thumb at his daughter, busy murmuring something to the baby doll cradled in her tiny arms.

  ¡Carajo!

  The second damn nearly slipped out before Alejandro swallowed it. He wasn’t used to having a kid around. Unless they were the subject of his photograph, and then his camera kept him occupied and at a professional distance.

  He dipped his head in apology at his brother and Cece.

  “If I hadn’t wound up in this position,” Alejandro continued, “I’d be on my way to Belize for my next shoot. Not . . .”

  Not here, surrounded by the people he had let down. Girding himself for when his father came home from Miranda’s, their familia restaurant that was his pride and joy. The legacy Alejandro had spit on by walking away.

  “Gracias a Dios que estás bien,” his abuela said softly.

  Yeah, thank God he was okay. If “okay” meant slipping down a fucking waterfall and busting the shit out of his leg, then being forced to return to the home he could no longer claim as his to face the people he was destined to disappoint.

  He squelched the sarcastic retort. It would only hurt his familia. Instead, he bit his tongue and sagged back against the worn sofa cushions. His leg ached, signaling the time neared for him to swallow another over-the-counter pain pill. He’d given a hard pass to the opioid and acetaminophen with codeine the doc had tried prescribing post-surgery in Puerto Rico. No way would he risk developing any sort of dependency or addiction. There’d been a time after his divorce when he’d come way too close to relying on the bottle to dull his thoughts. Years later, that flirtation with dependency still haunted him.

  “How are you feeling, hijo?” His mami finger-combed his hair, a gentle caress that reminded him of times past. When he’d lain on this same couch or the double bed in his room and she’d soothed him when he was sick.

  “Your face is pale,” she complained. “And you feel a little warm. Are you hurting?”

  He shook his head, lying but unwilling to cause her more distress. His jaw clenched tightly against the ache radiating from two of the pin sites high on his shin, a couple inches below his knee.

  “Kiss it better, ’Buela,” his little niece suggested.

  Despite the fatigue and disillusion crushing him, Lulu’s cuteness drew his smile. Her pudgy cheeks plumped even more when she grinned back at him.

  “I’m not sure that’s going to work, chiquita, but thank you for suggesting it.” He winked, pleased when a cute giggle burst from her mouth. She hugged her bald baby doll to her chest, twisting from side to side.

  Her innocence reminded him of the toddler he’d photographed once in a remote Costa Rican village. Spending time with 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. One of many he was thankful for over the years.

  Cece caressed Lulu’s curly 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 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, just thinking about the agony her knocking into his leg would have caused made him wince.

  “Gracias,” Alejandro replied to Cece.

  He wanted to tell her it was good to be here. But they all knew it would be a lie.

  Unlike 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 busyness 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. The differences that disappointed them, especially his father.

  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 town house 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 familiar gesture both soothed and left him longing for a simpler past.

  “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. “That’s what you think of me?”

  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’d 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 distance separating Alejandro and his father. The bridge connecting them having long been burnt to the ground.

  “A mother should not want what is 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 on him, Alejandro slowly shook his head, not following. They didn’t have any physicians in their family. “What do you mean?”

  Her brow furrowed, his mami exchanged a
worried glance with his abuela, then shot a “don’t say anything” parental warning at his brother, who in turn threw an apologetic grimace Alejandro’s way.

  Why did he suddenly feel like everyone else shared some kind of insider info he wasn’t privy to?

  Unease slithered down his spine.

  “We only need someone with 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 forearm answered Alejandro’s question as if the two women had spoken.

  Dread descended like a dark storm cloud rolling in from the ocean.

  “Por favor, tell me you didn’t—”

  A sharp knock on the front door interrupted him. Before anyone could move, 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, “Hola!” as Anamaría Navarro stepped inside.

  “Anamawía!” Lulu squealed.

  Dark curls bouncing, his niece hopped off the love seat. Her pink sandals slapped the gray and white tile as she ran with open arms toward the woman he hadn’t spoken to since their last uncomfortable Skype video chat over a decade ago. The night she unequivocally confirmed his worst fear, discarding him like chum tossed overboard.

  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 peer 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 fool for yearning for someone who obviously hadn’t felt the same.

  “Tío Ale, tiene an owie,” Lulu announced. Like the Frankenstein contraption encircling his leg wasn’t clue enough.

  “Yes, he does have an owie,” Anamaría answered. “A pretty big one. But your abuela and abuelita are going to take good care of him. Just like they do with you.”

  “Will you come pway wif me soon?”

  “I hope so. I need me some Lulu time.” Anamaría hunkered down and tugged one of Lulu’s curls, eliciting a sweet giggle from the child.

  The closeness between the two—the niece he’d only seen the one time Ernesto and his family had visited him in Atlanta and the woman who’d basically said he wasn’t enough for her—felt like a poisonous lance in his side. He may not fit in here, but it was obvious Anamaría still did. Without him.

  Holding her baby doll tightly against her chest, Lulu skipped back to her parents. “Anamawía gonna babysit me!”

  “Not today. But we’ll see when, mamita.” Ernesto gave his daughter’s butt a nudge to help her clamber onto the love seat.

  “Text me, Cece, and I’ll let you know when I’m free. I’m sure you two could use a date night before your bundle of joy arrives.”

  Cece circled a hand over her huge, beach ball–sized belly that stretched the material of her yellow blouse. A tired smile tugged up the corners of his sister-in-law’s wide mouth as she murmured her thanks.

  Anamaría sent Lulu a wink and rose from her haunches.

  His shock at her arrival waning, Alejandro allowed himself to take in her figure, on gorgeous display thanks to a pair of formfitting black leggings and a tight pink tank, the words AM Fitness in a black scrawling font across the front. With her matching black and pink Nike sneakers and slicked-back high ponytail, she looked primed for an athletic photo shoot. She could have easily replaced one of the models for the Women’s Health spread he’d shot in the Bahamas last year.

  The enthusiastic teenager he’d known and loved had matured into a vibrant woman. All lush curves and honed muscles, the latter no doubt hard earned from her work as a firefighter paramedic and fitness trainer.

  Without acknowledging him, Anamaría made the round of hello kisses and hugs with Ernesto and his family, even tickling Lulu’s baby doll under the chin, eliciting another precious giggle from Alejandro’s niece.

  His ex crossed to the sofa, the scent of the tropical lotion she had always preferred tickling his nose when she stooped to brush a kiss on his abuela’s wrinkled cheek. The two exchanged warm smiles as his abuela patted Anamaría’s hand with a murmured Dios te bendiga, nena.

  The age-old wish for God’s blessing may be a trite phrase easily tossed out by many. But in this house, with the mini altar in the far corner, its pillar candle lit during his abuela’s daily prayer of the rosary, words of blessing held weight. His mami had already stopped at their altar earlier, giving thanks for her answered prayers for his return.

  Anamaría hugged his mami, waved off the offer of a drink, set her black backpack on the tile floor next to the coffee table, and finally, finally, turned to him.

  His body tensed, but he fought to maintain a neutral expression. To hide the anger, lingering bitterness, and disillusion of their past. All the while he greedily cataloged the features he had conjured in his dreams.

  Her oval face with its high cheekbones, expressive hazel eyes, and slightly pointed chin remained as beautiful as ever. The faint crow’s-feet lightly raying out from her eyes, telltale signs of laughter and days squinting under the bright Key West sun, added to her allure. The serious slant of her full lips made him ache for the enticing grin she’d so readily flashed at him in years past. And now easily shared with others in his familia instead. The round dark brown beauty mark an inch below the right corner of her mouth made him itch to press a kiss to it. Only, he was no longer free to do so.

  That right had been taken away from him the moment she changed her mind and chose to stay here. Refusing to follow him to Spain after her papi’s health had improved as promised.

  The fact that Alejandro hadn’t been enough for her had gutted him.

  “So, I hear someone needs a little medical attention.” Hands fisted on her hips, Anamaría got down to business, not even wasting time with a hello. Fine by him. The faster they got this unwanted reunion over, the better.

  “I’m good. No need for you to be here,” he told her.

  “Alejandro!” His mami’s dismayed gasp was accompanied by a slap of his thigh. “No seas rudo!”

  Anamaría smirked, the quirk of her lips reminiscent of times she had teased him for getting in trouble in the past. “No worries, Señora Miranda. Making house calls and dealing with occasional rudeness is in my job description. Lucky for Alejandro, I’m in a generous mood.”

  Generous?

  Please. It wasn’t like she was the one who’d been wronged. Instead of the one who had reneged on their shared dream. Then pushed him away.

  Seeing as how she was about to poke around the leg now throbbing like an alien had implanted itself under his skin and decided this was the perfect time to burst out, Alejandro kept his accusation to himself.

  The sooner they got this over with and she left, the sooner he could go back to reminding himself that he was better off without any of the pressures and recriminations being back in Key West presented. Better off without her.

  Anamaría bent to peer at his leg. Her cool hand touched his left knee above the top external fixator ring, a soft caress that sent heat searing through him. He tensed and sucked i
n a sharp breath.

  Her intuitive gaze cut his way. Eyes narrowed, she stared back at him, ensnaring him like a helpless insect caught in a spider’s silky web.

  Something dark and primitive passed between them. Proof that while some things had changed in his absence, his instant reaction to the only woman he had ever loved remained brutally the same.

  Lips pressed in an irritated line, Anamaría slid her glance away, breaking their connection as she leaned closer to peer at his injured leg. Her ponytail swung down to brush against his skin at the hem of his shorts. Lust made a beeline up his leg, straight to his crotch.

  Fucking great. Annoyed, he folded his hands in his lap to cover himself.

  “Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” she said matter-of-factly, as if the spark between them hadn’t singed her the same way it had him.

  Shit, he already knew what he was dealing with. His own personal hell.

  Her motions brisk, Anamaría unzipped her backpack, removed and opened a first-aid kit, then set it on the coffee table. She tugged on a pair of light blue medical gloves, the snap of the rubbery material against her skin loud in the quiet living room. Poor Lulu’s eyes widened with apprehension.

  Anamaría straightened, her impassive expression grating on his frayed nerves. “You ready?”

  Was she kidding? Of course, he wasn’t fucking ready. For a boatload of reasons he refused to admit out loud.

  Unfortunately, there was no getting around this humiliation.

  With a brisk nod, he braced himself for the discomfort her ministrations would bring—to his leg as well as to his traitorous heart.

  Chapter 2

  Heart pounding, Anamaría knelt between the floral sofa and wicker coffee table, her chest even with Alejandro’s elevated leg. Even knowing what she was walking into, she hadn’t been prepared for what greeted her.

  Alejandro’s handsome face was thinner, his skin slightly jaundiced rather than the usual sun-kissed bronze she’d seen in the pictures he occasionally posted on social media. His usually clean-shaven, angular jaw sported thick scruff, evidence that he hadn’t shaved in at least a week. Pain pinched the edges of his mouth and shadowed his dark eyes in a broody expression she should not have found appealing.