Isabel's Texas Two-Step

by Annie Bryant

  Thick in the middle of all the dancers, I was surrounded by familiar faces. I saw my cousin Irma, who only recently had been a quince herself. The chambelanes just had to show off and form a line. They were doing great! I saw Ricardo at the far end of the line, dancing by himself. It suddenly occurred to me that Ricardo spent a lot of time alone.

  The music seemed to get wilder and wilder. And just when I thought the song was over, the singer let out another wild grito. The dancing crowd seemed to lift off the ground with each new round. I thought I might float away into the night.

  Suddenly I spotted two people at the door. Xochitl! I got there in time to catch the end of a conversation between Mr. Guerrero and my aunt and uncle. Uh-oh. Would they tell him about the broken statue? Ricardo must have been thinking the same thing, because he showed up in a flash too, standing next to me with his shoulders all hunched up.

  “Ah, here they come!” Mr. Guerrero handed me my sketchpad, and Xochitl shot me a huge grin. The sketchpad was wrapped in a lovely cloth bag. “As I was saying, Mrs. Ruiz, the discovery by these two kids is nothing short of astounding. The photos and the evidence in Isabel’s notebook clearly indicate a connection to the ancient Lower Pecos Valley people, perhaps an errant clan. This is the first time evidence like this has been found so far east of the Rio Grande.”

  Ricardo and I stared at each other. “Wowwwww,” was all we could say. Ricardo straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest with Mr. Guerrero’s praise.

  “I don’t understand,” Aunt Inez said. “You’re saying that my Ricardo and Isabel made an important archaeological discovery on our property? And you were aware of this?” she asked her husband.

  Uncle Hector nodded. “The kids had to find shelter, Inez. They holed up in the cave by the swimming hole after Rasquatch left them stranded during the storm.”

  “Dios mío,” she said, losing her balance. “Ricardo, explain.”

  He gulped. “I invited Isabel to go armadillo hunting. We saddled up on Rasquatch. We went to see the swimming hole, but lightning struck and the horse ran off. We had to find shelter, so we hid in a cave I knew about up there.”

  “A cave!” Aunt Inez gasped. “Heaven help us, weren’t you terrified, Rico?”

  “No, Mom. We were pretty lucky to be in there when the rain started. It was a real gully washer. We could have been swept away!”

  “Say what?” I cut in. “You never said anything to me about that!”

  “It’s true, Isabel,” Ricardo said, a little sheepishly. “I just didn’t want you to get any more scared.” Wow. Ricardo was truly brave. “We had a flashlight, so we went exploring. Isabel saw it first. Pictographs, Mom, lots of them. Shamans and animal pictures!”

  “Ricardo was very resourceful, Aunt Inez,” I assured her.

  She started to fan herself. “Ay, mi ’jo.”

  Mr. Guerrero intervened. “You’ll be hearing from the university this week. The site must be secured immediately.”

  Uncle Hector patted Ricardo on the back. “Son, I hope this escapade has taught you a lesson. Never again leave on horseback without telling someone. It was a frightening thing for a father to find a riderless horse at the crack of dawn.”

  “The crack of whaaat?” Aunt Inez cried. “How long were you two stuck in the cave?”

  “From sundown to sunup,” I said. “But Uncle Hector and Enrique rescued us before everyone else was awake.”

  “Can you show us where you found all of this?” Mr. Guerrero asked us.

  “Absolutely!” I said.

  “Tomorrow,” Uncle Hector told us. “Mr. Guerrero, I hope you won’t mind coming out to the ranch again tomorrow. I think there is something else my son and my niece should speak to you about,” he said, looking at us meaningfully.

  I gulped and looked at Ricardo. That could mean only one thing. Uncle Hector wanted us to tell Mr. Guerrero that we had broken his beautiful eagle statue!

  Ricardo, Xochitl, and I needed no more excuse to disappear into the party. We made our getaway as the adults circled in on Aunt Inez.

  We found a quiet corner at a table far from the music and the dancers.

  “Isabel, my dad has always believed that there was once ancient Indian activity around here,” Xochitl said. “I’ve never seen him so excited. And he was so impressed with your sketches too.”

  Now I felt really awful. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Xochitl, I have to tell you something…something really terrible,” I said. Ricardo kicked me under the table, but I ignored him.

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  I took a deep breath and spilled the whole story of breaking the eagle her dad sculpted, ending with, “And we’re so so so sorry. It was just an accident. A stupid accident.”

  Xochitl was silent.

  “Really sorry,” Ricardo repeated softly.

  “Welll…” Xochitl said slowly. “Now that you told me that…actually, I have something to say too.” I looked at Ricardo. What could it be? “You remember your beautiful bird sculpture that you made the first day we met, Izzy? That I said I would fire for you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I fired it for you all right. And then when I was taking it out of the kiln…crash. I just dropped it, and it completely shattered. I take things out of there all the time, and that has never happened to me!” She looked at me with big, sad eyes. “So I’m sorry too.”

  I don’t know why, but I just started to giggle. And giggle. At first Xochitl and Ricardo looked at me like I was crazy, but then they started laughing too. We all laughed so hard, we almost couldn’t breathe. I was spurting spit out of my mouth, Ricardo was snorting, and Xochitl was holding her stomach.

  “I know it’s not really funny!” I managed to squeak out.

  “But in a way it is,” Xochitl agreed, catching her breath. “When things get really bad, it’s like, sometimes you have to just laugh or get sick, you know?”

  “I feel soooo much better now that I told you,” I confessed.

  “Me too!” she agreed.

  “Me three,” Ricardo said. “But the hard part’s going to be telling your dad, Xochitl.”

  “That’s tomorrow,” Xochitl said firmly. “This party is really rockin’, guys. This band is the best. They play it all: ballads, polkas, blues, rancheras, a little bit of rock, a little bit of country-western.”

  “Ricardo’s going to play with them later. That’s his accordion up there,” I said.

  “Get outta here! You play?” she asked.

  “A little,” he said shyly.

  “I can’t wait to hear you, Rico. I’ll bet you’re way better than you let on,” I teased.

  “What’s everybody waiting for?” Xochitl said, jumping up. “Let’s hit the dance floor.”

  The three of us wriggled our way to the edge of the stage. We were about to hit our stride when the song abruptly ended.

  Ruben pointed his raised fist in Ricardo’s direction. “Ricardo, come on up here, man,” he said smoothly.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we have a special treat for you tonight,” the singer said. He had the audience in the palm of his hand.

  “We are thrilled to be playing for you tonight at Miss Elena Maria Martinez’s quinceañera. However, we’d like to depart from our usual repertoire and invite a young man to join us. His name is Ricardo Ruiz. This is his daddy’s ranch we’re all dancing at. He also happens to be a rising star with the Conjunto Heritage Workshop in San Antonio, an exceptional institution that works tirelessly to preserve our fine musical tradition.”

  Xochitl and I practically pushed Ricardo onstage. He looked like he was going to throw up.

  “Why don’t you tell the good folks here something about this music you and so many other young adults are trying to keep alive?”

  Ricardo had his big, red accordion strapped over his chest. He stretched the bellows a few times, eliciting a few chords, then spoke into the microphone.

  “Uh, thank you for the introduction,” he said, shuffli
ng his feet. “I play the accordion.” There were some giggles in the crowd, and Ricardo stopped talking.

  Ruben took the microphone back from him and stepped in to rescue the situation. I liked this rock star from Mexico! “…which in our culture is mostly associated with conjunto music, a style that is unique to the Texas–Mexico border. Conjunto is genuine folk music, the music of the people of the fields. It’s made for dancing, especially after a hard day’s work. Its popularity has come and gone a couple of times, but right now, we want to ensure it never goes away.”

  With a two-three count the band was on, this time with the accordion’s resonant backbeat. Xochitl and I fell in with the swirling dancers, moving to the rhythm. The floor was crowded. Where had all these people come from? Off to the side I could see Aunt Inez dabbing at her eyes as Ricardo played his heart out. She looked so proud of her son.

  Round and round we went. We were almost carried along by the energy of the spinning couples. I was transported by the sounds and the sights. Things were getting blurry, I was getting dizzy, the music got louder, and I just couldn’t stop dancing! Maeve, the dancing queen of the BSG, would be out of her mind by now if she were here.

  Xochitl and I were by the stage again. Something got in my way and I almost tripped. I looked down just in time to see a flap of feathers and a chicken leg escape the crush of feet.

  Oh, no! Freckles had wandered onto the dance floor!

  Ricardo saw it too, but didn’t miss a beat. At that moment a tornado passed by Xochitl and me. We turned to see Mercedes, broom in hand, chasing Freckles off the dance floor. Amazingly, his squawks could be heard above the music. Hilarious! I could not wait to tell the BSG about this.

  When we got tired of dancing we ran into the yard. The evening was just as beautiful away from the noise and the lights. Ricardo joined us after his last number. The three of us played horseshoes in the starlight. We trooped through the kitchen to see the cleanup in progress, but got out of there before they could hand us aprons.

  It was past midnight when we grabbed some sodas from the fridge and went to the art-filled living room. Xochitl had asked to see the state of her father’s sculpture, but Ricardo and I wouldn’t go any farther than the doorway this time.

  “Well, you can’t really tell from here,” she said. “That eagle looks as noble as ever.”

  That made me feel a little better. “Your dad is an awesome artist, Xochitl. I hope someday I can do something even one-tenth as beautiful as this.”

  “Girl, by the looks of your drawings, I’d say you’re on your way,” she answered.

  And before we could get ourselves in trouble again, we ran from the room back to the party.

  CHAPTER 18

  So Late It’s Early

  Even though Xochitl and her dad had left hours ago, and Ricardo admitted exhaustion and had gone to bed, I was still hyper beyond human capacity. The party was definitely over, but Mom and her best friend, Luisa, sat alone at a table, catching up. I wondered if Mom was tired, and got an idea.

  A few minutes later I showed up, pushing the wheelchair Uncle Hector had provided for Mom.

  “How did you know I could use a lift?” she asked. “My Isabel,” she said to Luisa. “She’s my wonderful helper.” I leaned into her. She put her arm around my waist as they continued to talk quietly.

  Ever since I was a little girl, I loved sitting with my mother and her best friend. I’d listen in on their conversation, amazed by how the two old friends never seemed to tire of each other. I thought of the BSG, back in Brookline. I was one hundred percent certain we’d all still be friends when we were my mom’s age.

  Elena Maria came to say good night. Her friends had long since gone to bed, tucked in sleeping bags crammed head to toe.

  “I couldn’t sleep without saying good night…and thanking you,” she said as she hugged Mom.

  She pulled up a chair. Luisa reached for the necklace Father Miguel had given to Elena. “This is lovely, Elena Maria,” she said.

  “Thank you,” she started to say, but was interrupted by a wide yawn.

  “Go to sleep now, mi ’jita.” My mom laughed.

  Elena nodded. “Buenas noches, ladies,” she said. As I watched her float off to her room, I wondered how long it would take her to come down to earth.

  “I think it’s time for you and me to turn in, as well,” Mom said, looking over at me.

  “I’ll help,” I said, springing into action and bringing the chair around.

  Mom was tired, I could tell. Luisa held my mother’s arm and steadied her into the seat. She stopped me before we rolled off. “Isabel, I am so proud of the Martinez family. I can tell that you and your sister have matured during your stay in Brookline. Despite the separation from your father and your friends and your school, the two of you have managed to stay happy. You must be very comforting to your mother.”

  How could I tell her that she had it all wrong? “It’s Mom who’s been the comfort to us. Elena Maria and I were kind of nervous about living with Aunt Lourdes. She can be a little strict sometimes. But whenever I feel lost in Boston, all I have to do is come home and Mom is there, and I don’t feel so alone anymore. She’s one strong mom!”

  “Oh, sweetheart!” Mom said, and started to cry.

  “Que bonito,” Luisa said. Her eyes and nose turned red. She cried too.

  “Why’s everybody crying? Life is good for us. ¿Verdad, Mami?”

  Mom and Luisa locked eyes and nodded to each other.

  “Yes, it is, my dear. Oh my, such wisdom from such a young girl!”

  “No.” I laughed. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

  Both of gave a little wave to Dad, who was talking with Aunt Inez, as we left the party and headed for Mom’s room. When we got there, Mom and I chatted for a few more minutes.

  “When Papa popped out of that van I just about fainted!” I told my mom. “I knew he had something up his sleeve, but what a surprise! Bringing so many of Elena Maria’s friends to the party was brilliant. And bringing Luisa, too. He really pulled a fast one.”

  “That he did, sweetheart.”

  “How long is Papa staying?” I asked.

  “Luisa and the girls are flying back the day after tomorrow. Your papa will leave the same day we do.”

  “Hurray! It’s been so fun hanging out with all our family this week.”

  “Ay, mi hijita,” Mom said with a sigh. “Although for a minute there, things got a little touchy between me and your Aunt Inez.”

  “Maybe you were just tired, Mom.”

  “No, honey. I think it was more than that. I was confused by my feelings. But I think that perhaps I was…a bit resentful of her?”

  My mom? Resentful? It was so weird to think of grown-ups feeling that way.

  “The way she took control of everything. She didn’t even consult me on the menu! Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t even the mother of the quince. Oh, Isabel, just listen to me. Inez did everything she could to save me from all this work. There is no way I could have done even half of what she did. I’m envious, that’s what it is, and I should be grateful. I am grateful. Inez deserves all the credit. Please don’t tell your sister this, but I’m so glad this is over. Now we can all sit back and just be family.”

  A flashbulb suddenly went off in my head. I had been a little jealous of my sister and her friends!

  “Mom, I have a confession too. I was resentful too. Elena Maria called me an attention hog the other day. I was pretty mad about it. But I think she was right, some of the time. I think my problem was that I didn’t like sharing her so much with her friends. Sometimes I think we’ve gotten superclose from living in the same bedroom, and then there are times when I think I just don’t know her at all.”

  Mom looked at me sympathetically. “Oh, my dear. It’s hard to let go, but that’s what we must begin to do with teenagers. Soon you’ll be a teenager too.” She smiled. “We all want our relatives—our parents, our sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and co
usins—to be perfect, don’t we? But that’s not life, mi amor. So don’t be too hard on yourself. Never forget that it takes a lifetime to really learn to fly.”

  What she said sounded like something that I knew would make a great caption for one of my cartoons one day. “I’m going to quote you on that, Mom.” I kissed her on the forehead and yawned.

  Minutes later, I lay snuggled up in my charming room once again. My mind raced over the evening’s events. Everything seemed like a movie dream: the incredibly huge oak tree and the sunset, the gorgeous decorations, the mariachis and the flawless dance by the honor court, Scott’s cake, armadillos. I felt so far from Brookline and Abigail Adams Junior High.

  Just below my window, Freckles shrieked, “Cock-a-doodle-doooooo.” I couldn’t believe it was so late at night that it was actually morning! The sun would soon be up. I glanced at the family photo by the candle on the night-stand and drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Eagle Soars

  Ricardo ran into the great room just as I was reaching to take down the last string of papel picado. It made me a little sad to see all the pretty quinceañera decorations folded and put into boxes, but I felt lucky that undecorating was my only assigned job on the “cleaning crew.”

  “Isabel! Xochitl and Mr. Guerrero are here!” Ricardo cried. “I just saw them getting out of his truck!”

  I was down off the ladder in two seconds flat. “You remember the plan, right?” he asked as we raced out of the room. We wanted to show Mr. Guerrero the cave where we found the art, get him to drop us off back at the house, and maybe he’d be gone before Uncle Hector even knew the Guerreros were here!

  Ricardo and I had said “I’m sorry” so many times this week, we were apologized-out! We just didn’t have one more “I’m sorry” left. We figured it would be better to write Mr. Guerrero an apology letter…a very nice apology letter. I even planned to include one of my cartoons.

  Unfortunately, as we skidded out into the dusty front yard, I saw that we were too late. Uncle Hector was shaking hands with Mr. Guerrero already and inviting him into the house.