Through Fire (Portland, ME #3)

by Freya Barker

  I think we were both a bit shocked when, after Tim regaled her with some childhood stories, and I described how easily I’d been accepted, she seemed to readily accept the invitation. That was yesterday. Today she is nervously biting her nails in the backseat, her leg bobbing up and down so much, I can feel it in the front.

  “How do you know?” she asks, her English getting more secure with every passing day.

  “Because you’re family,” Tim says simply, conveying the same message his father had to me only a few Sunday dinners ago. I reach out and grab his hand, which he folds around mine instantly. A quick peek in the rear-view mirror shows Nina following every move.

  I lean back in my seat, my own nervous energy slowly disappearing.

  This time, we don’t even have a chance to pull in the driveway before the door flies open, and Tim’s mother, her long tunic fluttering behind her, comes barreling down the steps. Tim chuckles in the front seat and lifts his eyes to look at Nina in the rear-view mirror. “I warned you about my mom, right?” I turn just in time to see her nod with more than just a hint of trepidation. I don’t blame her. I don’t think I’ve quite gotten used to Jane’s exuberance myself. “She’s just...excitable,” Tim says with a smirk in my direction, before he gets out of the car. I can’t help but snicker when he tries to intercept his mother, who is going for the back door.

  “Come on, Nina girl,” I smile over my shoulder. “Let’s give Tim a break. I’ll distract her and you slip out behind me.” Nina looks out the window and giggles at Jane’s apparent struggles against Tim’s hold. The sound is music to my ears. I’m still smiling ear to ear when I get out and slip between Tim and Jane, surprising her by throwing my arms around her, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to resist. “Be gentle with my Nina,” I whisper in her ear. She slowly pulls back and looks at me warmly. “Of course, honey. I love her already.”

  The sound of a door slamming shut behind me has us turn around, where Nina is half hidden behind Tim, clutching his hand in both of hers. “Hi, sweetheart,” Jane says softly, her voice sounding a bit shaky. “I’m so glad you could come. I don’t know what you like yet, so I made Chiles Renellos on top of the regular BBQ stuff. My boy tells me it’s Ruby’s favorite, but I’ve never made it before.” She turns and starts walking toward the house, casually throwing over her shoulder, “Maybe you can taste it, tell me if I did it right.”

  “Okay.” It’s soft, but I hear it. So does Jane, whose stride hitches but doesn’t stop.

  Tim doesn’t let go of her hand all the way to the house, and I follow behind, working hard to get my tears in check.

  -

  “Not spicy enough?” Jane looks at Nina wide-eyed. “Girl, are you sure? I think I have blisters on my teeth!”

  Nina, who finally let go of Tim’s hand when his mother came downstairs at the Red Sox’s seventh inning stretch and asked if Nina would help, is giggling at Jane’s antics. Arthur has been very quiet, observing Nina when she wasn’t aware he was looking and only casually asking her once if she wanted more juice. She softly replied, and since then, has kept her eye on him too. For Mark, she’d even smiled a little when he and Tim did their usual sibling bickering.

  We’re sitting outside on the deck with sweaters and jackets because it’s still a bit chilly. Dinner was delicious and I’m feeling nice and toasty cuddled up with Tim on a chaise, my back against his front. It’s becoming a favorite position. For Tim, because he can keep me close and still be part of the conversation around him, and for me, because I feel completely blanketed in Tim. I love him so much, even though it’s still a bit scary to say it out loud. It’s not just Tim, I’m falling in love with his family too.

  “What do you call a grandmother in Spanish?” Jane asks Nina, as the rest of the family does their signature eye-roll, probably able to guess what is coming.

  “Abuela,” Nina says. “And for grandfather, Abuelo.”

  “Hmmm.” Jane is obviously not impressed as she scrunches up her nose. “I was hoping something a bit more...fun-sounding.”

  “My grandparents died when I was really young, but I remember I called my grandmother Yaya,” I suggest.

  “That I like,” Jane smiles at me. “What about your grandfather?”

  “Tito. Yaya and Tito.”

  “Perfect.” She turns to Nina and smiles at her broadly. “Then if you want, you can call me Yaya.” Nina looks at me quickly before turning back to Jane and nodding. Encouraged, Jane takes it a step further. “And you can call the grumpy old man here, Tito,” she adds with a wink, knowing full well it would have Arthur up in arms.

  “No one is calling me Tito, woman.” I laugh when he almost spits out the name like something distasteful. And what follows I could’ve predicted; a long drawn out bicker fest between Tim’s parents that had us all in stitches. Even Nina.

  But Arthur has the last word—and it’s a good one.

  “You call me anything, girl, you call me Pops. You hear me?”

  It earns him his first beautiful smile from Nina.

  Tim

  My parents are exasperating. They are also the most loving people I know, despite their unique morals and quirky ways.

  I honestly didn’t think, with only a few family dinners, they’d have Nina talking a mile a minute about logo design with Dad or making plans with Mom for a shopping expedition.

  Nina has been in Portland for a little over six weeks and seems to be adjusting well. Exactly as long as Ruby has been living with me, and other than a few flare ups of either one of our tempers, we seem to be adjusting well too. I still spend some nights lying awake, trying to find ways to give back to Ruby what was taken from her, despite her repeat assurances that I’ve given her more than she ever dared hope for.

  Nina and Ruby have been chattering all the way to Mom and Dad’s, giving me time to disappear inside my head. These past few months, Vintage Veldman is starting to make a bit of name. Ironically, it’s not so much my designs, although I’ve been keeping busy with what is coming in, but rather Dad’s coasters and cutting boards that have been drawing major attention. It helps that The Skipper, a very popular hangout for the locals in Portland, now sports custom-made coasters, branded with the signature ship’s wheel. Dino had tried out and approved Dad’s cutting boards and had some connections in the restaurant business he was able to get interested as well. A website has gone up, courtesy of my brother, who proves to be quite handy on the computer and new online sales are coming in daily.

  Friday, the first big order came in from a small, regional chain of seafood restaurants, wanting custom-made serving boards for their surf and turf presentation. They approved one of my designs and immediately ordered three hundred to start. With all three of us working, we can have that order done and ready to ship in a little over a week. It may take us through the last of our current stock of barn board, but with the profit we’d pull in, we’ll be able to order more.

  Of course, Mom has the door open already, before I can turn the key on the engine, and my girls are already climbing out of the truck. I shake my head as I lock up and calmly follow behind the chattering trio into the house. What awaits me inside stops me in my tracks though. Memories of childhood birthdays come to mind, when I look around the amount of garland and balloons making the living room virtually impassable. Somewhere in there I hear the sliding door open and my father complain. “Christ’s sake, woman. Told you not to go overboard. How the hell did you manage this in the time I’ve been dicking around the workshop?”

  “Language, Arthur,” Mom scolds, and somewhere behind the wall of balloons I hear the distinct giggles of Nina and Ruby.

  “Holy shit!” That would be Mark, walking in behind me.

  “Mark! Watch your mouth.”

  The ridiculous situation, along with the increasing giggles from what I guess is the kitchen, is starting to work on me. What starts as a silent chuckle quickly works its way up to a belly deep laugh that has tears running from my eyes. Mark is no better,
hanging on to my shoulder to stay upright.

  “Jesus Murphy!” my father bellows, and next is the sound of loud popping as I guess Dad has found a solution.

  “You’re spoiling my surprise!” Mom squeals, quickly adding; “And stop swearing!”

  “Jesus Murphy is not swearing,” Dad counters, not doing anything to diminish the general hilarity in the room. With the incessant popping and the remainder of the balloons floating up to the ceiling, I finally get a bead on everyone’s whereabouts. Mom is hovering over the dining table, where a large cake takes center stage. She’s using her body to protect it from the bits of rubber Dad’s ministrations fling around. Ruby and Nina are indeed in the kitchen, hanging over the counter with tears running down their faces.

  “Mom, how in God’s name did you manage to do all this?” I ask, gesturing around the room. She tries to look hurt, but I can see even the corners of her mouth twitching.

  “I may have a tank of helium in the laundry room,” she admits with a grin. “I wanted to celebrate your first big corporate order. I even baked you guys a cake.”

  I manage to walk up to Ruby and pull her, still laughing, in my arms. “My family is crazy,” I tell her, attempting to keep a straight face. “Bat-shit crazy,” I emphasize. “Are you sure you still want to be part of it?” Her eyes twinkle with humor as Nina continues to chuckle as she helps Dad try and clean up the mess.

  “Absolutely,” she says, a smile on her face so wide, I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself.

  I guess this is as good an opening as ever.

  I’ve been working on something that is taking much longer than I’d hoped. There were some things that just needed more time to dig up. It also required the cooperation of quite a few people. That part wasn’t hard. Everyone I talked to, so far, was immediately on board. But the most important people I’ve had to wait to ask, until all information was in.

  Well, yesterday I received the final piece I needed and was able to get the very tearful and very enthusiastic endorsement of my plan. Today, come hell or high water, I was planning to ask the final and ultimate decision maker.

  “Nina?” I motion the one co-conspirator, other than my brother, present here to come closer. She nods in understanding and easily slips under my free arm. Ruby seems confused, looking from one to the other and when Mom tries to speak up, Mark sneaks up and covers her mouth, silencing her. He knows what’s coming too. Dad doesn’t need any explanation, he probably guessed what I’ve been up to.

  “What’s going on?” Ruby asks nervously, looking around before her eyes finally find mine again.

  “Abril Rubí Soto—I did my best to ignore you for months, something I’ll regret for the remainder of my days, but there was something about you that spoke to me from the first time I saw you.” Behind me, I hear Mom gasp behind Mark’s hand and slowly understanding dawns for Ruby, who claps her hands over her mouth. “I love you with everything I am. I could stand here and say a whole lot more about the why, but I think I’d rather spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” I let go of Nina, who hands me the ring, and go down on my knees. I almost lose my composure when I discover I’m still pretty close to eye level. It’s a bit of a struggle to peel her hand away from her face, but she finally relents. “My family is here, because they already are your family as well. With or without this ring.” I hold up the simple one-carat engagement ring Nina helped me pick out. She managed to convince me less would be more for Ruby. “They say the only way to escape hell is to go through it. You’ve done that...and Nina’s done that. Which proves something else: the strongest bonds are forged by fire. You have my heart, Ruby, and I’d gladly walk through the fires of hell, if it meant I could walk with you. Will you let me walk with you?” She shakes as I slide the ring on her finger. “¿Te casarias conmigo?”

  I know I probably butchered that, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the brightest smile she is hiding behind her hand. “Si. Yes, mi vida...” She can’t say more, because my mouth is already covering hers.

  “This calls for champagne!” I guess Mark’s let go of Mom, but there’s something we still have to cover. Reluctantly, I let Ruby’s lips go and turn to give Nina a wink. “Mom, hang on a sec.” I stop the loud banging of kitchen cabinets.

  “Guess no baseball this afternoon,” Dad grumbles behind us.

  “You’ve got the floor, Nina-girl.” I nod at her ignoring the rumblings around us. Ruby’s attention is intently focused on the girl.

  “Will you be my family?” Nina asks, handing her a piece of paper, but Ruby barely notices.

  “Cariño—we already are,” she replies, not once taking her eyes off the girl.

  “Please—read it.” Nina gestures to the paper.

  The three of us, sitting on the kitchen floor, it’s as if time stands still in this moment.

  Until Mom pipes up behind us. “What is it?”

  “Hush, Jane,” Dad, who probably guessed, admonishes her.

  “Don’t you shush me, Arthur.”

  “I don’t understand.” I almost miss Ruby’s low whisper, but Nina is already leaning in. “Tim wants to make me part of your family...for real.” Ruby’s eyes come to me.

  “I’ve put in a request for us to become Nina’s official foster parents, which I discovered is possible because I am a U.S. citizen and we live together. What you are holding is the letter confirming that as off the first day of summer vacation, Nina can come live with us. That’s only a few weeks away, baby.”

  “For real?” I thought her smile would be painful before, but it’s even bigger now.

  “You bet,” I assure her. “And after six months, provided we’re married by then and the visits from CPS have gone well, we can apply to adopt Nina legally.”

  Both girls throw themselves at me, knocking me clear on my back, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m holding my life in my arms.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ruby

  “Oh my God! That boy doesn’t waste any time, does he?”

  It takes Viv approximately two seconds to clock the ring on my finger.

  “You’re one to talk.” Dino walks up behind Viv and has a look over her shoulder. “You go to the West Coast to testify at a trial and end up getting married in Vegas. You hadn’t known Ike for much longer, from what I recall,” he says with a wink to me. I’d heard the story in bits and pieces over time.

  “Oh hush,” Viv says, rolling her eyes. “Old news, Dino.” The big man walks off chuckling, having made his point. Not in the least offended, Viv gives me a big smile and hug, and over a cup of tea has me recount how that ring got on my finger.

  Dino’s rather abrupt, “We doing any work here today?” from behind me, alerts me to the time. I scramble into the pantry to get out the veggies, but by the time I get back, Viv’s gone. With Dino obviously not in a mood to talk, I start chopping and my mind wanders.

  For the first time since I started at The Skipper, I’m not looking forward to my shift.

  Sunday blew me away. What was supposed to be a celebration for Vintage Veldman, turned into a celebration of a different kind altogether. I had to keep looking at my finger, and then to Nina, who was never far from my side, to check if it was all real. Then yesterday, Tim and I spent the day planning what to do for Nina’s room. He’s the one who suggested the rec room in the basement, only partially finished, but with a full bath right next to it. Considering Nina will be fifteen in a month and a half, I had to admit it was probably the best solution. It wasn’t just having her own bathroom that was the decision making factor here. Tim took great care to demonstrate how easily sound carries from the master to the spare bedroom. Repeatedly. Plus, he showed me some very creative uses for the mirror and vanity that he wouldn’t feel right utilizing if we were to share the bathroom with Nina.

  I’m a reasonable person. It only took me two orgasms to come to the same conclusion.

  This morning, I was treated to a Standard Bakery breakfast—delivered in bed this time. I didn’t wa
nt to come out. I just wanted to stay in bed with Tim, scanning through some options for the bedroom layout on his laptop and generally lazing about like we’d done most of yesterday.

  Tim had to go to work, though, this big order needed taking care of and he’d already taken Monday off. As it is, it looks like his plans for the basement are going to be difficult considering the timeline for that order runs about parallel. But this morning, he’d wanted to make sure we both had a good start to the day, which he certainly took care of, in more ways than one.

  “Diced, girl. Not minced,” Dino’s voice pulls me from my daydream, and I see that I have very much minced the onions. With a deep sigh, I scrape them into a container to be used for something else, and fetch a few more onions from the walk-in cooling.

  Peeling the first onion, I throw a look at Dino, who’s putting a rub on some steaks. His shoulders look slumped, like he’s trying to disappear into himself. “How are you really doing?” I say in a soft voice, but loud enough for him to hear. At first, my only response is a deep sigh and thinking I’m being shut out, I turn back to the onion on the cutting board.

  My mind is already wandering again by the time he starts talking. “She walked out,” he says, surprising me with the broken rasp of his voice. I struggle not to react, feeling instinctively that if I do; he’ll shut back down. So I dice my onion, patiently waiting for him to say something more. I don’t have to wait long. “Things weren’t right for a long time. Fuck, maybe they never were. Somewhere along the line, she got hooked on meds. Didn’t matter what I said, or how often I forced her to agree to detox, the moment she was home and I left for work, she was back at it again.” He takes a break and I chance a quick look. His head is tilted to the ceiling and he’s swallowing hard, so I quickly turn back to my cutting board. “We had an envelope with cash for the kids’ Christmas presents in our dresser drawer. She blamed Jonas, and for three fucking weeks I gave that kid hell.” His voice is steadily growing louder. “Then I discover she’d been lying. She’d taken it herself, bought drugs, and blamed her own fucking son for it!” I drop the knife on the board, startled by his sudden volume. When I turn to him, he’s leaning heavily on the counter, his head hanging low. But the moment I start moving in his direction, his hand comes up, warding me off. “Don’t.”