She shook her head as she stood.
“Go grab your phone, nena, and call him back!” her mother cried, waving her crumpled napkin in the air as she shooed Anamaría away. “Or tap your watch. Whatever it is you do when I see you speaking into your wrist like one of those Star Trek movies.”
Luis’s mouth twitched at their mami’s non–tech savvy order, although, much like their papi, Anamaría’s brother’s body language shouted alert, ready to race to help if needed.
Not wanting to call Ale on speakerphone via her watch, Anamaría hurried into the adjacent living room where she’d left her backpack. No surprise, her mami followed behind her. The anxious frown and the napkin twisted to shreds in her mami’s hand kept Anamaría from grumbling a request for privacy.
Alejandro picked up on the first ring. “Cece’s in labor.”
She gasped, then turned, wide-eyed, to her mom.
¿Qué pasa? she mouthed.
Alejandro continued speaking on the other end, so Anamaría held up a finger to stop her mom from repeating her What’s happening?
“My dad’s holding down the dinner rush, but there’s some kind of office party, so it’s crazy at Miranda’s,” Alejandro continued, the words tumbling out of him in a rush of frazzled panic. “Ernesto’s driving Cece to the hospital, but apparently she needs my mom there, too. Something about Mami being an ab-abduedla? I don’t know what the hell she meant.”
“A birthing doula,” Anamaría explained. “With Lulu’s labor and delivery, your mom provided emotional and physical support to Cece, similar to what’s provided by a person known as a doula.”
Cece’s in labor? Anamaría’s mami mouthed.
Anamaría nodded as Ale kept talking, the anxiety and stress of someone who had never experienced the wonder of childbirth before evident.
“Sure, doula, that sounds right. The problem is, Abuela’s not over the flu yet, so they don’t want her watching Lulu and getting her sick before the new baby arrives. My mom can drop me at Ernesto’s to babysit, but alone I’m not sure—”
“I’ll be right over,” Anamaría told him.
His “Thank God!” on a whoosh of breath sounded through the cell’s speaker before he asked, “Are you sure?”
As if Ale had asked her the question, Anamaría’s mom gave an exaggerated nod. She made a quick sign of the cross, then clasped her hands, her lips moving in a prayer for Cece and her unborn child.
“Of course I’m sure.” Anamaría dug her keys out of her bag as she headed for the front door. “I’m still up in Big Coppitt at my parents’, so it’ll take me a little longer to get to Midtown. Let Lulu know not to worry, her favorite babysitter is on her way.”
His raspy chuckle was a good sign that the poor guy wasn’t totally freaking out.
“I’ve got a little over six weeks of spoiling her to knock you out of that number one spot. You better watch out.” The playful challenge erased the nervousness that had tinged his voice moments ago. It also reminded her of the clock ticking down their time together.
Moments later, her papi followed Anamaría down the wooden front steps to her SUV. The motion sensor light mounted on one of the front pillars that raised their house per hurricane safety building codes illuminated them, casting long shadows over the driveway. The familiar scent of the full bougainvillea vines trailing up the stair railing sweetened the humidity-laden air.
Her papi opened the door for her, giving her cheek a kiss before she slid behind the wheel. Instead of backing away to wave good-bye, he stood in the door opening. “You know I usually leave the meddling to your mamá. Pero ahora—but right now, I can’t hold my silence, Princesa.”
Anamaría frowned at his serious tone. “What is it?”
“Back then, after my heart attack, cuando te quedaste aquí.” He rubbed a hand over the center of his chest, where the scar from his open-heart surgery marked him, before repeating himself. “When you stayed here, I worried that at first it was because of me. And then—”
“Papi, I stayed because it’s where I needed to be. It was the right decision.”
“At the time.” He nodded slowly. His face set in the solemn, pensive expression that meant he was considering the right words of advice to offer. “Later, in the years since, I have occasionally wondered if it may have become the safe decision instead. Keeping you from something else.”
She sucked in a quick breath, shocked by his perception. Wondering how long he had known a truth she’d only come to terms with in the last few years.
He cupped her shoulder with a large yet gentle hand. “I have always told you, nena, anything is possible with hard work and passion. Right?”
She nodded dumbly.
“That goes for all aspects of your life, not only your job, Princesa. Remember that. And perhaps you want to share my advice with someone you have been spending quite a bit more time with lately, ha?”
“Oh, Papi, we’re not . . .” She fumbled for words, unwilling to lie to her father. Absolutely certain she didn’t want to discuss the friends-with-benefits arrangement that could very well wind up biting her in the ass, either. Talk about an uncomfortable father-daughter topic.
“It’s not what you think,” she finally said.
He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “There is no need for you to explain anything, Anamaría. To me or your mother. Simplemente, un consejo.”
Simple advice, huh? When it packed a wallop of truth like his did, simple was an understatement.
“Gracias, Papi. Te quiero.”
He repeated her I love you as he gave her another quick adíos peck on her cheek and a Dios te bendiga blessing. After closing her car door, he tapped the hood, signaling the all-clear for her to back out of the driveway.
There was nothing simple about her and Alejandro’s situation either. Papi’s claims about her past decisions were only partially true.
Her decision to stay in Key West wasn’t a safe one. Being close to her familia, actively involved in each other’s lives, even when she complained about wanting her space. That was part of who she was as a person.
The safe choice? If she was honest with herself, it was staying at the fire department. Continuing to work toward her pension alongside her brothers and father, choosing not to pursue the more iffy career path of nutrition and training full-time. Not turning her back on their Navarro familia legacy, like Alejandro had.
She immediately halted that line of thinking. It wasn’t fair to him.
Their situations were different. Her entire familia would give their blessing if she chose her own route. His father had not.
But even if the rift between him and his father was healed, she had no idea whether or not Alejandro would choose to make Key West his home base. He had always felt confined here, living under what they had joked was their mamis’ microscope.
Just as it hadn’t been fair of him to ask her to leave for good all those years ago, it was unfair for her to ask him to stay now.
As she drove down the Overseas Highway, past the U.S. Naval Air Station at Boca Chica, she thought about her dad’s advice.
Anything is possible with hard work and passion.