A short while later, Lilí joined their group. He started to rise and offer her his seat on an ottoman, but Julia slid over on the deep red sofa cushion to make room for her cousin to sit in between her and one of the wives.
The move brought Julia closer to him, their knees brushing against one another’s. Like a randy adolescent sitting next to his first crush, Ben felt his body hum at the innocent contact. Surreptitiously, he tugged on his dress pants leg, adjusting himself.
Though she didn’t say anything, Ben noticed Lilí placed a cell phone on Julia’s lap. She furtively tapped the screen to draw Julia’s attention to something displayed there.
Julia ducked her head to read the message. Her mouth thinned the slightest bit and he caught her heavy sigh.
“Will you excuse me?” Julia said to the group. She pushed off the couch, bringing Ben to his feet alongside her. “I’ll be right back.”
Ben waited for her to pass by, then followed her inside the penthouse, concerned about the frown marring her normally smooth brow.
“Everything okay?” he asked, closing the door behind them and silencing the din of conversation.
Though they had gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas music played softly on hidden speakers. Laura even had a stately Douglas fir, artfully decorated in red and gold ornaments and ribbons with tinkly white lights, holding court near the far bank of windows overlooking Navy Pier and Lake Michigan.
The tree lights glinted off Julia’s gold crucifix necklace. The brightness clashed with the apprehension stamping her features.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said, belying her expression. “I’ve been avoiding a phone call, but apparently it can’t be put off anymore.”
She held Lilí’s cell in a death grip, her fist jiggling the device back and forth at her side. Her gaze shot around the living room, into the formal dining room up three steps off to the right, then across to the sitting area on the left, as if searching for a place to make her call.
“You might want to try the library. You’ll have more privacy there,” he suggested.
“Thanks, I’ll ask a staff member where I can find it.”
“Here, I’ll show you the way.” With a hand on her lower back, Ben led her through the room, down the hall toward the office and library.
Tension vibrated in her stiff shoulders and shadowed her smooth features.
“This is my favorite piece in Sherman and Laura’s collection.” As they neared it, Ben pointed at an oil painting of the Chicago skyline inspired by Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
Julia briefly glanced at the gold-framed painting, her mind clinging to whatever had her anxious.
“Beautiful colors,” she murmured.
“I actually bought another one in the collection after seeing this. Then I reached out to the artist about creating something similar with a Miami backdrop.”
That got her attention.
She paused in front of the artwork, angling her neck to look up at him.
“Your two cities. Your homes.”
“Well, that would be more like a ball field, but . . .”
He let his voice trail off, the ache of having lost the one place where he’d felt most at home, the most sense of family, clogging his throat.
As if she sensed his loss, Julia reached for his hand. She linked her fingers with his, surprising him.
“Sometimes, a move away from the place where we’re the most comfortable allows for the best kind of growth.”
Said the woman determined to leave her family and Island behind for a new life. It was the one thing about her he didn’t understand. Mostly because he’d give anything to be back in the clubhouse with his “baseball family,” ribbing the other guys, grabbing their gloves to run onto the field, knowing they had each other’s back, win or lose.
While she, in a sense, was turning her back on her family’s legacy.
Despite his inability to comprehend how someone with the type of family connection he’d always craved could just walk away from it, Ben had a hard time finding fault with her decision to pursue her own dreams. Not when following her own path had led her to cross his.
The cell phone vibrated in Julia’s other hand signaling an incoming message.
“Ay,” she said on a groan. “I better get this. My mami won’t be deterred.”
He started in surprise.
Her mom? That’s whose call she’d been avoiding?
A slew of questions raced through his mind. But Julia had already started moving down the hall again.
“Here we go.” Ben ushered her into the library.
Her light gasp told him this must be her first time in the space.
Eyes wide with appreciation, she took in the intricately carved bookshelves covering an entire wall, the shelves filled with titles varying from classics to contemporaries and from easy reads to legal tomes. A window seat with views of Michigan Avenue took up the outer wall, while a fireplace dominated the third. A dark brown leather settee with two matching armchairs squared off in front of the inviting fire, providing comfy spots to curl up with a book.
“My cousin Rosa must love it here,” she said.
“The librarian?”
“Mm—hmm. Laura’s daughter-in-law,” Julia answered. “I’m sure she’s gotten lost in this room many times.”
The loving note in her voice when she talked about her cousins, and usually her parents and siblings, too, brought a dull ache to his chest. He’d never had that type of relationship with his parents. He barely remembered his grandparents, who had all passed when he was a kid. As the only child of two parents who’d been only children themselves, he didn’t have any family to rely on or turn to. No aunts, uncles, or cousins.
It wasn’t until he found baseball and when the Ramos’s had welcomed him into their home that he’d finally felt the true sense of familia.
“Well, I’ll leave you to make your call,” he said, backing away. “I’m going to make my way to the bathroom, then I’ll wait for you out front.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, waving him off. “Go back to the party.”
It wasn’t much of a party for him unless she was there, too.
Rather than admit that, he said, “No worries. It’ll be nice to enjoy the soft music and quiet before joining the fray again.”
“I . . . I shouldn’t be long then.”
“Take your time. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
Whether she understood his subtext—that he’d be there when she was ready for more than friendship—he had no idea.
Not wanting to scare her away, he gave a quick wink, then headed out.
Chapter Six
“Ay, Mami, por favor, no seas así,” Julia said, struggling to keep the whine and the frustration from her voice.
If not, her mother would ignore her plea to stop acting this way. Unfortunately, Paula Fernandez was the queen of passive aggressive behavior. Especially when she was on a roll.
Like she was now.
A heavy sigh blew through the cell speaker at Julia’s ear and she rolled her eyes. Immediately giving thanks her mother couldn’t see her.
“Am I not supposed to be hurt that my only daughter is not home for the holidays?” her mother steamrolled on. “That when I ask when she will return to celebrate Las Navi-dades with her papi, hermanos, and me, to help with the cooking and preparations, she will not answer me?”
Reproach dripped from Mami’s words. Each one a tiny pinprick of guilt to Julia’s heart.
“Who will I rely on when the catering orders come in?”
“Allegra is there,” Julia answered. “She does a better job at being your right hand than I do.”
“Ha!” her mother scoffed. “Esa nena no sabe.”
“Yes, she does know, Mami. More than you give her credit for.”
In fact, her older cousin had been getting her hands messy in the kitchen several years before Julia had been allowed to even step inside.
“She�
��s too much like her mother, and you know I can only take so much of your Tía Sonia. Why my brother had to marry that woman . . . ay, do not get me started.”
Too late. The litany of woes had begun.
Complaints about her sister-in-law, a recent issue with bookkeeping for the business, a new recipe she wanted to try but hadn’t found the time because she was short a helper . . .
Julia rubbed her temple, desperate to ease the pounding slowly increasing in her forehead.
“Mami, me tengo que ir,” she interjected, when her mom finally stopped for a breath.
“What do you mean you have to go? We have barely talked.”
Correction, Julia had barely talked. As for Mami, her guilt trip was flying first class.
“I told you, I’m at the Taylors’ for a post-Thanksgiving dinner party. It’s rude of me to have disappeared this long already.”
“Bueno, you should not be disrespectful. I will let you go.”
Julia let out a heavy sigh, quickly pulling the phone away from her face so her mother wouldn’t hear. The woman had the ears of a bat, capable of picking up the slightest sound. Especially one you didn’t want her to catch.
“Gracias, Mami. Adio—”
“Wait!” Her mother’s cry stalled Julia’s good-bye.
“¿Sí?” she asked, taken aback by the urgency in her mami’s plea.
“When I called to check on Rosa, she mentioned your big fiesta to raise the money for the children is in two weeks. After that, your work there will be done, no?”
Julia’s knees buckled under the weight of parental expectations and she sank onto one of the leather love seats. Elbow bent on the armrest, she cradled her forehead in her palm, Lili’s cell phone pressed to her ear.
“¿Hola, nena? ¿Estás allí?”
“Yes, I’m here,” Julia answered, like the obedient child she had always been. Until now.
Her heart pounding, she gazed into the fireplace. The flames danced and teased, suffocating the pieces of wood in the same way she felt her life being suffocated by the plans her mami and papi had mapped out for her.
“I’m—I’m not sure. There may be something more for me to do here.”
Another heavy sigh came through the line.
“Bueno, cuídate nena. Te quiero.”
“You take care, too, Mami. And, you know I love you, too, right?”
“Sí. I do.”
On her mami’s melancholy words, the call disconnected.
Julia dropped her head into her hands, hunched over, engulfed by the guilt of keeping her true intentions from her mom. Yet, disappointed and keenly frustrated that those closest to her couldn’t understand or see how her dreams differed from theirs.
* * *
Ben eased his way down the hallway leading to the library, straining to hear any hint of conversation. If Julia was still on the phone, he’d turn around and go back.
Twenty minutes had passed already and his unease hadn’t quieted. Not when he couldn’t stop picturing the worry that had knit Julia’s brow earlier.
Then again, a twenty-minute chat between Julia and her mom might be the norm. Simply because his parental phone calls were the epitome of a quick three-pitch strikeout didn’t mean hers weren’t more along the lines of a batter knocking off foul ball after foul ball, making you throw a slew of pitches to get the guy out.
Ben paused at the library door, unwilling to interrupt her. Silence greeted him.
Cautiously leaning against the wood frame, he peeked inside. As soon as he saw Julia, shoulders hunched, palms covering her face, he hurried over to her side.
The heels of his wing-tip shoes slapped the tile floor with each step. She didn’t even seem to notice.
“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She glanced up, dejection blanketing her delicate features.
“Hey,” she answered.
The edges of her wide mouth quivered, as if trying to smile, but finding the effort too difficult.
Ben sat down beside her, the need to comfort her driving him to wrap an arm around her delicate shoulders.
“You doing okay?” he asked, half expecting her to pull away.
Over the past few weeks she had started to relax in his company, greeting him with a brush of their cheeks rather than an impersonal handshake. But the demonstrative manner she shared with the kids during rehearsal—an encouraging hand on a shoulder, a playful hair fluff for Bernardo, warm hugs hello and good-bye for all—had not been extended to him.
Not until she had reached for his hand out in the hallway earlier. He hoped that was a sign of progress.
“I’ve been better,” she answered.
“Care to talk about it?”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh so heavy it seeped into him, forging his desire to soothe whatever pained her.
“It’s not easy trying to figure out how to balance love and commitment to your family with your own goals and dreams. You know?” she said.
Actually, he didn’t know. His parents had never held any strong expectations for him other than that he do well in school and find an area where he excelled. Sure, they’d probably thought it would be in academia, but they hadn’t balked at his choices. They’d been too wrapped up in their own research and studies.
But he’d spent enough time at Octavio’s house to understand the pull a person’s family could have on them. The compulsion to make them proud, to give them your best. To remain loyal.
It’s what Ben had found with baseball and his teammates. It’s what he missed.
“Well, I may not know your family, but in the time we’ve spent together, there’s definitely one thing I know about you.”
Julia slid sideways on the leather sofa cushion, angling to face him.
His arm slid off her shoulder, falling at her side to rest near her hip.
She stared up at him. A mix of doubt, sadness, and hope swam in the depths of her hazel eyes.
“You care about those around you,” he continued. “And you give one hundred percent to your commitments. I bet your parents would be proud of the work you’re doing here.”
She ducked her chin, giving a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. If they raised you, they’re good people.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“That means even if they don’t understand what you need to do for yourself right now, eventually they will. In the long run, I’m betting they only want you to be happy.”
A beat of silence passed, then she covered his hand with hers on the sofa cushion. The warmth of her palm matched the warmth in the sweet smile she gifted him with when she gazed up at him.
“Gracias,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For calming the crazy thoughts salsa dancing in my head.” Her gentle laugh held a note of self-deprecation.
“Anytime,” he answered, smiling back. “Though, you should know, I can also hold my own on the salsa dance floor. In case you were wondering.”
Julia threw back her head and laughed. The rich sound tugged at his desire for her, enticing and strong.
“I’ll have to verify that sometime,” she teased.
He sure hoped so.
Her cheeks brightened with laughter, the gloomy melancholy that had weighed her down moments ago dissipated.
Ben grinned back at her, pleased to have helped lighten her mood.
“Bueno, I guess we should head outside, huh?” Julia rose to stand next to the ottoman.
She surprised him once again by holding out her hand to him.
Not one to miss an opportunity, Ben placed his hand in hers. The smoothness of her palm pressed against his as she gently tightened her grasp.
When they reached the doorway, Ben drew to a halt.
Now or never. Once they returned to the group, who knew if he’d have a moment alone with her again.
“Before we go back to the party, I have a quick proposition for you,”
he said.
Julia glanced up at him, curiosity arching one of her brows. “Oh really? And what might that be?”
The soft sound of the holiday tune “Blue Christmas” drifted down the hallway from the living room. An appropriate song for how he’d feel should she continue to keep him at an arm’s distance.
“I was thinking we could cross something off your bucket list this weekend. If you’re up for it.”
She angled her head in question, lips curved in a playful smirk as she gave him a narrow-eyed once-over. “That sounds more like a challenge if you ask me.”
“If it were, would that encourage you to say yes?”
Her smirk blossomed on a husky chuckle that called out to the loneliness he kept hidden.
“In my house, with my three competitive brothers, you never back away from a challenge. So, what are you throwing down?” she asked.
The way she jutted her chin with confidence, her other hand balled in a fist on her slender hip, had his pulse quickening.
“I’m thinking you, me, a private ice-skating session after the rink closes to the public. What do you say? Are you up for it?”
Chapter Seven
This was not a date. Merely a fun evening with a friend.
Julia repeated the words to herself as her driver steered his car through the darkened streets of downtown Chicago Sunday evening, headed toward Ben’s home in the Southport Corridor neighborhood near Wrigley Field.
The sounds of cars honking and snow crunching under the tires mixed with the voice of Michael Bublé crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” over the radio. Outside her window, holiday decorations and lights flashed by, illuminating the car’s interior, casting shadows that matched the shadows of doubt she’d been battling all day.
Lilí had practically pushed her out the door with an exasperated, “¿Nena, estás loca? Why would you not go?”
Instead, Julia wondered if she was crazy for coming.
Huddled in the backseat with the rush of the car’s heated air warming her, thoughts of Christmases on the Island swarmed her. The fiestas with her familia and friends, the late night parrandas going from house to house singing and playing instruments. She missed the comfort of the coquís serenading her at night when she fell asleep with her window open. Like the Islanders themselves, the miniature tree frogs indigenous to Puerto Rico had survived the horrors of Hurricane María and the aftermath. Battered, but not beaten.
Holiday Home Run Page 5