Problem number two is Adelmo won’t marry me. The reasons are complicated, but trust me when I say they’re pretty damn good. He insists I go home without him. Says he will come when he can, but we both know it won’t happen.
So, Grace, I’m really coming home this time. If you haven’t forgiven me, I’m not giving up. I think when you see me all the bad stuff between us will disappear, and you can help me start a new life.
Before I leave Montañita for good, I have to make one last trip to Ben’s for my locket. Eva doesn’t want me to go, but remember what we used to say about those lockets? No way am I leaving it behind. Ben won’t be there, so I should be able to get in and out without him even knowing I was there.
I can’t wait to see you and for you to see how different I really am.
Love you forever.
Your Favorite Sister
So, she had died because of the locket. We had taken the necklaces as symbols of the strength of our family bond. Gran said we could pass them down to our daughters if we were lucky enough to have them. Instead of good fortune, hers had gotten Stella killed.
I gazed at the Atlanta skyline, shimmering in the afternoon heat, and tried to make sense of Stella’s letter.
Luis cleared his throat as he reentered the room. “Are you all right?”
“How can I be when it seems my sister died for a piece of jewelry?”
“Eva told me why it was so important to Stella. But I will let her explain.”
He went to the adjoining suite and tapped lightly on the door, then opened it. Eva stood on the other side. “I would like to introduce you to my mother, Eva Cordoza.”
“Grace,” she held out both arms and moved to embrace me. I allowed her to make contact but was too stunned to do anything other than stand immobile.
“Come, sit with me.” She led me back to the small sofa.
“You are too thin, just like our Stella,” she said. “I was sorry to send you away with so many remaining questions. I wish I could have answered them, but there were so many difficulties with the truth. I will begin closer to the beginning. Perhaps some tea, my son?”
He poured tea for his mother and eased into one of the matching chairs. “I was Adelmo’s nanny, I think you call it. He and Luis were babies together. We lived in the Balsuto home. When he grew up, he brought me to Montañita to manage his household. But I soon learned he had not left his family business behind, so I resigned from his employment and began my own cleaning service. Señor Wilcott was one of my clients. That is when I met your sister. She was so sad and lonely. She begged me to work full time for her, and I agreed.”
Eva added sugar and cream to her tea. I fidgeted next to her, and she put her hand on my knee.
“I was working at the party where she and Adelmo crossed paths. I warned her not to get involved with him. But it was useless. They were careful not to be seen together, but Montañita is a small town, and rumors began circulating. Señor Wilcott was too indebted to Adelmo to make much of a fuss. Besides, he was drunk most of the time. But Adelmo was terrified people would see the depth of his feelings for Stella. You must understand, the Balsuto family is both feared and respected, and there are many who wish them harm. He knew all too well the dangers of being part of his family. When he was twelve years old, a rival family kidnapped and killed his younger sister.”
Eva paused, looked at her son, then continued.
“He encouraged her to leave her troubled marriage, to return to her home, and forget about him. And I think she was ready to do as he wished. But a few weeks before last Easter, she became ill, only she was not sick. She was with child.”
“Pregnant? Are you saying she was expecting a baby?” That explained her letters about coming home around that time.
She nodded. But the idea of Stella with a baby was incomprehensible to me.
“She was very frightened. She did not think her husband could be the father, but it was not impossible. And if the child was Adelmo’s, he could never acknowledge it. She made me promise not to tell anyone, and I kept that promise.”
She succeeded in getting Stella to a doctor who told her she was six weeks pregnant. Ecuador not only prohibits abortion but also punishes women who get illegal procedures with up to two years in prison. If she decided not to keep the baby, she would need to return to the United States. Somewhere in the middle of her dilemma, my sister realized she wanted the child.
She and Eva came up with a plan to convince Ben he was the father. Once the baby arrived, Stella would take the infant back to the States and file for divorce. She hoped Adelmo would be a part of her life but was realistic about the situation. And she wanted what was best for their little one. So, she broached the subject of fatherhood with Ben.
“That’s when that pig of a husband of hers laughed in her face. He told her he had no intention of having children. To be sure, he’d had the vasectomy.” Eva pronounced each syllable with great care and contempt. “He had this done before he and Stella married. Almost a year before they eloped.”
A year before they eloped, Ben and I were engaged. We had discussed children and agreed we both wanted them. I wondered if he’d already had his tubes clipped when we talked about filling a house with babies. Nausea hit me and I feared I might be sick, but I took a deep breath and encouraged Eva to resume her story.
At least now she was certain who the father was, but the women were not in agreement about the next step. Eva wanted my sister to go to Adelmo for help, but she didn’t want to burden him with the information. She was afraid it would only worry him, so she stayed silent about the baby until she could find a time to escape Ben and come home.
But Adelmo was no fool. He realized she was pregnant and demanded she reveal the child’s father. When she told him the truth, happiness overcame him.
“I cannot remember a time when I have seen him like that. It was as if she had given him the chance to throw off his past and start a new life.” Eva smiled, then sighed. “But there was so much that he could never leave it all behind.”
So, he helped Stella plan her escape. But he became increasingly unpredictable when they were together. He told her he could not let her leave until he met his child. He spoke with Luis and came up with the idea to hide Stella in Ibarra. Once the baby was born, he would get them both out of the country.
Unfortunately, she experienced serious complications and went into labor almost seven weeks early. They made it to a hospital in Quito, where she delivered a little girl weighing less than three pounds.
Luis explained she had put Ben’s name on the birth certificate to protect the child from the danger of being a Balsuto. Adelmo met Stella’s daughter and promised he would join my sister in America. She believed he would. The plan was to get her and the baby out of the country and when they were safe, she would keep up the pretense Ben was the father. This would allow him to save face as long as he would agree to a quick divorce and give her sole custody.
Before leaving the hospital in Quito, she met with Luis to draw up a will, making me the baby’s guardian. My sister’s death complicated matters. If Ben found out about the baby, he could claim her as his for spite. Torn between letting us in on their secret and keeping the child himself, he took the letters to find out how much Stella had told me. He needed to meet me to make sure my anger toward her wouldn’t have a negative impact on his tiny daughter.
After our meeting, he told Eva he wanted me to take the baby home, but first he would have to deal with Ben. So, that day at the trailer, Adelmo had never intended to let him go. It wasn’t a simple matter of wanting revenge. Ben’s death ensured safety and security for Adelmo’s daughter.
Luis had been working with the government to process Stella’s will an
d bring the child to her rightful guardian. He feared I would come to Ecuador in a frenzy if I’d known what was going on. Having me there would have only increased the bureaucratic red tape, so he kept me in the dark.
Eva had also agreed it would be better if I knew nothing until they settled the matter. Just when the plans were finalized, the child came down with a fever high enough to send her to the hospital.
“Please, Eva,” I begged. “Are you telling me my sister’s baby didn’t make it?”
Eva put her arms around my shoulders and held me close. I braced myself.
“Luis, could you help me, please,” she said, still holding me tightly.
I heard him open the door to the adjoining suite and speak in Spanish. I turned and saw he was carrying a baby with dark brown curls, a heart-shaped face, and wide silver-gray eyes. A thick gold chain holding Stella’s locket fell almost to her waist.
“Grace,” he said. “Meet your niece, Señorita Emma Grace.”
Epilogue
“Emma Grace, you did not just give Miss Scarlett a cheese doodle, did you?”
My three-year-old daughter and the dog ignored me and continued to share the bag of salty treats. I picked up the protesting toddler and swabbed a wet wipe over her face, smearing it with orange residue. Scarlett followed my every swipe.
From that day, over two years ago, when I brought my niece home, Scarlett had been Emma’s dog. She still loved me, but when the baby was in the room, she refused to leave her side. And my dog’s shift in loyalty was only one of the many changes that came with Emma.
After Eva put Stella’s child in my arms, Luis and I struggled for over half an hour to get the car seat positioned and Emma Grace strapped in. Driving away from the hotel, I wondered what in the world my sister had been thinking to leave someone like me, a woman barely capable of handling her own life, in charge of another human being. Most mothers have at least nine months to consider how parenthood will change their lives. I hadn’t known my new daughter existed until a few minutes before Eva appeared with her.
A few blocks from the hotel, I gasped for air and was sure I was having my first panic attack. I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and turned to the baby.
“I guess it’s me and you, kid.”
Emma Grace regarded me with solemn eyes.
“Well, not just you and me,” I said, as much to reassure myself as to comfort my niece. “You’ve got a new grandmother and a step-grandfather, and…” I wasn’t sure how to classify Justin but felt certain he was on the team. “And you’ve got this great-looking guy to help take care of you, plus you’ve got an uncle—okay, he’s a little on the crazy size, but he’s the best friend anyone could ever have. Whatever, you’ve got your very own Lesroy.”
“See? You’ve got this.” My sister’s voice was strong and clear, as if she were sitting beside me.
“Looks like he isn’t the only insane one in the family,” I said to my new daughter. But the sound of my sister’s triumphant words comforted me, and I couldn’t wait to call Mom. I explained I had Stella’s baby and asked her to please meet me at my house because I had no idea what I was doing. I hung up before she could respond.
By the time I arrived, she and Mike were waiting in the driveway. Both had tears in their eyes as we unloaded the baby and all her accouterments. Emma Grace regarded her new grandparents with her trademark wide-eyed stare, remaining calm and unimpressed. Lesroy burst through the door. “Oh, my, God! She is the most beautiful little girl in the entire world,” he said, dancing with excitement. Emma Grace allowed him to carry her around but never cracked a smile, not even when he swooped her over his head.
The only one who could get a giggle out of the child was Justin. He was in a meeting when I left him a convoluted message and was home in less than thirty minutes. At the sound of his voice, the baby turned toward him and broke into a snaggle-toothed grin. When he blew on her tummy, she dissolved into fits of laughter.
In the weeks and days that followed, my terror at becoming a mother eased into a state of hyper-vigilance, like that of most new mothers. Some days the sunlight played across Emma’s face, transforming her into a replica of my sister, paralyzing me with longing. Other times a shadow of her father appeared, and while it frightened me at first, I came to realize it was not the visage of the Adelmo I saw at the trailer, the one filled with an incapacitating blood lust. It was the gentle man I sat with on the garden bench, my sister’s devoted lover and friend, one from whom I had nothing to fear.
. . . . .
“Please be still, Emma Grace.” One cheek was free of cheesy goo, but the other was covered in orange snail trails. And my daughter was approaching her limit. She stiffened her body, and her lower lip trembled with the onset of toddler fury. Sensing the approaching storm, Scarlett took over, sending Emma into fits of giggling, as she licked away the last trace of doodles.
My husband called from the backyard where he and Lesroy were drinking beer and waiting for twilight. When I opened the door, child and dog tumbled out to join them.
Emma ran toward the men but stopped and turned her face to the sky, where a squadron of tiny blinking lights descended on her. She raised her arms, and fireflies settled on the tips of her fingers.
“Wait for me,” Lesroy shouted, grabbing the jar by his chair.
He cupped his hands over my daughter’s and transferred the flashing insects into the container. Emma Grace pressed her solemn little face to the glass. Their fairy flashes sparkled in her eyes. She pushed away the lid and danced as they flittered around her before flying into the night sky.
Justin wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we stared at our miracle child. Like all children, she was an incredible combination of all the wonderful and tragic events that came before her. But Emma Grace was more than that to us, and we had Stella to thank. This child was my sister’s gift, the gift of hope.
Acknowledgments
I would like to express love and appreciation to my incredible husband. Without his constant encouragement, I wouldn’t have had the courage to pursue my dream. I’m also grateful to my daughter Kate, whose insightful comments as a reader and editor helped me be a better writer. Special thanks go to my daughter Laura, who provided inspiration for the book’s message about family and to my son, Nick Pinkerton, who continues to teach me about the power of love and forgiveness.
I am grateful for the advice and guidance I received from members of the Roswell Critique Group. Much gratitude goes to Tom Leidy. Without him, I would never have had the confidence to join the group. Great appreciation goes to Kim Conrey for her sweetness and empathy, to April Dilbeck for her sharp insights and wicked humor, and to Gaby Anderson for her positive comments and gentle suggestions. These women improved my writing and my spirits.
I’m thankful to the men in the group for giving me tips on how the male animal thinks: Marty Aftewicz, who showed me how baseball can be a metaphor for life; Fred Whitson, who schooled me in all things military; Bill Barbour for his positivity; Chuck Storla, my corporate advisor; Mike Shaw, punctuation pundit extraordinaire; and Walter Lamb, my travel guru.
Most sincere gratitude goes to George Weinstein, executive director of the Atlanta Writers Club. Without his knowledge and generosity, I wouldn’t have understood how to “make it better.”
I am thankful to novelists Joshilyn Jackson and Jenny Milchman for their encouraging critiques of my writing. Their kindness and expertise were overwhelming.
I would like to recognize the wonderful women of my book club. These friends have been there for me through good books and bad. They have provided unbelievable support and encouragement along the way: Sharon Bartels, Jolly Douglas, Ann Ligon, Peggy Pitman, and Jan Wilson.
I want
to express my gratitude to Cheo Bohachek and Janet Turner for celebrating with me and to Larry Lynch and Greg Earnest for introducing me to the joys of travel.
Finally, I want to thank the best sisters a sisterless girl could have, my dear friends Pat Schernekau and Janice Ledford Scott.
About the Author
Katherine Nichols lives in Marietta, Georgia with her husband and two rescue dogs. She is the proud mother of two lovely daughters. In addition to her passion for writing, she enjoys reading, hiking, and traveling. She is a member of the Atlanta Writers Club and Sisters in Crime and has been published in ALAN reviews, Equill Atlanta Writers Club magazine, and Shout Them from the Mountaintops: Georgia Poems and Stories.
Note from the Author
Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed The Sometime Sister, please leave a review online—anywhere you are able. Even if it’s just a sentence or two. It would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.
Thanks!
Katherine Nichols
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