Learning to Soar (White Dove Book 3)

by Maya William

  Miranda comes running into the dining room. Panicked, her eyes go from Maria, to me, to David.

  “Hello, Suegra, yo no hablo español!” I chuckle, trying to impress her. But in my mind, the image of her two sons pops up. “Do you know you have very handsome sons? Strong genes, just like Samuel’s beautiful, strong arms.”

  I sigh, then giggle, remembering the way he holds me tight when he hugs me, how my stomach flutters when his captivating gaze traps mine, and then he calls me Beautiful.

  Miranda’s head snaps toward Maria, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline.

  “David? Are these the aspirin?” Maria shakes the bottle of pills.

  The sounds immediately remind me of a song…

  “Woohoo, shake, shake, señora, and we shake it up!” I singsong happily, hoping for them to join me and getting Maria to smile and David to dance.

  “No,” he replies seriously, “Mom asked specifically for the painkillers. She did not ask for any acetaminophen, ibuprofen, or acetylsalicylic acid.”

  Uh, me like these painkillers!

  “Oh, God.” She turns and looks at Miranda.

  “¡Ay, Dios Mio!” I translate happily.

  See, Big Guy? I do speak Spanish.

  “¿Dónde está la biblioteca?” I add, knowing Miss Esperanza would be proud of my perfect accent as I ask where the library is.

  Miranda turns to David. “You told me this was the pain medicine.”

  “Yes, Mom, those are your pain pills. However, the acetylsalicylic acid is the fourth bottle to the right, not the sixth,” he explains. “If you gave her your standard dose, it would be too high for a person with her body-mass index, and she might present an adverse side effect.”

  “¡Demonios! I doubled it up. I need to call my doctor,” Miranda squeaks. “Keep an eye on her, Maria.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n!” I put my hand on my forehead, saluting her and hitting the bump. “It doesn’t hurt anymore! Look!” I push my bump and no pain comes from it.

  Wheee! That means my feet won’t hurt tomorrow. Praise the Big Guy! I’ve been cured.

  “Samantha.” Maria sits next to me, gets a hold of my hand, and brings it down.

  “See? I’m fit to dance tomorrow. In fact, I can dance today,” I inform her as I stand, stumbling. “Bring your strapping and handsome sobrino, and we can dance the night away. Oh! Now I can finally kiss those delectable lips of his.”

  And with that eyeliner… Dear Big Guy, more than one kiss, I tell you!

  Maria quickly gets a hold of me and makes me sit.

  “Lips are not delectable. They are the part of the human body that allows for the intake of food,” David explains. “They also help to articulate sounds and enable human beings to speak. Unless you put on some flavored lipstick, they have no flavor.”

  Hmmm, how does he know?

  “Have you tasted them?”

  David’s hands fist.

  “Miranda, hurry up!” Maria yells.

  His nostrils flare. “No, it would be disturbing and disgusting.”

  Not for me, it wouldn’t.

  “Well, I have a strong desire to taste them.” I giggle and wiggle my eyebrows. “They are calientes!”

  David sighs and rolls his eyes. “Their temperature is the same as the rest of the body. Unless someone’s running a fever.”

  They do make me feel all hot and tingly.

  “Well, they set me on fire!” I state. “And I’m the queen of fire!” I proclaim, lifting my arms in triumph.

  Who knew Vicente and Rodrigo were right!

  “They can’t set you on—”

  “David, it’s a figure of speech,” Maria says, “as is the queen-of-fire part.”

  “Samantha continues talking nonsense, and it’s already past ten o’clock. It’s bedtime,” he declares, turning and leaving us.

  Me? Talking nonsense? Nonsense! Finally, I’m making sense.

  “Adiós, joven Solis,” I yell and laugh maniacally.

  Miranda steps into the dining room. “Well, the doctor said it shouldn’t be a problem. She’ll come down from the high shortly, then she’ll sleep it off.” She sighs, relieved. “Help me get her to my room.”

  I don’t want to sleep. Time to go and par-ty! And, most importantly, kiss Samuel.

  “Come on, Samantha, get up,” Maria orders.

  Reluctantly, I obey, but protest when the world continues to move.

  Maria takes hold of my arm, putting it around her neck and her arm around my waist. Miranda goes to my other side and does the same as her sister.

  “It’s been a while since I did this,” Maria says, helping me walk.

  Miranda laughs. “Ah! The good old days, when we were younger.”

  Yes! Time to bring back those good old days again.

  They guide me through different parts of the house. For a moment, my mind drifts off until a sudden move wakes me up. When my eyes open, I recognize Miranda’s room.

  “We should inform Father Gomez,” Maria suggests as she pulls me upward to get me to a standing position.

  Miranda shakes her head.

  “At least tell Samuel so he can tell Abigail and Zach,” Maria says, holding me while Miranda unbuttons my dress.

  “Samuel! Yes, put Samuel on the phone! I want to talk to him, kiss him, and have his babies,” I cheer. “He is soooooo hot! You make sexy sons, Suegra!” I exclaim, turning to face Miranda, swaying on my feet.

  Miranda and Maria laugh.

  Finally, I made Maria laugh. Yay me!

  “How about another time, Nuera? It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to drunk-dial…or in your case, drug-dial.” Miranda chuckles while Maria taps me on the knee, indicating for me to raise my feet. “Now, tell me, Samantha, what exactly are your feelings toward Samuel?” she asks, amused.

  Maria jerks her head up when Miranda says this.

  A reasonable question, which I will happily answer.

  “Well—”

  “You did not just ask her that! Look at the state she’s in!” Maria rudely interrupts. “After all, you practically gave her truth serum.”

  With my hand against my chest, palm facing outward, I chuckle, “I solemnly swear to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me God.”

  Honestly, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Big Guy.

  Maria glances at me in a weird way.

  “I know, but when will I get another opportunity like this?” Miranda asks. “Besides, I want to know before getting my hopes up.”

  Maria shakes her head.

  “It’s too late for that,” she murmurs but doesn’t stop her. She then taps my other leg, and I obey her request to get the dress off me.

  Late? For what? Oh, Miranda’s answer!

  “He’s the cutest, sexiest, most handsome, most talented guy the Big Guy could create,” I honestly reply. “I would be the luckiest girl if he even bothered to glance my way.”

  My happy mood dims as I wonder if by any chance the stars could possibly align and make my wish come true.

  My eyelids suddenly weigh like a thousand pounds. “I think I’m going to sleep now.”

  “Hold on for a few seconds,” Maria warns. “Let me put a cami on you, so you can sleep more comfortably.”

  “But I want to sleep now,” I whine and stomp my feet.

  With how heavy my head feels, standing requires a great deal of effort, and it takes forever for Maria to put the darn cami on me. My eyes practically shut on their own when, thankfully, they ask me to lie down.

  “Wait!” I say before falling onto the bed. “Here, take this. Otherwise, the girls won’t be comfortable.” My arms go backward, and after a few attempts, I manage to unhook my bra and take it off. “Ahh! One of life’s greatest comforts.”

  They both laugh and somebody takes it from my hand.

  A warm sensation spreads over my body the moment my head touches the pillow.

  “I know there’s a special place in hell f
or mothers-in-law like you,” Maria says, laughing.

  “Maybe there is”—Miranda’s voice sounds distant—“but at least I know she feels the same way about him.”

  Dancing the Night Away

  When I open my eyes and find myself in a room I don’t recognize, covered in strange sheets and blankets, my heart jumps to my throat. In one sudden movement, I sit up, and my guts twist when my bare legs brush against each other. A cold chill runs down my spine.

  Am I living the nightmare of being the girl who wakes up to find herself in a hotel room, naked and raped?

  Okay, don’t freak out. First things first.

  I raise the covers, and my breath returns to my lungs when I discover I’m wearing a white cami and my white gym shorts.

  Phew, at least I’m not naked.

  As I study my surroundings, my pulse calms down as I recognize Miranda’s room.

  I replay yesterday’s series of events: Joy’s party, the dance, my feet hurting, Father Gomez’s vandalized car, Portia pushing me, my head hurting, arriving here, and then…everything becomes fuzzy.

  How did I get to bed? Who took the dress off? Who took my bra off? And most importantly, where is my bra?

  My head turns from one side of the bed to the other, but I don’t see either the dress or my bra.

  Shoot! Better focus on something else, then.

  Running my finger over my forehead, I find something sticky and smelly covering the bump.

  Quickly, I stand and walk to the nearest mirror, where I notice the bump looks significantly smaller in size. However, a purple blotch covers the whole spot. After rearranging my hair, I manage to cover the majority of it if I keep my hair loose and split it in the middle so my locks cascade in front of it.

  Hoping to find my clothes, I move the pillows around, take the bedcover off, check the sheets, then search under the bed, but I find nothing.

  In a desperate attempt, I make the bed and arrange the pillows in the way they were when we brought Emma over. The room looks in perfect order, without a single thing out of place…including my bra.

  Darn it!

  My search moves to the bathroom, where I check the towels, the shower, and even dare to open the cabinet door, but…nada.

  While the cami keeps me decent, it’s still white and not fitted like a sports bra, meaning a cold wind or a chill will, um, light up the girls.

  Accepting that my clothes might be in another area of the house, I crack the door open, hoping to find Miranda somewhere nearby. I strain my ears and don’t hear any sign of David. Most likely, he’s in his room and Samuel’s already left to practice for his presentation.

  When my bare feet touch the tile in the main living room, the coldness travels at lightspeed through my body. I peek down at the shirt and…

  Ding, ding, ding, ladies and gentlemen, the girls are alive!

  My arms fly up to cover my breasts, and I internally pray I’ll find Miranda soon. I venture into the living room, then hurry through it toward the hall without running into anyone.

  Before entering the hall, I look from one side to the other, and sigh in relief when I find it empty. Noises come from the kitchen, and my heart leaps with excitement.

  Yes! Found her!

  I hurry through the hall, verifying the vacancy of the smaller living room.

  Almost there!

  I make a run to the kitchen and crash straight into what feels like a human wall of bricks.

  Splash!

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” I shriek as cold water drenches my front from head to toe.

  “Oh, God! Sorry, Samantha! I didn’t see you there!” Samuel says.

  When I look up, he stands a couple feet in front of me, setting an empty jar and a glass on top of the table. Right behind him, David exits the kitchen.

  His eyes widen when he sees me.

  “Whoa!” he exclaims as his eyes move to my—

  Holy guacamole! The shirt is too freaking thin.

  My arms shoot up to cover myself, but it’s already too late. The girls have been exposed, not only to David but Samuel as well. I turn in case my arms do a poor job.

  Big Guy, shoot me, please. I’ve just corrupted a child.

  “David, please go back to the kitchen and get a mop,” Samuel says immediately.

  “Nuh-uh,” he replies in his monotone voice. “You go and get it.”

  Please, BG!

  Samuel sighs, and his footsteps shuffle from the room behind me.

  “Here, Samantha, take this,” Samuel offers.

  I twist my head to the side to find his shirt right next to me. “I’ll get it all wet.”

  He chuckles nervously. “Please.” He practically shoves his shirt at me. “Just take it!”

  Without turning, I do as I’m told and pull it over my drenched clothes. It falls to midthigh, covering more area than the miniskirt Portia wore yesterday.

  Well, at least I don’t look slutty.

  I turn, and my mouth hits the floor when I find a shirtless Samuel. My eyes travel down his torso, examining every little inch of him.

  Whoa!

  Against my hormones’ better judgment, I divert my gaze, not wanting to be caught staring…too much at him.

  “Let me go and get another—” His eyes widen as he stares at my forehead. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

  He puts his hand on my forehead, gently touching it, and pain shoots through it, making me wince.

  “What happened?” His nostrils flare, though he keeps his voice controlled.

  Shoot! The water undid my perfectly arranged hairstyle.

  My eyes move from him to David, who still stands at the kitchen door.

  “Hun, can you bring me a mop, please? I don’t want to make a bigger mess than the one I already did,” I ask David, since I don’t want him to hear this.

  He nods, turns, and leaves.

  “Tell me, Samantha.” Samuel’s hands ball into fists, and his knuckles whiten, similar to how David’s get when he’s about to have a panic attack.

  Hoping to calm him, I take his hand and gently caress it.

  “Let’s wait until David leaves, please?” I ask, mostly because I don’t want David to know what happened, but also to buy me a couple more minutes to find my courage.

  Reluctantly, he nods.

  David returns with a mop in his hand.

  “Stay here,” Samuel orders me. “I don’t want you slipping and getting another bump to match the one on your head.”

  “She decided to redecorate the shape of her face,” David answers. “Although, her face is no longer symmetrical.”

  “Perhaps I can get another one to make it symmetrical again?” My joke gets me into deeper trouble with Samuel, judging by his glare.

  “You continue talking nonsense”—David shakes his head disapprovingly—“like yesterday when you were drugged.”

  “I’m not talking—” My hands fly straight to my mouth as I remember taking the pills, and a few of the crazy things I said afterward

  No, no, no, Big Guy, please let it all be a terrible nightmare.

  Samuel’s head snaps up and turns toward David, then to me, his brows drawing together.

  Quick! I need to change the subject.

  “David? Where’s your mom?” Hopefully, she can confirm David’s mistaken and I just had a bad dream.

  “She’s with the doctor at her four o’clock appointment,” he replies.

  Shift! Carp! Frack! Four o’clock? What time is it?

  My eyes go straight to the window, and I realize it’s already afternoon.

  “How long was I asleep?” I ask David.

  “Mom said you went to bed around ten-thirty, and it is four-thirty in the afternoon,” he replies. “You slept for nearly eighteen hours.”

  What? Never in my life have I slept that long.

  He just can’t be right. Even though my head and feet hurt yesterday, and I’ve been dancing all week, I couldn’t have been out that long.

 
“She strictly forbade us from waking you up,” Samuel explains, mopping up the big puddle of water.

  I step to one side so he can get the area under my feet.

  “Stay still,” he orders.

  “You need to mop under me,” I explain.

  “I’ll do it later.” He puts the mop aside. “We need to get you some dry clothes.” He turns to David. “Maybe some of Mom’s?”

  David shakes his head. “They won’t fit her.”

  Samuel turns back to me and smiles. “I’ve got an idea.”

  He steps closer and unexpectedly lifts me in his arms.

  My heart makes an excited leap. “Wait! Where are we going?”

  “I already told you. To find you some dry clothes.” He moves to the other side of where he mopped.

  “You can put me down,” I demand. “I’ll walk.”

  He scoffs. “I don’t want to mop up all the footprints you’ll leave behind.”

  “David?” I glance over Samuel’s shoulder, reaching out for his help.

  He follows us closely. “I don’t want to mop, either.”

  Samuel throws his head back and laughs at his brother’s answer.

  Funny, hysterical, Big Guy, I think sarcastically.

  Samuel carries me up the stairs. Once we reach the second floor, he keeps walking, passing David’s room and heading farther down it toward…his room?

  My stomach fills with butterflies, and my curiosity spikes. For the last few weeks, temptation came knocking on my door each time I visited David’s room, and now I finally get to go inside.

  Yikes!

  He puts me down on his queen-sized bed, walks to his closet, and opens it.

  David steps into the room but stays near the door.

  “Let’s see, what will fit you?” Samuel moves hanger after hanger holding his shirts, inspecting each of them.

  While I wait, I scan his room, surprised to find it completely different than what I imagined. It’s the smallest one in the house, but the way he placed everything in the room takes advantage of all the space.

  Right next to where David stands is a desk with an Apple desktop on it. The bed I sit on sits opposite the desk, with a striped green, brown, and beige comforter. To the right, there’s a knee-high piece of furniture. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I peek through the other side to find a small bookcase.