by Ines Saint
She looked away. As if reading her mind, he said, “If Rosa and Marty told you everything I’ve said this past year, then you know how I feel. But I’m not going to spend my days here second-guessing my professional decisions or wondering if you’re doubting my actions because you know I’m . . . infatuated with this memory of you. Of us.”
“Infatuated?” She risked another glance at him. He was so solemn. So serious. “Infatuation is good. It’s temporary. It goes away.”
His eyes held hers. “And it was only one evening and barely even that. It can’t be anything but infatuation. Right?”
Infatuated with a memory. She raised her hand and showed him her ring, her eyes never leaving his. “Exactly. I’m engaged to Brian Golden.”
He looked at her ring and nodded once. His expression hardened. “So we agree. Within those walls”—he turned and pointed to the building—“during school hours and work meetings and such, you’re a coworker and a collaborator, and that’s that. I can’t have you doubting my intentions. I respect what you’re doing, and I need the chance to earn the same from you.”
Marissa studied his stony face. It wasn’t a look she remembered on him. Infatuated with a memory. Had she become infatuated with it, too? That was exactly it. Plenty of people in loving, committed relationships were infatuated with idealized notions, like when they crushed on celebrities and such. It made sense, and it was no big deal. Brian himself had a huge thing for Jessica Alba. And her own infatuation was with a memory and all the ideas she’d assigned to that memory, not a person. “Coworkers and collaborators it is.” Marissa pasted a smile on her face and stuck her hand out.
He shook it, but as he did so, something changed in his expression and he grinned, that slow, seductive grin that used to make girls act like idiots over him. He let go of her hand—a good thing because it was unusually warm outside and her palm had grown hot and sweaty. Had he noticed? “What do you mean by ‘inside those walls’ and ‘during school hours’?” she asked, her wandering brain suddenly rewinding and latching on to those seemingly important words.
“Outside those walls, and outside work hours, I can’t just snap my fingers and forget we share a past. We need to talk about it if we’re going to put it behind us.”
She didn’t want to talk or even think about their “shared past.” So she focused instead on his grin and wondered if it would have any effect on her students. It worried her. He was young and good-looking, after all. Thoughts of Ana Maria tumbled in and she tried to shake them off. He was a trained professional now. And she really had no choice but to try her best to trust that. That was what he was trying to tell her. Wasn’t it?
Again, it was as if he could read her expressions. He looked at her from underneath his thick, black lashes. “We’ve shared a lot, Marissa. Talking about some of the things we’ve been through together might help you trust me with the kids. It would help me, too.”
A commotion reached their ears, and they turned toward a group of students who’d gathered at the far end of the parking lot. They seemed to be alternating between arguing and cooing. When one girl shoved a boy, she and Johnny ran over to stop them.
Amazingly, the kids all stood up straight and formed a barrier when they reached them. What were they hiding? A whimpering noise on the other side of the human wall informed her it was some sort of wounded animal. “Hey, it’s okay. Let us take a look. We want to help,” Johnny said in soothing tones as he simultaneously tried to signal his intentions, in case some of them didn’t understand his words.
The kids parted and Marissa gasped. “Puppies!” she squealed. There were five of them, whimpering and stumbling blindly around a blue blanket.
“People threw,” Azra, the girl from Bosnia, tried to explain. Marissa beamed at her, proud she’d spoken up.
“Ma’ll kill me if I take one home,” Isaac said, while looking down. Marissa hid a smile, wondering if he knew how longingly he was staring at the pups.
The “one or both of my parents or guardians will kill me” sentiment was repeated in different ways by the others. Caring for an abandoned puppy was a big responsibility and an expense many of them couldn’t take on.
She knelt down and Veronica put a hand on her shoulder. “My abuela tell me no touch or the mama won’t love.”
“They got no mom,” Javier said.
“I’ve already taken in two stray cats this past month, and my fiancé is allergic to dogs.” And Brian hadn’t been too happy about the cats, but he knew she loved animals and wanted her to be able to have at least one pet. Ruby had been excited to take in the black cat.
Marissa’s heart ached. For the kids, who were showing a softer side, which was so good for them, and for the abandoned puppies.
Javier dropped a cuss-bomb that showed exactly what he thought of the abandoner.
“Don’t be too sure. The blanket and location means they put some thought into it,” Johnny told him, not bothering to scold him over the cussword, but sending him a look to let him know it wasn’t okay. He then softened the look. “And they knew kids like you would want to give them a home.”
“They stupid ’cause we can’t.” Javier angrily kicked at a pebble.
Marissa stood up. “There are a few good shelters around here who’d be happy to find them a home.”
“No!” Veronica looked stricken and Marissa did her best to explain that it wasn’t a bad thing. She spoke in Spanish, explaining that she’d also place an ad with pictures in the paper, and that the puppies would get adopted in no time.
“Or gas,” Javier said, putting a hand to his throat and making a choking noise. Azra gasped and her hand shot to her chest.
“No. That won’t happen. I promise. I’ll keep an eye on them and try to find homes for them myself.” Marissa shook her head emphatically and bent down to give the puppies some love, wanting Azra to understand that no one would be “choking” the puppies. God, how she wished she could take them home herself. “And if I can’t find a home for all of them, I’ll take my fiancé to an allergist, maybe there’s a medication he can take . . .” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the kids were all eagerly looking at Johnny, who was biting the inside of his cheek.
It was an old habit, she remembered, but something about the look in his eyes made her feel hopeful.
“I’ll take them,” Johnny said. “I’ll try to find them really great homes, but if I can’t, I’ll keep them. I’ll also try to bring them by the school once in a while for a visit.” With those three sentences, and the gestures he made to make sure everyone understood his intentions, Johnny won the kids over. He was as good as a hero. “There’s four of you and five of them, so each of you gets to give him a name. Choose quickly, so I can take them to a vet and buy supplies before the stores close. They look real hungry. Make up some posters tonight, though, and put them up before school tomorrow in case someone is looking for them.” Johnny’s gestures were over the top and Marissa had to bite back a smile. The kids laughed at his antics, though.
After a long debate, each kid chose a puppy to name. Marissa took out a piece of paper and wrote down the description and gender of each puppy so the kids could keep track of the names. She’d make a copy for each of them.
Azra caught on to what they were doing, and Marissa could tell she took great delight in naming her puppy, who turned out to be a female, Pas. Azra wrote that on the piece of paper.
Veronica smiled at Marissa. “Almost like paz.”
Azra sent them a quizzical look and Marissa wrote down paz, which meant “peace” in Spanish, on the piece of paper before using a translator app on her phone to look up how to say “peace” in Bosnian. She completed her search and wrote down, Paz = Mir. Azra smiled, understanding. She reached out for Marissa’s phone with a hopeful look. Marissa handed it to her and Azra did a quick search of her own before writing down, Pas = Dog.
The smile on all the kids’ faces made Marissa feel as if the sun were shining down just for them. She and Johnny
exchanged a loaded look and she knew there were no words in any language to describe the joy they were feeling. The kids were communicating, and they were becoming friends.
It took longer than they had anticipated, but Pas, Chico, Milo, and Pepito all had names. Only the golden-brown runt of the litter remained nameless. In silent accord, the kids and Marissa looked up at Johnny. He was taking them home, after all. Johnny petted him lightly. “Biggie,” he declared.
Everyone, even Azra, laughed. Big and small were among the first words ELL students learned, and so she’d understood the irony. Had Johnny known? Was that why he’d chosen it? And was it okay for her to feel warm about that when she had a fiancé?
Yes, she decided. She’d have felt the same gratitude toward a woman. Johnny was right. They couldn’t second-guess themselves at every turn over what had happened the night of the masquerade party.
Marissa glanced at Azra again, but her belly twisted when she saw the girl was looking at Johnny with a new light in her eyes. Was it gratitude, too? It could be . . .
She knew she was uneasy about his hero status because it brought back painful memories. Some things would be hard for her not to second-guess and they had nothing to do with the masquerade party. But Marissa knew she’d just have to take those things day by day. She looked around and saw all the kids were beaming at him, not just Azra.
Johnny bent down and picked up the box as if the puppies were made of Waterford Crystal, and said good-bye. The kids walked off together, murmuring among themselves in mostly broken English.
Marissa’s heart felt like it was about to burst. They were communicating because they truly wanted to, not because they were required to.
She started making her way back to her car. She’d promised Abuela Rosa, Ruby, and Sherry she’d stop by the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery for coffee and dessert. She and Johnny would probably be heading in the same direction. Spinning Hills.
The thought made her stop short.
“Johnny?” she called after him. He turned.
“You live in Spinning Hills.”
He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “I know.”
A smile tugged at her own lips, reminding her how contagious his smiles could be. “But doesn’t Spinning Hills have an ordinance about how many dogs you can keep? I know it’s pretty lenient but”—she bit her lip, trying to remember—“isn’t it something like four dogs per half an acre of land?”
“Yup.”
She dropped her arms to her side. “But only a few houses have an acre of land, and no house has more than that! I’m sure of it. What’re you going to do?” He shifted the box. “You’re wrong. There’s actually one house that sits on five acres. And I’m pretty sure it’s for sale.”
Marissa searched her brain trying to think of a house in Spinning Hills with that much land. And then her eyes widened. “Johnny . . . You don’t mean the Cursed Lover, do you?”
“I do.”
“Are you nuts?”
“Yes. But what’s that have to do with anything?”
Marissa gave him a look. “I mean, don’t you think buying that house is a little outrageous, given its history?”
“No. I think your ring is a little outrageous. The house is just a house.”
Marissa pursed her lips, turned, and left.
Minutes later, as she rolled out of the parking lot, she caught sight of Johnny talking to the puppies. She’d have given a lot to know what he was saying.
Johnny looked down at the box full of puppies. “Why’d you have to be so damn cute? Why couldn’t they have found a box of rodents? Sam’s gonna kill me. We barely have room for him, me, and Jake. Jake is my nephew, by the way, and he’s gonna go nuts over you, but we can’t stay in the apartment.” Johnny looked at them one by one. “You’re Amadors now. Cute’s not enough. But no worries. The house I have in mind for you will toughen you up the moment you see it. And smell it.”
Johnny, Biggie, Pas, Chico, Pepito and Milo were now a single-parent household with a large, extended family at the school. That hadn’t been in the plans.
But it had made one thing crystal clear. It paid to be himself. If he’d ended the day the way he’d begun it, worried about appearing professional and serious, he would’ve thought twice about taking the puppies. And the kids might never have seen them again. It felt good and it felt right, and he’d quickly thought things through enough to know it would work out. Good intentions had always been his lifelong guides.
Which brought him back to Marissa. He had the best of intentions there, but he didn’t know how to follow through with them. Mistaken identities, a fiancé, and plenty of people who’d kill him if he said, “Oops, I confused the Medina sisters! Turns out, I want the one who’s already taken. I call do over”—it all made him feel trapped and confused. Johnny had known Brian his whole life. They weren’t close, but they’d played sports together and were part of a larger group of friends. He knew for a fact that Brian was not allergic to dogs. Brian was allergic to anything that could make his perfect life messy. He couldn’t see Brian and Marissa together forever.
Memories of her warm lips and searching kisses mingled with the new memory of her smiling with happiness and gratitude when he’d said he’d take the puppies in, and big, sincere eyes that glowed with earnest optimism when the kids had figured out how to communicate with each other. It had only been one day, but he could feel himself falling deeper.
But if Marissa loved Brian . . . if Brian was good for her . . .
For the first time in a long time, he had no clue what direction his good intentions should take.
Johnny put the box down on the passenger side’s floor. He gazed at the lost and hungry-looking puppies and realized how much he already cared for the whole vulnerable lot: the puppies, the kids, and Marissa. “I’m not perfect. We’ve all got issues to sort out. Look at Chico here, already trying to bully Milo. But I promise you that I’ll do my best, okay? Life is like a roller coaster and learning how to ride the ups and downs can be tough, but you already know that. Who knows where you woke up this morning, and tonight you’ll be sleeping in Spinning Hills. So buckle up, pups, you’re in for a ride.”
Chapter 6
Marissa took a more roundabout route into town, entering through a narrow, winding, and seldom-traveled road that ran alongside a large preserve. It had been years since she’d seen the house Johnny was talking about.
About half a mile from downtown, she turned in to the beautiful, wild, lonely road that led to the house known as the Cursed Lover.
It was even worse than she remembered.
It looked like half the roof was missing, but that was because it wasn’t a roof—it was what was left of the second story’s floor. And the entire second story was gone. Not only was the house a major fixer-upper, but a heinous crime had been committed there a century and a half before. Johnny was certifiable if he planned on living there. It was crazy at best and disturbing at worst. A person had died there! By Johnny’s ancestor’s hand!
Amador meant “lover” in English, and since an Amador had been cursed by the gypsies after burning one of their own in that very house, the townspeople had dubbed it the Cursed Lover. Legend had it no Amador could find and keep true love until the curse was broken, but no one knew how to break it.
Plenty of girls—including her own studious, innocent, and awkward friends—had tried to figure it out. They’d loved coming over to Marissa’s house because they’d harbored crushes on either her brother, or one of her brother’s friends—cursed Johnny in particular. Their house had always been full of hopeful girls and clueless boys.
She drove away, remembering innocent times, and was soon on one of the grid-patterned streets of the downtown area, looking up at the water tower. A few years back it had been painted in black and white spirals, with the words WELCOME TO SPINNING HILLS printed in red. She loved it. It was different. Perfect for a storybook town founded by gypsies.
They’d brought the style over from
Cotswold, England, over a century before. The town had grown after the Great Miami Flood had frightened people into seeking higher ground, and the style had persisted. Normandy, French Country, Tudor, and Mediterranean bungalows and cottages, both big and small, lined the streets. The fairy tale–like architecture and colorful history made the town a tourist draw and a great place for unique businesses, but a few buildings stood empty and run-down. Marissa had never minded. Spinning Hills was an economically diverse place—a place where not everyone could afford the upkeep of their house or lawn—but it had always been a place where most people cared.
The town had personality and character, and it was one of her oldest friends. She’d loved growing up in a place where she could ride her bike to school and then stop at her grandmother’s bakery on her way home for sweets. A blessed childhood. How fortunate she’d been. It had taken a tragedy to show her that not everyone grew up so safe and cocooned.
After high school she’d felt the need to experience life away from her safety net. She’d gone to school in Florida, had been an exchange student in both Toledo, Spain, and Buenos Aires, Argentina, and had spent her summers teaching English in Honduras, El Salvador, and Ecuador.
She’d be going to Ecuador again in August for a month, and she now had mixed feelings about it. She’d made the commitment a couple of months before she and Brian had started going out, but with the job transfers and their engagement, it would now be happening at an inconvenient time, and Brian kept dropping little clues that let her know he wasn’t happy about it. But she couldn’t rescind on the commitment now.
Mostly, she was looking forward to it, though. There was a unique freedom in living in a different country for a while. It had taught her there were many different realities, and that happiness was truly relative.