by S. E. Rose
We introduce ourselves and we all sit and share a meal of tamales and fruit. Mike and Julia apparently met while she was studying in New York City and have been married for a few years. Julia’s parents are still in the States where her dad is also a doctor. Apparently, they were only able to make it to the funeral as her mother’s parents have been very ill and they are trying to handle that as well. Julia explains how she volunteered to come take care of her grandfather after he had an episode but didn’t realize how bad things were till she got down here.
After lunch, she leads us to the veranda and we drink coffee and talk about the differences between our countries. They are a nice couple and we have a pleasant afternoon. Before we leave, Julia excuses herself for a moment and comes back with a package for me.
“My grandfather often spoke of your mother. I think it broke his heart when she died. I’m not sure why she meant more to him than other patients, he only knew her for a few hours, but she left quite an impression on him. Anyhow, maybe he forgot or maybe he didn’t want to tell you he had this stuff, but he left a note and this.”
I read the note, which is in Spanish. My mind works overtime to translate it.
To Rosa’s children,
I don’t know why your mother left such an impression on me but something about her stuck with me even after her death. When no one came to claim her body, I paid to have it buried in a cemetery two blocks from the hospital by another church than the one Father James was at. The fact that he came and did nothing did not sit well with me. I kept her belongings and hoped someone would come claim them, but no one ever did. I hope you find comfort in having these items as they were the only things she had with her other than her clothes. I paid to have her buried in a black dress that my wife picked out for her. My wife didn’t understand, but as our daughter was young, I think she also felt sad about it. Know that your mother loved you both very much. She held and kissed you both. She was so happy you were OK and healthy. She named you and I hope you kept your names, Liliana and Nicholas. I wish I could have saved her. That kills me every day and will haunt me for the rest of my life and beyond.
God be with you,
Dr. Juan Garcia
I peek inside the giant padded envelope and there is a gold chain necklace with a cross on it, a pair of gold earrings that are shaped like hearts, a gold-plated ring with tiny purple stones in it, and…I stop. I pull out two tiny baby outfits—onesies, one blue and one pink. And there are two very small stuffed bears, also blue and pink. They are handmade with buttons for eyes and a nose. It is like she knew us before she knew us. I feel a tear run down my cheek. She had thought about keeping us. I never was sure if my mother wanted us, but in that moment I know she did and I suddenly feel so happy and so sad all at the same time.
I feel Lance’s big hand squeeze my shoulder as he looks down at the items on my lap. I neatly put them back in the envelope and stand.
“Thank you, Julia,” I say, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, I’m just glad you had come when I was here, so I knew to give it to you,” she explains. “I’m sure Abuelo Juan was just too drugged up to remember it,” she says, squeezing my hand. I nod in agreement and she and Mike escort us out to the hall. We say our goodbyes and I give them my number with an invitation to visit anytime they are down near D.C. They do the same with invites to New York when they get home. Lance says they’ll have to meet up for a drink sometime when we are back in the States.
I don’t speak the whole way to the car. I just squeeze the padded envelope against my chest. Lance keeps his arm around me until I bend down to sit.
“Are you OK?” he asks me softly when he’s seated in the car.
“Yeah,” I answer. He reaches over and puts a hand on my chin and turns my head so I’m looking at him.
“Are you really OK?” he asks again. His eyes search mine for reassurance.
I sigh. “I didn’t think she wanted us. I just assumed…” I trail off and feel another tear slip down my cheek. “She loved us.”
He wipes the tears away with a thumb and leans over to me, pulling me against him. “Of course she loved you, baby,” he says holding me tightly as I weep. “Let’s get you home.”
We drive in silence and I walk up to Lance’s room trying to avoid Cody who was last saying he was working from home today. I just need to pull myself together. I know we have to get ready for dinner soon, but I just don’t feel like going now. I lie on Lance’s bed holding the envelope and drift off to sleep, overwhelmed by the day.
Chapter 15
Lily’s Playlist: “Let Me Try” by Sugarplum Fairy
I feel Lance before I see him or hear him. His hand is gently rubbing my arm.
“Time to get up, gorgeous. We need to leave in about an hour,” he says softly as I feel his lips press against my forehead. I will my eyes to open and find that the envelope is still clenched against me. I blink several times, sit up and come face-to-face with Lance.
“You sure you’re OK to go out tonight?” he asks, running a finger across my cheek.
“Yeah, I think it’ll be good for me to get out and not think too much about today,” I say slowly as I try to collect my wits. I get up and head to the bathroom. I just need a few minutes to shower and get myself back together. Lance only comes in to put coffee on the counter for me. Then he leaves and gives me the space I need. He has an uncanny ability to read me and I love that about him. I feel like he’s known me forever, instead of just a few weeks.
Primping myself for the evening begins to take my mind off the events of the afternoon. I take the time to blow out my hair, so it is as straight as it can get, which in the humidity will not last long, but it won’t get super curly at least. I do some loose braiding of it, so it is partially pulled back from my face. I put on makeup, more than I’ve worn for the last three, nearly four weeks and I put on my new dress and shoes. I twirl so I can see myself in the mirror. Damn, I look good and that is saying something! I walk out of the room and down the stairs and straight into Cody.
“Damn, Lily!” he exclaims. “Lance is one lucky fucker.”
“Classy,” I say to him with a smirk and I continue to walk toward the kitchen. I see Lance first. He’s wearing a suit, which is a new thing for him, at least since I’ve been around him. He turns slowly, which feels more like a movie moment in slow motion than reality. As he turns, I gaze into his eyes and see them widen a few millimeters. He grins.
“Jesus, Lily, you look…,” he starts and trails off as his eyes sweep from my feet up and back down again. “Well, you look amazing, absolutely gorgeous.”
“You don’t clean up so badly yourself,” I say, nodding to his suit. He’s wearing a dark gray suit, with a white shirt, no tie and the first two buttons of the shirt are undone. He has on black dress shoes and he looks insanely hot. I try to hide my smile as I see another handkerchief in his suit pocket.
“You ready?” he asks. I nod, and we meet Cody outside by Cody’s company car which is a much nicer SUV than the one Lance is driving.
“I thought you two only had one car?”
“I got a second one delivered this week since Lance decided to stay longer,” Cody explains.
“Oh?” I answer as I give Lance a sideways glance and see that he’s smiling at me. “So, who are we meeting?” I ask as we drive.
“This guy, Mohammed, that I’m working with on the project,” Cody says from the driver’s seat. “He is a VP guy for this big Saudi Arabian company that does architecture and engineering projects in parts of the world that have resources that they are interested in and I think he’s interested in some of the minerals that can be mined here in Colombia. Ibague is a big hub for transporting items around Colombia, so the airport expansion is an important project for them.” He rattles on some more about this guy we’ll be meeting, and I zone out a bit as my mind wanders back to my biological mother.
We pull up to the fanciest hotel in the
city and enter a swanky restaurant. It’s posh with cozy plush sofas and seats surrounding low tables. Cody waves to a man sitting at a corner table that looks out over the pool and some gardens. The man stands, and Cody introduces us.
Immediately, I feel a shiver run down my spine as the man that Cody has introduced as Mohammed grips my hand. Something is not right about him, but I feel silly thinking this as I just met him. His eyes seem cold and flat and they rove over my body in a nearly inappropriate manner. Lance and I take a seat across from Cody and Mohammed. I try to shake the bad feeling I have as Lance looks at me out of the corner of his eye. He immediately places his hand over mine, which I have in my lap. I know he senses my tension and must be wondering why. Lance orders us a round of the local liquor, a very potent liquor made from sugar cane.
“So, Lily, you are here on vacation?” Mohammed asks me as he sips a beer which is already in front of him. I make a mental note as I would have suspected him not to drink alcohol, but perhaps he is not a practicing Muslim. I try to push the nagging thoughts from my head.
“No,” I answer. “I’m here reconnecting with some family.” I decide to leave it at that as I don’t want to give him any further information. I see Lance give me another glance and Cody raises an eyebrow, but neither says anything.
“That is nice. It is nice to be with family,” he says as he takes a sip of the drink the waitress has just set in front of him. Seemingly losing interest in me, he turns to Lance and asks him about his work. The two of them launch into small talk about apps and the internet. Mohammed seems fairly well-versed in this and asks many intelligent questions. I can see that Lance is even impressed by this knowledge.
We order dinner and Cody and Mohammed discuss some issues related to their project. Lance squeezes my hand again and gives me a look of concern. I try to muster a small smile. I can tell he doesn’t buy it. The waitress brings our entrees and Mohammed turns his attention back to me.
“You are American too, yes?” he asks.
“Yes,” I respond, taking a big bite of steak in hopes to quell his question asking.
“And what part are you from?” he asks as he also takes a bite of fish.
I swallow before answering. I can see my delay in response irritates him slightly. “Maryland,” I answer.
“Baltimore?” he asks.
“Near there,” I say.
“I once attended a conference in Baltimore and I have, of course, been to Washington a number of times,” he says very nonchalantly.
“Of course,” I say, trying to show no interest.
“And what is it you do in Baltimore?” he inquires.
“She’s a horticulturist,” Lance pipes up as though to stymy the questions.
“Oh?” Mohammed looks a bit surprised for a moment.
“Yes,” I confirm as I take yet another bite of steak.
“Well, that is very interesting,” he says. “My cousin is a botanist.”
I nod at him. “Do you get here often to visit your family?” he says. “I imagine it is hard to be so far away from them.”
“No, not often,” I say. “My immediate family is in the U.S.”
He nods and then looks puzzled. “The rest of your family didn’t want to join you?”
I pause, thinking through my answer. “They are coming next week. I just was able to get away sooner.”
“Well, that is nice,” he states. He looks at me now. I mean really looks at me. I feel the shiver down my spine again as his cold eyes rove over my body. I wish I had worn a dress that showed off less skin. I can feel my skin heat under his scrutinizing gaze. I feel Lance’s arm come around the back of my chair, almost protectively.
“Mohammed, how long are you in Ibague?” Lance asks.
“About two more weeks,” he answers, pulling his gaze away from me. “I have some business to attend to in this area and then I’ll stop in Bogota before heading back home.”
“Have you been here before?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, we’ve been doing business here for a few years now,” Mohammed says as he finishes his meal.
“Oh?” I say. “I thought the airport expansion just started.”
Mohammed clears his throat. “Yes, that is a new project. We are a very diverse company, so I have been here for other projects the past few years.”
“I see,” I say. Only I really don’t see. I want to let this go, but I just can’t. “What other types of business do you do?” I ask, trying to sound innocent and curious.
“Oh, this and that,” he says. “It’s a big city with a lot of transportation-related issues.”
He turns back to Cody and they discuss another aspect of the roads surrounding the airport. Lance gives me another look. The waitress clears our plates and brings us coffee. I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room. I need to clear my head. I take my time away from the table, allowing myself to relax. I internally chastise myself for feeling so weird about Mohammed. I can be so damn judgmental. As I leave the bathroom, I nearly run straight into Lance.
His hand finds my shoulder. “Are you OK?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
“Fine,” I whisper.
“I don’t believe you,” he says.
“It’s just been a long day.”
“OK, I’ll let Mohammed and Cody know that you are tired and I’m taking you home,” he says. “Why don’t you meet me in the lobby?”
I nod. I feel a little awkward leaving without saying goodbye, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see Mohammed again. So, I walk out into the large atrium of a lobby and take a seat in a garden-style seating area, breathing in the flowers surrounding me. A moment later, Lance is standing by me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, and he asks the porter to call us a cab. It doesn’t take long to get back to the villa. Lance is quiet until we enter the house. He pulls me to him.
“Lily, I know something is wrong,” he says. “I don’t know why, but for some reason, I feel like I can read you.”
I nod my agreement against his chest. “You do have an uncanny ability to do that,” I agree.
“So?” he prods.
“So, it’s silly. Really, it’s nothing,” I sigh as I turn from him and walk toward the kitchen. He follows me and heads to the wine cabinet. He opens a bottle of merlot and pours us each a glass and then flips on some music. I don’t recognize it. It’s old and in Spanish, but I feel the emotion of the singer, almost like old jazz. Lance sets our glasses down on the table and reaches for me.
“Dance with me,” he commands rather than asks.
I comply, and he glides us effortlessly around the kitchen and the family room. He gazes into my eyes and I’m fixated by his stare. I memorize every fleck and color in his irises. He smiles at me as he bends me back and dips me. I giggle and clutch his arms, but I know he won’t drop me. He pulls me back up slowly and lays a soft kiss on my lips. He holds my one hand against his chest and his other hand is wrapped around my back. My left arm wraps around his lower back. He’s tall enough that my hand against his chest is at the same level as my forehead. I lean my head against his chest next to our hands and we sway in silence to the music that drifts through the house. I close my eyes and let myself relax against him.
“How is it that you can make me so calm?” I whisper. I can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses my forehead.
“I have you figured out, Lily,” he states. “It took me a bit, but I have you figured out.”
I smile against his chest. The song dies down and Lance grips me against him in a hug. “Let’s go sit on the patio and have a drink,” he suggests, guiding me toward the back door.
We grab our wine glasses and sit down on the patio chairs. The humidity has lessened and there is now a slight breeze outside. The sun has gone down over the mountains and stars are beginning to come out. I take a long sip of wine and begin to remove my heels. Lance stops me and sets his drink down on a small table between us. He grasps my foot
in his hand and gently brings it up to rest on his lap, so he can unbuckle my high heel. He slips it off and massages my foot for a minute before placing it back down and doing the same with my other foot. He smiles at me.
“You have the smallest feet,” he chuckles as puts his hand against the bottom of my foot, his fingers sticking past my toes.
I smile at him. “My great-grandmother used to say that good things come in small packages,” I say, smiling at the memory of her.
“She’s a smart lady,” he says.
“Was a smart lady, but yes, she was,” I agree.
We’re quiet for a few moments as he finishes massaging my foot. “Lily, what bothered you at dinner tonight?” Lance asks. His gaze penetrates mine.
“It’s nothing, really, I…” I trail off, not sure what to say.
“Lily?” he semi-growls at me with his head cocked to one side.
I sigh with exasperation, knowing he won’t let it go. “You promise not to laugh,” I say quietly, avoiding his gaze.
“Yes, of course,” he says softly, pressing his hands against my foot.
“Sometimes…I mean, well, not all the time, but sometimes…I sense things,” I try to explain.
“Like what?” he asks.
“Things, feelings. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” I say with a huff.
“What did you sense tonight?” he asks.
“Something about Mohammed,” I start, but then find myself embarrassed to say it.
“What about him?” Lance pries.
“He…I mean…something made me feel afraid of him,” I say so quietly I’m not sure if Lance has heard it.
“Afraid?” Lance reiterates.
“Yes. Something about him made me nervous. I don’t know. It’s silly really. I…”
“Lily, it’s not silly. Is that why you didn’t say more about why you are here?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit.
“I figured you were uncomfortable talking about yourself. That’s why I told him you were already a horticulturist,” he explains.
“Thank you,” I say. “I know this sounds crazy. I…it’s just last time I didn’t listen to my instincts…” I trail off, remembering last summer. Before I know it, Lance has pulled me from my chair and I’m curled up on his lap on the wicker sofa.