I stroked Maggie’s small fingers and smiled. “And the invisible girl wasn’t invisible ever again.”
When Nana and I got home that day, someone stood in the backyard herb garden. Walking toward the window for a closer look my heart skipped a beat. Was it really her?
“Mom!” I threw open the backdoor and ran toward her.
Mom ran to me with her arms open wide. “Izzy. I was so scared.” She held me at arm’s length and eyed me up and down, worry in her eyes. She pulled me to her tightly, like she hadn’t seen me in a century. “Thank God.”
Fresh tears sprung from my eyes. I nestled into her arms and we stood together for a long time. Finally, Mom stepped back and looked over my shoulder. “Hi, Mama.”
“It is good to see you, mija,” Nana said.
They embraced and cried.
Mom tucked her hair behind her ear and turned back to me. “I am just so grateful you weren’t hurt. I don’t think I could bear …”
Mom folded her arms across her chest as we eased into the chairs under the portal. “Izzy, so much has changed. I was wrong. I didn’t see it …” She took a deep breath. “Somehow, Costa Rica brought me closer to my roots.”
I examined her face, her eyes, her mouth. Dad had loved her. And she had lost something too.
She continued. “The way the moon hung low across the jungle. It felt magical. Like the village.”
Nana leaned across the table and patted Mom’s hand.
“A flood of memories washed over me there, memories I couldn’t run from anymore.” She paused, turning her face to the sun. “I remembered those nights when we hiked the valley together. Remember, Mama?”
Nana laughed through her tears. “I remember.”
Mom leaned back and took a long deep breath, like breathing in fresh-baked empanadas. “I have missed this place.” She reached for my hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
Before we left, I grabbed my canvas bag from the house and tossed the ball inside.
We strolled down the trails of the village toward the edge of the river. I listened to the sound of the rushing waters. The sun floated across the middle of the sky making its descent into the west. Mom led me to a patch of soft earth near the river’s edge where we nestled under a small tree.
“He loved you so much, Izzy. He would be proud of you.” Tears rolled gently down her face.
I plucked a dandelion from the ground and twisted it between my fingers, letting her words settle inside me.
“That’s what he said.” I avoided Mom’s eyes, afraid she might not believe me.
“What who said?”
“The night at the river. I woke up on the riverbank, but … first I went …” I glanced at Mom’s face. She was still listening. “I saw Dad.”
Mom placed her head on my shoulder and sighed. “I visit him in my dreams too.”
I drew back and searched her eyes. “No, it wasn’t a dream. He was there.”
“Where?”
Pulling my knees into my chest, I said, “A visiting place.”
She stroked my hair and pressed her lips together as though she was deciding whether it was true. Whether she should believe me. Mom’s voice quivered. “There is a village myth of such a place.”
“He told me about the words on the baseball,” I said.
Recognition flashed across her face.
Words spilled from my mouth as I reached into the bag and pulled the ball out. “I took it from the box. I’m sorry.”
Mom scanned the words written across the ball. She choked back a sob. “‘Because Love is Magic.’ How could you know?”
Blinking back tears I whispered, “He told me to ask you. That you’d tell me.”
Mom’s bewildered eyes darted back and forth across my face. She took a deep breath and searched the distance like she would find the right words somewhere on the horizon. “He asked me to marry him right before a championship game. I only laughed and told him we were too young. But in my deepest heart I wanted to say yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“He asked again and still I said no. I told him I needed a sign. A sign from heaven.” Mom rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why. I knew I would say yes. But it was too much fun teasing him.”
I leaned forward, not wanting to miss one word.
“He said that if he could hit a home run on his first time up to bat that night, it would be a sign.”
Mom stroked her fingers through my hair. “I told him he was crazy. How could he control that? Actually I kind of worried he wouldn’t be able to and then I’d have to say no for sure. ‘How do you know you can?’ I asked him. He smiled that perfect smile and said, ‘Because love is magic.’” She took a deep breath and smiled. “And he did it.”
“You must’ve been so sad when he died. I’m sorry, Mom.”
In the distance, hues of gold and pink melted into the mountain range, casting a watermelon glow.
“How did the words get erased?”
Mom shrugged. “I have no idea. He didn’t play with it again after the home run. Maybe they wore off over time? All that matters is you know the truth and the words are back where they belong.”
We sat in silence listening to the gurgling river and the soft wind stirring the trees.
She patted my hand and said, “Do you have any other questions?”
“He named me Bella?” I whispered.
She brushed her hair from her face and wiped her tears. “Your father loved the name Bella. We’d called you that from the time I became pregnant.” She shook her head and choked back the tears. “But once he was gone, I just couldn’t call you by that name every day. I needed to forget. But it’s still your name if you want to keep it.”
“I do.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Mom, but Isadora? It’s so old-fashioned.”
She laughed too.
“You can still call me Izzy for short, but Isabella is a good writer’s name. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. Very writerly,” Mom nodded.
I picked at the wild grass. “My name is the only thing Dad ever gave me.”
“No.” Mom hugged me. “He gave you his heart. His way of seeing the world and all its magic.”
I leaned toward the melting sun.
“And now I see that it wasn’t an accident I got that funding to go away. You were meant to come here this summer. I guess in my heart I knew you’d find the truth. I just didn’t think I could be the one to tell you, and I’m so sorry.”
“I understand, Mom.”
We sat in silence for another moment before she said, “It’s not your fault, Izzy. What happened to Maggie had nothing to do with you. Just like your father’s death wasn’t my fault. For a long time I blamed myself.” She rested her hand on mine. “But you know what I’ve learned? That sometimes we can’t explain how life happens. Life unfolds exactly as it is meant to, in just the right time and place.”
I brushed the grass with my fingertips.
She squeezed my hand. “Are you glad you came after all?”
I nodded. “You were right when you said I’d be surprised. And that it’s strange and beautiful here.” A light wind swirled all around us and I smiled.
“I have missed that sight.” Mom sighed as she stared across the valley. “It’s good to finally be home. For good.”
The distant sun spread a brilliant rosy hue across the sky, like a warm blanket before the night pushes out the light. I felt small under the sky, but in my mother’s arms I felt safe.
Mom stood and stretched. “You ready?”
“Not yet. I want to be alone for a minute.”
Mom headed back to the village, leaving me alone. Only a sliver of blushing sky lingered.
I was lost in my own thoughts as I strolled down the path home, thinking about how much my life had changed over summer.
“Hi, Izzy.” Mateo stepped from the shadows and leaned against the tree. A wave of dark hair hung over his eye. “I brought you some empanada
s.” He handed me a brown paper sack tied at the top with blue ribbon. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about your dad.”
I squished the paper sack in the palm of my hand. “It probably sounded pretty crazy. Want one?” I held out the sack.
He laughed nervously. “I already ate a few. So, have you heard any more about Maggie?”
“Not yet. But I really want to do something special for her … when she comes home.”
“Like what?”
“I have an idea, but I’m not sure if it will work.”
“What? Tell me.”
“I think I have a way for her to take her ladder to heaven. To give the yarn back to her mom.”
“Let me guess, you want me to grow wings, right?” he teased.
“Actually, that’s not too far off.”
Mateo looked confused. “I was just kidding.”
I stepped closer and told him my plan for Maggie. “So you think it’ll work?”
Mateo’s dark shiny eyes searched my face. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, but why was he looking at me that way? My stomach did a little flip.
Inching backward, I stumbled over a branch and Mateo grabbed hold of my arm.
And that’s when it happened.
He leaned in and kissed me. And as he did, I closed my eyes and felt the world tilting beneath me.
26
Tortilla Sun
The next morning, Nana’s voice jolted me from my sleep. “Que milagro!”
I jumped out of bed and ran to the living room with Frida prancing a step ahead of me.
“Nana, what are you doing here? I thought you spent the night at the hospital.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist and danced me around the room, laughing and crying at the same time. “Our prayers have been answered. She is coming home!”
Mom ran into the room tugging at the belt on her robe. “What’s all this about, Mama?”
My heart soared. “Maggie is coming home, Mom!”
Nana gripped our hands creating a circle. “Early this morning, I was just getting ready to come home for a rest when she opened her eyes and spoke to me.” She clapped her hands together and laughed. “She said she was hungry!”
“When can I see her?” I asked now wide awake.
“The doctors want to run a few more tests today—so no visitors—but if all goes well, tomorrow.”
Frida bounced toward the door as if she understood that Maggie was coming home. “You’re not going anywhere.” I chuckled. “She’ll be home soon.” It was when I bent down and hoisted her over my shoulder that I noticed it was gone.
The last scrap of black crepe had disappeared.
Twenty-four hours can seem like a lifetime when you’re waiting for something important. But that’s how long I had to wait to see Maggie. I chiseled those hours away in the kitchen cooking with Mom. We kept busy preparing all of Maggie’s favorite foods—strawberries dipped in sugar, bean burritos, red chile enchiladas and sopaipillas filled with tomatoes and cheese.
Mom told me all about Dad. “Your dad had a great sense of humor, always had to put his left shoe on first, loved animals, had a crooked smile, lived for strawberry ice cream rolled in tortillas, and believed he could save the world one person at a time.” I ate up the details of my father’s life like bits of warm tortilla soaked in honey.
When I heard the car roll across the crushed gravel in the driveway, I bolted from the kitchen into the living room. “She’s here!”
I stood at the screen door and watched Maggie walk slowly across the courtyard. Frida was right behind, wagging her tail with all her might.
“Maggie!” I opened the door and nearly tumbled on top of her. She backed up laughing.
“¿Tienes hambre?” Nana asked Maggie as she inched her way past us.
“Starved,” Maggie said.
“What do you want—ice cream, cookies, pan dulce? Anything you want.” Nana smiled.
Maggie narrowed her eyes at me. “I want one of Izzy’s tortillas and I want it round like the sun.”
“You know you’re asking for the impossible, right?” I said smiling.
Maggie kissed the top of Frida’s head. “Frida wants one too, right Frida?” She moved Frida’s head up and down.
Nana followed me into the kitchen while Maggie and Mom waited in the living room.
I measured the ingredients with Nana watching carefully. She took my hands and helped me press the dough.
“Sí, sí that’s it, mija, it has only been practice up until now and you had to practice to learn the basics. But now you are ready.” She handed me the amber bottle.
“How does the secret ingredient work?”
“That,” she said pointing her finger to the ceiling, “is the secret.”
I squeezed her small frame and smiled. I guess some secrets are meant to be kept. “I love you, Nana.”
I sprinkled out some of the contents of the amber bottle just like she had shown me, and began to round out the edges. Slowly, the tortilla began to take shape. Rounder and rounder it grew until I was done. I stood back and stared in disbelief. I had done it: a perfect circle. “I can’t pick it up.”
“You must pick it up.”
“But what if it falls apart?”
“Then you will start again.”
I peeled the edges carefully, hoping they wouldn’t stick to the board. Each section of the dough lifted up without resistance. I placed it on the comal as if it were a fine piece of china. The dough bubbled and browned.
I counted, 1, 2, 3, 4—turn, 1, 2, 3, 4—turn. And held up the hot tortilla for Nana to see. “I did it! I did it!”
There in her magical kitchen we laughed like we hadn’t in weeks.
“Look.” She beamed. “A perfect tortilla sun.”
I carried the batch in a tortilla basket and stood tall in front of Maggie. “First one on top goes to you. A tortilla sun, princesa.” I knelt like a knight in a fairytale.
Maggie tore off a piece of the tortilla and handed it to Frida, who gobbled it up.
That night, Maggie crawled under the bed and came back out with something tucked under her shirt.
“What is it?” I asked.
She lifted her T-shirt and pulled out a round piece of yellow colored glass, covered in cracks, but intact.
“My truth catcher! How did you put it back together?”
“When you left that day, me and your nana got all the pieces in a pile. Then we just glued ’em together with super glue. It was like doing a puzzle. You wanna hang it back up?”
I studied the remade truth catcher. None of the pieces were an exact fit with the next and yet it was perfect.
Kneeling down, I hugged Maggie tight. I held the truth catcher by its long yellow ribbon and hung it in front of the window. The morning sunlight cast a hundred tiny rainbows through the prisms of glass.
A constellation of dancing lights spread across the floor. I gasped, and pointed to the Saltillo floor. “Maggie do you see that?”
“The rainbow?”
I bounced across the room toward the colorful rays of light. “It looks like the village.”
Maggie knelt down for a closer look.
I pointed toward the image. “See the pink lines? That’s the church, see the cross? And look at the blue. It’s the river. And the center of the village, with the adobes all around is a perfect square.”
Maggie waved her hand in front of my face. “Are you crazy, Izzy? ’Cause I can’t see anything but a bunch of little rainbows.”
I grabbed a pencil and traced the lines across the tile. I stepped back and removed the truth catcher from the window. There on the floor was a rough sketch of the village.
Maggie pressed her small hand to her mouth and giggled. “That’s cheating. You drew that.”
“Now do you see it?” I smiled to myself and whispered, “It’s home.”
27
Riding the Skies
Nana’s backyard soon swarmed with visitors and well- wis
hers. Mom talked and laughed with old friends, catching up on all that she’d missed. Every once in a while her eyes would grow wide with surprise and she’d say, “You’re kidding!” Like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard.
I stood alone beneath the cottonwood in the middle of the yard, watching the party from a distance. Someone tapped my shoulder and I turned to find Socorro standing in front of me in a soft yellow sundress. Long turquoise earrings dangled from her ears.
“Hi, Socorro.”
“Are you enjoying the fiesta?”
I nodded. We stood together in silence watching the villagers.
“I know what the story means now.”
She smoothed her dress. Her sage eyes glistened in the afternoon sun.
“The family from the story only cared about what they didn’t have instead of focusing on what they did have. Everything wasn’t completely gone. They still had part of their home, the floor. And they didn’t realize that maybe they could rebuild their home without the silver even though it would be harder,” I said.
Socorro studied my face. “Sometimes we long for what the world tells us is missing, and miss what is right in front of us.”
I watched Maggie blow bubbles across the lawn for Frida. “I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“I let my story simmer, like you said, and I wrote one. From beginning to end.” Two bubbles floated toward me, suspended on the breeze.
Socorro side-hugged me and said, “You’re welcome. Now go finish your surprise for Maggie. And maybe you’ll find your own surprise.”
After we finished eating, Mateo and I led Maggie to the mesa above the village.
“Where are we going?” she asked every two minutes as we wound through the trees.
“It’s a surprise. Now close your eyes. We’re almost there,” I said.
When we arrived on the flat desert above the river, I said, “Now you can open ’em.”
Maggie opened her blue eyes and squealed. “Are we gonna ride it?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
“It’s our chariot for the day,” Mateo said smiling.
Red flames shot like a hundred dragons’ tongues into a blue hot air balloon. Pictures of big, billowy clouds stretched all around it, blending into the perfect summer sky. Maggie hopped up and down from one foot to the other while the flames filled the balloon with windy gusts of hot air.
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