November Rain

by Maureen Anderson

  Victor couldn’t erase his past nor did he want to. He had two beautiful daughters. He took a deep breath and made his way toward the house. He had no doubt Lynette would bombard him with questions about his brief meeting with their daughter. No matter how many times he rehearsed seeing her in his head and in his dreams, he was at a loss for words now that it was no longer a dream. He’d use the next few hours to compose himself for their dinner date.

  The front door opened. Torri had her mother’s eyes. He pulled Lynette into his arms and breathed in her sweetness. He lived there a moment before he spoke.

  “She is beautiful, Lynnie. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do it by myself, you know.”

  “You did. You raised her all alone. Everything she has grown to be is due to the love and care you gave her.” He lowered his head. “I had nothing to do with any of that.”

  “Victor, we can go back and forth for hours passing blame and extending apologies. The truth is we have a beautiful daughter that deserves to know her father. She wants to know you, otherwise she wouldn’t be here.”

  Victor contained his enthusiasm for a moment. “Why are you here, Lynnie? Why did you come? When I showed up at the gallery, you begged me to leave.”

  “It was an extremely emotional reaction. I hadn’t seen you or spoken to you since that night we spent in my mother’s house.”

  Victor hadn’t made the connection until Lynette said it out loud. So fixed on meeting Torri for the first time, Victor never realized that he stood in the home where he fell in love with Lynette. “I get it, now. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

  “It’s okay. She needed to know and I couldn’t bear the secret anymore. It was time.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re amazing. Let’s go in. I have to get ready for my dinner with Torri this evening. Before that I need a few more hours with you in my arms.”

  “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast.”

  “Corazon.” Victor pulled her in closer. “You said it yourself, you want me, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He laughed. “Besides, I am trying to make up for lost time. Unless you have a better idea.”

  “You’re a clever man, using my words to your advantage.” Lynette planted a deep kiss on his cheek. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Victor reached the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton at six o’clock on the dot. He paced for five minutes. His rubbed his hands together and pushed back his hair. Five minutes wasn’t a big deal or was it? He didn’t know if she was typically late. Did she change her mind? Maybe she was asleep. He considered having the hotel lobby call her room. He didn’t even know what room she was staying in. Victor retreated back to his car.

  He tossed around unsettling scenarios in his head for the next fifteen minutes until he saw her. His daughter astounded him. She appeared so angelic in her white jumpsuit. Torri wore silver jewelry and lime, high-heeled strappy sandals. Victor grinned to see Torri inherited her style from Lynette. What did she inherit from him? He knew she was a wonderful photographer. Was that all? How much would he learn over dinner? He was thankful for the letters he received from Rose throughout the years. He knew when she took her first steps, when she spoke her first words, her first tooth, and her first boo-boo. He even had pictures of her first day at school. But, he didn’t know what made her tick.

  Torri reached the car. Victor let out a deep breath. She wore a smile that would make any man melt; especially a father. He planned to cherish every moment she gave him.

  “I’m sorry I took so long.”

  “No need to apologize, Victoria. Not to be corny but, you’ve waited a long time for me. I’m just glad you didn’t stand me up.”

  Torri grinned. “Not a chance. Now let’s eat.”

  “No problema. I am taking you to a tourist spot that has decent food. It’s not your abuela’s cooking, but it will do for now.”

  “Great, I’m starved. I haven’t eaten much since you left earlier.”

  “That makes two of us. It’s not too far. Let’s walk.”

  “Okay.”

  “How do you like your room?”

  “Its perfect. I have a fabulous view of the beach.”

  “My offer still stands to stay with me.”

  “I appreciate it, but I prefer to stay in the hotel. For now.”

  They made a little progress. He longed to connect with Torri, but he didn’t want to force anything. He aimed to steer clear of saying anything that would outright remind her that she grew up without him; however, he feared that might be tough to avoid. He yearned to hear about her high school experience which her grandmother always bragged about, her photography, her friends, her love life -- anything that could tell him more about the daughter he didn’t take the chance to raise. What would he share about his years away from her? Victor shook his head -- he was unprepared for the day he waited nearly thirty years for.

  He glanced at his daughter. She focused on the street ahead of them. This may be his only opportunity to make things right. “We are almost there. I should have asked before. Is there someplace you’d like to visit before we eat?”

  Torri shook her head. “Maybe later.”

  “Sure.” He pointed across the road. “If you have a few thousand dollars to spare we can stop by Club Gallistico and bet on some of the finest cock fighting on the island.”

  “It could be interesting.”

  “It may seem brutal but it’s legal, organized, and considered a gentlemen’s sport.” He chuckled.

  Torri’s smile was faint. Poco a poco, baby steps, he reminded himself.

  A bright multi-colored mural of a vejigante mask covered the facade of the restaurant. The folkloric symbol represented a part of Puerto Rico’s rich culture for over four hundred years. Oddly the colorful, charismatic character that danced at pre-Lent carnivals was originally meant to be evil. Torri always admired the African and Taino influences that flavored the island’s culture; now a part of her. She ran her hand along the mural. She closed her eyes and inhaled the island air. A warmth filled her at the awareness that she had a true connection to the culture.

  Victor opened the door to Platos Restaurant. “After you, princesa.”

  Her face brightened. “I have a friend in New York just like you, a perfect gentleman.”

  “I’d love to meet him someday.”

  “Maybe.” Her smile faded.

  They sat near the rear of the restaurant. She appreciated the hint of privacy it provided.

  “Buenas tardes, señor. Me llamo, Gloria. Quieren ustedes algo para tomar?”

  “Buenas, Gloria. Solo agua ahora.”

  The waitress smiled toward Torri.

  “Agua, por favor. Gracias.”

  “A la orden.”

  “I thought you didn’t speak Spanish.”

  “That is about it.” Torri giggled. “You’ll have to help me for the rest of the meal.”

  “Of course. I’d be honored to help you with your Spanish.”

  “I’d like that. Now, what do you recommend to eat? The restaurant smells so good.”

  “If your appetite is anything like mine, you’ll be pleased with anything you eat here. I can order for you.”

  “Sure, surprise me.”

  “Do you drink? The Coconut Sangria here is delicious.”

  She thought about Antonio and his father. “No, thank you. I think I’ll pass today.”

  Gloria returned with their water. Victor placed their order along with one glass of Coconut Sangria. Torri looked into Victor’s eyes. They were warm. Inviting and framed with years of happiness. She looked at his hair, his nose, his full lips as he spoke in a language as foreign to her as dust on the moon. He smiled and she looked away.

  “So, you said you’ve been to Puerto Rico before?”

  “Oh
yes. I was here for about a week to take pictures for a project while I was in college.”

  “I’d love to see them.”

  “Sure.” Torri pushed an imaginary loose hair behind her right ear.

  “What else did you do while you were here?”

  “I spent a few hours in Juana Diaz.”

  “Really? What made you go there?”

  “I wanted to see the monument of the Three Kings by San Ramon Nonato.”

  She remembered the chills she experienced standing in the plaza gazing at the majestic, historic church. A mighty monument of three kings rested on an arch across from the church. A few locals recommended that she return on el Dia de Los Reyes. She’d heard the festival of the Three Kings was a big deal and the quiet destination came alive during the Christmas season. The celebration signified more than a religious observation, it was part of the country’s identity and now a part of hers.

  “I know it well. That’s my mother’s hometown. She was married in that church.”

  “Bizarre. My curiosity led me to a piece of my family history.” She sipped her water.

  “Victoria?” Victor’s face grew serious. “I’m sorry. Forgive me for not being a better man. For not being a father.”

  Torri fought the temptation to run to the bathroom like the spoiled teenagers that didn’t get their way in movies. But, this wasn’t a movie and she wasn’t a teenager. She let him continue.

  “I know I can’t become a father overnight.”

  Torri squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to let him see her cry.

  “Torri, please say something.” His voice cracked.

  Her face remained blank.

  Gloria placed the food in front of them. “Buen provecho.”

  Ribbons of steam carried the tempting aroma of the mofongo, dizzying her already confused senses. Torri pushed pieces of roast pork around her plate. Victor hadn’t touched anything. He kept his eyes on Torri.

  “I read the letters.” She blurted.

  Victor stiffened.

  Torri’s hands dropped into her lap. “I read every single one. Several times.” Torri stared into her father’s eyes without blinking. “Why didn’t you come back for us?”

  Victor picked up his glass and swallowed the remainder of his sangria. “Your mother never responded. She rejected me.”

  “She never opened them.”

  “I didn’t know. I just assumed she wanted to move on.”

  “Both of you made poor assumptions.”

  He shook his head in silence.

  “Why didn’t you jump on a plane and see me even if you thought my mother rejected you? Why show up now?”

  “I had to see you. When I didn’t hear from your mother, I stayed in contact with your grandmother. I knew going to your opening was a risk. Your mother did her best to get rid of me.” His eyes twinkled. “Then you walked into the room. My heart. It was the first time I ever rested my eyes on you. I wanted to scoop you up and tell you how much I love you and beg for your forgiveness.”

  Torri picked at her food. She chewed at a snail’s pace.

  “I regret the mistakes I made.” He leaned forward. “But, I don’t regret falling in love with your mother. Or you.”

  Her mouth opened but no words formed.

  “M’ija, why did you come?”

  Her response was hesitant. Unsteady. “I’m here because I had to see you, too. I want to forgive you, but I need time.”

  “We can pack up the food and I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s eat while it’s hot.” A trace of a smile returned.

  Victor relaxed for the moment. Her smile revived his hope. He only prayed she’d forgive him before it was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  La Familia

  Torri dug her toes into the cool sand along the shore. She sat up most of the night, rereading the letters and pouring through the pictures her grandmother left for her. Her father asked her to consider meeting the rest of the family. She didn’t hate him, just the situation. It would be an ideal opportunity to learn more about Victor and her family. She looked down at her toes. The only family Torri had until now was her mother, Cliff and her grandmother.

  For the moments she should have shared with her father Torri borrowed her best friend’s father. Mr. Johnson cheered for her at all of her recitals. He drove her to music lessons when her mother was busy. Her favorite memories were ice cream cones after riding on the Carousel at Bryant Park. Jasmine’s father treated her like a daughter. Victor’s apology was a start but it wouldn’t make up for the time she pretended with Jasmine’s father.

  The warm water caressed Torri’s legs. She waded through until it was deep enough for her to plunge into a swim. Each stroke propelled her further into the ocean. Yet, she couldn’t get away from why she was there. Victor invited her to meet his family at his mother’s house. Her grandmother. She wouldn’t disappoint anyone the way she’d been disappointed.

  Torri treaded calmly until she caught her breath and glimpsed a couple of jet skiers racing away. Like her, they took advantage of the quiet on the beach just after sunrise. Waves continuously splashed over her head. She swallowed more water than she cared to. She took her cue, headed back for breakfast and prepared herself for a day with her newfound relatives.

  The rental car was ready. She placed her camera on the passenger seat and entered the Dorado address her father text her into the car’s GPS. It was time to meet her family. She prayed they liked her.

  The cool tangerine single-story home was charming. The palm trees along the front provided a nice balance of shade and privacy. A small brown dog resting in the shade wagged its tail as Torri strolled along the terra cotta tiled path toward the backyard as directed by Victor. Boisterous laughter and salsa music poured from the back. Her steps livened. Meat sizzled from a grill teased her palate as she rounded the corner.

  When Torri stepped further into the yard an older woman with silver hair twisted on top of her head cupped her mouth and turned to Victor. He threw his hands up and stood to greet Torri. A small group gathered near the silver-haired woman. Torri shook out her hands and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to contain the tears that threatened to fall. Without any introduction Torri knew they were family. She remained still until Victor stood at her side.

  She whispered in his ear. “I’m nervous. What if they don’t like me? What if I can’t understand them? I don’t speak Spanish well, at all.”

  “Trust me, they love you already. Besides, they’re just as nervous. Oh yeah, and they speak English.” He chuckled.

  “Okay.” She was pleased to hear she wasn’t alone. She glanced around the yard and at the children splashing in the kidney-shaped pool. “Is Rosa here?”

  “Unfortunately not. She’s a model and is at a shoot on Culebra.”

  “Please give her my number so we can make other arrangements.” She surprised herself with the response. Rosa had a taste of the childhood Torri yearned for. Some time with her half-sister would help fill in the blanks about the father they shared.

  “She’d like that. Like everyone else here, she’s waited a long time to meet you.” He rested his arm across her shoulders. “C’mon. Your family is waiting.”

  Torri inched forward with her father. She inhaled and slowly released her breath. She considered reaching for Victor’s hand but instead clasped her moist palms together.

  “Familia. This is my daughter, Victoria.”

  Her voice shook. “Hello. Please call me Torri.” She waved.

  Esperanza Gonzales stood and opened her arms. She sensed her granddaughter’s anxiety. “Hola, mi hija. I’m your abuela.” Torri nestled into the embrace. Her shoulders relaxed. She missed having a grandmother.

  Joy spread through Esperanza’s body finally meeting her granddaughter. Torri had
her father’s dimples. She wanted to squeeze her cheeks. From the moment Victor told her about Torri she lit a candle in church on Sundays and prayed for God to bring them together.

  She grasped Torri’s hand. As the family’s matriarch she aimed to remove the worry from sweet granddaughter’s face.

  “Victoria, we’ve waited so long to meet you. I have pictures of you from a baby to the beautiful woman you’ve become. Your father loves you. But, I’m sure he told you that already.”

  Torri lowered his head.

  “Give him a chance. Give us a chance.”

  “I’m trying, but what about my mother? This is her fault.”

  “Umm, I think Tio needs help with the pinchos.” Victor shuffled away to help his uncle grill the chicken kabobs.

  “No one is to blame.”

  “Abuela, she’s the main reason I never met my father and all of you. Doesn’t that upset you?”

  “No. Victoria, you will learn that our family has a long history of love surviving adversity. My great grandparents lost everything to a hurricane in 1928. The family was just getting back on their feet when the Great Depression hit. Later on, my grandmother, Luz Garcia, stood by my grandfather, Hector Gonzales’ side while he fought during the Sugar Cane strike in 1934, long before they married. Cane workers wages were cut and what they brought home was nothing to survive on.”

  “Oh my. I’d love to hear more.”

  “Of course.”

  A little girl with two curly ponytails tapped Torri. “Tio said you take pictures like him.” She posed with her hands on her hips. “Can you take some of me?”

  A little boy ran over. “Me, too!” He jumped up and down in the puddle formed by his bathing suit.

  “It looks like your cousins, Tina and Hector, want your attention.” Her abuela laughed.