Just then the doorbell rang and everyone traded wide-eyed stares.
“He’s already here? But I’m not done with the cookies yet!” Daphne ran back into the kitchen.
“I’ll get it,” Mrs. Rivera said. She walked to the door and opened it wide. “Hi, Mule.”
“Hi, Mrs. Rivera. Welcome back.”
“Thanks. Gabby’s in the living room.”
“Uh … great. I’m actually here to—”
“And Daphne’s busy baking,” Gabby said as she walked up behind her mom.
“Cool. Thanks, Gab.” Mule grinned his lopsided grin and headed for the kitchen.
Her mom shook her head. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m still not used to …”
“I know,” Gabby said. She watched as Mule loped up beside Daphne, who was busy dropping another row of cookies onto a baking pan, and gave her a playful nudge. Daphne nudged him back and the two of them started making lovey-dovey gazes at each other. Gabby turned away.
It still hurt to share him. But she could honestly say Mule was good for her sister. Daphne had woken up early the day before to help straighten up the house for Mom’s return. She’d even found the time to make a cheerleader-like WELCOME HOME banner to hang across the porch. And today, cookies. Perhaps the girl was finally growing up? Or maybe she was trying to look older and more responsible for Mule? Either way, Gabby would take it.
The doorbell rang, and once again, everyone froze.
“Now he’s here,” Daphne said.
Mrs. Rivera reopened the door. “Hi, Ernesto,” she said. “Come in.”
“Thanks, Lizzie,” Mr. Rivera said, stepping into the living room. “How was Atlanta?”
“Fantastic.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, chuckling. “You look … good. Really good.”
Mrs. Rivera smiled. “Thanks. So do you. How’s Sheila?”
Her voice quavered ever so slightly on the name, and Gabby again felt the familiar impulse to rush over to her and shield her. But looking more closely, she saw no cause for alarm. No furrowed brow, no raised eyebrow, no crossed arms. Instead, there was real tenderness in her gaze.
She realized at that moment just how strong her mother was. And she’d never felt more proud of her.
“She’s good. Thanks,” her dad replied, seeming equally touched.
Her mom nodded. “Well, I’ll let you all visit. I have a big presentation to prepare for.” She headed for her bedroom, leaving Gabby and her father smiling awkwardly at one another.
“Hi, mija,” said her dad. His body was angled backward, as if poised to duck or run at any sign of attack.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said. “You want to sit down?”
“Sure. Hey, mijita.” His smile widened as he stepped farther into the living room and caught sight of Daphne in the kitchen. “Hi, Mule.”
“Hi, Mr. Rivera.”
Daphne blew him a kiss over the cookie dough. “Just a second, okay? We’re almost done with this batch and then I’ll wash up.” She held up her butter-and-sugar-streaked hands. Gabby noticed that Mule now had a matching white dot of flour on his nose.
“Okay. I’ll wait.” Mr. Rivera shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered around the living room, looking over the furniture, the bouncy new carpet, the framed photos on the walls. “Wow. This place is nice. Really nice.”
Gabby felt a stab of guilt upon realizing that this was the first time her father had seen the inside of their new home. She wouldn’t even let him off the porch when he’d come by.
Now he was acting nervous and overly polite. Like a stranger—a door-to-door vacuum-cleaner salesman. There he was, standing in his daughters’ house, and he felt no sense of belonging or welcome.
“Dad? Could I talk to you for a second?” Gabby asked. “In private?”
He glanced back at her, and Gabby could see guilt and dread come over his face.
“Sure,” he said.
She motioned for him to follow and stepped outside onto the porch. Together they stood on the south end, facing the sloped yard of the manor, their elbows resting on the white wooden railing.
“Listen, um … I’ve been doing some thinking,” Gabby began. “I’ve been mad for the longest time. Mad at you. Mad at me. Mad at the whole damn world. But … I realize that it doesn’t do any good. I don’t want to be angry anymore.” She paused, waiting for her thoughts to organize themselves into coherent words.
“Sweetheart,” he said.
“No, please. Let me finish.” She held up a hand, silencing him. “What I want to say is … I forgive you for all that stuff I blamed you for. At least, I’m trying to. You deserve to find happiness. And I guess … so do I.”
She looked at him, taking in his familiar handsome face. That thick, dark hair that never seemed to get messed up. The crop of whiskers on his chin and cheeks that always made her and Daphne squeal when he kissed them goodnight. The crinkles around his eyes caused by his ever-present easygoing smile. Her daddy.
“Okay. I’m done. Now you can talk,” she said with a chuckle.
“Ay, que bonita. It’s so good to see you smile,” he said, gently pinching her left cheek with his rough, callused fingers. His eyes were glazed with tears, but he was grinning his typical grin. “You know, sweetheart,” he said, “my home might not be here, but you and your sister … you two are my happiness.”
Tears sprang to Gabby’s eyes, blurring his face. For the first time in her memory, everything seemed to be in its proper place. Things weren’t perfect, but they were manageable. Hopeful, even.
“Hey, um … I know I said I didn’t want to anymore, but … can I go with you and Daphne today?” she asked, feeling suddenly shy.
Her dad’s lips quivered as he nodded. “I’d like that very much,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He scooped her up in a tight, strongman-type hug, but Gabby could still feel him shudder with emotion, and he kept clearing his throat. After a while he let her go and pretended to stare at the rosebushes as he wiped the tears from his bristly cheeks.
They leaned back against the railing. Gabby took in the view as her dad composed himself. She knew he didn’t like to cry in front of anyone, including family. Neither did she. In some ways, they really were a lot alike.
Soon Daphne came out and joined them. “Okay, I’m ready to go,” she said, leaning forward to kiss their dad. “Mule said he’d take this batch out of the oven for me.”
“Guess what?” Mr. Rivera said, grinning broadly. “Your sister is going to join us.”
Daphne’s eyes seemed to double in size. She glanced from him to Gabby and back again. “Really? Oh, my gosh, that’s great!” Suddenly she clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, no!”
“What?” their dad asked.
“I just remembered I have to finish some make-up work for Ms. Manbeck. It’s due first thing on Monday and I still have a lot to do. Oh, darn. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
Gabby held back a laugh. Her sister really was a terrible actress. Mule had already told her Daphne was caught up in Manbeck’s class; that was one reason why he was over, to claim his cookies for helping her bring up her grade. This could only mean Daphne was trying to give her and Dad some time alone together.
Maybe she really is growing up, Gabby thought.
“That’s all right, mija,” Dad said. “Like I always say, school is important.”
“I’ll give you some cookies when you all get back. And we’ll do something extrafun on the next visit. Plus …” Daphne looked down at her sandals. “… maybe you could introduce us to Sheila sometime?”
Mr. Rivera’s features stretched in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah. I want to meet her. I want to make sure she’s taking good care of you.”
He smiled and folded her up in his arms. “I love you, baby girl,” he said softly.
“I love you, too, Dad,” Daphne said. Turning toward Gabby, she added, “You guys have fun. Okay?” Then she flounced back into the house, leaving behind a trail
of sugar and a whiff of vanilla extract.
“So …” Their dad clapped his hands together. “What do you want to do today? Not bowling or barbecue, right?”
Gabby thought for a moment. “I know. Let’s go split a hot-fudge sundae at Quick’s and then walk around downtown.”
“So I can show off my lovely girl?”
“No,” she said, linking her arm around his. “So I can show off my dad.”
About the Author
Jennifer Ziegler is the author of Alpha Dog and How Not to Be Popular, an IRA-CBC Young Adults’ Choice. She is one half Mexican American. Her other half is a mixture of Comanche Indian, German, Scotch-Irish, Basque, nocturnal aquatic mammal, and cartoon character. In addition to being an author, Jennifer is a sister (the older one), mom, wife, daughter, former middle school teacher, yoga student, spicy food lover, coffee addict, and champion daydreamer.
Jennifer lives with her family in Austin, Texas. Visit her at jenniferziegler.net.
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