I was confused by Nana’s latest revelations. “What do you mean, we should disappear if someone came asking about her?”
“Just that. She told me to disappear. To take you and hide. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know why it would be necessary. But I have always been prepared to protect you if something ever happened. Nothing ever has, though. I don’t know if maybe your mom was paranoid like I first thought or if maybe by leaving you she took away the trouble that might come looking.”
“What was that second thing about then?” I asked, more confused than ever.
“To seek the light of peace. I have no idea either. I thought that when she mentioned your heart, she meant when you had troubles with love,” Nana continued. “I thought that it was a metaphorical thing, you know, to help you forget your troubles and find happiness. Now that you’ve told me about the odd beats, I’m thinking she meant it literally.”
“Umm, Nana, this all sounds really crazy. Though I suppose if it’s all just panic attacks, maybe peace would help. You’re probably right about me just stressing more than necessary this week.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But you mentioning the weird beats that you’re not sure are part of the panic. That could have been what she was referring to. We should think about it.”
“Well, there really isn’t much to think about is there? I mean, what can I do other than maybe try to relax or take yoga or something? Maybe that can help me find peace.”
“Maybe, but I get the feeling she meant something other than that. If she had just wanted you to learn to relax, why would she insist on mentioning it? Everyone has to learn that.”
“I have no idea.”
I stared at her a moment. She must have thought I was freaking out about these new insights to my mother.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before, but I wanted to follow your mother’s instructions. She said that it was better if you didn’t know about it until you were old enough.” I nodded, and she went on. “Your mother was a strong woman. I don’t know what kind of trouble she was in, but I know that she did everything she could to protect you. You know we only have this house because of her. She helped me get the loan for it right after you were born. I got the keys only a few days before she left. I was so nervous when she came to me that night. I didn’t know how an old lady like me was going to take care of a baby. I was already 62 then. But when your mother hugged me goodbye, I felt a surge of strength. I knew that I would be able to do this for her.”
I knew what she meant about feeling stronger. I guess knowing that others have faith in you can really make a difference in how you feel about life’s challenges. I leaned over to give Nana a hug. “You’ve done a great job.”
Nana smiled at me before her eyes jumped to the clock hanging on the wall behind me. “Oh my goodness, look at the time. No wonder I’m so exhausted. I haven’t been up this late since I was 50!”
“I’m sorry, Nana, I’ve kept you up. Don’t worry about me. Go on to bed. I need some time to think anyway.”
“All right dear, but wake me if you need me.”
I watched her head upstairs; then I grabbed my laptop. I wondered if there was any point in doing an Internet search. If nothing else, it would help me focus on something. I was feeling very hazy. I typed “light of peace” into the search engine. I thought maybe it would come up as a yoga saying or a relaxation technique. But most of the hits I got were about religious stuff. Maybe my mom got caught up in some weird cult? I wished she’d left a less cryptic message. After a while, I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere. I decided to go to bed. Maybe this would all make more sense in the morning.
Chapter 2
The next day started with a call from my best friend Lizzie. As if my week hadn’t been upsetting enough already, she told me that she wasn’t going to be able to come down for winter break. The person who was going to cover for her at work backed out, so she had to stay in Orlando. She had moved there in August for college, and I missed her more than I thought I would. Sure, we talked on the phone, but for real conversations I had always preferred talking in person. This thing with my mother was definitely an in-person type of conversation, or at least one that required a good amount of time.
That wasn’t the only thing upsetting me though. Lizzie was the nearest friend I had, in distance I mean. I didn’t have any good friends to go out with who lived closed by. Luly and I weren’t close, and I was pretty sure she just called me when everyone else was busy. Not that I didn’t appreciate the favor she did me of taking me to school, but she wasn’t the type of girl who you could always count on. For instance, I had gone to a party with her a few weeks before, and she left me there without a ride because she hooked up with some guy. Lizzie would never do that.
Once the disappointment that accompanied Lizzie’s news had eased slightly, I tried searching the web again but did not have much success. I decided to busy myself with decorating the house for Christmas and watching all of the holiday specials on TV. This time of year always brought pleasant memories of my childhood: waking up to chilly air scented with cinnamon knowing that when I got downstairs Nana would have sweet rolls ready for me, nights spent walking around the neighborhood admiring the lights, and sitting around an outdoor table waiting for the pork to roast in the caja China at Nana’s best friend’s house on Christmas Eve. I was glad that wasn’t different this year; we were still going to the party even if I was going to be thinking more than usual about what my mother might have done for Christmas.
The next few days passed slowly, and I wasn’t any closer to finding peace. My heart still gave weird thumps a few times a day, and I wasn’t sure if they were becoming more frequent or if I was just overly aware of them. I really hoped they would go away before school started again. I didn't need to have a panic attack in the middle of class. I looked up some techniques online to deal with them. Doing the exercises helped keep away the hyperventilation, but the odd beats wouldn’t go away. I was glad for the distraction of the holidays; otherwise I would have become completely freaked out.
On Christmas Eve, Nana and I went over to her friend Dolores’ house. Dolores’ family always had a big party. Most of the guests were her relatives, but Nana and Dolores had grown up together so she considered her family too. She knew Nana had no one to celebrate with other than me, and it was a tradition for Cubans to get together on Christmas Eve to roast pork and celebrate. They put the whole pig in a giant box in the backyard where they slowly cooked it for the entire day. All the family members brought dishes to serve with it, or before it, or after it. There was a lot of food. They needed all the guests they could get.
I was usually the youngest person at the party. Dolores’ children were in their 60s and her grandchildren in their 30s. This year my title as youngest was taken by Dolores’ first great-granddaughter, Sofia. I didn't think it was possible, but the party was more boisterous than ever. Everyone was so excited to have a new member in the family.
I played with Sofia for a while, but there’s only so long that a 9-month-old can handle playing with a stranger before she starts calling for mommy. I sat down next to some of Dolores’ grandkids. They were all older than me but had always been friendly. I hadn’t caught the beginning of the conversation so I wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about. One of the women seemed to be talking about the church where they would be attending Midnight Mass. “I can’t wait to see if Mrs. De la Paz brings more of her famous eggnog. Last year half the parishioners went into hysterics from drinking a bit too much of it,” she said. The rest of them laughed. My heart almost stopped at hearing the name.
“Mrs. De la Paz?” I asked, trying to look as if I was just interested in the eggnog story.
“Yes, she’s the secretary at the parish office. She makes great eggnog.”
I nodded and pretended to keep listening as they continued the conversation. What if my mother had meant a person, not a metaphorical light? I looked around for Nana. She was sit
ting at a table near the caja China, talking to Dolores’ oldest grandson, Jorge. He was the designated pork watcher at the moment. Nana was barraging him with questions, checking to make sure he knew what he was doing. I walked over to her table and sat down.
“How you doing tonight, Atty?” asked Jorge.
“I’m good, thanks, Jorge. How’s the pig coming?”
“Looking good. It should be ready within the hour,” he replied.
“Awesome. If I eat any more appetizers, I won’t have room for the pork. If it’s almost ready, I better stop eating,” I said with a laugh.
He nodded and laughed in agreement. “You should definitely start saving room.”
After a moment he added, “So you still singing, Atty?”
“Does ‘in my car’ count?”
“You’re not in choir anymore?”
“Well, it’s different in college. I would have to take it as an elective and I don’t have any available right now. Too many other things to take.”
“Make sure to get back into it as soon as you can. It would be a waste if you stopped sharing your voice.”
“Thanks, Jorge,” I said, blushing slightly. While it was true that I had been in the choir all through elementary and high school, it was rare that I ever sung in front of anyone without a bunch of other voices to cover mine up. The only reason Jorge knew what I really sounded like was because Dolores had always coaxed me into singing at parties when I was younger. It always left me nervous and shaking though, so I tried to avoid it when I could.
I turned toward Nana, hoping to talk to her instead of continuing the choir talk with Jorge. Luckily, he went back to checking the pork in its big box. Once I was sure he was fully distracted, I asked Nana about the name Luz. “Nana, remember what you told me the other night, about the light of peace?” I asked. She nodded.
“Is there any chance that she was talking about a person?” I asked.
Nana thought for a second. “Actually, yes. Now that you mention it, your mother said it in Spanish, luz de la paz. I’m sorry I forgot that part.”
“Don’t worry about it, Nana. Do you know Mrs. De la Paz at Dolores’ church? Her grandkids were talking about her just now. Do you know her first name?”
“It’s Maria. And I doubt that your mother knew her. She just started working there about five years ago, after retiring,” Nana told me.
“Hmm. Maybe it’s not her, but it could be someone else with that last name.”
Nana nodded in agreement. “You should look into it when we get home.” She smiled. “For now though, just enjoy the party. It only comes once a year, you know.”
I smiled back and returned to discussing how much we were anticipating the pork being ready. She was right. I could wait until later to figure out who Luz De la Paz was. I wasn’t going to get far on Christmas Eve anyway.
The next morning, I slept in a bit. When I was little, I used to get up before dawn to see what Santa had brought, but once I got older I enjoyed the sleep, especially since we were always up really late the night before. By mid-morning I could smell the banquet that Nana was cooking. Every Christmas morning she made a giant brunch and invited some of the neighbors over, the ones like us who didn’t have big families. The scent of cinnamon rolls lured me down the stairs. This was the only day of the year that she cooked a bunch of food that wasn’t really considered Cuban; even at Thanksgiving, she made black beans on the side instead of potatoes or some other traditional American food.
When I got to the kitchen, she had just finished making the dulce de leche, a caramel she was going to use to stuff crepes. She’d gotten it just right as usual, a light, creamy toffee. The batter for the crepes was in the blender next to her. She’d gotten the recipe from a friend many years before, and the crepes were my favorite part of brunch. We’d been eating them on Christmas for as long as I could remember.
“¡Feliz Navidad, Atancia!” she said and gave me a big hug before pointing toward the crepe maker she used so I could help her make them. “¿Me ayudas?”
She didn’t use a traditional crepe pan; instead she had an inverted, electric skillet that she dipped into the batter. I plugged it in and poured the batter into a shallow plate while the skillet heated. The crepes were so thin that it took a long time to finish the batter. I had to first make all the crepes then fill each one with dulce de leche and place them in a serving dish that we’d then sprinkle with berries and top with whipped cream.
Once the crepes were done and all the other food was either waiting in the refrigerator or the oven, Nana pulled me toward our little tree. It was time for presents. I was too old for a major set of gifts, but Nana still liked getting me some little thing to open. This year it was earrings, small silver hoops. She knew me well enough to get simple ones because I had never been comfortable wearing anything flashy. I got her tickets to see a tango show put on by a local dance company. She loved that stuff and was always so excited to go.
After gifts, Nana went to get dressed before her guests arrived. I decided to glance at the telephone directory to see if it had anyone with the name “De la Paz.” I was relieved that there weren’t more than twenty. I thought I was going to have to call 300 people, especially considering the amount of people in Miami with Spanish names. Christmas wasn’t a good day for investigating anything, so I decided I’d start calling the next day. Nana and I again spent the day with friends and luckily were so busy that I didn’t have time to think too much about my mom’s mystery.
Chapter 3
It took me a while to work up the nerve to start calling total strangers. I don’t like calling for medical appointments, I don’t like calling anyone I don’t know to ask questions, I don’t even like calling to order food. It all makes me anxious. It’s not that I won’t do it, I just don’t like to. Picking up the phone for something other than chatting with my friends makes my stomach tremble. It didn’t help that I was hoping to get information about my long-lost mother. The possibility of finding someone who knew her had me jumping in my seat.
Once I got to the fifth De la Paz listing, I started feeling better about calling. Unfortunately, no one on the other line seemed to know my mother, Nana or the building where they had lived. A few people didn’t answer so I left messages, hoping they’d call me back.
A few days after Christmas, I was excited to hear the phone ring, but it turned out to be Luly. She insisted that I go with her to a New Year’s Eve party at the house of one of her friends. I wasn’t fond of the idea, I didn’t want to get stranded again, but it wasn’t as if I had anything else to do. If I didn’t go to the party I would be spending my first New Year’s Eve in college hanging out with Nana watching the countdown on TV. That would make for a pathetic story if anyone asked when school started again. Not that anyone would, since I barely spoke to people at school. I told Luly I’d go, but not to worry about picking me up, I’d drive myself.
I left the house after ten, perhaps a bit early for a New Year’s party but I didn’t want to risk sitting around at home and falling asleep on the couch. I was wishing I had someone else to go with, though. I love to dance, but I have never been completely comfortable walking into a crowd without at least one friend going with me. I knew Luly would be there, but who knew if she’d even stop to say more than hello. I wasn’t much of a drinker either. I enjoyed the taste of good beer and some liquor, but I didn’t like the lack of control that came with drinking—not that I had ever really drank enough to lose control, just enough to get too giggly. So unlike some people who took a shot to calm their nerves at parties, I just stood around awkwardly holding a soda and pretending to be interested in whatever I was pretending to look at.
I saw Luly as I walked in, but she just waved and kept dancing with some guy I didn’t know. I was still feeling too shy to attempt going over and dancing with them. I walked around a bit and got my compulsory soda but finished it quickly. I was left with an empty glass and a feeling that everyone would be staring at me soon. I threw
the cup out and worked my way toward the dance floor, bouncing to the beat a bit in hopes of blending in. If I could get into it, I would feel more comfortable. Dancing always made me forget my awkwardness, but I hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to really move yet. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Maybe if I had been with some of my old friends they would have danced in a group with me. But since it was just me, I kept bouncing and avoided making eye contact with anyone. The last thing I wanted was to make some poor guy think I wanted him to dance with me when he would rather keep away.
I was starting to wish I’d stayed at home when my gaze shifted toward the sliding door that led to the patio. A group of people had just opened it and come inside. I can’t say how many there were or how long it took them to get in because the second I looked past them I was entranced. I didn’t know who he was, just a guy at a party looking like he belonged there. He was standing with a couple others just behind the entryway. He was holding a cup in his right hand and laughing about something.
I’ve read stories where the heroines notice every detail of a guy’s physique, but I’ve just never been like that. I’m lucky to just recognize whether someone is tall or short. Plus, I usually avoided looking too closely for fear that seeing a boy too beautiful would stun me speechless and I’d end up looking like an idiot. This time, I couldn’t help looking. Unfortunately, I got stunned. He was a bit more than six feet tall, slim but well-built, with sandy blond hair. The majority of the good-looking blond guys I’d seen were on TV and they had a soft quality to them that made them look feminine, but not this guy. His features were chiseled, not boyish.
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