Blue Sky

by Alana Albertson

  The Spanish style house had an arched doorway and talavera tiles lining the entrance. Adorned with a red clay roof and a turquoise frame around the windows. Did he ever look at his home and remember the poor Mexican girl he had left behind?

  My hand pressed the buzzer, and I pushed the nausea down my throat.

  I heard footsteps. But instead of a man greeting me at the door, a woman with brown hair in a crisp bob opened it.

  “May I help you?”

  Ay. I couldn’t do this. What if she didn’t know? I had no right to break up his family by revealing his secrets.

  “Oh hi. I . . . I’m sorry. I must have the wrong house.”

  I dashed down the steps and fumbled for the car keys. God, I had been so stupid. I had no right to meet him and demand answers.

  I finally opened the door and began to cry. I had chickened out. I wasn’t brave at all. And now I would never know my father.

  I turned the key in the ignition when I was startled by a rap at the door.

  And there, standing outside my window, was my father

  I knew it the second I saw him; his green eyes were the same shade of mine and we had the same chin.

  He motioned for me to roll down the window, and I complied.

  “You must be Paloma. I had hoped you would find me.”

  He recognized me?

  “Wow, let me look at you. You are beautiful, just like your mother. Please come inside.”

  I emerged from the car and he pulled me into a long embrace and just held me. Held me so close and I breathed him in. My father. How many nights had I cried dreaming of this moment. Even a grown woman sometimes needs her father to hug her. Especially, when she never had that closeness growing up.

  My father led me into the house. “Jill, I’d like you to meet Paloma. My daughter.”

  Jill’s lip quivered, and I didn’t know if she was horrified by my presence or thrilled. Our pause was awkward, but after a few minutes she pulled me in for my second hug of the day.

  “Nice to meet you dear, we have been waiting for you. I’m your step-mother.”

  To hear this strange woman tell me she was my step-mother was almost too much to bear. My mom had warned me that his family would reject me, want nothing to do with me, just like Beck would. But so far, I was sensing this was exactly the opposite.

  My father sat on a chair across from a sofa. “Please sit down. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  That seemed like the understatement of the year. He turned to his wife. “Would you get us some tea?”

  “Of course.” She placed a hand on my shoulder.

  The house smelled like roses. Though it wasn’t lavish by any means, I knew how expensive homes were in Coronado. I knew this home must be worth over two million dollars, a number that was mind boggling.

  “You knew about me? Why didn’t you find me?”

  The creases on his eyes deepened and a pained look fell across his face. “I tried. God knows I tried. I came back to El Centro once I found out your mom was pregnant. Your mom demanded that I marry her. And I loved her, but I wasn’t ready to get married.” He looked toward the door and his expression became vacant. “My family kept telling me that marrying your mom would ruin my career. I didn’t listen to them. But then 9/11 happened and I was given orders to deploy. I was so overwhelmed with my career—I just needed time to sort everything out. I sent your mom money, but she wouldn’t let me see you.”

  “I understand.” And I did. It was complicated. Probably how Beck felt about me before I dumped him.

  “But I came back. You were almost two and I remember seeing you at the air show, my own eyes looking back at me. I had spent the next year deployed, and all I could think of over in Iraq was you and your mother. I vowed that if I made it out of the war alive, that I would marry your mom. But by then, it was too late. She wanted nothing to do with me. Wouldn’t let me see you. Wouldn’t see me. I proposed to her, offered to share custody, but she wouldn’t even let me see you. I should’ve fought harder, Paloma. I should’ve fought harder for you and for her. I sent money and cards for years, but she would send them back. After a few years, I gave up. I met Jill and we have been happily married, but we unfortunately weren’t blessed with children. I had always hoped that one day you would come back to me. That you would forgive me. And now you are here. You are like an answer to my prayers.”

  I was legit speechless. Should I believe this man? Why on earth would my mom not take him back, and worse yet not let him see me? And why would she send back money when we were so poor. It was unfathomable to me. Was he lying?

  “I don’t understand. You could’ve filed for custody. You could have supported me. We were so poor. I spent my entire childhood hungry. My only daily meal was free lunch. I had nothing, and you have everything. Why would she cut you out?”

  Jill returned with the tea and a china plate filled with cucumber sandwiches. She had a kind face and blonde hair. She looked to be in her early forties. Had this man fought harder to see me, I could’ve lived with them. Maybe I would’ve had a close relationship with Jill. Maybe she would’ve braided my hair, cooked for me, taught me how to be a woman.

  Maybe she would’ve loved me.

  “I don't know. You will have to ask her. It never made any sense to me either. I knew she never forgave me for not marrying her when I found out she was pregnant. Maybe she was afraid I would take you away from her. And you know, that was probably a valid fear. Had I known everything you had just told me, I would’ve filed for custody.”

  I exhaled and I felt as if this world was closing in on me. The information overload was too much. Had my mother truly loved me when I was a little girl? Done everything in her power to keep me close? And this man just admitted that her fear would’ve been founded. He would’ve taken me away. And I would’ve lived a privileged life.

  What happened to my mom? Why didn’t she want this man back? And when did she stop loving me?

  “Did you really love her?”

  “I loved her with every fiber in my body. She was beautiful of course, looked just like you. I met her when I went to eat in town. She sat across from me at the table and introduced herself.”

  That definitely sounded like her. My mother had never been shy like me. “Go on.”

  “Well, I was immediately taken in by her. She was so full of life and simple, and I don’t mean that in a condescending way. I’m from Connecticut and I was used to girls with money who always wanted to be pampered. My high school girlfriend had left me when I joined the Navy because she had wanted to be with a wealthy guy. So your mom was refreshing. She could have fun with a blanket and a picnic. She loved riding in my truck, stealing kisses in the moonlight. I fell deeply in love with her.”

  I wanted to scream at him. Then why didn’t you marry her? And then I wanted to scream at my mom, why didn’t she take him back?

  But unfortunately, I didn’t need to ask those questions. Because deep down, I knew the answers.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but if you will let me, I’d like to have a relationship with you. We can take it slow. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”

  Ha. Was this man clueless? Maybe this was why my mom didn’t want him back. He would never understand the realities of my life, the realities of the poverty that I lived in. Did he really think a poor girl from El Centro could just get a job?

  “I just moved here last week with my little sisters, Mónica and Ana María. Mónica is fourteen and Ana María is six. I was valedictorian of my high school class, but I didn’t go to college because someone had to take care of my sisters. My mom is a mess. She’s an alcoholic. Luckily, this year a Blue Angel hired me to be his nanny, his wife died. He paid me ten thousand dollars and I used the money to move out here. I plan to rent a small place for us in Chula Vista and I’m looking for work now.”

  And there it was. My story. I left out the part where I fell madly in love with Beck, where he had fallen in love with me
also, where he had begged me to move with him to Florida, where I had told him no and had broken his heart. Where I had left little baby Sky, an angel who loved me, an angel who relied on me.

  And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My mother had been right. I was just like her.

  If I believed this man, then she had rejected him, not because she didn’t love him, but out of fear. Fear that she wasn’t good enough, fear that he would never really love her, fear that she would never be accepted.

  And that fear had ruined her life.

  And mine.

  ¡Ay, Dios mío! What had I done?

  Instead, she settled. Believing she only deserved a man like Mónica’s father, a drunk or even worse, Ana María's father, an abuser.

  And now, her life was a mess. She probably drank to forget the love of my father.

  And she had rejected him because she loved me. And now, she didn’t even have me. For her own daughter hated her.

  I sipped the tea and the jasmine calmed me down. For the first time in my life, I felt like I understood my mom.

  And maybe, I could even forgive her.

  “You live here now? Wow. That’s a blessing. Why don’t you bring your sisters over to Sunday dinner and we can get to know each other.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He gave me a tour of his beautiful home, and I pushed back a twinge of jealousy. This should be my home. I could’ve grown up here.

  I had to be certain he was my father. “Sir, do you mind if we take a DNA test? I brought a test. Just to know for sure.”

  “Not at all. But Paloma, one look at you and I know you are my daughter. Here, let me show you something.”

  He went into the house and then returned a few minutes later with a picture. The edges were frayed, and the picture looked yellow. But there was no mistaking the woman in the picture. It was my mother, her long dark hair flowing in the wind. But the oddest thing about the entire picture was that she looked just like me.

  We swabbed our cheeks and put the swabs into a plastic bag. I would mail it tomorrow. And then I would know for sure.

  We sat in the garden and discussed his long military career. He had been an Angel and then had flow fighter jets. They had lived all around the world and finally settled in Coronado. He had been stationed here for the last five years.

  My father had lived two hours away from my house for the last five years and I didn't even know.

  “Paloma, may I ask you a question?”

  I nodded, craving an intimate moment with my father. The kind of talk that I had always dreamt that fathers and daughters would have.

  “Did you date the pilot you were a nanny for?”

  Another lump grew in my throat. “Yes. I did.”

  He exhaled and it almost sounded like a gasp. “Then why aren’t you with him now?”

  And then, I broke. “I don't know. I love him. He is a kind, great man His wife died in childbirth. And he loves me too. He asked me to move with him to Pensacola, but I told him no. I don’t even understand why I told him no. I love him. I’m just so scared. The pilots' wives I met were nice to me, but I always felt like they truly didn't like me. And his mom pretty much told me I would ruin his life. I just felt that at some point, he would leave me, and I would never be good enough. He was good to me and my sisters. And I love his daughter like my own. I’m an awful person, just like my mother.”

  “Don't ever say that. No, you aren't. You were scared. I get it. When you are a Blue Angel, you are treated like a God. It’s hard not to get caught up in all that. But to be a pilot, to truly achieve that level of success and be chosen an angel, you have to be honorable, you have to be the best. I’m sure he loves you, just like I loved your mom. Don’t let your fear of being accepted by the pilot community and his family ruin your life. I know I’m not one to be giving advice, but I have lived my life with this regret. I don’t want you to go through this also. Give him a chance. Let yourself love him.”

  “I’ll try.”

  I said goodbye and left. I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to call Beck and beg him to come back to me.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dungeness Crab Cioppino

  Two months later

  As I stood out in front to the restaurant in Old Town, kneading the tortillas for all the tourists, I felt a set of eyes on me.

  I looked around the crowd but the heat from the press blew hot in my face and I couldn’t focus on any faces.

  I turned my attention back to the tortillas.

  Life for the past month had been incredible. My father had embraced me and my sisters. After the DNA test came back positive, he had invited us to move in with him. I had resisted at first, but he and Jill insisted. We lived in his guest home and the girls were lucky enough to attend the high rated public school in La Jolla. Jill loved the girls and has so happy to help raise them, since she had always wanted children. I worked part time at this restaurant and attended the local junior college part time. I had wanted to work full time but my dad insisted that he pay for my tuition and pay our bills. He said it was the least he could do after being gone for so many years. It was so hard to accept help, but I finally relented. I couldn’t be more blessed.

  As for Beck, we had been talking on the phone. I had apologized to him for my behavior. I was dying to see him, but I knew he had been doing shows around the Midwest and unable to see me, though he would be in San Francisco this weekend. Charlie’s wife Brittney was watching Sky when Beck doing the shows. But I still felt immense guilt for not being there for Sky.

  But I was hopeful for our future.

  I looked up again. I knew I was being watched. The line was wrapped around the building and I almost jumped when I heard a voice say, “I’ll have two carnitas tacos.”

  I knew that voice. I had dreamt of that voice ever night since I had left.

  I looked up, and my handsome pilot was standing there in front of me, holding flowers with a big grin on his face.

  “Beck, oh my god! What are you doing here?”

  I quickly asked my supervisor for a break and ran out of the booth into Beck’s strong embrace. Though it had been months, since I had seen him, it felt like we had never been apart. His lips crashed on mine and kissed me passionately, as the now growing crowd clapped.

  “Nice dress.”

  I blushed. I was wearing a traditional Mexican dress with a huge colorful skirt and ruffled low cut top. And my hair was bound in braids with ribbons.

  “Glad you like it. You didn’t even get the tacos you ordered.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll eat you instead.”

  I blushed and punched him in the arm. “What are you doing here—you are supposed to be in San Francisco?”

  “I couldn't wait to see you. Would the girls be okay without you this weekend? I want to take you somewhere.”

  My heart fluttered. “They will be fine with my dad. Where are you taking me?”

  “San Francisco.”

  His hometown. Then it really was true. Everything he had said on the phone. He wasn’t embarrassed by me. He truly did love me. And he saw a future with me.

  “I’d love to go. Should I drive and meet you there?” I said, knowing that he had to take his plane.

  “No. You’re flying with me.”

  My hands shook. “Are you serious? In your Blue Angel plane?”

  He smirked. “Yup.”

  I wanted to jump for joy. This was just like a fairytale. “You aren’t going to do some crazy tricks are you? I don’t want to black out in the plane.”

  “I’ll be good in the plane. But I’ll show you some tricks when we get to the hotel.”

  He pulled me to him and we kissed again. My break was over, and I refused to lose my job. Luckily my boss understood and let me off early for the day and gave me the weekend off. Beck followed my car back to my place. We picked the girls up from school. And took them to dad’s.

  Beck and my father instantly hit it off. They were like the same per
son.

  We finally said goodbye to Jill and the girls and we went just down the street to the air station. My father accompanied us and checked out Beck’s plane.

  “Wow, they have really upgraded these.”

  “I’ll take you on a flight next time.”

  My father said goodbye and Beck helped me into his shiny blue jet.

  My nerves wouldn’t calm down. I had never flown. What if I puked all over Beck. But he took off as smooth as silk. I watched Coronado get smaller in the distance as we flew over the coast.

  “You okay, babe?”

  “Yup! This is amazing.”

  I couldn’t believe how beautiful California looked from the Sky. To think I had lived in this state my whole life and never seen its beauty.

  After an hour and a half, we landed at a base near San Francisco. Beck had a car rental waiting for him and we drove into the city.

  It was so gorgeous. Old historic buildings, curvy streets, cable cars, Chinatown. San Francisco was so different than San Diego. I couldn’t wait to spend more time here.

  Beck drove across the Golden Gate Bridge. It was even more breathtaking in person. I couldn’t believe I was finally here, a place I had never in my lifetime thought I’d see.

  The harsh waves crashed below, and the fog rolled in over the mountains in the distant. I marveled at the beauty of my home state.

  “Babe, we fly right over the top. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

  I paused. The airshow in San Francisco was next weekend. I couldn't possibly stay here for another week.

  “Wow, I’d love to! But I don’t think I will be able to go. I have school and work, and I mean my dad and Jill are fine with the girls but I have to get back.

  “Well, they will all be here. I’m flying them out.”

  “Wait what? Why?”

  Beck didn’t say anything but he had a sheepish grin on his face. We drove across the bridge and entered the rainbow colored tunnel.

  “This is Marin. I grew up here.”