by Sarah Price
“Do with it?”
Amanda sighed. This wasn’t a conversation that made her happy. “Without my brother, no one is left to take over the farm. They will have to sell it, I reckon. There are a lot of decisions to be made, now that my daed’s not well.”
To her surprise, Alecia reached over and patted Amanda’s hand. “You are a wise woman, Amanda Diaz,” she said. “You will make the right decision, I am sure.”
“God willing,” Amanda added softly, not certain if anyone heard her, for Alecia had turned her attention to her sister, who was seated on her other side.
For the next thirty minutes, Amanda sat silently, watching the interactions between the different family members. She counted upwards of twenty-two people there, not including Alejandro and herself. Surprisingly, there were few young children. It was a lot different from family gatherings in Lititz where over a hundred people might gather for one holiday celebration, with the children accounting for more than half of them. Still, she enjoyed the overwhelming sense of love that she felt among the Diaz family.
As she continued to observe everyone, her eyes continually returned to where Alejandro stood with his cousins, a glass in his hand and a smile on his face. He was relaxing as he leaned against the bar near the cabana, his dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. With his white shorts and turquoise button-down collared shirt, a color she had never seen him wear before, he looked as if he had never left Miami. Unlike her, his skin had not paled and seemed to drink in the sun. She realized that her husband was breathtakingly handsome.
A young woman who Amanda had never seen before approached Alejandro and leaned over, whispering something in his ear. From the way she was dressed, Amanda realized that she had been hired to help Señora Perez with the meal. She was grateful that he had thought to have others helping Señora Perez and was momentarily ashamed of herself for not having offered assistance in the kitchen.
Alejandro walked toward the table where Amanda sat with his mother and aunts. “Señora Perez says that it is time to go inside,” he said, placing a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “The dinner is listo.”
After holding out the chairs, first for his mother to his left and then for Amanda to his right, he took ahold of his wife’s hand and entwined his fingers with hers. The gesture caused the heat to rise to her cheeks. Public affection was not something that she was used to, and she wasn’t certain if she would ever feel comfortable with such gestures. Still, his touch sent a shiver through her as she remembered his passionate kisses earlier that evening in their bedroom.
The dining room was set up with extra extensions in the already long table. Señora Perez had arranged for an elegant white tablecloth to cover the length of the table, and it was laden with multiple silver candelabras with orange candles burning, the flames flickering as people moved around the table to find their assigned seats. As was to be expected, Alejandro sat at the head of the table with Amanda beside him.
In all of her life, at church fellowship, weddings, and even barn raisings, Amanda had never seen such a feast of food on one table. Multiple platters of already sliced turkey, cranberry sauce, different varieties of salads, bowls of rice and beans, fresh vegetables, various dips and salsas, and even platters of roast pork graced the table. The smells that rose to her nose were different from what she was used to at home: orange, garlic, and onions.
Alejandro waited until everyone was seated before he cleared his throat and stood up, a wineglass in his hand. A silence fell over the room, all eyes on him. With a smile, he lifted his glass and began to speak.
“American Thanksgiving is traditionally held to honor the survival of the Pilgrims who started their settlement after leaving oppression in Europe. For most of us gathered around the table, we, too, celebrate our survival from escaping the oppression from our homeland, Cuba.” He paused for a moment, but it was clear that he was not finished. “But just like other Americans, we celebrate the love of God as he has provided us with the ability to survive in this country as well as to sit together today with our family. It is not always easy to get together, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for celebrating this joyous day with me and my wife, Amanda.”
Everyone raised their glasses and gestured toward Alejandro first and then Amanda. Uncertain of what to do, she reached for her own glass of wine and lifted it, glancing at Alejandro to make certain that she was doing the correct thing. He winked at her, then lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip.
Sitting back down, Alejandro glanced around the table, pausing at the far end where his mother, the matriarch of the family, sat. Her younger sister was seated on one side, and her brother on the other. To Amanda, she looked like a grand dame holding court. She was not an unattractive woman, although her face was round with wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and mouth. But there was definitely something intimidating about her.
“Mami,” Alejandro asked. “Would you say the blessing?”
Amanda glanced at him. In all of the time that she had been with him, both before and after their marriage, she had never seen him pray before a meal. While she knew that he prayed with his band and dancers before the concerts, she had quickly learned that many entertainers did that. For some, it was rumored to bring bad luck to not do so.
Alecia lifted her head, her chin jutting forward for just a moment. “Claro,” she said, acknowledging his request. She reached out her hands, taking her sister’s in one and her brother’s in the other. Quickly, the rest of the table followed her example until everyone was holding hands, in a never-ending circle. With their heads bent down, they waited for Alecia’s prayer.
“Gracias a Dios,” she began, her eyes shut and her words spoken with authority and strength. “Por todo lo que nos han dado y gracias por dejarme estar con mi familia. Te doy gracias por toda la comida y por todo lo que tu me has dado en mi vida. En el nombre de Jesus, amen.” (Thank you, God, for everything that you have given us and thank you for having me here with my family. I thank you for all this food and for everything that you have given me in my life. In the name of Jesus, amen.)
If Amanda had felt uncomfortable celebrating Thanksgiving with so many people who she didn’t truly know, that feeling quickly passed. Unlike the holiday dinners with her own family, there was a lot of catching up and sharing, joking and teasing. While Thanksgiving was not necessarily solemn back in Pennsylvania, it was certainly not as jovial and festive as what she was experiencing with the Diaz family down here in Florida.
As the evening wore on, she found herself listening to the stories and laughing with Alejandro’s family. The male cousins liked to tell stories about when they first moved to America and how Alejandro took them under his tutelage to learn how to survive on the streets of Miami. One story, in particular, ended with Alejandro causing his younger cousin, Victor, to get into a fight with another Cuban-American boy.
“¡Ay, chico!” Alejandro laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not go there, eh? I’m sure you don’t want to know why he called you out, no?”
Victor laughed, taking a long sip from his wineglass before he responded. “And I’m sure you don’t want Amanda to know what role you played in getting me called out, chico!”
The younger people seated around the table laughed, and despite being horrified to hear about Victor having fought someone, Amanda found herself smiling at the teasing banter between the two men. Alejandro’s mother and aunts merely shook their heads while the uncles joined in the laughter. It was clear that there was a gender divide over the appreciation of the antics of youth.
What she quickly recognized was that Alejandro was just . . . Alejandro with these people, his family. They saw him as he had always been and not as Viper, the international superstar. Unlike the crowds of other people who hung around Alejandro, his family wanted nothing more from him than to enjoy his company.
Of course, Alejandro helped his family. She learned about how he had helped his aunt Maria with mortgage payments when her husband left h
er, cousin Adolfo with some legal fees, and cousin Marisol with her college bills. Family was important to Alejandro, and while he wasn’t about to give away all of his money, he certainly wasn’t going to let any of them suffer for lack of having it.
“Aman . . . tha,” Tía Maria asked, her accent so thick that Amanda almost didn’t realize that she was being addressed. “Alecia told us that your father has been unwell, sí?”
Nodding her head, Amanda glanced around the table, hating the fact that everyone had fallen silent and was now staring at her. Their curiosity about her and her family was more than apparent. “Sí,” she responded, ignoring the snickers from the younger adults at her use of Spanish. “But he is home now. Just not well enough to tend to the farm chores.”
Alecia shifted her gaze toward Alejandro. “I heard that you have hired nursing help, no?”
“Sí, Mami,” Alejandro said, tensing ever so slightly but just enough that Amanda noticed he was uncomfortable.
Reaching out to cover his hand with hers, Amanda smiled at his mother. “Oh ja, Alejandro has been wonderful! And ever so understanding of my need to help my daed and mamm. He also arranged for a man to come help with the dairy and the fields. In fact—” She turned her head and stared at her husband. “My family could not have survived through this without his help.”
“Amanda . . .,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t.”
“But it’s true,” she replied emphatically, unaware that everyone was watching the exchange.
It was Alecia’s turn to interject. “You still have much faith in my son, Amanda.”
Amanda was surprised by his mother’s words. She looked at Alecia, confusion in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I have faith in him? He is my husband, and he is my friend.” She glanced back at Alejandro. “My best friend. I have all the faith of the world in him.”
With a raised eyebrow, Alecia then rolled her eyes at Alejandro. The expression on her face was one of amusement; it was not lost on Amanda. She felt a tightening in her chest, wondering what the underlying, unspoken message was that lingered in the room.
Alecia lifted her wineglass and gestured toward her son. “To Alejandro,” she said, but Amanda could not understand why there was such a scornful tone in her voice. “For proving that people can change, no?”
“Mami,” he mumbled, shaking his head and refusing to acknowledge her toast. “Why do you have to be like that?”
Sensing the sudden tension that was filling the room, Amanda quickly stood up, forcing a smile on her face. “Perhaps I should go see about clearing the table and dessert, ja? Alejandro? Mayhaps I could use your help in the kitchen speaking with Señora Perez.” She gently touched his arm, and to her relief, he set his linen napkin on the table by his plate and slid back his chair.
“Con permisso,” he said. Then, with his own forced smile, he gestured toward the wine. “Have some while I ask Rodriego to bring more.” He didn’t wait for a response before he turned and followed Amanda out of the room and into the kitchen.
She didn’t ask any questions about what had just happened. Instead, she pretended that everything was normal. Her upbringing was one that permitted personal privacy and discouraged interference unless the subject was brought up. So rather than talk about the obviously uncomfortable exchange that had just happened, she tried to shift his attention to something else.
“The food was wonderful, Alejandro,” she started. “Please let Señora Perez know that.”
There were two other young women, dressed in all black, working in the kitchen, helping the señora with the cleanup of the dishes. Amanda approached Señora Perez and touched her shoulder gently, gesturing toward the two women and then the dining room. “Perhaps they might clear the table for dessert?”
Alejandro leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. When Amanda started to move toward the butler’s pantry to retrieve the pies and cakes that were stored there, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
She looked up at him, but, as was her way, said nothing.
“You don’t want to know?”
With a simple shake of her head, Amanda smiled at him. She placed the palm of her hand against his cheek and stared into his eyes. “I don’t need to know, Alejandro,” she said softly. She felt him press against her touch. “There is nothing that has happened in your past that could possibly change the way my heart leaps with joy every time I am near you, when I think about you, when I dwell on the gift God has given to me.”
“Ay, Dios,” he mumbled and put his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. With her cheek now pressed against his chest, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. Whatever had just happened had truly bothered him; however, she got the distinct feeling that it was more about what she would have thought as opposed to what his mother had actually said. “¡Gracias a Dios para ti!” He kissed the top of her head, still holding her tightly.
She let him hold her, just long enough to feel the tension begin to ease from his body. Then, pulling back, she looked up and into his face. “Now, let’s enjoy the rest of this evening,” she said. “You were having such a joyous time with your cousins. Perhaps dessert is best served outside.” A quick glance over her shoulder and out the window told her what she needed to know. “It looks like it is gorgeous weather, and I, for one, would much prefer the fresh air of your Miami since I know that we will soon have to return to the frigid air of New York!”
It was almost an hour later when people began to leave. Amanda stayed by Alejandro’s side, feeling as though her presence would ward off whatever issue had been broached by his mother. She would never be anything but respectful to Alecia, for she was Alejandro’s mother. Still, she felt that her presence calmed him, soothing his raw nerves.
At the door, Amanda embraced Alecia and told her how nice it was to have been able to spend the evening with her. Deep down, she meant it. After all, family was important to her. Whatever this rift was between mother and son, Amanda hoped that one day it would heal.
“You keep that faith, Amanda,” Alecia said, the hint of haughtiness in her voice. “It’s what makes you so special.”
“Mami!”
Amanda reached for his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “It would be nice to see more of you,” she managed to say. “Perhaps when we return, we could spend more time together. I would enjoy making lunch for you and visiting a spell.”
The invitation seemed to soften Alecia, and she reached out to pat her daughter-in-law’s cheek in a gentle, maternal way. “Special indeed, Amanda.” It was clear that Amanda’s offer had surprised her, and, at the same time, pleased her greatly.
With hesitation, Alecia permitted Alejandro to hug her and kiss her cheeks before she thanked him for arranging the family gathering. Yet the tension remained, and she departed from the condominium without any further words.
He shut the door and leaned against it, his hand above the lock and his shoulder slouched forward. She gave him a few seconds to collect his thoughts before she walked toward him and gently rubbed her hand across his back. At first he didn’t respond, but she could feel him begin to relax again.
“She is so unforgiving,” he finally said, exasperated with his mother. “But I do not want that to ruin our evening.” Turning around, he clasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “You, Princesa, are an amazing hostess, even among people you barely know and especially in a situation you did not even know you were hosting!”
“How long were you planning this?” she asked, lowering her eyelids just enough so that she had to tilt her head to stare at him. “It was a wunderbar surprise, Alejandro.”
Still holding her hand, he led her toward the living room and gave her a playful twirl as he guided her to the sofa. “Since I knew that you were coming to me for the week.” He smiled at her as she sat down. “I wanted our first holiday to be spent together, at home and with family.”
“We must properly thank Señora Perez, ja? She must’ve worked very hard.”
Alejandro nodded as he hurried to the back of the room and fiddled with a piece of equipment that immediately filled the space with soft music. “I agree,” he said. “I’ll give her a week vacation to go visit her family.” He paused as he walked to the sideboard where crystal decanters of liquor were sitting. “No, two weeks.” He poured himself another drink and took a deep swallow.
A slow song came on, and Alejandro made a noise deep inside his throat. With a smile, he set down his glass and reached for her hand. “Dance with me, Señora Diaz.” He pulled her to her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist while the other sought her hand. “I love this song,” he murmured.
“I find that surprising,” she replied, looking up and into his face as he held her. He looked relaxed and happy, even more so than before when he was enjoying the company of his cousins. “Your own music is so fast-paced and . . .”
Lifting an eyebrow, he glanced at her as they swayed to the music. “And what?”
Flushing, she wasn’t certain how to respond without offending him. But he pressured her to answer and finally she blurted out, “Ja vell . . . your music is rather . . . explicit.”
If she thought he would be offended, she was wrong. Instead, he laughed and swung her around, raising his arm so that she could dip her head under it, before pulling her back into his embrace. “Ay, Princesa,” he laughed. “The music I write and sing sells. It’s not that I do not like it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her even tighter. “I do like that type of music. It’s like poetry, no? But I can still like other types of music, too.”
“I see,” she said in a soft voice.
“When I was younger,” he began. “Mi tío would take me to the local bar in our neighborhood. He would have me recite poetry in exchange for money, which we’d split. I kept my half to give to my mother while Tío Miguel kept his for booze.”