“You okay?” I whispered at one point.
“I will be once we get out of here,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry this vacation has turned out to be such a disaster.”
I reached for his hand beneath the covers. He squeezed my fingers before I could squeeze his. “You have nothing to apologize for,” I said. “One day we’ll look back on this and laugh.”
“You think?”
“No,” I admitted, and that made him laugh. “But hopefully it’ll be over soon and nothing like this will happen again for a while.” And by a while, I meant ever. Hadn’t the past year been enough difficulty for a lifetime?
Of course, I knew all too well that it didn’t work that way. Besides, hadn’t I already sworn I wasn’t going to indulge in my first-world problems? I finally fell asleep thinking about all the people who had it far worse than we did.
I couldn’t say what time it was when we finally stumbled out of bed, but the sun had just begun to peek from behind the clouds. It wasn’t storming, so after checking on the girls, who’d woken up shortly after us, Shiloh and I headed to the beach to see how the water looked.
Though the sandy stretch in front of the guesthouse was strewn with palm fronds and debris that had washed up during the storm, the waves were no choppier than they’d been the night before. “What do you think?” I asked Shiloh.
He put his arm around my waist. “I think it looks like we might just get out of here today.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear. The cooler had long since become a hot box, and though we’d been keeping Charlotte’s supplies shaded, that was barely making a difference; it was easily ninety degrees with, oh, 200 percent humidity. I knew we had a day, if that, before her insulin stopped working. But if we could get out of here, none of that would matter.
Just as I was about to say this to Shiloh, Charlotte and Isa came tearing through the gate toward us.
“What is it?” I yelled.
Like Isa, Charlotte was panting when she reached me. But unlike Isa, Charlotte almost never got winded. “Are you okay?” I said. “Is it your blood sugar? Your test strips?”
“Mom,” she said sharply. “It’s not me. It’s Milagros.”
The sand beneath me seemed to sway. “No. What happened?”
“She fell.” Isa was tugging on my shirt the way she used to when she was little. “Come on.”
I was still dizzy, but she didn’t have to ask twice; I was already running toward the guesthouse like a serial killer was behind me.
I saw Hector first. As I approached, I realized he was cradling Milagros’ head. She was on her back on the tile, arms and legs akimbo, moaning quietly.
“Milagros!” I cried, kneeling beside her. “What happened?!”
Shiloh, who’d just sat next to me, took her wrist in his hands to feel for her pulse. We’d both been trained in CPR, but unlike me, Shiloh never forgot the steps. “Milly, can you hear me?”
“Sí,” she murmured.
“Can you breathe?”
She managed to nod.
“Is either one of your arms or legs painful or numb?”
“My chest hurts,” she murmured.
For a split second I’d been relieved—because not only could she speak, one side of her face wasn’t drooping, so maybe she hadn’t had a stroke; that was how my father had died. Just as quickly, I realized chest pain was a sign of a heart attack.
Which could be every bit as deadly.
Either way, she needed a doctor. A hospital. Immediate medical attention. Basically, everything we didn’t have.
“She was fine when we got up,” said Hector, still stroking her head. “Then I went to get dressed, and I heard Isa and Charlotte yelling. When I got out here, she was on the ground.”
“Tell me more, Milagros,” I said, placing my hand on her forehead. Her skin was cool and clammy. “Does anything else hurt?” I asked.
“My arm.” She paused. “It’s a little hard to breathe.”
Cognizant that Isa and Charlotte were right behind us and watching this all, I turned to Shiloh and Hector and whispered, “I think she had a heart attack. We have to do something.”
Shiloh looked at Hector. “Your ex. We need to get to her—immediately.”
Hector nodded numbly.
Shiloh put his hand on Hector’s shoulder. “As fast as you can, pack an overnight bag for Milly and for yourself.” He turned to Charlotte and Isa. “Go pack your backpacks—quickly. Charlotte, you know what to bring, right?”
“Insulin kit, protein bar, notebook,” she said, watching us with big eyes.
“I’ll help,” said Isa.
“Thank you,” I said. “Don’t worry about anything else, okay? We’ll get the rest later.”
“Go!” he said. “We leave in three minutes.”
Whereas Shiloh was cool and collected, my hands were trembling, and tiny stars were glittering at the top of my vision. Don’t freak out, I ordered myself. Do not freak out. I knew I was halfway to a panic attack, because I’d had one once before—in Vieques, as it happened, right after Shiloh and I had narrowly avoided a plane crash.
But as Shiloh and I hoisted Milagros into a sitting position, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d be so lucky this time.
As we put her arms around our necks and helped her stand, Milagros was barely heavier than my own children. While that in and of itself wasn’t alarming, it struck me then just how frail and vulnerable she was, and how very little I could do about that.
“We’re going to go to the Jeep, okay?” Shiloh said. “And then we’re going to borrow Hector’s ex’s boat, so we can get you to the mainland and to a hospital.”
This perked her up a bit. “That pollita won’t let Hector use it,” she muttered.
“I bet she will, Milagros,” I said, meeting Shiloh’s eyes over her head. His were as wide as my own must have been. “This is an emergency.”
“I’m sorry,” Milagros said weakly as we lifted her into the front seat of the Jeep.
“Don’t apologize, amor. Está bien,” said Hector, who’d appeared with a duffel bag in tow. While I could tell he was shaken, he was clearly trying to put on a brave face for her. I hadn’t doubted his love for Milagros before, but now I saw, in a way that I hadn’t earlier, that she was as much his second chance as he was hers—not unlike Shiloh and I had been to each other, I realized with a strange mix of nostalgia and sadness.
“Try to rest, Milagros,” I told her.
The girls had returned with their backpacks, and the three of us squished into the backseat beside Hector. As we began to move, Milagros let her eyes fall closed, which sent a fresh wave of freak-out surging through me. Was it safe to let someone sleep after they’d suffered a heart attack—or did that up the odds they’d never wake up again? Was there something else we were supposed to be doing? How had mankind managed to survive before Google?
How would we ever get Milagros to the hospital in time?
Shiloh was navigating the Jeep past potholes and puddles with the same focus and determination that he had when he’d taken me flying. I realized then that I didn’t need him to be my father; I needed him to be exactly who he was. The question was, did he still feel that way about me, especially given that I’d turned into a shadow of my old self?
Beside me, the girls kept glancing at Milagros nervously. Hoping to distract them—heck, hoping to distract all of us—I turned to Hector. “I never had a chance to ask you. How did you and Milagros meet?”
He put a hand gently on her shoulder. “Well, it’s a small island, so most people meet sooner than later,” he said after a moment. “But Milagros was my high school English teacher and was the first woman I ever loved.”
“It’s not what you think,” Milagros murmured.
“No one thinks anything, Milly,” said Hector affectionately. “To make a short story long, I never said anything at the time, but Milly must have known that I only had eyes for her. Then I left the island after high school and
went to work in shipping in Miami. I was in Florida for many years, then in New York for a while before I moved to San Juan in my early forties. Flor—that’s my ex-wife—is from Vieques, too, and she wanted to move back here when I retired. So, a little over a year ago, we bought a house right near the marina. Maybe six months ago or so, I was at the bar one evening, and I saw Milagros walking down the street with a friend. That day I went home and told Flor it was over between us. Man, was she angry. I thought she was going to turn me into shark food.”
“Really?” said Isa, whose face had brightened.
“Maybe,” he said, chuckling. “She’s probably relieved it’s over—we hadn’t really loved each other for a long time, if we ever had—but no one likes to be left. Pero life is short and opportunities for real love don’t come around too often.” He leaned forward and kissed Milagros’ cheek gently, and though she didn’t open her eyes, she leaned toward him slightly. “I wasn’t going to waste this one.”
“Awww,” said Charlotte.
“For the record, I couldn’t date my teacher,” said Isa. “Even if I was old.”
“Rude,” spat Charlotte.
“It’s okay. I hope you don’t, Isa,” said Milagros with a wan smile.
Hector leaned over the armrest and pointed right. “Okay, turn here. It’s just up the hill. See that?”
The house was behind a large wrought-iron gate. Hector gave Shiloh the code, and the gate opened, which was when I realized that the house was more like a manor. A sprawling stucco building that had been painted sky blue, it had a Spanish-tiled roof and a clear view of the ocean. Aside from a few leaves and branches in the driveway and a large puddle in the middle of the grass, it appeared to have been untouched by the storm.
“That’s a palace,” said Isa.
Charlotte rolled her window down and stuck her face outside. “Why can’t we have a house like that?”
“Shipping can be a brisk business,” said Hector. “Milagros, ¿estás bien?”
Her bright pink housedress only accentuated her pallor, and my heart began to beat faster. I’d been hoping she would regain some of her strength on the ride over, but when she simply nodded in agreement, she looked as weak as she had at the house.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” said Hector, hopping out of the Jeep.
We watched him through the windows as a tall, thin woman wearing a flowing fuchsia caftan greeted him. Her blonde hair seemed to have just been blown out, and her face was expertly made up. She was significantly younger than Hector, and I wondered if maybe she was his daughter.
Then she looked Hector up and down . . . and promptly slammed the door in his face.
“I’m going out there,” I said.
“Are you sure?” said Shiloh. “We might need to let them work it out.”
“We don’t have time for them to work it out,” I said in a low voice.
He glanced at Milagros. “Fair enough.”
I’d just opened my door when I paused and turned to Charlotte. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Her eyebrow was twitching, just like Paul’s did when he was lying. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“The truth, Charlotte,” I said. I’d been trying to be firm, but mostly I sounded afraid.
She glanced at Isa, who gave her a fierce look; for all their fighting, Isa was more protective of her sister than I gave her credit for. “I kind of have a headache,” she admitted. “I’m thirsty, too.”
I grabbed my water bottle from my bag and handed it to Charlotte, who immediately drained it.
“You just took your insulin before we left, right?” I asked.
She nodded. “Just before I had the last of the rice and beans and a little papaya.”
I swallowed the boulder-sized lump in my throat. If this wasn’t about her not eating, then her insulin had started to break down; there was no other way to explain it.
“Please test your sugar,” I told her. “I’ll be right back, and then we’ll figure out a corrective dose of insulin, okay?”
She nodded meekly.
“I’m coming with you,” said Shiloh.
“Good,” I said. Given that Flor still hadn’t opened the door for Hector, it was possible I’d need him. “Come get us if anything happens to Charlotte or Milagros. Got it?” I said to Isa, who nodded.
When I reached the house, I screamed Flor’s name so loud that Hector and Shiloh startled. When she didn’t appear, I yelled again. “Flor! Open up. Right now!”
I was about to do it a third time when the door was flung open. “Who are you?” she asked, eyeing me.
“I’m Libby, and one of my daughters is a type one diabetic. And Milagros—”
She held up a perfectly manicured hand. “I don’t need to hear about my ex-husband’s mistress.”
“Maybe not, but I’m guessing you don’t want to hear she died because you didn’t help,” I growled. Flor closed her mouth as fast as she’d just opened it, so I took this as my sign to carry on. “We’re pretty sure she had a heart attack and we need to use your boat.” Now I waited for her response, but she said nothing.
Well, I wasn’t too proud to beg. “Listen,” I said, staring into Flor’s bright green eyes. “This is literally a matter of life or death. Not just Milagros. My daughter needs new insulin. Immediately, or she. Will. Die. Please, Flor,” I pleaded. “She’s twelve.”
Flor’s gaze flitted from me to Shiloh to the car.
She was softening; I could feel it. But I was almost afraid to look at her too closely for fear she’d change her mind.
Then she sighed deeply and turned to Hector. “The boat only takes six and Mami is wilting in the heat,” she said to Hector. “And Papi needs dialysis in the next day or two. They’ll have to go with you.”
“What are Chaco and Maria doing here?” asked Hector, peering behind her into the house.
“Not that it’s your business, since this is my house now,” she said pointedly, “but they live with me. Can you take care of them if I send them with you?”
I held my breath waiting for him to respond. After a moment, he sighed and said, “Sí.”
“Hector, wait,” I said. “You, Milagros, me, Shiloh, and the girls makes six. Two of us will have to stay behind.”
Flor was staring at the sky now; she seemed to be working something out in her head. After a moment, she looked at me again. “How old is your other daughter?”
“Also twelve,” I said. “They’re twins.”
“Then they wouldn’t weigh down the boat too much.” She turned back to Hector. “I have one extra lifejacket. One of the girls can use it. But my parents go, or none of you go. Okay?”
My knees were weak. Charlotte and Milagros were actually going to get off the island.
Hector, too, seemed overcome with relief. “Gracias, Flor. So, the girls, Chaco and Maria, Milagros, me . . . can either of you drive a boat?” he asked me and Shiloh. “It’s best if we have an extra driver.” His eyes shifted to the Jeep. Through the glass, I could see that Milagros’ eyes were still closed. “Just in case.”
I shook my head—I could barely manage a kayak—but Shiloh, who’d grown up on the water, nodded.
“Lo siento, Libby,” said Hector. I was about to ask him why he was apologizing to me when he added, “Could you stay?”
Before I could respond, Shiloh said, “No way. Libby, you need to be with Charlotte.”
No—I wanted to be with her, and everyone else. But what Charlotte and Milagros needed was immediate medical attention, and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. “There’s no time to talk about this,” I said. “You guys have to leave immediately.”
“It’s not safe for you to be here by yourself, Libby,” said Shiloh in a low voice. Like my own, his T-shirt was drenched in sweat. “Who knows what could happen? There could be a rebound storm, and what are you going to eat?”
“There’s a little bit of food left at Milagros’, but forget whether or not it’s safe for me.” I felt more cle
arheaded than I had in days. Maybe even months. “All I want to know is whether you think it’s safe to take the boat to Fajardo. You heard Hector earlier—that passageway can be dangerous. Especially after a storm. And you yourself said it could be choppy.”
As we both turned toward the ocean, which was visible over the edge of Flor’s property, I couldn’t help but think of the dream I’d had of Charlotte, helplessly drifting away from me. The sky was clear and cloudless, but the waves hitting the beach were high and frothy. My heart galloped in my chest. What if the waves knocked the boat over? What if Milagros died on the way or . . .
I stopped myself. I could think of three hundred horrible things that could happen, which was alarming enough. But at least those were all vague possibilities. The horrible thing that would happen if they didn’t risk going was a near certainty.
“They’ll only be higher if we wait until evening,” he said, reading my thoughts.
“Then it’s settled.” I looked at Shiloh. “Go on without me.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life, but not a single one of them compared to keeping a straight face while saying goodbye to my family.
“You’re sure about this?” said Shiloh. He was standing in front of Flor’s white speedboat, which, however gleaming and glamorous, looked like it could be swallowed by the first large wave that it encountered—not that I was imagining any such thing.
“It’s our only option,” I said in my firmest, most I’m-the-mom-here voice. In reality, I was so terrified that in addition to my hands, my torso was actually trembling.
If they died, life would no longer be worth living. And yet I would have to go on, knowing that I was the reason why that had happened.
“Libby . . .” He almost looked like he was going to cry. “I wish we’d had a chance to talk first.”
“I know.” Did I ever. Why hadn’t I just told him how hurt I had been, but how very much I wanted us to be like we used to be? What if I never had that chance? “And we will. But right now, you really need to go.” I glanced at the girls, who were just about to step into the boat. “Hey, you two. Come give me one more hug before you go.”
Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around Page 16