Seven months later
Mercy
“WHAT DO YOU mean you don’t know where he’s taking you? What do the signs say?”
I press my phone tighter to my ear and try to read the freeway exit signs, but they fly by too fast for my weak eyes to focus. “It seems like maybe the coast.”
“Stop cheating!” Milo squeezes my leg just above my knee, the spot his hand has been resting since we left Laura’s on this surprise trip. “Tell Mena if she ruins the surprise, I’m never taking her to In-N-Out burger again.”
Philomena gasps on the other end of the line. “Did he just threaten me? Do not interfere with my addictions, Vega! Tell him . . . Mercy?”
“Yes,” I say through a smile. “I’m here.”
“Tell him that’s fine with me. I’ll get Miguel to take me.”
“I hope she doesn’t think she’ll get Miguel to take her.” Milo’s grinning as he keeps his eyes forward and maneuvers through Los Angeles traffic. “He can’t stand being that close to mass-produced meat products.”
“That’s a lie! He took me to Filibertos yesterday. Whatever, we’re getting off the subject. Call me as soon as you’re done—what, Belle?”
The care workers at the mental health hospital let the little angel pick her own name. After being introduced to Disney, she decided on Tinkerbell, but was okay with shortening it to Belle because, well, she loves Beauty and the Beast too.
“Belle says if you go to the beach, bring her back some shells for her collection.”
“Tell her I’ll do my best.” I cover Milo’s hand with mine and interlace our fingers. “I better go. I’ll see you guys at home tonight.”
Milo’s grip gets a little tighter around my fingers. He veers off an exit and merges into more traffic.
I hang up and slip the phone into my purse, where I proudly carry my driver’s license, bank card, and the stub from my very first Hugga Mug Café paycheck. I’ve only been working for a couple months now, but I love spending time with people all day and making money while I do it. I finally learned how to drive, passed my GED test, and found a job I enjoy. Milo and I share his car, and Miguel ended up buying his aunt’s old Buick, which is as big as a boat. He takes Dom and Belle to school, and Mena rides with him to Washington High, where she’s fitting in a lot better than I did.
“How did she sound?” Milo asks. At a stoplight, he takes a moment to look at me with concern in his eyes.
“Really good, actually.”
“I can’t believe they haven’t found her biological parents yet. I can see why Belle and Dom’s aren’t coming forward, since they were sold as tiny kids just like you were. But Mena was kidnapped. I’d think her parents would be looking for her.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking—maybe her parents planned the kidnapping. Maybe they’re to blame for her ending up in Papa’s place at such a young age, and now that she’s seventeen, she probably wouldn’t even recognize them if they showed up.
“Who knows. Maybe her parents are dead.”
“I freakin’ hope so,” he says.
To the outside ear it might sound harsh, but neither of us can imagine a home better than the one Chris and Laura have provided for all of us.
The large expanse of the Pacific Ocean comes into view. “We are going to the beach!”
“Shhh, you’re not supposed to guess!”
“You’ve been letting me guess this entire time!”
“I didn’t think you were going to guess right—”
“Which one?”
“Can I keep one thing a surprise?”
“Fine.” I roll down the window, and the briny ocean air hits my face in a refreshing mist.
There’s something so calming about being close to the water. We’ve both been so busy—Milo at the auto body garage and me at the café—that it’s been weeks since we’ve managed to get away together, even for an afternoon.
The sun is a glowing orange ball dipping lower in the sky. The Sunday traffic is headed away from the beach, and I wonder why we’re headed toward it so close to dark. Milo pulls in next to a two-story building and into a spot with a sign I can’t read.
“Are you sure we’re allowed to park here?”
He shuts off the engine and pops open the door. “Yeah, it’s fine. I know a guy who lives here. He said we could use it.” Before I can ask who, he says, “Come on.”
I hop out and meet him around the back of the car, where he takes my hand and leads me down an alley that spits us out on a two-way street. We wait for the clear to go and jog to the other side toward the beach.
“I want to paint this sunset.” The colors vary from blue to bright pink, yellow, and even purple.
“If you do, you tell Gerry it’s mine. The café has enough of your paintings already. I’m putting my dibs on this one now.”
He’s right. My boss saw a few photos of my paintings and insisted on buying them for the coffee shop.
“But Gerry pays me for my paintings. How much will you pay me for it?”
“Name your price. Or . . .” He grins and gives me the side-eye. “I’ll pay you with something better than money, mi alma.”
I rock my hip into him and stumble to a stop when the beach comes into view. At first all I notice is the colorful sunset reflecting off the still water and the pale sand that kisses the waves as they roll to shore. As my eyes adjust, a path comes into view.
Milo leads me right to it.
I squat and study the brightly colored objects that form a kind of walkway through the sand toward the water. I pick one up, and it’s soft. “Flower petals.”
I peer up at Milo, who has moved his sunglasses from his eyes to hook them at the neck of his T-shirt. He holds his hand out to pull me to standing.
“You wanna see where it leads?” There’s a glint in his eyes, or maybe it’s the dying sun’s reflection.
My stomach tumbles with excitement, and I nod. He toes off his shoes and I kick mine off as well before he walks me toward the shoreline.
“What is this all about?” My face hurts from smiling as I squint at him.
“What is it you have against surprises?” He hooks me around the shoulders and pulls me to his side as our feet sink into the cool sand and soft petals.
We come to the end of the path and stand in the center of a heart made from at least a dozen different-colored flowers. Milo turns me to face him and takes my hands. I shiver as a gust of wind blows my hair off my neck, and he gazes at me without a hint of the playful humor he wore earlier.
“Mercy, I always knew there was something different about you—”
I snort-laugh and shake my head at the unladylike sound, but the seriousness of this moment has me squirming.
“That had nothing to do with the color of your skin.” He clears his throat and blinks rapidly as if he’s pushing back emotion. “From the moment you came into my life, I knew I’d been changed. The things that seemed important all paled in comparison to my need to be near you. I remember . . .” He smiles and chuckles, but there are tears in his eyes. “Just hearing you laugh seemed to make everything that was wrong in my world disappear.” He brings my knuckles to his lips. “Holding your hand made me feel like . . . like God was trusting me with one of his most precious creations.”
My eyes burn and my throat aches as I hold back the emotion his words draw from me.
“I was right, ya know? Here, now, not because you were Angel, not because of what you’ve been able to do, but just because you breathe, you’re the most valuable thing in my life. You’re mi alma. Mi corozon. I want . . .” He seems to struggle to find the words. “I want us to be family.”
I suck in a breath as Milo releases my hands and drops to his knee in the sand and flowers. “Milo,” I whisper, not sure why I’m saying his name other than that I can’t think of anything else to say except . . .”Yes.”
He holds a little black box and grins. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”
I laugh, and the first stream of tears makes a path down my cheeks. “I don’t care! Yes!”
“Don’t you even want to see the ring—”
I launch myself at him, and we tumble to the ground in a cloud of sand. He rolls me to my back and slants his head, his lips covering mine, and I open to him. The cold sand at my back and Milo’s warm, strong body covering me, his promise to tie himself to me forever fresh from his lips.
The faint sound of clapping grows louder until Milo grins against my lips and rolls off of me. He pulls me to my feet and hollers, “She said yes!”
I bury my red face in his chest and peer toward our audience—“Is that . . . ?”
He hugs me, and as the shadows of people get closer, my pulse races with excitement.
“Mena?”
The second her name is out of my mouth, she barrels into us. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that secret?”
Belle, Dom, Julian, Laura, and Chris come into sight.
“All of you guys knew about this?”
Laura hugs me. “Who do you think put all these petals out here?”
Dom raises his two-fingered hand. “I did!”
Belle frowns at him. “No, you didn’t. You dug a hole while I did it.”
“You gonna give her the ring, ese?”
I turn around as Miguel comes up, pointing his phone at us.
“I’m still rolling.” He nods toward the phone.
I look at Milo, who cracks open the box to reveal a small gold band with a single white diamond. My view of the ring is disturbed when he grabs my left hand. He removes my angel wings ring and slips it on his pinkie, then he slips the new ring on my finger. I hold up my hand and gaze upon the diamond in the dimming sunlight.
“Mercy Bernadette?” Milo says. “Will you be my wife?”
“Yes.” I make sure to say it loud and clear, and I wait for all the applause to die down before I jump back into Milo’s arms.
He scoops me off the sand, my legs wrapped around his waist, and his lips come to my ear. “Thank you, mi alma. Don’t get too comfortable though, okay? There’s one more surprise left.”
Milo
MY HEART IS pounding and radiating static in my ears. I don’t remember ever being this excited and nervous all at the same time.
I know worrying about her response might sound stupid—after all, she already agreed to marry me once before, but she’s gained so much independence since we came back to Los Angeles. She doesn’t need me the same way she used to, and I wondered if I might have been confusing her need for me for love. I’ve stood by and watched her gain her legs, her confidence blossoming more and more every day, and I told myself when she was able to stand on her own two feet without my support, only then would I ask her to commit to us forever.
She said yes.
“So? What is it?” Her eyes search mine, and her radiating smile calms me a little.
“It’s so cool, you’re gonna freak out.” Dom grabs Belle and drags her up the beach. “Follow us!”
Mercy lifts one perfectly sculpted white brow. “Everyone is in on the second surprise too?”
I shrug and feel my cheeks heat. I needed the whole family in on this next surprise. I didn’t think the little ones would be able to keep a secret, but I guess it makes sense that they did.
Their entire existence was a secret up until seven months ago.
“There’s a great place for fish tacos down the street,” Chris says as he walks hand in hand with Laura to Mercy’s right. “We should go have a celebratory dinner after this—”
“Chris,” Laura mumbles and shakes her head discreetly.
“What?” he says.
“Maybe Milo and Mercy would like to celebrate their engagement alone.”
Mercy looks at me and I nod for her to decide. This is, after all, her night of surprises.
She turns to Laura and Chris. “I think a family dinner sounds perfect.”
“Hurry up!” Dom waves at us from the sidewalk.
“Don’t you dare cross that street by yourself!” Laura snaps and jogs up to meet them.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Miguel snaps a picture of us then points the phone at Mena.
She puts her hand up to block her face. “Stop! I look gross.”
“You do not.” He gets closer and tries to snag a photo, but she swats his arm. “Ow! You need to learn to take a compliment, woman.”
“Shoving a camera in my face isn’t a compliment, it’s an act of war!”
I chuckle, and Mercy grins as she watches them go back and forth. I’m no expert, but Miguel and Mena’s fighting sounds a lot like flirting.
“I tell you you’re pretty and that’s war?”
“You didn’t say I was pretty, you said I don’t look gross. Big difference!”
We all cross the street together and head back to where I parked the car. Instead of going to the car, I turn into the apartment complex.
Mercy’s chin tilts back as she takes in the small courtyard walls covered in crawling vines and the fountain that surrounds us with the sound of trickling water. We climb a flight of stairs, where Dom, Belle, Laura, and Chris are all staring at us with stupid, expectant grins. Miguel and Mena follow us, still bickering.
“Who lives here?” Mercy asks as I reach for the door handle, assuming our family left it open after following my detailed instructions.
I turn the handle and push open the door with my pulse pounding in my neck. “You do.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
My lips pull up until my cheeks ache. “You heard me.” I jerk my head toward the inside. “Go on, check out our new pad.”
Laura’s eyes are tearing up, and Chris’s emotions don’t seem too far from the surface.
Dom and Bell run inside the studio apartment and straight for the bed. “Mercy, you have to jump on it. It’s so bouncy!”
She turns back to me, her eyes filling with tears. “You got this for us?”
“I told you I would.”
Mena and Miguel are finally quiet as Miguel films us on his phone.
Mena comes up beside Mercy to squeeze her to her side. “Isn’t it awesome? You have a walk-in closet and a huge bathroom with a bathtub.”
They take a quick tour of the furnished apartment that the family cleaned, made up the bed, and turned into a home before Mercy saw it. Laura even insisted on stocking the fridge. I haven’t checked yet, but there’re salt and pepper shakers next to a small coffee maker that wasn’t there before, which is a good sign.
I watch as Mercy takes in the single room with her weak eyes. The four-hundred-square-foot space with the queen bed made up with white sheets and a blue comforter. The kitchen isn’t much to brag about, but it has a stove, sink, oven, and even a microwave.
Pressing her torso to mine, she wraps her arms around my waist and sighs. “It’s perfect. I love it.”
I kiss her head. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.”
I guide her to the bathroom and slide open the shower curtain before I step into the tub. There’s a frosted window in the shower. When I open it—
“There it is.” I swing my arm toward the view. “Your ocean view.”
The sliver of blue can be seen between tall buildings, and being on the top floor affords us a great ocean breeze.
“You did it,” she says softly.
“I promised you we would have a place on the beach one day.” I step out of the tub and cross to her, loving the way she doesn’t take her eyes off the window even though I know she can’t see it well, if she can see it at all.
“It’s nothing like we had in Mexico,” I whisper.
“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”
“Mercy, I want you to know I’m a man of my word. I made you a promise today on that beach.” I grab her hands and bring them to my chest, a little nervous that she’ll be able to feel how hard my heart is pounding. “I want you to know I intend to keep that promise and every other one I make to you for the rest of our lives. No exceptions.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she smiles. “You really are my savior.”
“No, you saved yourself, mi alma. Your strength is one of the many things I fell in love with.” I kiss her tear-stained lips. “I was just lucky enough to have you fall in love with me.”
Turns out miracles and magic are real after all. They’re not paid for or bestowed upon us by someone given the divine right to do so. The ability to heal, comfort, and bless others lives inside each and every soul.
The power is in our capacity to love.