Jamaica

Jesus, I am nervous enough that my heart is beating hard against my ribs. Santiago steps out of the car behind me and takes my hand, his fingers twining through mine.

“It will be okay, Bella my sweet. We are here and we will be together,” he says staunchly, his strength making the butterflies in my stomach settle just a little.

Now that I’ve accepted what I want, what I feel and don’t want to feel, it’s so easy to just let myself be and not overthink things. Somewhat.

I’m basically meeting a five-year-old little girl who likely only speaks Spanish and is going to be my daughter for all intents and purposes, so yeah, I am fucking nervous and so afraid to make a wrong step, I’m sweating bullets.

Santiago is just as afraid as I am, I saw it this morning when I rolled over at five only to find an empty bed. Pulling the sheet around my body, I’d tiptoed to the bathroom and then rerouted to the sitting room where I found him staring out of the window, unaware of anything around him.

The sight was endearing and a bit unsettling because Santiago Alvarez is never anything but cool and unruffled. It hit me then exactly how much this means to him.

I had this foggy notion that he’s doing this for family honor and that he’d be removed from it somehow but seeing him so pensive and frankly scared, I now know that finding Gabby and giving her a good home is not a trifle. It means everything to him.

That makes me want to open myself to him again and give him the love I know I can. It makes me protective and possessive and vulnerable to him because nothing revs a girl’s engine like having a vulnerable Alpha need her.

I’m holding back though, just enough to keep my heart safe, but as I stand here, holding his hand, my heart knocking against my ribs, I am so grateful to be here, with him.

He’s right, we are together, a family and we can do this.

“Should we just go up and ring the bell?” I ask when he starts walking, his steps slow and measured.

“Yes, we should not hold off. It’s better to just get this done.”

I gulp, nodding at thin air since his eyes are fixed firmly on the little black door of the small house and squeeze his fingers when he presses the doorbell.

It doesn’t open immediately so we stand there for a bit, the traffic of pedestrians on the surprisingly busy street making my nerves jump more.

Santiago rings the bell again, this time impatiently, holding it in a few seconds longer before we hear a yell. It’s pulled open hard and I stare in horror at a short man who I can only describe as De Vito-esque who glares and raps off a question to Santiago.

I wish I knew what they were saying but from the tone of Santiago’s voice it doesn’t sound great. The man shakes his head at whatever he’s asked and then rattles off something while Santiago removes a little pad and pen from his jacket pocket.

I’m definitely taking Spanish lessons, I decide, when ten minutes pass with them still talking while Santiago writes, his face hard and unyielding.

“Bella, this is Eduardo, brother to the Moradas. He says that they have left indefinitely but that Gabriella is here with him and his wife.”

“Oh, thank God! That means we can get her?” I ask, my joy and nervousness colliding to make my stomach lurch.

“Yes, but he requires proof of our claim to her before he will allow us to see her. What should we do?”

“That’s already taken care of. Here,” I say, pulling the adoption papers and the official documents I had drawn up that state that Gabriella Luis may be the niece of Santiago Alvarez.

At this point, all we need is DNA which will be rushed to a lab and once we have the results the request for removal will be applicable.

The Eduardo guy looks the documents over and I thank God Santiago read them for me or I’d have had my own problems. As it is, I won’t be able to read the DNA reports that come back, but Santiago will so…

“He says we can use her toothbrush. Wait here, Bella, I will get what we need and then come back.”

He leaves, ducking inside with the man and I stand on the doorstep, turning to look at the little house pressed up close to the one next door. It’s one of those quintessential Spanish city houses on a cobbled street with oodles of shade for which I am grateful since it’s just ten and I’m already melting in the heat.

Santiago comes back moments later with a little clear baggie and a toothbrush, his shoulders tense when he thanks Eduardo and turns to lead me back to the car.

“Why are you so angry? Is he refusing us? Where are her adoptive parents?” I ask, my curiosity making me babble which is not like me.

Santiago gives the driver terse instructions, shoves the plastic baggie inside his jacket pocket and clenches his fists.

“They left her here two months ago when she got sick again and moved to another town. The uncle is not happy to have her upkeep but he says he’d rather take the financial burden than let them keep her. She is not a healthy child and the mother has a temper,” he says, making me gasp and look at him wide eyed.

“She hits her?”

“No, she is very verbal in her dislike of Isabella.”

“Then why take her and keep her?” I yell, my own anger spiking before it hits me and slam my hand into the seat. “State grants. They keep the money the state gives them for her.”

“Sì. The arm she broke pushed them over the edge because it is expensive to keep her in good health and still have money to keep her.”

“So they just left her! That’s, that’s…”

“They love her, he says, but they have two other children and have nothing to look after her,” he says gently, almost as if he’s not blaming them.

I blame them! There is nothing worse for a kid than to know that your parents don’t want you unless you come with state money, I think. My own parents would have tossed me long ago if I hadn’t come with money attached to me.

“Bastards.”

“Bella, they are not…bad people. Eduardo’s brother Gael has been struggling to find work and they’ve had to move repeatedly to do so. Gabriella…she has a weak constitution and she is not able. The mother-”

“Sounds like a monster.” I rage. “You said she’s verbal.”

“I did, but not…it is hard to explain. In traditional Spanish families, the mama is the disciplinarian at most times. Fathers mete out punishment but mama…she shouts. Gabriella and the other children have been a burden that she perhaps could not bear on top of having to move so frequently. It is not good. It sucks. It’s not their fault the economy is so bad and-”

“And why are you defending them Santiago? If they loved her-”

“Then I would feel like an animal taking her away from a loving family! Here I sit, not knowing whether to be angry that they are not good to her or grateful because now I can prove she is ours and take her without guilt.” He cuts in, cursing in Spanish below his breath.

I let out my own in a hiss and rest my head back on the seat. Crap, I totally get his reasoning. It just sucks that he’d rather be kind about them, in some thankful, twisted way than be the heel who ripped their kid away from them.

“This sucks,” I mumble, closing my eyes when he leans over to kiss me softly.

“We will get what we want without an extended court battle for custody, Bella, it is more than I had hoped. At the worst, I would have paid them to give her up. I may even do that just to ensure they stay away in the future,” he mutters, resting back to stare outside.

I don’t mention that we could just call Bill and have them disappear. He’d think I’m a monster. No need to know I can be until we’ve been married at least a year or two. No returns after that, I think, narrowing my eyes when he fiddles with his phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think you should remain in the car while I go into the lab. Please. This is already difficult for me Bella and I get distracted when I have to stop and translate,” he murmurs, his distraction making my teeth grind.

I so do not want to stay in the car. I want to go in there, sit down beside him and hold his hand while we wait. I want to be a part of this, partners, like he said, but instead of arguing I nod, not saying a thing.

See, this is why I stay distant and won’t give my all. This is Santiago. He pulls you close and then pushes back at the weirdest times. I don’t have what it takes to be hurt again so I know it’s better to just accept it and take what I expect instead of pushing for more.

“Fine.”

He nods, not looking at me and moments later when the car stops he busses my cheek and leaves me alone. Again.

*******************************************************************

The car door opens just as I nail the next stage on Candy Crush and I look up to see Santiago smile and hand me an envelope. I pull it out just as he slides into the car and tells the driver to go, my hands shaking.

I don’t know what I expect to see because I knew the results would be in Spanish but he explains that we are going to get Gabby and that’s all I need to hear right now.

My stomach has been in knots for the last two hours while I waited, playing on my phone to keep myself distracted. I wanted to rush in there and demand what was taking so long but reminded myself that if Santiago wants to be alone, that’s his call.

I’m not hurt. No. I can only be hurt if I expected more, I tell myself, which I didn’t. But then why did my chest ache? And why is it still aching even as joy wafts through me and I feel my shoulders ease.

I did it! I got the job done, I fulfilled my promise and…and now I’m staying and I get to have a kid. Yeah, sure, I have no idea what the hell to do with a kid but I figure if she loves the two screw ups who’ve had her for the last while then she’ll love me too.

I may not know mom stuff but I know friend stuff. I am a kickass friend to have. And I don’t balk at playing with dolls. In fact, I love them.

“I am so happy,” I manage when he stares out of the window silently, the sharing I expected nowhere in sight.

Santiago turns, his mouth set and inclines his head slowly.

“We are happy, Bella. Sorry, sweetheart, I do not mean to be terse, I am nervous to meet her,” he says, seeing my face and probably reading my annoyance.

“I get it. I almost wet myself the first time I met Sue. I was excited and afraid at the same time.”

He takes my hand then, holding me tight and I relax, the tension seeping from me in a soft melt that leaves me…okay, I am also not relaxed. Take the nervousness of this morning and multiply it by ten and then factor in an empty stomach since we both missed lunch and you’ll know what I am feeling.

The car pulls up and stops across the narrow street and Santiago helps me out, his hand clutching at my sweaty one. I’m shaking like a leaf when we make it to the door and I swear my insides are in earthquake territory when he rings the bell and the door bursts open, a little girl so like Santiago staring up at us both.

Santiago goes still, frozen beside me, his eyes boring into that little face with an intensity that has her shifting and looking back at me uncertainly. Shit, this is all me I think, my brain chugging and scrambling for what little Spanish I know.

Untangling my hand from his, I bend at the waist to lessen my height and hold out my hand, introducing myself in English because hell, I don’t know shit about the language.

“Hi. I’m Isabella, my friends call me Jamaica.”

She surprises me by grinning and taking my hand before speaking.

“I am Gabriella, my friends call me Gabby. I like your name, signora, it is funny.”

I don’t want to be the tool who cries, I really don’t but her smile is so like Santiago’s that I feel my eyes smart and blink to push back stupid emotional tears.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Gabby, and I am terribly grateful that you speak English too because I suck at Spanish. This man is my husband Santiago.”

She smiles up at him uncertainly and I hear his intake of breath before he too bends, going down to his haunches and takes her hand.

“We, Isabella and I, would like to speak with you for a minute if you would be so kind?”

Gabby looks startled, her gaze flying back into the house and I can just get the kid’s thoughts loud and clear; stranger danger.

“Your Uncle Eduardo knows we’re here to speak to you but if you want you can go ask him, maybe get him so he can be here. We don’t want you to be scared,” I say, trying to reassure her as best I can.

Once again, I know fuck all about kids, just what I remember from being a kid and I’m almost twenty-eight so that’s minimal. Gabby nods, lets go of Santiago’s hand and darts into the little house, leaving us at the door.

She comes back moments later with the irascible Eduardo who holds out his hand silently for the DNA proof and papers and I watch with my eyes glued to his face to see his reaction.

I so do not expect him to smile or invite us in with such friendliness and I kinda want to kick him when he greets me in broken English and asks if we would like refreshments.

I say yes, if only to give us some time alone with Gabby, and wait until he’s gone to smile at her again. Santiago it seems has gone almost mute.

“Gabby, do you remember anything about when you were smaller?” I ask, wanting to know if she is aware that she’s adopted.

I’m not exactly ready to yell out, you’re adopted but we’re your real family, I’m not that insensitive - I took training at the academy, I know sensitive even if I don’t use it.

She tilts her little head as if thinking, her dark ringlets bouncing when she nods.

“I lived in a place with many other children.”

“Yes.”

“The Moradas came one day and signora Hernandez said they are my new mama and papa.”

“Yes,” I say again, clearing my throat when she frowns.

“They left me here with Tio and said I can’t come because I get sick sometimes.”

Santiago tenses beside me and I swear he’s on the verge of exploding when he suddenly turns to me and grabs my hand, pleadingly. I know he can’t do this, he’s just too…but I can I think, even if it kills me.

“Do you remember signora Hernandez ever saying anything about your real parents?”

She shrugs, swinging her little legs round in front of her, her dark eyes almost wise as she looks back at me.

“No. She said they didn’t want me.”

God, I really am gonna put a hit on that bitch. Bill still owes me a freebie. Clearing my throat, I make it a point not to look at my husband and sigh, shaking my head.

“That isn’t true, Gabby. Your mama was very…young when she had you, but your papa didn’t know. We only found out about you a few weeks ago and we’ve been looking for you this whole time. I know this is gonna be hard for you to understand but Santiago is your tio and I am your tia Isabella. We would very much like it if you would come live with us at our home outside the city.”

There is probably some better way to say all this. Something that wouldn’t make me sound like a jerk with no feelings but I’m at a loss here.

The last time I had to consider people’s feelings I was legally bound to follow procedures. Somehow telling a little girl that we’re here to take her home and we want her is not on the same scale as telling a prostitute that herpes eventually kills but that I fully understand her need to make money to feed her children. Gabriella is silent for a long time, looking between Santiago and I with an expression that I can’t read before she shocks the hell out of me and tilts her head.

“Do you have other children? Can I have my own room? I don’t like sharing a bed with my cousins, they snore.”

Just like that, I ask myself, blinking while Santiago wakes from his stupor and starts chuckling under his breath.

“She is definitely an Alvarez if she’s making demands right off the cuff,” he murmurs, making me grin back.

Gabby just waits patiently for an answer and I oblige by chuckling and nodding vigorously.

“Your Nona Alvarez is probably decorating your room right this minute.” I lie.

I arranged with the housekeeper to have someone come in and transform a room for a little girl, fit for a princess which Gabby will no doubt be. It’s crazy what you can do with a boatload of money.

And it’s even crazier that Santiago and Nona didn’t consider it until I mentioned it. Then again, the last time that old bat raised a girl she had less leather on her nipples.

“Okay. But can Eduardo see me sometimes? He’s nice to me. He buys me candy when I get good marks,” she says proudly, smiling and swinging her legs again.

I’m not tracking everything, honestly, because her easy capitulation is just not expected. I thought she’d yell and scream and be afraid, the way I was when I was a kid.

She just keeps smiling and it hits me that the kid is a lot more intelligent than her age suggests.

“You’re being a very brave girl about this, Gabby.”

“Eduardo already told me that I can go live with my real family in a castle and have a horse. I was just waiting to meet you to see if I like you. I do. You smile a lot and Santiago doesn’t yell at me the way papa did when I swing my legs. Can I have ice cream?”