Chapter Eighteen
Tomás kneaded his aching neck and shoulder muscles with one hand and reached for his ringing cell phone with the other. He blinked in surprise at the caller ID number flashing on the screen. “Hi, Rosa, how’s my favorite librarian?”
“Oh, you know. I’m doing the best I can.”
The worry lacing her words told him otherwise. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to bother you at work . . .” Her voice trailed off and he could picture the hesitancy on her face.
“You are never a bother. Call me anytime, I mean it. What’s up?”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. Well, I was, I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard from Yazmine this week?”
His computer dinged, a reminder box popping up on the screen with the words “Call print department!” in red letters.
“No, I haven’t actually. I’m on an extremely tight deadline at work for a big presentation tomorrow. I’ve been going into the office early and coming home long past Maria’s bedtime. Today’s the first day I’ve worked from home in weeks.”
“So Yaz hasn’t touched base with you?”
“Not since the funeral.” He swiveled his chair to face the snow-covered backyard, ignoring the reminder blinking obnoxiously on his screen. “I’ve left her a couple of messages over the past two weeks, but she hasn’t called back. I figured you girls could use some private time. But I’m hoping to see you and Lilí before you head back to school.”
Rosa’s heavy sigh didn’t send out any positive vibes. “Pablo made us leave over the weekend so we wouldn’t get too far behind. We’d already missed the first few weeks of the semester.”
“Aw man, I’m sorry I missed saying good-bye in person. Wait a minute—” Tomás sat up, spinning back around to look at his desk calendar with alarm. Today was Thursday. “So Yaz has been home alone all week?”
“Yeah. We left Sunday. I thought she’d call you, maybe go over to see you and Maria.”
No, she hadn’t.
Disappointment coursed through him like a line of gasoline lit with a match. He sank back into his chair, unable to stop the emotion from blazing unchecked.
During the memorial service Yazmine had been a little withdrawn. With Pablo, his wife Dolores, and the rest of Rey’s compadres gathering around the girls for support, Tomás had hung back. They were more like family than he was.
Feeling like an outsider had grated on his spirit, but he understood that those men and their families had been in the girls’ lives for decades, while he’d only enjoyed being welcomed into their inner circle for a few months.
Later, at the wake, he could tell by her rigid posture and strained smile that Yaz was only holding on by a thread.
She’d continued keeping him at arm’s length until he’d caught up with her on the back porch. After their conversation, he’d thought they’d turned a corner and could remain friends.
But she’d been on her own the past four days, probably going crazy in that empty house, bombarded with memories, and still she hadn’t reached out to him. Hadn’t called to talk, to vent. Hadn’t needed him for anything.
If there’d been any doubt in his mind about where he’d stand with Yaz once Rey had passed and there was nothing keeping her in Oakton any longer, Tomás knew now.
“I’m a little worried about her,” Rosa said, interrupting his thoughts. “Maybe it’s nothing. But when we left she seemed a little too quiet and withdrawn. When I called to let her know I made it to my apartment she was really cryptic, cutting our conversation short. It reminded me of the months right after she and her ex broke up. The last time we spoke she barely said a word.”
“When was that?”
“Monday morning when I was walking to class. Oh, excuse me.” He could hear a door opening, people talking in the background. “Sorry, I arrived at my building to meet with a professor. Anyway, I haven’t been able to get in touch with her since then.”
Antsy, Tomás rose and crossed to the window. Gray, billowy clouds filled the sky, threatening more damn snow. He shivered, the cold barrenness of winter seeping into his bones. Man, he could not wait for spring. Warmth, sunshine, new life.
“What about Lilí?” he asked.
“Same thing. Yaz hasn’t returned either of our calls since Monday. I don’t know what to do.”
This was not a good sign, but the hint of panic in Rosa’s voice made him keep the comment to himself. Damn Yazmine and her stubbornness. “Let me see what I can find out. Hang in there and try not to worry.”
“I’m sorry. No quiero molestarte.”
“It’s no bother. I could use a brain break from work. I’ll be in touch, okay?”
There was a beat of silence before Rosa’s relief-filled response came through the line. “Gracias, Tomás, te lo agradezco.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said, brushing aside her appreciation. “You can count on me.”
Tomás hung up, then immediately tapped the speed dial number for Yaz. It went straight to voice mail. He called the house phone, experiencing a jarring sense of déjà vu when Rey’s voice answered on the machine. Frustration mounting, Tomás hung up without leaving a message.
It was one thing to push him away. Something completely different to do that to her sisters. What happened to familia primero?
Damn her independent streak.
Frustrated, he leaned his forehead against the windowpane. The frigid glass cooled the heated anger building inside him. As he worked to calm his thoughts, he focused on where she might be instead of why she kept pushing everyone away. If Yaz was upset, in need of getting away from what she wanted to avoid, where would she—
In a flash of recollection, he realized where Yaz was probably hiding.
Striding out of his office, he went in search of his nanny. He found her in the laundry room folding towels. “Mrs. B, I got a call from Rosa Fernandez a few minutes ago, wondering if I’d touched base with Yazmine. How did she look when you dropped off Maria at dance this week?”
“There’s been a substitute covering Yazmine’s classes since they started back after the holiday break. I thought you knew.”
Tomás shook his head, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Mrs. B paired the ends of a towel together as she continued. “I’ve heard a few mothers wondering how much longer she’ll stay in town now that her father has passed.”
Join the club. He’d been wondering the same thing. Though certain her departure was inevitable.
Somehow he knew his first hunch was right. Yaz was at the studio, practicing, preparing to leave. Not before he talked to her about shutting out her loved ones, even if she didn’t include him in that group.
“I’ve got an errand to run, Mrs. B. Don’t hold lunch for me after you pick up Maria from school. I’ll grab something when I get back.”
Seconds later he was on his way to Hanson’s Academy of Dance, grumbling at the icy road conditions slowing his pace, cursing every red light, tapping impatiently on his steering wheel when he got stuck behind a city bus for several blocks.
He pulled into the studio parking lot to find Yaz’s blue Ford Focus with the familiar miniature ballet slippers dangling from the rearview mirror, parked in a space next to a mound of snow left by the plow truck.
Relief and gloom warred within him.
Huddled in his winter jacket, he banged on Hanson’s locked front door until Yaz emerged from one of the back studios wearing a pair of figure-hugging black leggings and a spandex crop top. Her face flushed, she looked beautiful. Even with her brow furrowed in confusion.
She unlocked the bolt and pushed open the glass door. “What are you doing here?”
He shoved his way inside, out of the bitter cold. “Looking for you. Is your cell phone not working?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is your battery dead? Did you lose your power cord?”
She drew back, eyeing him like he was one tortilla short of a dozen. “What are you talking about?”
“Or are you just being stubborn and refusing to answer my calls?”
Guilt flittered across her face before she pursed her lips and spun around to march back to the studio. “I’m busy. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, to make sure you’re all right.”
“Peachy.”
Normally her smart-ass attitude made him laugh. Today, he’d caught the vulnerability in her caramel eyes, seen the fatigue on her classic features. He’d heard Rosa’s pain over the phone. A pain he saw mirrored on Yaz’s face.
“How come you’re not communicating with your sisters? What’s going on?”
Yaz snatched a hand towel from her dance bag in the front corner of the room.
“Who dragged you into this?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Never mind, I know. Rosa the worrier. Look, I’m fine. Like I said, I’m busy.”
“Too busy to talk to Rosa and Lilí? They’re hurting as much as you are.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” She tossed her head, her ponytail flicking across her shoulder blades as she turned to fiddle with her iPod.
“So what gives?” he pressed.
She adjusted the volume on the stereo speakers and Tomás used the opportunity to take a good look at her. His concern for her mushroomed.
She’d lost weight in the last two weeks. Her collarbones protruded under the delicate straps of her black crop top. Dark smudges circled her eyes above her sunken cheeks. She looked fragile, breakable. A delicate china doll wearing a tough-girl façade.
When she still hadn’t acknowledged his question, he unzipped his jacket and tossed it in the corner next to hers, digging in for a fight.
“You look like hell,” he said, hands on his hips.
“Thanks, I always appreciate your honesty. If that’s all you came to say, I’ve got a lot of work to do. It was great seeing you though.”
Her tone was snarky, dismissive. It matched the personality he’d typecast her with when they’d first met—uppity, dance snob. He knew differently now.
Now he’d seen and experienced the loving, passionate, caring woman she really was. The one who wanted so badly to make her father proud, and had finally decided she wanted it for herself, too.
His admiration for her rivaled the strength of his attraction. Because of that, he wouldn’t allow her to brush him off that easily.
“What are you doing, Yaz?”
“What does it look like?” She spread her arms wide to encompass the entire room. “It’s what I do.”
“Push people away?”
“Yes! No! Uggghh!” She threw her towel into her dance bag with a muttered curse. “¡Déjame en paz!”
Sure, he could do what she wanted and leave her, but she wouldn’t be at peace. Not by a long shot.
“I’m dealing the best way I know how,” she grumbled.
“Uh-uh, that’s a cop-out.”
She winced, her face turning an even whiter shade of pale.
He didn’t back down though. He couldn’t.
Her happiness, her sisters’ happiness, depended on him being able to help Yaz move past this agonizing transition now that Rey was gone.
“You’re better than this. Your sisters deserve better than this.” His gaze caught hers and he swore he could see the real Yaz in the depths of her eyes, crying out for help.
He wanted to hold her in his arms and promise her everything would be okay. Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise that, not to either of them.
Arms folded across her chest, she tilted her chin at a pugnacious angle. It wobbled under the pressure of her pent-up emotions, a telltale sign she was hanging on by a quickly unraveling thread.
“Well, I can tell you, whatever you are doing, it’s not healthy.”
She sucked her teeth at him like a temperamental teen, hip cocked in a kiss-my-ass jaunt. “I’m fine, working a little harder than normal, but I’ve been out of the game for too long now. This is the price I have to pay for letting myself go.”
“Hey, you know me. I understand dedication and determination.” He grabbed her hands when she tried to brush his words aside.
“Let me go.”
He kept his grip on her, biting back a curse when she mutinously turned her head to the side, refusing to look at him. “You’re talking to a reformed king of workaholics, remember? Pushing yourself this hard, pushing your family away when you need each other the most? That’s not going to make things better.”
Her hands shook under his.
“Yaz, come on. Let’s be honest here. Level with me. Please.”
When she finally met his gaze the look of utter anguish on her stark features nearly knocked him to his knees.
He tugged her to him and Yaz stumbled into his open arms. She grabbed his sweater, laying her head against his shoulder as her tears fell.
He wrapped her in his embrace, relieved to see her finally letting her emotions go.
Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and he squeezed her tighter, holding her close to his heart. After a while, when her crying quieted to a few shuddered breaths, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, hoping she could draw strength from him.
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” she mumbled. “The girls are gone. I’m here trying to respect Papi’s final wish, afraid to think that no matter how much I want it, I won’t succeed.”
“You can do anything. I thought we established that already.”
“I know, but it’s—” She pulled back, raising a shaky hand to smooth a strand of hair off her tearstained face.
Her eyes were puffy, her nose a dark shade of red, yet she’d never looked more beautiful to him. “Why haven’t you called me?”
“You’re busy.”
“Lame excuse.”
“I’m a big girl.” She stepped away to snag a tissue from the box on the desk. “I can take care of myself. You’ve got your own worries.”
“I’m never too busy for you, or your sisters. I thought I made that clear. Come on, talk to me.” Grasping her elbow, he gently tugged her down to sit next to him on the hardwood floor.
She settled next to him, legs crossed tailor style, and blew her nose. “I know you’re working on the Linton presentation. That’s gotta be coming up soon. Maria deserves your free time and attention, not me. And what about your Perfect Partner Plan? How’re you going to figure that out if I’m bugging you with my problems?”
“Mierda.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. That’s bullshit.”
Lips pursed, she glared at him.
Tomás raised his brows, daring her to argue. He was right, and she knew it.
“Fiiiine.” She drew out the word, lifting her shoulders and dropping them like the effort had taken all her energy. “What do you want to hear about? How quiet the house is? How I can’t bring myself to walk into Papi’s room because I keep expecting to find him there? How it’s no fun cooking for one, so I pop a frozen dinner in the microwave, when I even remember to eat? What does it matter? I’ll get over it eventually.”
He circled her wrist with his thumb and forefinger, the tips overlapping. “If you don’t starve yourself first. I’m calling Mrs. B to let her know you’ll be coming for dinner tonight.”
Yaz tugged her wrist free. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
She narrowed her puffy eyes at him.
Well, she certainly had the pissed-off glare down. It was a relief to see a flash of her old spunk.
“Why are you being so pushy?”
“I learned from the best,” he replied.
Her lips curved in a wistful smile. “We both did.”
A pang of regret arrowed through his chest, knowing she was remembering Reynaldo. Her father wouldn’t be happy with her reaction to his death. The older man would expect Tomás to give her a nudge, even if it had to be a hard one.
Even if that nudge pushed her farther away from him.
“So, you’re killing yourself in preparation for heading back to New York.” The words were painful to say, but he forced himself to spit them out.
“That was the original plan.” Yaz fiddled with the laces on her jazz shoes. “But I got a call Monday from a choreographer I did some work with in New York. He hired on with a new show that’s touring the US. The director is based out of Chicago and they’re holding auditions here, tomorrow.”
Tomás’s heart dipped to the pit of his stomach. “Wow, that’s, that’s good news. All this time you’ve been planning to take New York by storm and your next big break could happen right in our backyard.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m happy for you.” He honestly was.
What more could he ask than for someone he cared about to be given the opportunity to pursue her dream? Even if that dream didn’t include him.
He looped an arm around her in a congratulatory hug. “That’s incredible.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. Scooting closer, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tilted his head to hers, then glanced at their reflection in the mirror-lined wall. Her slender figure was dwarfed by his, yet somehow they fit well together.
They sat in silence, Tomás enjoying the quiet peace he always found with her. In the hustle of his daily life, being with her felt so incredibly right it scared him.
“So you’ll impress them at the audition tomorrow, then pack your bags and hit the road.” Saying the words out loud made their situation more real.
She nodded. “It’s time. Papi’s gone. There’s nothing keeping me here anymore.”
Her eyes met his in the mirror.
Tomás forced himself to keep quiet. No matter how badly he wanted her to stay, he would never ask. He was smart enough to know they’d never be happy if she longed to be somewhere else, itching to leave for something better.
“Tomorrow will be a big day for both of us then.”
Yaz sat up, scooting around to face him. “Both?”
“I’m giving the final Linton presentation tomorrow. We made the cut for the top two.”
Her face lit up with excitement. “No way! That’s awesome! How come you didn’t say anything, you big lug?”
She leaned toward him, pushing his chest with her palms, and he fell back against the floor. Yazmine landed on top of him with a squeak of surprise. She buried her face in his neck, her body shaking with laughter.
Tomás linked his hands at the small of her back, letting himself enjoy her weight, the feel of her soft curves molding with his.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he said.
“It’s one of my finer character traits.”
He chuckled, but his body continued its war with his brain. He needed to sit up, put some distance between them. End this madness.
He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.
Yaz lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest.
Tomás gazed up at her and immediately found himself drowning in the warmth of her eyes.
“You and me, we’re going to the top, aren’t we?” she asked, her soft smile at odds with the melancholy tone in her voice.
He hated his next words, but knew he had to say them. For both their sakes. “Of different mountains, but yeah, we are.”
Her expression sobered. Her lashes drifted closed for a few seconds before she pushed away from him and hopped to her feet, reaching out to help pull him up.
When they stood facing each other, she smiled up at him, not the impish grin he loved, but a sad-tinged wannabe. “I’ll give Rosa and Lilí a call to let them know I’m doing fine. Busting my ass to prove to myself that I can fulfill Papi’s wish.”
“As long as it’s your wish, too.”
“It is.” She gave a brisk, no-nonsense nod.
“We’ll see you at dinner tonight?”
“No, I’ll be—”
“Yazmine, you have to eat.” And he wasn’t ready to cut this last tie.
“It’s a big day tomorrow. For both of us. How about we celebrate our success later? Maybe I can swing by your place for dinner before I leave. Tonight I need to get myself ready. Go to bed early.”
“But you’ll have a meal. Or do I need to send Mrs. B over with a plate?”
“You keep forgetting I can take care of myself.”
Damn if he didn’t want to take care of her himself.
“Thanks for the pep talk—again—but I’ve got this. Now get out of here. You’re wasting my studio time.” She spun him around by the shoulders and gave him a shove. “I’m sure you have your own last-minute details to perfect.”
He let himself be pushed toward the door. Only because she was right, he did have work to do. He’d call her later tonight though, nag her about eating something.
At the doorway he paused, turning to take a final glance at her in her element.
The strains of an old Sinatra tune trilled from the speakers. Yaz strode to the center of the room to take her starting mark, her legs and arms the epitome of grace and fluidity. Her expression was now calm, focused. Devoid of the stress and anguish he’d seen earlier.
This was her calming influence. Not him. Dance brought her to a place he never could.
Tomás dragged in a deep breath, surprised at the wistfulness engulfing him.
Yazmine Fernandez was a special woman. One day she’d make some guy the happiest man on earth.
Unfortunately, it couldn’t be him.