Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
ISABEL
Mama is in a flurry of excitement after Alvaro called to tell her the news.
Kieran was a little hesitant, just like me in that he didn’t want a handout, but Rocío convinced him that it at least eases the burden of fulfilling his parents’ demands, so he accepted the offer and got in contact with the Aranaz Museum.
I, on the other hand, have accepted that it’s not my time to publish a book—not yet.
It was painful to be honest with Amparo, who I expected to be disappointed, but instead she said she was proud of me.
She understood that I didn’t want to just put something out there for the sake of it; she said whenever I was ready, she’d be happy to publish me.
It really meant a lot to me to hear. In the meantime, she had me sign a contract in case she passes on to ensure I have a deal no matter who is leading Sinta.
I had to have someone from Rocío’s parents’ legal team go over it, and the lawyer said it was more beneficial to me than the press.
I’ve put the Aranazes and their circle behind me.
Still, sometimes I wonder what they’re doing as summer draws to a close.
What they say about Kieran and me. I try not to dwell on my assumptions—like maybe they think he’s making a mistake, or that he’s downgrading, or throwing his life away.
I focus on what’s in front of me. Kieran and I are happy.
We’re making progress. We’re getting started on the next chapter of our lives.
The summer has served its purpose. It caused us pain, but it brought us together.
“Anak.” Mama pokes her head into the room as I read a submission to Sinta, having resumed my duties as Amparo’s assistant. “I made you something.” She pushes the door open and holds up a white eyelet prairie dress made of cotton. I gasp.
“I’m working on my first collection, and I wanted you to have this. Try it on.”
I leap off the bed and change in the bathroom.
The square neckline leaves the perfect space for a dainty necklace.
The skirt falls to my knees in a straight cut.
The sleeves are cropped just right above my elbows and are subtly puffed.
I picture myself with sandals and a ribbon in my hair.
I look ready to frolic in a meadow or go on vacation.
I step out with the biggest grin on my face.
Mama covers her mouth with both hands. “It fits you perfectly.”
“I love it, Mama. Thank you.” I skip over to give her a hug. I want to wear it already, to run errands dressed like this.
Mama sits me down on the bed and brushes my hair behind my ear. “I’ve also finished your friends’ dresses,” she says. “Well, I finished them earlier, but—”
My blood runs cold. “They’re not my friends,” I say.
“All the same, I think you should still give it to them.”
“They don’t deserve it.” I know how hard Mama worked on them, but it isn’t like we can’t sell them to someone who would appreciate it more.
Mama gives me a look.
“I’m not going back there!” I’ve moved on with my life. Why can’t we just keep things as they are?
“Isabel,” Mama says with a sigh. I’m brought back to the start of this summer, with Mama in my ear, telling me to give Natalia a chance.
Been there, done that. If we were going to be friends, we would have been so already.
You want room for growth in every relationship, but that just isn’t possible for me and Natalia.
So much of our relationship was dependent on her mood.
She was happy riding horses, so we got along.
Any other time, she made me jump through hoops just to keep her at baseline.
I couldn’t handle the yoyo-ing of my emotions.
I never knew if we were on solid ground or thin ice.
“Ma!” I cry out. “Don’t make me go back there!”
“I’m not making you do anything, baby,” Mama says, petting my hair.
“But just think about it. Pray to God for discernment. In any case, I’ll leave the clothes with you, and you decide what to do with them.
” She presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves, returning with a stack of white boxes, one for each girl.
I lift the lid of one, and folded neatly inside is a dress. Ravina’s, if I remember correctly.
“Just put it on my desk,” I say, returning my focus to the submission on my laptop.
Mama sets the boxes on the desk and leaves.
Like hell I’m going back there. I’ll give them to Rocío, and we can sell the rest.
* * *
I toss and turn that night. Despite my pride, it seems my conscience has the last say.
Live and let God, as they say. It’s all up to Him. I just have to show up and do my part. Damn it.
After a trip to Santuario de Loyola where I pleaded with God to not make me feel like I have to go there, I ask Rocío to take me to Exeter Park.
Her driver parks outside the Aranaz house.
The guards recognize me without my introduction and radio for Shirley.
I suppose Alvaro has prepared them in case I ever return.
“Miss Isabel! Come, come,” Shirley says, waving me in.
“No, no, it’s okay. I just came to drop these off.” I hold out the boxes, just as Natalia comes strolling into view.
“I thought I heard a pest,” she says, setting her hands on her hips. She’s dressed in a tennis skirt and top, holding a racket, no doubt returning from the court. Lovely to see you, too, sister.
Shirley frowns. Natalia dismisses her, and Shirley glances at me warily, looking like she wants to say more but instead walking away. I wonder if she knows, if Alvaro’s told her.
Natalia walks up to the gate. “What do you want?”
I hold out the boxes. “My mom finished making your clothes. She labeled them so you guys don’t get confused.”
“We don’t want them,” she answers.
“Well, they’re yours,” I say, setting them down on the sloping driveway. “You can do whatever you want with them. Keep them, sell them, burn them. But my mom worked really hard on them, so.”
“Like I give a shit,” she snaps.
I sigh. “Okay, Natalia,” I say. “It was nice seeing you.”
She glares at me, and I start to turn away but find I can’t bring myself to leave. I turn back to face her and draw in a sharp breath.
“You were right about me,” I say. “I was mean and vindictive. I did come here with the intention to use you for my own gain.”
She scoffs.
“It wasn’t right for me to do,” I press on, undeterred. I’m carried by an invisible force now, buoyed by His grace, safe in His hands. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
Natalia rests her racket on her shoulder. “I heard Kieran’s moving here.”
“He is.”
She nods. “Okay, well. You can go now.”
I look at her, my sister. I know in my heart that the most loving thing either of us can do for the other is to keep our distance. Being together hurts too much.
“Bye,” I say, heading back toward the car.
“I made sure no one touched it,” she says, stopping me in my tracks. “The nude. No one took pictures. In case you were worried.”
That’s a weight off of my shoulders. “Thank you,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t thank me. Nobody wanted to see you naked. I just wanted you to know that.”
I try not to laugh. “Well, thank you, still.”
She just scowls.
“Good seeing you, Natalia,” I say. She doesn’t respond. As we drive away, I watch her walk back into the house, the boxes still on the ground, perhaps never to be touched.