Chasing Sunsets Part 33

"Ah. Now you sound like Boo. We had a hard time getting her off to college too, you know." He took a bite of pie. "This is good," he said, pointing to it with his fork. "So, let me make a suggestion. Go to a junior college just to get your feet wet. At least it will get you off the island for a while, and maybe you'll expand your ideas as to what you may like to do for the rest of your life."

"I'll think about it."

"Your mother is a good woman, Rosa, and she's worked hard. She wants the best for you, you know?"

"Yes, sir. I know." He smiled at her and she smiled back. "How do I even find out about what junior college to go to and all that?"

Ross Claybourne swallowed another bite of pie before answering. "You leave all that up to me, okay? I'll get everything in order."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," he said. "It's the least I can do."

In the end, Rosa was glad she went to junior college, and she eventually, as Dr. Claybourne suspected, went on to college. She found she had a quick mind for higher learning and just the right sa.s.s for the frequent parties that came with it. During her second year at West Florida, at one such party, she met the rather straight-laced Emanuel Fuentes. "Manny," he insisted she call him. "It's what everyone calls me."

Their courtship had been whirlwind; within five months they were married. Only their closest friends in Pensacola knew; she didn't even tell her mother until they were close to their nine month anniversary and then only because she was five months pregnant. Eliana had been hurt by the news initially, and for the first time in her life, Rosa felt grief for a decision that brought her mother to tears. Early on the night after she and Manny had driven to Cedar Key to bear both pieces of news, Manny said good night and went on to bed in Rosa's old bedroom. Rosa was now alone with her mother. Alone to talk. Rosa took Eliana by the hand and led her outside, onto the front porch. The evening breeze was heavenly. The night insects called to one another. After some encouragement on Rosa's part, the two women nestled together on the hanging porch swing. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Eliana sniffled. "I want so much for you, Rosalita."

"I know, Mom. I know you want a lot for me. But I'm happy and you'll see . . . Manny is a good man. He works hard at the bank and has plans to advance in the world of finance."

Eliana didn't respond. She just sat and rocked.

"And I love him, Mom. I love him so much I hurt."

Eliana's head turned. Her dark eyes were washed in tears, which Rosa swept away with the pad of her thumbs, just as her mother had once done for her when she was a child. "Do you, chica? Do you love him that much?"

Rosa nodded. "I know you and my father didn't have a good relationship . . . that you had a violent marriage." Her mother's face returned to face front. "I know you don't even like to talk about Hector. But, Mama, Manny is different. I promise you."

"I can only pray this is so." Eliana looked at her daughter again. "Don't you ever let him hit you, Rosalita. Or yell or scream at you."

"He's not like that. He's a good man, Mom." She gave her mother the best grin she could muster. "And he's tamed me in so many ways."

Eliana's lips curled upward. "Then he's a saint."

Rosa rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Sing to me, Mama. Like you used to when I was little."

"Nooooo . . ."

"Please? Sing to me."

"Okay." Her mother swallowed before taking a breath. "Contigo, si. Contigo, no. Contigo, mi vida, me casare yo . . ."

Rosa sang the lullaby to her own sons, all three of them. And, in time, after she'd finally finished earning her master's, she and Manny moved to Cedar Key. Manny worked as the branch manager of a bank on the mainland while she worked tirelessly to start her own real estate office on 2nd Street.

One night in 2001, when sleep eluded her, she crept into the home office she and Manny shared, booted up the computer, answered a few emails, and then mindlessly started searching the internet. She typed in the names of several old friends, including Kimberly's, then Steven Granger's; he now lived in the Atlanta area. She read an article telling about his receiving a Businessman of the Year award; his picture was there too. She studied it. He was still remarkably handsome. His teenaged daughter stood next to him. She was rail thin, in Rosa's opinion, but pretty. Rosa also noticed there was no Mrs. Granger. She'd heard rumors over the years, but didn't know for sure . . .

She x'd out of the screen, then typed Hector Rivera.

Hundreds of thousands of links and photos came up.

She went back to the search engine, added the words musician and Florida. That brought the number down to about fifteen thousand. But even that was more than she could hope to weed through. Especially in a single night and with her eyes growing heavy.

Manny found her the next morning, her head cradled in the crook of her arm, which lay on the desk. "Hey, baby," he said. He ran his fingertips through her hair. "What were you doing? Burning the midnight oil?"

Rosa wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah. Let me make us some coffee," she said, standing.

Over breakfast, Rosa told Manny of her search for her father. "You're such a good dad," she said. "And I've been thinking how much I missed not having a father while I was growing up."

"Have you thought of asking your mother? Maybe she can give you some clues as to how to find him."

Rosa shook her head. "She won't. My whole life, whenever I brought up Hector's name-you know-asking her about him, she'd say, 'You don't need to play with trouble, Rosa.' So, I left it alone." Rosa picked up her coffee mug, wrapped her hands around it. "I know," she breathed out. "I know exactly who will help me." Rosa felt her spirits lifting. "Tia Ariela. She'll tell me."

Later that day, Rosa called her aunt and begged for information.

"What do you want to know about him for, Rosa?"

"Please, Tia. It's something missing inside of me."

"If I told you what a snake he was, can you not just take my word for it?"

"I know and yes, I believe you, but . . . I just want to see him face-to-face one time in my life now that I'm an adult."

"Eliana would fry me for breakfast if she knew I told you."

"I won't say anything. I promise."

"All right, then. The last I heard . . ."

Tia Ariela went on to tell her the name of the band she'd last heard he was playing in. Rosa went back to her computer. She found a mention of the band in a club in Orlando. She told Manny she'd be back as soon as she could, then threw a small suitcase in the back of her car and drove the three hours it took to get there.

The club was off of Orange Blossom Trail, in a large hotel near some of the tourist attractions. The skies were overcast that afternoon; threats of rain and hailstorms were given on the local radio station she'd been listening to. She entered the opulence of the hotel and headed straight for the concierge. "Hi," she said, giving the best smile she knew how.

"How can I help you?" a young woman asked from behind a desk.

Rosa sat in one of the two chairs provided. "I understand a band plays here. Northwind? I was wondering what time they'll be playing tonight?"

The pet.i.te woman shook her head. "I'm sorry. They haven't been here in . . . probably a couple of months."

Rosa's shoulders sank. "Nooooo . . . But I checked your website, and it said they were here."

"I'm sorry. We really need to update that thing."

Rosa arched her back. "Do you know . . . do you know if a man named Hector Rivera was in the band?"

"Absolutely. He's a very gifted musician." She leaned over as though to tell her something in secret. "But I wouldn't want to cross him, if you know what I mean."

"No." Rosa feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"

The woman smiled then, as though she'd said too much. "Oh, you know. He's a big guy. He has quite a commanding presence."

"Co-manding or de-manding?"

The woman pinked. "You obviously know Mr. Rivera."

"I used to. He's, um . . . he's my uncle. I heard he was here and I was hoping to hear him."

The woman pulled a piece of paper from a drawer, scribbled on it, and then handed it to Rosa. "He's in Colorado last I heard. With the band. Playing at this club." She handed the paper across the desk.

Rosa looked at the name of the club the woman gave her, went home, searched for it on the internet, and then made a call. Yes, the band was playing there, she was told. A week later, Rosa flew to Denver, checked into a hotel, and then took a cab to the club.

He didn't recognize her, of course. She sat alone at a table positioned as close to the bandstand as possible. He noticed her at once. Winked at her. It gave her the creeps at first, but then she realized his thinking she was a pickup would at least bring him to her table when he took a break. Sure enough, it did. He brought a gla.s.s filled with ice and Hennessey, if Rosa had to guess.

"Can I get you a refill of your drink?" he asked her.

Rosa looked down at the cola she'd been nursing. "No, thank you." Rosa blinked at the stranger who was her father. "How have you been, Hector?"

The man's handsomely etched face showed puzzlement. He sat in the chair next to hers. "Do I know you? Forgive me; I meet so many people . . ."

"I'm your daughter, Hector. I'm Rosa."

He deflated against the back of his seat. "Rosa . . ." Then he straightened. "What are you-here for your mother? Does she want money, is that it?" He leaned over the table. The smell of cognac was fierce on his breath. "Or does she want her old lover back?"

Rosa was repulsed, and she felt her composure spilling from her veins. "Of course not."

"Well, you can tell her for me that I'm married again. And this wife doesn't question my role as her husband like she did." He ran the L of his thumb and index finger from his thick moustache, over his mouth, and then cupped his chin. "But you are a pretty one. Pretty as she was . . ."

Rosa felt a frown sketch across her face, from her eyes to her lips. "I just wanted to meet you."

"Ah, well. Now you have. How long are you in town for? You have two brothers and a sister, you know."

Rosa blinked. "I do? I'd often wondered."

"Well, now you know. I'm off tomorrow night. If you'd like, you can come to the apartment. Meet my wife and the kids."

"How old are . . . how old are my brothers and sister?"

"Gabriel is fourteen. Mina is twelve. And Manny is eight."

"Manny . . . my husband's name is Manny."

He looked at her hands then. "So I see. And? Am I a grandfather?"

"Yes, you are. I have three sons."

They were quiet in the midst of the club patron's chatter until Hector said, "So, I suppose you'll want a relationship with me now, huh? After all these years?"

Rosa shook her head. "I never had a relationship with you before; why would I expect one now?"

He shrugged. "Now that you are an adult and your mother is out of the way, I think I would like to get to know you better."

There was something disgusting about the way he spoke to her. "We'll see," she said. "I would, however, like to get to know my siblings."

"Where are you staying?" he asked. "I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon."

Rosa shook her head. "That's okay. Give me your address and I'll take a cab."

Hector looked at his watch. "Suit yourself. I gotta get back to work. Stick around and I'll write it down for you."

Rosa nodded.

That night-and for weeks afterward-Rosa cried herself to sleep. What had she expected to find, she wondered. Tia Ariela was right; Hector Rivera was a snake.

And he was her father.

32.

"I feel like I'm living in a bad Hallmark movie," I said to Patsy the following morning over coffee. I'd also joined her for a Bible study, a first for us.

"Pshaw," Patsy said, throwing her hand into the air from her place at the kitchen table. "I love Hallmark movies."

"I do too," I said, "but I said a bad Hallmark movie."

Patsy shook her delicate head. "I've yet to see one of those."

I laughed in spite of my desire to make a point. "All right. You win."

"So, what's on the agenda for today then, Miss Hallmark?"

"I'm going to see Rosa. I'm going to confront her."

"That's the biblical thing to do." The elderly woman rested her elbow on the table and the side of her face in the palm of her hand. The wrinkles there intensified. "But you have to pepper your words with salt."

I smiled at her. "Cute, Patsy."

She straightened. "I can be." She pointed her finger at me as she seemed so oft to do. "But I want you to listen to me, now. I'm older and I'm wiser and the Word of G.o.d tells us old wise women that we're supposed to help you young chicks out." Her Bible rested beside her coffee mug. She placed her hand on it and patted.

I didn't know whether to laugh or take notes. "I'm listening."

"No one-not even Rosa-acts the way she does, the way she has, for no reason. Rosa has a hurt. Maybe many hurts. Deep down." She pointed to her heart. "It goes to the core of her and makes her act in ways we find displeasing." She looked away from me for a moment, then returned her gentle eyes to mine. "Eliana said that Rosa was a handful when she was growing up. Not a bad kid, just a handful."

"I'd say that's an accurate statement."