Anchored Hearts - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,4

to relying on the bottle to dull his thoughts. Years later, that flirtation with dependency still haunted him.

“How are you feeling, hijo?” His mami finger-combed his hair, a gentle caress that reminded him of times past. When he’d lain on this same couch or the double bed in his room and she’d soothed him when he was sick.

“Your face is pale,” she complained. “And you feel a little warm. Are you hurting?”

He shook his head, lying but unwilling to cause her more distress. His jaw clenched tightly against the ache radiating from two of the pin sites high on his shin, a couple inches below his knee.

“Kiss it better, ’Buela,” his little niece suggested.

Despite the fatigue and disillusion crushing him, Lulu’s cuteness drew his smile. Her pudgy cheeks plumped even more when she grinned back at him.

“I’m not sure that’s going to work, chiquita, but thank you for suggesting it.” He winked, pleased when a cute giggle burst from her mouth. She hugged her bald baby doll to her chest, twisting from side to side.

Her innocence reminded him of the toddler he’d photographed once in a remote Costa Rican village. Spending time with the villagers and volunteers as they toiled at constructing a rustic school building and the eco-brick steps leading up a slight incline to the site had been a humbling experience. One of many he was thankful for over the years.

Cece caressed Lulu’s curly hair, her expression gentle with maternal love when she looked over at him. “It’s good to see you, Ale. Even if it is like this.”

She thrust her chin at the Ilizarov external fixator with its four rings and multiple wires piercing his shin, holding his tibia in place. Lulu had already been warned to keep her distance from the cyborg-looking contraption after racing over to greet him and nearly bumping against the rings.

Carajo, just thinking about the agony her knocking into his leg would have caused made him wince.

“Gracias,” Alejandro replied to Cece.

He wanted to tell her it was good to be here. But they all knew it would be a lie.

Unlike them, he had always itched to be outside, not cooped up at the restaurant. He was more interested in seeing their small island from behind the lens of his camera. Capturing the beauty, wonder, and details so many missed in the busyness of life.

Making his own way in the world, not following someone else’s.

His eyes drifted shut on the past. The differences between them that still held true today. The differences that disappointed them, especially his father.

This visit was only for a short time. Until he was healed enough to have the external fixator rings and pins removed, allowing him more mobility. Then he’d be able to handle the stairs at his town house in Atlanta and he’d be fine on his own. As he had been for years.

Getting out of the wheelchair meant getting back to the job that gave his life purpose. And helped silence the occasional cry of loneliness that howled in the dark of night when his defenses were low.

“I still think we should have driven straight to the emergency room when we arrived here,” his mami said, concern lacing her words.

He swiveled his head on the back sofa cushion to meet her worried gaze. “Let me rest a few minutes; then I’ll remove the dressings and clean the sites. I’m sure everything’s okay. I’m just tired.”

“Bueno, I would feel better if you saw a professional.” His mami ran her fingers through his hair once again. The familiar gesture both soothed and left him longing for a simpler past.

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine,” Alejandro assured her.

“Humph, so I am silly for worrying about my son now, ha?” she demanded with a sniff. “That’s what you think of me?”

Arms crossed as he leaned against the far wall, Ernesto returned Alejandro’s exasperated grimace. They were familiar with this routine. When their mami was like this, you’d better pack your bags. Elena Miranda had a first-class ticket for you on a guilt trip you couldn’t avoid.

The fact that he’d held firm in not returning all these years, despite her heavy-handed attempts to lure him home, spoke of the yawning distance separating Alejandro and his father. The bridge connecting them having long been burnt to the ground.

“A mother should not want what is best for her children?” his mami droned on.

“I didn’t say—”

“Bueno, since you refused to go see the doctor, I asked someone to come see you.”

If he didn’t feel like

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