The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba - Chanel Cleeton Page 0,89
was always under the impression that for all of their faults, family was everything to them. Many things were said in anger when you made the choice to marry my son, but I cannot imagine they would abandon their only granddaughter. Especially if they knew she was living in these conditions.”
She’s right, of course. It is the best chance Isabella has. Even if I am afraid to risk them rejecting me once more. Even as my pride balks at the idea of returning to my family home and begging for them to acknowledge and care for my child. I don’t regret the decision I made to marry Mateo and abandon the life I had as a Perez, nor do I wish for things to go back to the way they were. But as a mother, I cannot fathom not doing everything in my power to save my child’s life.
And still—
“What if Isabella thinks I’m abandoning her?”
Our daughter has only me now. How will she feel if I leave her, too?
“One day, she will understand that you are doing the best you can to give her a better life. One where she will be healthy and safe. And whenever this nightmare ends, you will be there for her, to start over. These are impossible times, Marina. We’re all doing the best we can. She’ll understand that when the time comes.”
Will she?
I look over at my daughter’s sleeping form, the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
“They might not take her in.”
“You won’t know until you ask.” Luz is silent for a moment. “I will miss her, too.”
She reaches out and takes my hand once more, and I realize it’s not just our love of Mateo and our family that unites us. We both know what it’s like to have to give up a child in this war.
I stay up all night, long after Luz has gone to bed, watching Isabella sleep, praying she will survive.
* * *
—
The next morning, I dress Isabella carefully, my hands trembling as I comb her hair, a memory filling me of my mother doing the same to me when I was Isabella’s age. Her clothes are threadbare, her body slight from her illness and the lack of nutrition in the camp.
We catch a ride in a horse-drawn cart for most of the journey, and at the end of the block walk together to the big house, Isabella’s hand clutched tightly in mine.
I haven’t told her what we’re doing, but she’s a smart girl, and she must realize something is different about today. No doubt she registered the manner in which Luz hugged her a bit more tightly this morning, her fingers trembling as she caressed Isabella’s cheek. All that has been forgotten, though, as Isabella gawks at her surroundings, the grand Perez mansion that is nothing like the simple houses near us in the country. It’s easy to forget that she has not grown up as I have.
“They’re just houses,” I whisper. “It’s all right.”
“Who do you know who lives here? Who are we going to see?” Isabella asks me.
There’s no privacy to be had in the camp, and I didn’t dare speak of this to Isabella back there when all manner of people might be listening. For as quickly as she’s had to grow up, she’s still a child, and I’ve been loath to put the burden of subterfuge on her.
“We’re going to see your grandmother,” I whisper back. “Your other grandmother. My mother.”
Isabella’s eyes widen.
I’ve told her a bit about my background, but I suppose it’s a different thing seeing the splendor for yourself.
We stop outside the enormous mansion, and I crouch so we are eye level.
“You have been so brave, Isabella. I wish you didn’t have to face the things that you have, wish your father was with us, but I can’t change the circumstances we live in. The camp is full of disease and death. I didn’t think we had a choice when we came here, but I never imagined the conditions would be as bad as they are. So I want you to stay with my family for a while until everything gets better.”
“No. I want to be with you. We’re a family. We should stay together.”
There’s something about the stubborn tilt of her head that reminds me so much of me. When did that happen? It’s as though somewhere along the way she went from a child to a young girl.