The Red Umbrella (21 page)

“Hello?” She looked at me and nodded. “Yes, operator, please connect us.” She thrust the phone toward me as Mr. Baxter rushed in, still struggling to put on his robe.

“Mamá?” I said.

“¿Lucía? Ay, mi hija. ¡Cómo te extraño!”

“I miss you, too, Mamá. How’s Papá? Ivette told me there was an accident. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sí, mi hija
. It happened a couple of weeks ago. Didn’t you get my letters?”

“No, what letters? And how’s Papá?” I braced myself in case the news was really bad.

Mr. and Mrs. Baxter stared at me, not understanding anything I was saying.

“I sent you letters from the hospital telling you everything, and how he was doing better. I’m sure I sent them to the correct address.”

“I never got them. But, Mamá,
díme la verdad
, is Papá okay?”

“Sí, sí. He was at the top of a ladder when it tipped over. But don’t worry.
No fue nada.”

My heart pounded inside my throat. “It was nothing? How can you say that? You’re not telling me everything. They don’t transfer people to the hospital in Holguín for no reason.” I inhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. “Mamá, I’m not a little girl, tell me the truth.”

“You’re right,” she sighed, “you’re not a little girl anymore.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

“He cracked a few ribs and shattered his right leg.”

My hands trembled. “Uh-huh.” I knew there was more she wasn’t saying.

“And he was unconscious for a few days,” she said in a soft voice.

“¿EN COMA?”

Mr. Baxter put his hand on my shoulder, and Mrs. Baxter began to cry.

“No, no. He already woke up. He’s been at the hospital because he punctured one of his lungs, and they may have to operate on his leg again when the swelling goes down. I just came home today to pick up some clothes, and I’ll take the bus back there tomorrow. I’m staying with an old friend of mine in Holguín.”

I looked at the Baxters’ worried faces. “He’s okay,” I whispered.

A sense of relief crossed their faces. Mrs. Baxter went to sit on the living room couch while Mr. Baxter stood next to me.

“Mamá, I can’t talk much longer, but give me the address and phone number of where you’re staying.”

I wrote down the information she gave me.

“
¿Y tu hermano?
Does he know about your father?”

“Sí
. Frankie knows. He’s okay, but he’s sleeping.”

“Wait!” Mrs. Baxter sprang off the couch. She raced to Frankie’s room.

“Mamá, I think Mrs. Baxter went to get him.”

“I love you, Lucía. Your father does, too.”

I smiled. It felt like a boulder had been lifted off my chest. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t do any crazy things.”

I touched my short hair. “Yes, Mamá.”

“Behave like a proper young lady.”

I squeezed the twisted phone cord and thought of my new lipstick.
“Sí
, Mamá.”

Frankie rushed into the room, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Frankie’s here. Give Papá a kiss for me. Hopefully, we’ll be together soon.”

“Love you, Lucía.
¡Feliz año nuevo!”

“Happy New Year to you, too.”

I handed Frankie the phone and thought about this new year. Would it really be all that happy?

High school, I had come to realize, did not revolve around the usual four seasons on the calendar. Instead, it was divided into football, basketball, and baseball seasons. It being February, we were in the middle of basketball season.

“My mom can swing by your house at around five-thirty to take us to the game. Is that good for you?” Jennifer asked.

I twirled the twisted phone cord in one hand. “Mmm-hmm. Guess so,” I answered, cradling the receiver between my ear and shoulder. I really wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything at that moment. Just before Jennifer called, I’d been rereading one of Papá’s recent letters. In it he had described how happy he was to finally be leaving the hospital after undergoing his third and,
hopefully, final surgery, but he also mentioned how it pained him to go back home. He said Cuba was a changed place, one that I would no longer recognize, nor want to see. A sadness seeped through his words and made its way straight into my heart.

Yet I couldn’t help thinking how wrong he was. I still wanted to see Cuba, no matter what it was like. As much as I appreciated everything the Baxters, Jennifer, and the U.S. did for me and Frankie, I missed my home.

“You don’t sound too happy about going tonight. Did Eddie say something again? I thought he got the message that you weren’t really interested in him.”

“No.” I untangled the phone cord. “I was just missing being home. And as for Eddie, I don’t know anymore. He
is
nice.”

“Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you like Eddie? The boy who has had a crush on you from the first day of school, and who you’ve basically ignored all this time?” I could hear the excitement in Jennifer’s voice.

I started to blush. “He’s just so sweet and funny.”

“Uh-huh … a-a-a-and?”

“And nothing. Eddie and I are just friends. Plus, neither you or I can date until we’re sixteen, remember?”

“But would you date him in November?”

“I don’t know.” I giggled.

“Ooh, this is so good!” she squealed. “Does Eddie suspect that you like him?”

“NO! I’m not sure what I feel. Besides, I’d die if he found out, so don’t say anything.”

Jennifer laughed. “You know I wouldn’t. But how great it would be if you and I could double-date next year! You with Eddie, and me with Nathan. They’re best friends and we’re best friends!”

“I thought you said Nathan Dixon was a moron?”

“But he’s a very cute moron!”

I laughed. Jennifer had a way of always making me feel better.

As soon as I hung up the phone, Frankie appeared from around the corner.

I crossed my arms and gave him my best stare-down face. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Me? I wouldn’t do that.” He sauntered around me like a cat ready to pounce.

“Frankie?”

“What? You think I might say something about you … being in lo-o-o-ove?”

“Frankie!” I reached out to grab him, but he laughed, stepping aside while making smooching noises.

He started running through the house. “Lucía and Eddie, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I—”

“STOP!” I caught him, clasping my hand over his mouth before he finished the rhyme.

“Frankie! Leave your sister alone,” Mrs. Baxter called out from the kitchen.

I looked him straight in the eye. “Francisco Álvarez,
if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise that I’ll tell all your friends that you still sleep with a teddy bear by your pillow.”

“I only do that because Mamá and Papá gave it to me. It’s not like I’m a baby or something.”

“So what? Do you want me to tell your friends or not?”

He looked down at the floor. “No.”

“So,
nos entendemos?”

Frankie rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, we’ve got an understanding.”

As he walked away, Frankie shook his head. “Man, Lucía, I liked it more when you were a pushover.”

The frigid winter slowly began to give way to the extremely cold spring. The warming temperatures brought new life to Grand Island as everyone geared up for the large bird migration. Yearly festivals were held in honor of the migration, parties planned, even a parade was on the schedule. It was as if the whole town were celebrating the arrival of a long-lost friend.

Jennifer looked up at me as I stared off into space, lost in my thoughts. She leaned across the library table and whispered, “Pick anything. It really doesn’t matter which.”

I glanced down at the book in front of me. “It’s just that Mrs. Brolin said she’d be displaying all our projects
in the main library downtown. I want it to be really good. Plus, it’s a big deal to everyone in town.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a bird project. Really, it’s not that important. Every year the teachers assign something to do with the big migration.”

“Do you really get a lot of geese passing through here?” I flipped through the pages of
The Complete Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Midwest Migration
, looking for something special.

“More than you can shake a stick at.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a saying. It means
a lot
. Actually, something like fifteen million birds will fly through here. You’ll see how people from all over come to see them. It’s like a people migration, too.”

“And you don’t think that’s cool?”

Jennifer shrugged. “I guess, but ugh, wait till you have to clean up after them. The birds, I mean, not the bird-watchers. They make a mess on the cars, the sidewalks, everything! It’s disgusting! Betty even got pelted in the head last year walking into school.”

The image of Betty wiping bird poop from her head was too funny. A loud giggle escaped into the quiet library.

Immediately the school librarian lowered her pointy glasses and shushed me.

Embarrassed, I sat up straight in the wooden chair and tried to look studious. Then I caught a glimpse of
Jennifer, who was acting like she was dodging bird pellets. Both of us started laughing.

The librarian pursed her lips and raised a single eyebrow. She normally saw me in the library by myself, scouring the newspapers for stories on what was happening in Cuba. She wasn’t used to seeing me make noise. She cleared her throat and brought a finger to her lips.

For some strange reason, this made us laugh even more. To avoid being kicked out, we covered our faces with our notebooks. For a full minute, all you could see of us were notebooks bouncing up and down. Finally, we caught our breaths and tried to refocus on choosing my bird.

Jennifer glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s almost four. Mom said she’d pick us up at about four-fifteen. We don’t have much time left and I want to talk to you about what I should wear to the freshman spring dance. We’re still going, right?”

I flipped through several more pages of the book. “I think Rita and Susan would kill us if we didn’t go.”

“Did you tell your parents?” Jennifer asked.

The mention of my parents made me pause and look up. “Uh-uh. Why risk them saying no? Besides, they already have a lot to worry about.” I looked down at the page again. “I figure teachers will be chaperoning the dance and that should be good enough, right? I can always tell them later.”

“That’s true. Plus, missing our first high school dance would
definitely
not be cool.” Jennifer put her hand over the book. “Do you think you’ll dance with Eddie?”

I felt my entire body tighten up at the thought of dancing with Eddie. Until now, we’d just been friends, but that could all change so quickly. I hadn’t really planned what to do if Eddie asked me to dance or if he tried to kiss me. I didn’t want what happened with Manuel to repeat itself.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to rattle your cage,” Jennifer said. “He has no idea you even like him—”

“Kind of like him,” I quickly corrected her.

“That’s what I meant. We’re all just going to have fun and hang out together. He may not even ask you to dance. Don’t think of backing out on me, okay?”

I took a deep breath and muttered, “Okay.” I tried to focus on the birds on the page again, but nothing seemed to interest me.

“Lucía, really, just pick anything. Here.” She snapped the book shut and handed it to me. “Now just open it, and wherever it lands, that’s it.”

She was right. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I was making everything too complicated. It was just a school project. It didn’t mean anything. There was nothing special about the bird I would choose.

I grabbed the book and closed my eyes. I popped it open to a random page in the middle, ready to accept
whatever fate had in store. Then I saw something familiar.

A smile inched its way across my face.

There on the page was a white heron like the one I’d seen on the beach in Puerto Mijares. The book showed how some herons had migration routes that crossed through Cuba and Nebraska. This was it. This was my bird. A bird that lived in both my worlds.

*  *  *  *  *

When I got to the Baxters’, the table had already been set. The nice white tablecloth we used for Thanksgiving and Christmas was laid out. We were celebrating something.

“What’s all this for?” I asked.

Mrs. Baxter was singing as she folded the napkins. “The doctor gave Mr. Baxter the all clear today. He’ll be able to farm again.” She twirled around the table as she fixed each place setting. “I swear, I haven’t heard that man so happy in months. He’s overjoyed, I tell you.”

Mrs. Baxter’s excitement was contagious. It felt like a party.

“Look what I made!” Frankie held a drawing of a man in the middle of a cornfield. On the top he’d written “Welcome Back!”

“He’ll love it. You know, he keeps the picture you made him for Christmas in the drawer next to the bed. Mr. Baxter can be quite the sentimental guy.”

I chuckled at the thought.

“No, really. He might not show it, but I know he feels it.” Mrs. Baxter smiled. “He loves you kids.”

A rumble in the driveway told us that Mr. Baxter had just pulled up.