Snap (21 page)

“You want to know why I stopped talking to your father. Why I haven't been a part of your life all these years.”

“Oh.” Danya's shoulders fell. “Well, actually I . . .”

“You don't have to explain.” Angie poured hot water into two cups and plunked a tea bag in each. “I'd be furious if I were you. But I want you to know it was never because I didn't like your mother.”

“You stopped talking to my dad because of my mom?” Danya asked, frowning.

“I guess you could say that.” Angie shook her head sadly and slid a cup of tea over to Danya. “They were nineteen
.
He wanted to quit school to marry her, and I was so against it. I told him if he did, I'd cut him off.”

“But why?” Danya blew on her tea to make it cooler.

“They were just so young,” Angie said, taking a sip of tea. “Your mother seemed like a nice girl, but I wanted something different for your father. Something bigger. I didn't have Luis until I was in my late thirties. I got to live so many adventures before he even came into the world. I wanted him to hike Machu Picchu and visit the monasteries in Nepal.” Angie sighed, shaking her head. “I guess I wanted him to be exactly like me.”

She set the teacup down on the counter and smiled at Danya. “But he told me he had to. I just couldn't understand. And can you believe it took me this long to realize what he knew from the beginning?”

Danya lifted the teacup to her mouth, and a smell like cinnamon and oranges drifted up her nose. “What did he know?” she asked before taking a sip.

“That there is no adventure bigger than making a family. And there's nothing more important.”

Danya set the cup of tea back down. Her grandmother's words hit her like a punch in the stomach, and suddenly she missed her parents so much. This was the longest she'd ever been away from home. She was almost surprised by how it hurt—she felt fine one moment, then it hit her all at once, aching so much she could hardly breathe. How had her grandmother managed to stay away from her family all these years?

As though to answer, Angie continued. “I've thought of calling your father so many times, but every time I pick up the phone, something freezes inside me and I can't do it. I even returned all those letters your mother sent me. It was just too painful to open them and see what I'd given up. I almost felt . . . like I didn't deserve to know you, I guess.”

Her grandmother didn't deserve to know
her
? Danya turned those words over in her head, trying to make sense of them. All these years her grandmother had been her hero—her role model. How could her grandmother possibly think she didn't deserve to know her?

“I would always want to know you,” Danya blurted out, but as soon as she'd said the words, they sounded strange to her. Childish, almost. Her grandmother gave her a sad smile.

“You're so young, Danya. You don't know what it feels like to fail someone you love so completely.”

But Danya
did
know what it felt like. She wrapped her hands around her teacup tighter, remembering the night of the fire. Pia might think it wasn't really her fault, but the memory was still so vivid, so fresh in Danya's mind. She wondered if she'd think of those crackling flames, the dry grass, Jupiña's whinnies every time she closed her eyes, no matter what else happened in her life. Did it feel like that for her grandmother, too? Was there some memory of her father that she could never take back, no matter how badly she wanted to?

“I'm not too young to know what that feels like,” Danya said in a quiet voice.

Her grandmother nodded sadly and reached forward, taking one of Danya's hands in her own.

“My sweet girl. How can I ever make up for missing so much of your life?”

Danya cleared her throat. “Well, actually, I might know a way.” Gathering her courage, Danya told Angie about Sancho, her parents' financial difficulties, the bank loan, and how she'd come all this way to seek a miracle that might save them.

“I thought,” she finished, staring down at the tea growing cold in her cup, “well, I hoped maybe you would want to help. You made so much money off the Ferdinand and Dapple books, and I just thought . . .”

The end of Danya's sentence got tangled up in her mouth, and she found she had no idea how to finish it. Still, she thought she'd gotten the point across. She glanced up at her grandmother hopefully.

Angie Ruiz's face had crumpled like a tissue. The corners of her mouth pulled down in a deep frown, and when Danya looked up at her, she sighed deeply.

“Oh,
mija
. I'd love to help you,” she said. “But there is no money. My fortune is gone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Finding the Fortune

“G
one?” Danya's stomach
felt full of rocks. “But you're a novelist! You're famous!”

“In
Cuba
, I was famous.” Angie shook her head slowly and looked down at her hands, still clenching the teacup. “But Americans don't want stories about a Cuban boy and his pony. I spent what was left of my money moving up here and buying this place. It's gone, Danya.”

Danya nodded woodenly. A sudden, intense rush of sadness crashed over her. It was over—there was no way of saving Sancho now.

The only other time in her life she'd felt this helpless was the day Jupiña died in the fire. Once again someone she loved was in trouble, and Danya wouldn't be able to save them. When she opened her eyes, tears spilled onto her cheeks.

“Oh,
mija
, don't cry.” Grandma Angie set her teacup down and pulled Danya into a hug. Danya wrapped her arms around her grandmother, surprised by how easily they fit together—like two puzzle pieces. She buried her head into her grandmother's soft scarves, breathing in her scent: cinnamon and vanilla and gardenias. Her scarves were silky and soft on Danya's cheek.

“I just thought . . .” Danya said, her voice breaking. “I thought maybe I could be a real hero. That I could save him. Like Ferdinand would have.”

Grandma Angie ran a hand in slow circles over Danya's back. “Let's give your parents a call, okay? We need to tell them where you are so they'll stop worrying. Then maybe you and I can make cookies. I'll teach you to make—” A loud
buzz
interrupted her, making Danya jump.

“What was that?” Danya asked.

“The intercom.” Angie crossed the room and brushed aside a tapestry to reveal a metal intercom mounted on the wall. She pressed a red button to talk, but before she could say a word, Pia's frantic, staticky voice filled the apartment.

“Mayday! Mayday!” Pia called. “Snap, you better get down here
fast
.”

Danya's chest clenched. “Is it Sancho?” she shouted, and leapt from her chair. She raced to the intercom, but when she pressed the big red button, all she heard was static. “Pia? Pia, what's wrong?”

No one answered. Danya ran to the door, Grandma Angie at her heels. During the ride down to the first floor Danya pressed her face up against the sides of the glass elevator, but she didn't see Pia or Sancho in the courtyard below. Had the evil duke and duchess followed them here? Had the police found them at last?

“I'm sure they're fine,” Grandma Angie said, squeezing Danya's shoulder. Danya nodded, but she couldn't ignore the heavy feeling of dread that had washed over her. The elevator opened and Danya stumbled into the lobby. The front doors whooshed apart as she ran toward them. Once outside she froze.

“Mom?”
Danya said, blinking. “Dad?”

Her parents stood on the moat, crowded around Sancho. Maritza scanned the grounds while her dad scratched the top of Sancho's head. Just behind them Pia's parents were on their knees, wrapping their daughter in a hug. All Danya could see of Pia was the spiky tips of her hair.

“Mija!”
Maritza ran at Danya, lifting her off the ground and into a hug. Danya wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in her hair, breathing in the familiar oranges and coffee smell of home. She couldn't believe her mother was
here
, that she'd found her. All of the emotion of the week caught up with her, and Danya let out a choked sob, tightening her arms around her mother's neck. Maritza squeezed right back.

“We thought we'd lost you,” Maritza said in a shaky voice. “Oh, Danya, we were so scared.”

Luis wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them close. Her father's cheeks were wet. She'd never seen her father cry before. Sancho nudged the back of her knee with his furry nose, and Danya grinned down at him.

“My girl!” her dad said. “My Snap!”

“Daddy, Mom, I missed you both so much.” Danya sniffled, leaning down to scratch Sancho on the head. “How did you know I was here?”

“The police called. Someone tipped them off. She said you—” Before Maritza could finish her sentence, the lobby doors whooshed open again and Grandma Angie stepped outside. She didn't say a word, just folded her hands in front of her and watched from a distance. The wind played with the ends of her scarf and blew a strand of hair from her bun.

Maritza set Danya down on the sidewalk. Danya watched her family, and it was like all the relief and gladness froze inside her chest, waiting to see what would happen next. Luis stepped back, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. His expression was cold, and Danya had never seen his shoulders go quite so stiff.

“Mom,” he said. His mother shifted uncomfortably.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” she said.

“You're not interrupting!” Maritza put a hand on Luis's shoulder and pulled him closer to Angie. “This is a family moment. You've always been our family, Angie.”

Angie nodded, and a sad smile crossed her face. Looking at Luis, she said, “Can you forgive me? For being a stubborn old woman all these years?”

Sancho nuzzled Danya's hand, and Danya absently scratched him behind his ears, not able to look away from her dad. The muscles in his jaws had gone tight, and Danya couldn't help wondering if it was too late, if her father wouldn't be able to forgive Grandma Angie for everything that had happened. The moment seemed to stretch forever, and Danya found herself holding her breath.

Then Luis's eyes shifted to his daughter, and his expression softened. He took a step forward and pulled his mother into a hug.

“Of course,” he said, burying his face in her hair. “I forgive you, Mama.” Angie pulled her son closer, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear slid down her cheek.

“Looks like everyone is having a magical family moment over here, too,” Pia said, coming up behind Danya. Her parents were right behind her. Pia's dad even ruffled her spiky hair. Pia had a big grin on her face.

“Are your parents getting back together?” Danya asked. Sancho perked up his ears, but Pia shook her head.

“No, Danya,” Tía Carla said. “But we did tell Pia that we'll always love her and we'll always be a family. No matter what changes.”

“They already have a plan for how I'm going to spend time with both of them,” Pia explained. She was trying to keep her voice casual, but Danya could hear the relief in her words. “I don't know. Maybe things will be okay after all.”

Danya grabbed her cousin's hand and squeezed. For the past week, it was like the world had been spinning wildly out of control and now
finally
it was right-side up again. Everything was the way it was supposed to be—she was here, with her family, and everyone was hugging and crying and happy.

Danya closed her eyes and laughed out loud, letting the warm Florida wind blow against her cheeks. She felt warm and content and really, truly
happy
for the first time in days.

Then Sancho snorted and leaned his head against Danya's hip. Danya opened her eyes, looking down at him, and all at once the feeling disappeared. She hadn't managed to save Sancho. She hadn't even gotten
close
. Danya wrapped a protective arm around her pony, pulling him close. Tomorrow was Friday, and as soon as they all got back to Kentucky, Sancho would have to go live with that horrible bald, sunglasses man. This moment might feel perfect, but it was the last perfect moment Danya would ever spend with her entire family. It was the very last time they would be together,
whole
.

Danya's mother and father were speaking with Angie in Spanish. Maritza smiled down at Danya, but when she saw the look on her daughter's face, the smile faded.

“Baby, what's wrong?”

Danya swallowed her tears, trying to be brave. She didn't want to ruin her family's perfect moment, but suddenly everyone was quiet, their faces turned to her. Danya sniffed and looked down at Sancho. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against Danya's hip.

“We still have to sell Sancho,” she said in a small voice. “All this was for nothing.”

Maritza blinked back tears as she stared down at Danya. Luis put a hand on his wife's arm and squeezed. Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by a muffled snort as Sancho dropped to the ground next to Danya and buried his nose beneath his hooves.

Danya looked down at her sneakers, not sure she could continue to meet her parents' eyes without bursting into tears. This wasn't their fault. She knew there was nothing either of them could do to save Sancho, but still her heart ached. It had been up to her to find the money, and she'd failed.

“This is just like what happened with Jupiña,” she said in a whisper. Her father frowned and crouched on the sidewalk in front of her. He took her chin in his hands and gently lifted her face so she'd meet his eyes.

“Snap?” he said. “What do you mean this is just like Jupiña?”

“I can't save Sancho, just like I couldn't save Jupiña,” Danya said. She sniffed again, but she couldn't help it—tears stung her eyes and poured over her cheeks.

“Mi querida niña.”
Maritza shook her head as she knelt on the sidewalk next to Danya. “That was not your fault.”

“It
was
my fault,” Danya insisted. Maritza and Luis spoke at once, and their voices tangled together like yarn as they tried to convince Danya it wasn't true. Taking a deep breath, Danya explained about the magnifying glass and how it'd lit the grass on fire.

“I started that fire. It's my fault Sancho's mother isn't alive anymore. I thought that if I saved Sancho, it would be almost like making everything better. That I could make life like a story again, and this time I'd be a real hero.” Her voice cracked.

“Danya, sweetie,” Luis said. “The stable didn't burn down because of your magnifying glass. We talked to the firefighters after it'd been put out. It was an electrical fire. One of the porch lights sparked around midday, and the grass was so hot it caught fire and spread too quickly for anyone to do anything about it. What happened to Jupiña was not your fault.”

Danya stared at her father, shocked. “The firefighter said that? Really?”

“Really, really.” Her dad pinched her nose affectionately. “And as much I love Jupiña, and as much as I miss her, I'm so glad you didn't run into that stable to try and save her. I love your grandmother's books, but I think they may have given you the wrong idea of what it means to be a hero. Real heroes don't always win, and they can't always save everyone. Real heroes know right from wrong, and they are willing to risk everything for the people they love.” He smiled up at his mother. “I haven't always been able to do that, Snap.”

Angie stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Neither have I,” she added in a quiet voice.

“But
mija
, you do that every day. For Sancho, and for Pia.” Maritza smiled at her daughter—a wide, proud smile. “Now
that's
heroic.”

Sancho nudged her sneaker with his nose. Danya wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. Pia wrapped her arms around Danya's neck and rested her head on her shoulder.

“Told you, silly. Not your fault. You were a real hero all along.”

Danya hugged Pia back, and for the first time since Jupiña died, she actually believed her. It really wasn't her fault. The knowledge of that lit in her head like a firecracker. She didn't have to feel guilty anymore. She wasn't to blame after all.

A siren blared, interrupting Danya's thoughts. She looked around for the source of the noise. And just beyond the row of palm trees surrounding the Palace Retirement Community, she saw flashing red and blue lights.

The police! Danya grabbed Pia's arm, and her muscles tightened before she remembered that the danger was over. Her parents had found her. She didn't need to run anymore.

“What do you think they want?” Pia asked as the police car pulled to a stop in front of the Palace. Danya shrugged. The cop driving the car leaned back in his seat, pulling out a newspaper, but the cruiser's back door flew open and Violet stumbled out.

“Danya! Pia!” Violet raced across the drawbridge, clutching a sleek silver laptop in one hand.

“Violet?” Pia narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing? You betrayed us. Why would you think we'd want to see you?”

Violet was out of breath when she reached them. “Look,” she pleaded. “It's not what you think. I never told my mom you were on the ship. I guess one of the cleaning ladies saw you when she was washing one of the East Wing bathrooms. My mom's the one who called the cops, not me.”

“But we heard you,” Danya said, confused. “You were talking to your mom the day we left the ship—you told her you'd betrayed us.”