Page 4 of Blue Sky

Enchiladas Verdes

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

My beautiful wife, Catherine, should be sitting here with me now, playing with our little girl, deeply entrenched in the joys of motherhood.

We had been so excited to spend these ten weeks in El Centro with our daughter, Sky. Ten weeks that we would’ve been able to spend together without me having to fly to other cities for airshows. Catherine and I couldn’t wait to return to this tragic town that despite having so little resources had welcomed us with open arms. We wanted to spend our three months here truly bonding as a new family. I couldn’t wait to come home every night to my wife. I had dreamed of bonding with our daughter before I had to leave her again every week to entertain the public by doing aerial tricks.

Now, spending time with my little girl was the only dream I had left.

I pulled back the curtains in my room at the Navy Lodge and jerked my head back when I saw that the line was wrapped around the entire hotel. There were men, women, even teenagers outside, all desperate for a chance to make a living in this border town.

I should forget this stupid idea.

Sure, I could’ve hired a nanny to travel with me from one of those fancy agencies. And I had definitely considered it. The ones I had interviewed had impressive résumés, but they had lacked heart. None of them seemed to truly need or even want to watch my baby.

I also could’ve left Sky back at home with her grandparents who had pretty much taken care of her alone last year while I flew around the country four days a week. But I had made a promise to my dying wife. A promise that I wouldn’t leave Sky somewhere else to be raised when I was stationed somewhere for a few months. A promise that I would give someone the opportunity of a lifetime.

An even more importantly, I didn’t want to be away from Sky any longer than I had to.

It had been my wife’s idea to place an ad in El Centro’s newspaper. We had lived here together last year, and Sky was born in this town. Catherine had loved the warmth of the people here, their hard work ethic, their perseverance in the face of adversity. When she’d had only moments to live, she’d made me promise that I would find a nanny out here when I returned. And dammit, I was a man of my word. Especially to her.

But how was I going to choose?

Sky cooed in the corner, happy in her swing. She was a happy, chubby baby, and thankfully a good sleeper, though recently she had been restless at night because she was teething. Since moving back here a week ago, the officers’ wives had taken shifts helping to care for her when I was at work. I was grateful for their support, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in my heart from losing the love of my life. But as much as I was certain that I would never love again, I missed being around women. Their scent, their touch, their taste. My friends’ wives offered to set me up with their friends, but I had no interest in dating. And the idea of having a one-night stand held no appeal to me. I needed to set a good example for my little girl and hooking up with random women I had no intention of getting serious with was not a step in the right direction.

Even so, I felt guilt that she didn’t have a mommy. A woman in her life that would love her the way Catherine did. Her grandparents and I adored her, but we were no substitute for a mother’s love.

I picked Sky up, planted a kiss on her forehead and took her into the other room where I rocked her to sleep and then placed her in her crib. Once she was out, I quietly exited the room.

As an officer, I was used to taking control, and had already planned a strategy for today. I was going to ask everyone the same question. What are you going to do with the money? And I knew exactly what I was looking for in that answer. I wanted someone who was selfless, wanted to help others, and had a clear plan of exactly what they would do with the money. I wanted to change someone’s life. And I wanted someone who clearly loved children and didn’t just see this as a job.

My buddy, Sawyer, opened the door to my room. “Ready?”

“Yup. Let them in.”

Sawyer had offered to be crowd control. He was also an Angel, but—

unlike me—Sawyer was a womanizer. He had a girl in every city. Not that I could blame him—Blue Angels really were the rock stars of the air. But that kind of life had never appealed to me. Catherine had been my high school sweetheart. We had dated long-distance when I attended the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, and after I graduated, we were married in the chapel. She had been a great wife. She had been faithful to me during my many deployments to the Middle East, had never once complained as I chased my dreams, supported me fully even when we spent years apart. All of our future plans had been cruelly ripped from us during what was supposed to be the happiest time of our life. All I had left of Catherine was our baby. And I would do everything in my power to give her the life Catherine wanted for her.

The first batch of people shuffled through the room one at a time, repeating their similar tragic life stories. Out of work for years, the money would go to feed their children, get out of debt, pay for medical bills. But with none of them did I truly think that this opportunity would change their lives. It seemed instead like a Band-Aid. And once the money ran out, they would be stuck in the same place they were before they had this job. I thanked every one of them and told them I would contact them tomorrow if they were chosen. Even my numb heart ached at the despair in these confessions. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to choose. Maybe I wouldn’t find what I was looking for.

I closed my eyes and prayed to the heavens. “Please, Catherine. Help me out here. Give me a sign. Something.”

After about an hour more of interviews, I had begun to lose hope. Then a girl with an incredible body entered the room. Her jet-black hair framed her angelic face, and her pale green eyes gazed at me over the casserole dish she was holding. I forced myself not to undress her with my eyes, but I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly beautiful she was. She handed me a résumé and then cautiously peeled back the tin foil, and the scent of roasted tomatillos, corn tortillas, and cheese filled the air.

My eyes widened when I saw the enchiladas verdes. My favorite. Catherine and I had spent last winter trying every Mexican restaurant in El Centro on a quest for the best enchiladas. Was this my sign?

“Hello, sir. My name is Paloma Pérez. I would be honored to apply for the nanny position. I’m a hard worker, and I love babies. I raised my sisters pretty much myself. I was also valedictorian of my high school class and I am CPR certified. And I cook, too. I’d be happy to cook for you every day. Would you like to try these enchiladas? I made them from scratch—even the tortillas and the sauce. It’s made with fresh, roasted tomatillos.”

My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered in anticipation of this home cooked meal. I had been existing on fast food, ramen, and pizza since my wife had passed, but I needed to get my act in gear for the upcoming season. I had to be one hundred percent focused on flying, or my fellow pilots could be killed. Even worse, I could crash into a crowd of innocent spectators. After Catherine had died, the Navy had offered to give my slot to another pilot, but I had quickly shot down that idea. No way. I had worked toward this dream my entire life. Catherine would be livid if I stopped living my life to mourn her. I had to push forward, no matter how much it hurt. For Catherine. For Sky.

“I’d love to. Thank you, Paloma. I’m Beckett Daly. Nice to meet you.”

Paloma’s face brightened into a smile and she looked around the room’s kitchenette. “Can I get you a plate? A drink? I would’ve brought something. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’ll get the plates.” I stood up and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, utensils, and a wide spatula. I fought the urge to pop open a beer in front of her and instead reached for two glasses which I filled with water. After I served the food, I sat down at the table and invited Paloma to sit next to me.

I dug my fork into the enchiladas, and the second the bite hit my mouth, my taste buds were in heaven. The enchiladas were not too mild, not too hot. Just perfectly spiced, tart and fresh. Before I could come up for air, I took another bite, and then another. I devoured one of the enchiladas on my plate and became completely lost in this amazing dish. For the first time since my wife died, I felt satisfied. Catherine would’ve loved them.