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Six Years Later
Thanksgiving Day
Epilogue
Hector stood in front of the fireplace mantel with all the family pictures, our five-year-old daughter in his arms. Marisela’s long legs dangled nearly to his knees, and already we could tell she would grow up to be tall—just like her parents.
She wore a deep blue dress with grey wool leggings and looked positively adorable in her daddy’s arms. Though physically she looked most like me, her attitude, brain, and mannerisms were all Hector Medina.
When our daughter was born, Hector had wanted to name her after my mom, but Marisela came into this world with my face—my mother’s face. I couldn’t handle looking at herandcalling her by my mother’s name day after day. Instead, I suggested we name her afterhismom. Hector had grinned as he let out a tear. Marisela, who had been in her dad’s arms swaddled in the tiniest bundle I had ever seen, caught the tear with her forehead.
Grammy Marisela, as we all now called her to differentiate between grandmother and granddaughter, wasn’t joining us this holiday season. In her seventies, she didn’t like leaving her home in Mexico to travel any longer, but we had promised to visit in the spring.
“Daddy, this is my brother,” Marisela said, pointing to the picture of Jake my dad had added to the mantel.
“Yes,” Hector said. “That’s your older brother Jake.”
“He’s in heaven,” she told him matter-of-factly, and the words sounded like my father’s counsel.
“Is he now?” Hector asked like she had all the answers.
“Yeah!” Marisela said with a confidence not unlike her father’s. “Grammy Consuelo takes care of him there.” Andthatexplanation definitely had Dad written all over it. Hector chuckled, and Marisela didn’t notice her dad’s eyes misting over, but I caught sight of it when he turned his face slightly away from her to take a deep breath.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. I was standing, leaning against the door frame that led to the living room, watching my family. “You know,Mamiwould be so in love with her granddaughter,” I said as I clasped Dad’s hand on my shoulder.
“Sheisin love with her,” said Dad. I wasn’t sure I believed that, but it was still comforting thathebelieved it, and he believed it enough for the both of us. “You have a package,” he said. “It’s on the table.”
I went into the kitchen where Sofia and her daughter Audrey were smearingmasaonto dry corn husks and helping Dad rolltamales.I grabbed the small box from the table so it wouldn’t be in the way of their work.
I watched Audrey work diligently, her tongue poking out to the side as she concentrated on getting the perfecttamal, and I laughed. She was twelve now and growing into a beautiful young woman. Her dad and Sofia were going to have a heck of a time with boys real soon.
“Tía,”Audrey said, looking up at me. “IsTíaSara coming to dinner with the boys?”
“Yeah, why aren’t they already herehelping?” Sofia asked with mock-disdain.
“No, Mom!” Audrey said. “MytíaSara doesn’t come until the food is ready.”
Audrey made the accusation so seriously, Dad, Sofia, and I all roared with laughter. Hector and Marisela joined us in the kitchen, asking us what was so funny. Hector joined in with laughter when I repeated Audrey’s matter-of-fact statement.
“Yes, sweetie,” I told her. “Sara is coming, but it’s better if she comes when dinner is ready, or do you want her tornado boys here while we try to work?”
“No!” she said with horror, and we all laughed again. Audrey returned her attention to thetamalshe was rolling. She feigned disinterest when she spoke again, but I didn’t miss her cute little rosy cheeks reddening crimson. “What aboutTíaMandy? Is she bringing Lulu?”
Why was my niece asking about Mandy’s son Lucas? I knew they were almost the same age and went to the same school, but the redness in her face amused me. I tried not to show it as I answered her. “No, sweetie. Lulu is in Spain with his other grandparents for the holidays. He’ll be back after the new year.”
Audrey shrugged, and I changed the subject to prevent her any embarrassment if anyone else caught on. I still had her back. I just hoped there wasn’t payback from Sofia when Marisela became a pre-teen and started thinking about boys.
Hector lowered Marisela to the ground, and she ran to her grandpa who had a ball ofmasawaiting for her to play with. She rolled the dough in her hands and sank her fingers into it, giggling at the sensation. She ran to the living room with it still in her hands.
“What’s the package?” Hector asked.
I had forgotten about it and looked down at the small box still resting on my lap. “I don’t know. Hand me the kitchen scissors?”
“Is your dad coming to dinner, Audrey?” Hector asked as he handed me the scissors.
Audrey’s little face fell, and she bit her lip just like her momma.
“No,” Sofia said when Audrey didn’t answer. “He’s in Germany working, but he’ll be back by Christmas, right, honey?” Sofia ran her fingers over Audrey’s bangs, pushing them away from her eyes.
