Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around by Pagán, Camille (top novels of all time txt) 📗

Her blonde hair seemed to have just been blown out, and her face was expertly made up. She was significantly younger than Hector, and I wondered if maybe she was his daughter.

Then she looked Hector up and down . . . and promptly slammed the door in his face.

“I’m going out there,” I said.

“Are you sure?” said Shiloh. “We might need to let them work it out.”

“We don’t have time for them to work it out,” I said in a low voice.

He glanced at Milagros. “Fair enough.”

I’d just opened my door when I paused and turned to Charlotte. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Her eyebrow was twitching, just like Paul’s did when he was lying. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“The truth, Charlotte,” I said. I’d been trying to be firm, but mostly I sounded afraid.

She glanced at Isa, who gave her a fierce look; for all their fighting, Isa was more protective of her sister than I gave her credit for. “I kind of have a headache,” she admitted. “I’m thirsty, too.”

I grabbed my water bottle from my bag and handed it to Charlotte, who immediately drained it.

“You just took your insulin before we left, right?” I asked.

She nodded. “Just before I had the last of the rice and beans and a little papaya.”

I swallowed the boulder-sized lump in my throat. If this wasn’t about her not eating, then her insulin had started to break down; there was no other way to explain it.

“Please test your sugar,” I told her. “I’ll be right back, and then we’ll figure out a corrective dose of insulin, okay?”

She nodded meekly.

“I’m coming with you,” said Shiloh.

“Good,” I said. Given that Flor still hadn’t opened the door for Hector, it was possible I’d need him. “Come get us if anything happens to Charlotte or Milagros. Got it?” I said to Isa, who nodded.

When I reached the house, I screamed Flor’s name so loud that Hector and Shiloh startled. When she didn’t appear, I yelled again. “Flor! Open up. Right now!”

I was about to do it a third time when the door was flung open. “Who are you?” she asked, eyeing me.

“I’m Libby, and one of my daughters is a type one diabetic. And Milagros—”

She held up a perfectly manicured hand. “I don’t need to hear about my ex-husband’s mistress.”

“Maybe not, but I’m guessing you don’t want to hear she died because you didn’t help,” I growled. Flor closed her mouth as fast as she’d just opened it, so I took this as my sign to carry on. “We’re pretty sure she had a heart attack and we need to use your boat.” Now I waited for her response, but she said nothing.

Well, I wasn’t too proud to beg. “Listen,” I said, staring into Flor’s bright green eyes. “This is literally a matter of life or death. Not just Milagros. My daughter needs new insulin. Immediately, or she. Will. Die. Please, Flor,” I pleaded. “She’s twelve.”

Flor’s gaze flitted from me to Shiloh to the car.

She was softening; I could feel it. But I was almost afraid to look at her too closely for fear she’d change her mind.

Then she sighed deeply and turned to Hector. “The boat only takes six and Mami is wilting in the heat,” she said to Hector. “And Papi needs dialysis in the next day or two. They’ll have to go with you.”

“What are Chaco and Maria doing here?” asked Hector, peering behind her into the house.

“Not that it’s your business, since this is my house now,” she said pointedly, “but they live with me. Can you take care of them if I send them with you?”

I held my breath waiting for him to respond. After a moment, he sighed and said, “Sí.”

“Hector, wait,” I said. “You, Milagros, me, Shiloh, and the girls makes six. Two of us will have to stay behind.”

Flor was staring at the sky now; she seemed to be working something out in her head. After a moment, she looked at me again. “How old is your other daughter?”

“Also twelve,” I said. “They’re twins.”

“Then they wouldn’t weigh down the boat too much.” She turned back to Hector. “I have one extra lifejacket. One of the girls can use it. But my parents go, or none of you go. Okay?”

My knees were weak. Charlotte and Milagros were actually going to get off the island.

Hector, too, seemed overcome with relief. “Gracias, Flor. So, the girls, Chaco and Maria, Milagros, me . . . can either of you drive a boat?” he asked me and Shiloh. “It’s best if we have an extra driver.” His eyes shifted to the Jeep. Through the glass, I could see that Milagros’ eyes were still closed. “Just in case.”

I shook my head—I could barely manage a kayak—but Shiloh, who’d grown up on the water, nodded.

“Lo siento, Libby,” said Hector. I was about to ask him why he was apologizing to me when he added, “Could you stay?”

Before I could respond, Shiloh said, “No way. Libby, you need to be with Charlotte.”

No—I wanted to be with her, and everyone else. But what Charlotte and Milagros needed was immediate medical attention, and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. “There’s no time to talk about this,” I said. “You guys have to leave immediately.”

“It’s not safe for you to be here by yourself, Libby,” said Shiloh in a low voice. Like my own, his T-shirt was drenched in sweat. “Who knows what could happen? There could be a rebound storm, and what are you going to eat?”

“There’s a little bit of food left at Milagros’, but forget whether or not it’s safe for me.” I felt more clearheaded than I had in days. Maybe even months. “All I want to know is whether you think it’s safe to take the boat to Fajardo. You heard Hector earlier—that passageway can be dangerous. Especially after a storm. And you yourself said it could be choppy.”

As we both turned toward the ocean, which was visible over the edge of Flor’s property, I couldn’t help