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

but think of the dream I’d had of Charlotte, helplessly drifting away from me. The sky was clear and cloudless, but the waves hitting the beach were high and frothy. My heart galloped in my chest. What if the waves knocked the boat over? What if Milagros died on the way or . . .

I stopped myself. I could think of three hundred horrible things that could happen, which was alarming enough. But at least those were all vague possibilities. The horrible thing that would happen if they didn’t risk going was a near certainty.

“They’ll only be higher if we wait until evening,” he said, reading my thoughts.

“Then it’s settled.” I looked at Shiloh. “Go on without me.”

TWENTY-FIVE

I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life, but not a single one of them compared to keeping a straight face while saying goodbye to my family.

“You’re sure about this?” said Shiloh. He was standing in front of Flor’s white speedboat, which, however gleaming and glamorous, looked like it could be swallowed by the first large wave that it encountered—not that I was imagining any such thing.

“It’s our only option,” I said in my firmest, most I’m-the-mom-here voice. In reality, I was so terrified that in addition to my hands, my torso was actually trembling.

If they died, life would no longer be worth living. And yet I would have to go on, knowing that I was the reason why that had happened.

“Libby . . .” He almost looked like he was going to cry. “I wish we’d had a chance to talk first.”

“I know.” Did I ever. Why hadn’t I just told him how hurt I had been, but how very much I wanted us to be like we used to be? What if I never had that chance? “And we will. But right now, you really need to go.” I glanced at the girls, who were just about to step into the boat. “Hey, you two. Come give me one more hug before you go.”

For once, they didn’t complain; instead, they threw their arms around me and buried their faces against my chest. I pulled them close, inhaling the scent of their strawberry shampoo and blinking to clear the tears from my eyes before they could see that I didn’t want to send them.

“You still feeling okay?” I asked Charlotte. As I’d feared, her meter had indicated that her insulin was becoming less effective. She’d taken a corrective dose to get her blood sugar back down, and it seemed to be working. But given that it was already less effective, I knew we had mere hours before it stopped altogether.

She nodded earnestly, all of her usual bravado long gone.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “But if anything changes, you tell Papi or Hector right away.”

“Or me,” said Isa, gnawing on a cuticle.

“Or Isa, who will tell Papi,” I said, kissing Isa’s head. To her, I whispered, “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve been so brave, and so good to your sister. I really appreciate it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, pulling her hand out of her mouth to hug me again.

“Okay, you guys,” I said. “It’s time to get moving.”

Shiloh put his hand on my lower back. “Cutie, be so careful, okay?”

“Me?” I pretended to scoff. But as our eyes met, my bluster evaporated. “I’m going to miss you.”

His face got all funny when I said that. “You’ll see me no later than tomorrow morning,” he said. “Maybe even tonight, depending on how this goes.” He glanced back at Milagros, who was already on the boat. “Wish us luck.”

“Good luck,” I said. I’d already hugged Milagros goodbye—gently, of course—but I called to her again. “Milly, let Hector and Shiloh take good care of you, okay?”

“Sí, mija,” she called back. She looked less sickly than she had in the Jeep, but I knew better than to take that as a sign that she’d be fine. “Just watch my dogs for me.”

“You know I will.”

She smiled and waved weakly.

I waved back, then looked at Shiloh. “I love you so much.”

“I love you even more,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

I let his lips rest on mine and his arms stay wrapped around me, even though they needed to get out of there, oh, say, yesterday. Because even though I was not about to admit this out loud, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if it was the last time we had this chance.

As they pulled away from Flor’s dock, I waved until I could wave no longer. Then I stood and watched the boat grow smaller and smaller in the distance until it was finally swallowed by the horizon. And I prayed that my myriad fears were not premonitions, which my mind was intent on convincing me they were, but rather just a string of terrible possibilities that would never come to pass.

When I got back to the guesthouse, I looked around for a minute or two, unsure of what to do next. Then I remembered what my father had often told Paul and me: when you didn’t know what to think or say, it probably meant there was still work to be done.

So I packed up all the things that Shiloh and the girls had not taken with them. Then I cleaned every inch of the place, and the patio, too. After that was finished, I went to Milagros’ and scrubbed her sinks and mopped her floors. I was about to start dusting when I heard a scratching noise.

I froze.

The scratching grew louder and more insistent.

Adrenaline blossomed in my chest with all the warmth of rum but none of the pleasure. Was someone trying to jimmy the lock? It struck me then how very alone I was—I had no one on the island to call, let alone a way to call them, nor a way to defend myself. No wonder Shiloh was worried about me. I might as well have walked down the middle of the road