Chapter 2

Two

Angela

" Saca el pan. " Magda gestures to the back, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.

I stare at her, trying to decipher the words coming out of her mouth, but I'm not getting anything. It feels like an empty well in my head, and she's just throwing things inside.

She glares at me and presses her lips into a tight line before she gestures to the back again, this time much more agitated.

" Saca el pan de ahí! " She says with a bit more force in her tone.

I turn to look in the direction that she's gesturing, but I'm still not sure what she wants me to do.

When I disembarked from the cruise ship, I didn't even know I was in Puerto Rico until I started seeing all the flags and colorful houses around. I thought for a while that I was in Florida, which would've made things both easier and harder for me.

If I were still in Florida, there was a great chance that Miguel would be able to find me and bring me back. But being in Puerto Rico was proving to be nearly impossible, especially since I didn't speak Spanish. I took a few years of it in high school, but aside from " Hola " and "Necesita el ba?o ," I didn't know much.

To make matters worse, the only place I was able to get a job was at a bakery with a woman who spoke very little English.

Magda grabs my arm and pulls me in the direction of the kitchen before stopping in front of the oven. She places two oven mitts in my hands and nearly shoves me in the direction of the oven.

" Saca. El. Pan. " She says each word as if it's its own sentence.

Pan? Oh! The bread! Quickly, I log what she's saying to me in my mind and reach into the oven to pluck out the freshly baked bread that must be done.

Magda sighs and shakes her head. "?Qué se me ocurrió contratarte a ti?"

I didn't know what she said, but I'm sure it had something to do with her realizing how big of a mistake she made when she hired me.

I begged for this job, tried my best to explain to her that I'd do whatever she needed me to do in order to get it. She took pity on me, but I was sure her streak of generosity would come to an end fairly soon.

I arranged the bread on the tray and brought it to the front so Magda could put it in the display before I went back to the daily chores she had me doing.

Cleaning was something I was good at. It didn't bother me when I had to sweep up or wash down the bathrooms. After all, I spent years in a school run by nuns. Everything had to be spic and span for them. At least here, I was getting paid for what I was doing.

The door to the bakery opened up, and I froze in place, not turning to see who it was, just waiting.

Quickly I drop the mop and rush back to the kitchen to wait for the assumed threat to pass.

I keep waiting for Miguel or my father and brother to walk through the door. It doesn't matter that they have no idea where I've run off to or that I wouldn't dare reach out to any of them. It feels as if they are superhuman and they'll be able to find me even on this bustling island.

"Ah! Coca!..." I hear Magda greeting someone, and when they both start speaking in Spanish, my body relaxes a bit.

Slowly, I turn in the direction of the front of the store, having to crane my neck to look through the swinging doors to see who is up front.

A beautiful dark-skinned woman with curly hair flowing down her back is speaking with Magda. They look like they're friends. Something about the woman's smile makes me want to smile in return, but for the life of me, I can't force my face to make the expression. I still feel broken inside. Even though it's been weeks since Miguel ripped my innocence away from me, it still feels like he has a hold over me.

Ignoring the interaction between the woman and my boss, I turn back to the oven to get the remainder of the bread out before Magda has a chance to ask about it. I place them on the display sheets and move it to the side so she can grab when she comes to the back.

After I finish with that, I grab my mop and get ready to wipe up the outside dining area.

There are three small tables positioned on a dark brown linoleum flooring right outside the restaurant, but no matter how many times a day I mop up, it always seems like a steady caking of dirt and grime is on the floor.

With a soft whistle, I soak the mop in water and cleaning solution and get to work.

The door to the bakery opens and closes, and I turn my back to the woman coming out. I'd rather people not see me, even though I know it's impossible. Everyone around here is so friendly. A real community.

" Hola. " The woman speaks to me, and I turn to glance over my shoulder at her.

" Hola. " I respond and give a forced smile.

" Eres nueva aquí. " She tilts her head and looks me up and down as if she's trying to place me. I do the same to her, but mostly because I'm trying to translate the words she said in my mind.

" Nueva " is new.

She must be asking me if I'm new here.

" Sí, nueva. " I reply in my broken Spanish.

With a slight chuckle, she walks forward with her hand extended.

"Welcome to the island. I'm Coca."

I breathe a sigh of relief when she speaks in perfect English.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Angela." I cringe at the sound of my name. I've been trying to give a false identity, but I always forget. So much for trying to keep a low profile.

"How long have you been here?" She asks, picking up the steaming hot cup of coffee and pressing it to her lips.

"Uh, just a few weeks." I shift the mop to the other hand, hopefully giving her the hint that I don't need to be talking right now.

"Do you have family on the island?" She blinks a few times but doesn't take her eyes off me. Suddenly, I'm starting to feel like this is more of an interrogation than her just being a good member of the community.

"No." The words are more forceful than I want them to be.

Relax. This is normal. Just relax.

The words echo over and over in my head.

She clamps her mouth shut and nods once before taking a step back. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Angela." She turns on her heel and walks away, but just as she gets to the edge of the property, she turns back around and walks in my direction again.

"Look, I could be really wrong, but there's only a few reasons for a woman to just show up in Puerto Rico without knowing a lick of Spanish and no family. You definitely don't look like you're on vacation." She raises an eyebrow, and I fight to keep my face free of any expression. I don't want her to get any ideas.

"Anyway, if you find yourself needing help..." She lets the words linger in the air. "I'm part of a group that's moving back in down the block. We look meaner than we are, I promise. The compound is nearly finished, and we should all be here in the next few weeks. Come find me. If we can help, we will." Coca nods once before giving me another soft smile and turning back around.

Help.

Her words tumble around in my mind. I surely did need help, but I couldn't chance bringing more people into my problems. Not when I'd only just gotten away. I pray that I never need her help, but it's nice to know that there might be at least one person I can come to if I need it.

" Angela, ya lista? " Magda yells out of the small window on the side of the building, and I jerk out of my daydream.

I watch for a moment as Coca continues her walk down the block and take note of which way she's turning. Just in case.

Before long, I refocus my attention on cleaning up the areas and completing my daily tasks without Magda having to tell me. We have a few more interactions where she asks me to do something, but I don't understand because of the language barrier.

The only time I chuckle the entire day is when she storms out of the bakery and comes back with an English to Spanish dictionary before muttering a slew of words in Spanish I'm sure she doesn't want me to understand.

By the time the sun sets, the displays are nearly empty, and both Magda and I are exhausted. If there's one thing I can say about the older woman, it's that she works hard. She bakes from sunup to sundown, barely taking a moment to eat or use the bathroom. Even when she does, there is a line of people waiting for her.

It’s nearly closing time but I notice Magda pulling out a few to go boxes and loading them up with a large order of muffins and breads along with a few pastries that we didn’t sell during the day.

All in all it’s six boxes of food. Maybe she’s going to donate that stuff? The possibilites rush through my mind and I’m so focused on figuring out what she’s going to do with the food that I don’t realize someone walking up to the bakery.

This time when the bell on the door jingles to signal we have a customer I turn face first in that direction.

My heart squeezes in my chest and I can’t find enough oxygen in the room to take a deep breath. My vision goes dark for a second and I have to grab hold of the counter to keep from falling over.

“ Aye dios, Angela, estas bien ?” Magda questions, her concern clear in her voice. I can’t respond. I still haven’t found my air yet. All I can do is nod.

My eyes don’t leave our guest.

A man wearing a leather vest splattered with patches and words is staring at me. He’s tall, with enough scruff on his face to let me know he hasn’t shaven in awhile. His arms are bear and I can see tattoos and brands on his skin. His light brown eyes nearly mirror mine but inside of those orbs are deadly secrets I’ve seen before. He stares at me the same way Miguel used to.

I’ve never been more sure in my life that whoever this man is, he’s come straight from Florida to bring me back home.

The angel of death has found me.