Chapter Thirty-Six

November 2015

The wedding was only a few months away and while there was still so much to do, Mandy stood in Isa's kitchen stirring a pot of…actually, she didn't know what it was exactly. She hadn't been paying attention when the job was turned over to her; she'd been thinking about flowers. But now wasn't the time to complain about the lack of ranunculus.

Now really wasn't the time to even be thinking about getting married. It just didn't seem right. Maybe they should postpone it. Let Abuela get better.

But no one was acting like Abuela could get better. The entire family had flown in for Thanksgiving thinking this would be Abuela's last. Mandy couldn't think like that. She had to be strong for Isa, for Sandy, for the whole family. And for herself. A world without Abuela would be like a world without Isa, and, well, she knew what that was like, and Mandy didn't want any part of it.

The Jiménez house had been full the last couple of days, so it was strange that this morning only Mandy, Sandy, and Abuela were there. Isa had taken the family for a little sightseeing, but really Mandy thought it was to give Isa's mother and abuela a break. The lack of constant chatter seemed deafening—the only sound coming from the buzz of machines in Abuela's room, the rush of water racing through the pipes to the bathroom, and the noises from the coffee maker. They'd already gone through two pots before everyone left, but Mandy figured Sandy would enjoy a cup and some quiet when she got out of the shower. Hopefully there was still hot water for Sandy left in there.

Just as Mandy was making herself a cup of coffee, Sandy entered the kitchen wearing her bathrobe with a towel around her hair.

"It's as though you read my mind." Sandy took the mug Mandy handed her.

Mandy poured herself another. She knew better than to go looking for milk since that had been finished off earlier, so she added a little extra sugar. "I'll head to the store to grab some things whenever you're ready."

Sandy always wanted someone in earshot of Abuela, just in case, she said. But Abuela was still sleeping. Not a single alarm had gone off—unlike the time Abuela removed her heart monitor because it was making her itch, which caused quite the scene. "Oh, mija, I don't know what we would do without you." She pulled Mandy into a tight side hug.

"I have a list there"—Mandy pointed to the counter—"if you want to add anything." When she had talked to Edmund before Sandy got in the shower, there were already over a dozen things they were either out of or running low on. Mandy thought it would be better to get everything now—there was nothing worse than needing to go to the bathroom only to find you were out of toilet paper, an experience she herself had had in college.

Sandy took the list and sat at the dining room table. "We're already out of milk? There was an entire gallon in there."

Mandy shrugged. "I think Little Mateo had a few cupfuls." Little Mateo, not to be confused with Big Mateo (his cousin) or Tío Mateo (their uncle).

"Isn't he lactose intolerant?"

Mandy spun around, thinking of the repercussions that amount of milk could have on his digestive tract, and they were all headed to a place where bathrooms were not easily accessible.

"Wait, no. That's Matías."

There was a beep, beep, beep , and they both froze. It took Mandy a second to realize it was just the stove timer.

"You can turn that off and let it set now," Sandy said.

Mandy's heart kicked back on, and she did what Sandy mentioned, turning off the stove and leaving the large spoon across the top of the pot like Abuela used to always do. Mandy swallowed the thickness in her throat before sitting at the table with Sandy. She took a sip of her coffee—bitter but sweet, it would be much better with cream, but she wasn't going to say anything.

"I'm sorry there's no milk," Sandy said.

"It's fine. Really."

And then they were quiet. Mandy needed to call the venue and make sure they were able to get that runner she asked for, and there was still the issue with the flowers. They promised her ranunculus, and now for some reason, they had no idea what she was talking about.

"Everything okay?" Sandy asked. Had she said something, and Mandy missed it?

"I'm sorry?"

"I know what's going on here isn't easy, but you've seemed unsettled, even before all of this. I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Sandy laid a hand on top of Mandy's. "You have always been the strong one. Isa is so lucky to have you in her life."

Mandy wanted to laugh at that. Her, strong?

Sandy's gaze dipped to the table, and it was almost as though Mandy could see the weight of everything she was carrying press her deeper into her chair. "You've always done what was best. And I suppose I had always hoped things would've worked out—" Sandy was cut off by a knock at the door.

Mandy got up to answer it. It seemed a little early for a delivery, but flowers had been coming at semi-regular intervals since Abuela came home from the hospital. When Mandy opened the door, she had not expected to find who she did.

"I didn't know if you needed two percent or whole, so I just got both." Edmund stood on the threshold with arms full of grocery bags, and a few more at his feet. When she had spoken to him earlier, she had never in a million years thought he could be writing down the list she rambled off on the other end of the phone. Mandy would ramble on about a lot of things to him, and most of the time she knew he wasn't really listening because he'd ask her questions later about the very thing she'd already told him about. Tears threatened the backs of her eyes. She hadn't even insinuated needing him, but he just knew she needed help. Mandy wanted to tackle him right then and there and kiss him all over. Sometimes he could just be the sweetest.

"Come in. Come in." Mandy stepped aside instead to give Edmund ample space. He kissed her forehead as he passed—the citrusy scent of his new cologne sending tingles to her toes—and Mandy scooped up the remaining bags and closed the door.

"Right in here. That was so kind of you," Sandy was saying.

Edmund set all the bags on the floor in the kitchen. "I had no idea there were so many laundry soap choices. I hope I got the right one." It was true that Edmund sent his clothes out to be laundered, so Mandy couldn't help smiling at the image of him standing in that aisle—likely reading labels and looking for the most expensive one, because to Edmund, that meant it had to be the best, and he knew only the best would be good enough for Isa and her family.

Mandy never fully explained her relationship with Isa to Edmund, all the ups and downs of it. But when she made it clear that Isa was her person, Edmund didn't argue.

Sandy tightened her robe around her. "Whatever you got is perfect."

"I take it this goes in there?" Edmund held a carton of orange juice and motioned toward the fridge. He was going to help put groceries away too? Could she love this man any more in this moment? He didn't wait for a response; he just took the carton and a bag full of refrigerables that way.

"We've got this," Mandy told Sandy.

Sandy rested a hand on Mandy's arm and quietly said, "We just want you to be happy." She glanced at Edmund, then back, giving Mandy a tight-lipped smile before heading toward her room.

"Babe?" Edmund said, holding a bag of flour in one hand and at least four different bags of dried beans, peppers, and what was likely parsley—he'd probably thought it was cilantro—in the other. Edmund had done nice things for Mandy, but this had to be the nicest.

Mandy directed him to where things went while she emptied bags of her own. When she had finished, she came up behind Edmund and wrapped her arms around him.

"How bad did I mess up?" he asked as he spun around and held her back.

Those tears were there threatening again. "You did great."

That year Thanksgiving dinner wasn't set on a white tablecloth with her mother's fine china or freshly polished silver in Mom's formal dining room. It wasn't food prepared by some chef somewhere and brought into the house that morning, where a team of people set everything out before scurrying off to their next job, hoping to make it home for dinner themselves. Mandy wasn't wearing an uncomfortable dress and heels, and she didn't have to stand in front of the fireplace for their yearly family picture.

No. Thanksgiving was on picnic tables of varying sizes all spread out in the Jiménezes' backyard with mismatched tablecloths and paper plates. And even though Mom wore pressed slacks and a floral blouse, Mandy was in jeans and flats while cousins raced around pelting each other with roasted pumpkin seeds, and oranges from the tree. In other words, it was wonderful.

The weather was as perfect as anyone could ask for, with fluffy white clouds that sailed by overhead like giant white puffs of cotton candy against an azure backdrop. When Abuela was brought outside, the entire family cheered. She had been feeling much better the last couple of days, and Mandy hoped that meant the worst was behind them. Isa, however, wasn't convinced. She'd been called in to the hospital early that morning, so she didn't see Abuela's rosy cheeks or smiling face. But she would. Just as soon as Isa got there. It had been difficult for her to get any time off, seeing as she was in the middle of her residency. And if she had stayed on the East Coast for it, who knew if she would've been able to come home at all.

"Things happen for a reason," was what Mom told Mandy. Like that was the best explanation for why, after spending years in Boston, Isa decided to come home. But Mandy knew better. It wasn't fate, or some kind of magic that brought Isa back. This was simply where she was always meant to be. It had always been a part of her plan—the one she had written out and kept tucked inside the music box Abuela gave her for her eighth birthday. Deep down Mandy admitted it was why she'd chosen to go to college close by. Mandy had spread her wings and then had come home. A part of her had always expected Isa to find her way home to Mandy too.

"We should probably leave soon." Edmund squeezed Mandy's knee. It wouldn't be fair to say she was surprised he decided to stay with her instead of flying home to be with his family, but Mandy was surprised in the best way possible. He had also dressed down for the occasion, matching Mandy in jeans and a complementary colored polo shirt. It was what Abuela requested. "Nothing fussy, just familia," was what she had said.

But Mandy wasn't ready to leave her family for his. It wasn't that she didn't like them. It was just different. Their idea of Thanksgiving was much more in line with Mom's—and when Edmund insisted on helping Mandy pick out the right dress for the occasion, she did not expect to come home with a $3,200 kelly-green, tea-length skirt made by a designer she still couldn't remember. (Sophie had squealed when Mandy had sent her a photo.) That was the way Edmund usually showed his love, but this, being here, was all she really needed. She placed her hand over his, and he smiled back at her and then glanced at his watch.

"I know," Mandy responded instead of asking for just a little more time. "I'll be right back." Mandy got up to greet her best friend, who had just emerged from the house. "Everything okay?" she asked Isa as Mandy wrapped her in a hug.

"Yeah, it was fine. They didn't really even need me but whatever. I'm starving."

"I can help make you a plate."

"Mamá's taking care of it." She hitched a thumb behind her as she scanned the backyard. "Abuela made it out after all." Why did she sound so surprised?

"Doesn't she look great?" Right now, Abuela sat with Tía Elisa, holding her hand and smiling.

"She does, but that doesn't mean she's getting better." Isa threaded her arm through Mandy's, linking them together, and pulled her closer.

"I know that's what you keep saying."

"Well, I am a doctor."

"One who delivers babies." Could she really know about what was going on with Abuela? She could be wrong, couldn't she? And Abuela could get better.

Isa nudged Mandy with her hip. "And I'm damn good at it too."

Mandy rested her head on Isa's shoulder. "I believe it." She had never seen Isa deliver a baby and probably never wanted to, but if there was one thing Mandy knew about Dr. Marisa Jiménez, it was that she was always the best at everything she put her mind to.

"Babe?" Edmund stood behind her, checking the time on his watch. "We should probably…"

Mandy nodded. She wasn't ready, but even in another five minutes or ten minutes or two hours that wouldn't change. "Call me if you need anything, okay? We're only going to be gone a couple of days, so just leave all of this and I'll help you clean it up when I get back."

"It's fine." The look on Isa's face said it was anything but, the way her brow wrinkled and the tightness in her mouth.

Mandy pulled her into a hug and never wanted to let go.

"The car is waiting." Edmund's voice was gentle. He had been so extra patient and understanding the last few weeks. They had made these plans with his family long before Abuela got sick, and it was so kind of his family to postpone their celebrations so Mandy and Edmund could stay in California for this one. She didn't even have to ask; Edmund just said his mom insisted.

"Let me just…" Mandy didn't finish though. She raced over to Abuela and bent down to hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. Mandy couldn't leave without saying goodbye until next time. "Te amo mucho, Abuela." The backs of Mandy's eyes burned.

"Oh, mija. Te amo mucho también." Abuela took Mandy's hand. While she still understood English, Abuela spoke mostly in Spanish these days.

"Estaré en casa pronto, lo prometo."

Abuela smiled up at Mandy, her gaze shifting to something behind her and back again. "No debí haber metido la pata."

Mandy tipped her head to the side, trying to understand.

"Amanda," Edmund called. The look on his face was sympathetic, but they really needed to go; they had a plane to catch.

"Me tengo que ir. Te quiero, Abuela."

Abuela nodded but didn't let go of Mandy's hand. "Hay veces que incluso las ancianas cometen errores." She squeezed Mandy's hand tightly in hers. "Lo siento, mija. Perdóname." Abuela started to cry.

Mandy didn't know what to do, nor did she know what Abuela was going on about. She'd spoken so quickly; Mandy was still trying to process it. Maybe she wasn't doing as well as Mandy thought she was.

"Ven, Mamá. Vamos a entrar." Tía Elisa took Abuela's hands so Mandy could go.

Mandy's brows pulled together. "Maybe I should…"

"I've got her. It's okay. She's had a long day," Tía Elisa said.

Mandy gave her a quick hug and ran off toward Edmund. But as she sat in the back of the black sedan on her way to the airport huddled in Edmund's protective arms, Mandy couldn't get Abuela out of her head. She hadn't put her foot into anything that Mandy knew of. Nor had she ever been wrong. But the way she apologized and the tears, Mandy's chest tightened. She pulled out her phone and texted Isa.

Mandy: Please let me know that Abuela is okay.

A few moments later a response came in.

Isa: She's resting now. Probably all the excitement. Don't worry.

But Mandy couldn't not worry.

"Mom has the guesthouse all set up for us, and it should be nice and toasty when we get there." Edmund hugged her tighter into him. "They got five inches of snow today." He was trying to cheer her up—Mandy loved the snow and how it sparkled in the light.

"Wow. Tell her thank you," Mandy said automatically, unable to pull her thoughts from what had happened in the backyard. Something wasn't right. The last time Abuela was that serious was just before Mandy had left for Europe—alone. Her mouth went dry. Mandy needed to talk to Abuela, but she couldn't ask Edmund to turn around now, not after all he'd done for her. She just hoped Abuela would still be around when Mandy got back in a few days so she could talk to her.