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Authors: Laurie Larsen

Tags: #romance, #love, #multicultural, #contemporary, #hispanic

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BOOK: Inner Diva
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Monica froze, her breath catching in her
throat.

“Except he’s not twenty seven, is he, Mama?”
Luisa went on, oblivious to the impact her change in topic had on
Monica.

“No,
hija
, twenty eight.”

Monica nodded, and was relieved when Luisa
raced on, “I’m in the fifth grade, I go to Centerville Elementary,
and my teacher is Mrs. Bakewell. My favorite subject is reading and
I just finished all the books in my classroom, so Mrs. Bakewell
asked the sixth grade for more books.”

Monica laughed. There was no language barrier
here, and no trouble getting the kid to open up. This was going to
be fun.

Luisa chattered on a little while, then her
mom silenced her with a shush and a hand on her arm. “Little one,
enough. You must be quiet now. Monica wants to come over and visit
you and take you places. Is that good?”

Luisa jumped up and down, clapped and
shrieked so loud, both the adults had to shield their ears with
their hands. To Monica, it was the perfect reaction. It felt good
to be appreciated and wanted.

Mrs. Garcia turned to Monica. “Tuesday,
Thursday and two weekend days a month. Too much?”

Monica looked at the little girl bubbling
over with excitement. “Not too much at all.”

An hour later, Monica gathered her things to
leave and asked Mrs. Garcia for a private word in the kitchen. The
older woman joined her and patted her on the shoulder. “See? I told
you you’re a good girl. A strong woman. Smart. You’re good for my
Luisa.”

A wash of emotion filled Monica. “Thank you.
She’s a great kid. I’m really looking forward to getting to know
her better.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded. “She likes you. I can
tell.”

“I hate to bring this up again, but I’m
curious. This whole arrangement seems perfect, except for
Carlos.”

Mrs. Garcia stomped her foot and got a look
about her like a solid oak tree. “Carlos will be fine. He works so
hard, but he doesn’t understand about the needs of a young girl.
Luisa needs someone in her life besides us. He’ll understand,
you’ll see.” She patted Monica’s shoulder again and nodded
vigorously. “He’ll be okay.”

Monica smiled but she had her doubts. As she
made her way to the door, Luisa was at the desk near the phone,
writing something on a piece of paper. She gasped when she saw
Monica approach, and hurriedly tore the paper from the pad and
folded it sloppily. She ran over to Monica and presented it to her,
her face beaming.

“This is for you.”

Monica accepted it. “Why, thank you very
much.” She began to unfold it and Luisa stopped her by squeezing
Monica’s hands.

“No! Read it later.” Then she stood on her
tiptoes, motioned for Monica to lean down, and placed a prim kiss
on Monica’s cheek.

The smile that lit Monica’s face emerged from
the warmth in her heart for this little girl. “Thank you.”

After waving good-bye, Monica left. When
she’d gotten in her car and fastened her seat belt, she unfolded
the paper. Scrawled in Luisa’s handwriting was the message, “Your
Little Sister, Luisa,” and a phone number. Scattered around the
rest of the page in red pen, quickly blurring due to the sudden
welling of tears in Monica’s eyes, were hearts and stars.

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

On Thursday evening, Monica arrived at
Luisa’s house. She climbed the stairs to the front door. It flung
open and Mrs. Garcia bustled out, battling with her breath and
tucking her uniform blouse into her pants in the back.


Hola!
Good to see you. Luisa is
inside. Go, go.”

Monica couldn’t help but flash the woman an
amused smile. Always on the run, wasn’t she? Never time to sit and
relax. Well, she could help with that. On Big Sister nights, Mrs.
Garcia could rest assured.


Adios
,” Monica said with a wave.
After the senora’s car pulled out, Monica turned to the door. She
rang the doorbell, and waited only a few seconds for Luisa to pull
the door open and present her with the biggest grin Monica had seen
in a good long while.

“Would you please come in?” she asked
politely, and although her words sounded civilized and grown up,
Monica knew she displayed great constraint by not jumping up and
down and shrieking.

“Such good manners. Thank you.” Monica passed
by and entered the quaint, cluttered living room. She looked around
and noticed a backpack sitting on the table, the zipper open and
stray papers sticking out. When she turned back toward Luisa, the
little girl looked like a thermometer approaching explosion.

“I’ve been thinking of you all day. I
couldn’t wait to see you.”

“Me, too!” The words were out in a whoosh
before Monica’s were even done, and Luisa followed them up with a
bear hug – although because of their height differences, she
squeezed her arms around Monica’s waist, but hey, the sentiment was
there.

Monica looked down at the little girl. “Is
there something in particular you’d like to do?”

Luisa bopped her head so hard Monica was
afraid she’d pop a vertebra. “Want to see my room?”

“I’d love to.”

Luisa grabbed Monica’s hand and pulled her
down the short hallway to the first door on the right. On the wall
hung a Golden Arches recruitment poster, slightly tattered at the
edges, but it added a dash of color to the brown wall. Two dolls
stood in stiff poses on the waist-high dresser. A dozen books sat
stacked on the top shelf of a bookcase, dwarfed by the empty space
beside them. In the center of the room, a single bed with a
headboard, covered with a hot pink spread. What looked like a
poodle was sewn in white fabric into the middle, although the pup
lacked one eye and most of its puff tail. Throw rugs covered the
wooden floor.

As Monica gazed around, her mind jumped to
what wasn’t there. What she could buy to fill this room for Luisa –
more books, dolls, toys, and Legos. Posters of her favorite movie
stars to decorate the walls. Cute outfits to fill the tiny closet.
A computer and a radio.

Yet, when her gaze had made a sweep of the
room and landed again on Luisa, the girl beamed with anticipation.
“Do you like my room?”

“I sure do. It’s awesome.”

Luisa did her intense head bob again and
skipped over to the bookshelf. She pulled each book off, raising
them up to show her the title, then read it carefully. Most of them
were Scholastic. So, she liked books, did she? Good to know.

“Do you want to read?”

“Nah, not right now. I’m reading past my
grade level though. Mrs. Bakewell says I’m a really good
reader.”

Monica joined her near the bookcase and sat
on the floor. “Keep reading, Luisa. It’s a really super thing to do
with your time.”

Luisa nodded excitedly, then ran over to her
dolls. Monica craned her neck to follow the little torpedo, so full
of energy.

“I got this one from my Aunt Carmen last year
for Christmas.” She stroked the velvet ball gown the doll wore, and
the festive mood in the room grew reverent. Then, she carefully put
the doll down and picked up the one wearing a tennis skirt and
holding a racquet. “And this one I got at a birthday party of one
of my friends.” She giggled. “I went to her party, and I ended up
getting this!”

Monica laughed. “Have you ever had a birthday
party, Luisa?”

“For my fifth,” Luisa said cheerfully. “At
McDonald’s.”

Monica nodded, thinking of another way she
could help make this little girl’s life just a bit nicer.

A few minutes later, they had exhausted all
the items of interest and strolled back to the main room. They
settled at the table, and Luisa’s fingers rustled the backpack. She
peeked into the bag through the open zipper, distracted by the
contents.

“Do you have homework?”

Monica’s question made Luisa’s head dart her
way. She nodded.

“Do you want me to help you with it?” Monica
smiled.

Luisa’s brown eyes lit up at the suggestion.
She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I don’t need help, but
you can watch me do it.”

“Okay.”

Luisa grinned and tugged at a couple
worksheets until she had a small pile to be done. She opened her
math book and showed Monica the problems requiring her attention.
She lowered her head in concentration. As Monica watched her, she
caught a movement in the corner of the kitchen. She looked up and
caught a glimpse of Carlos hovering in the doorway, watching them.
In the dimness of the kitchen, there was enough light to see his
silhouette as he hung in the shadows.

She positioned her head so it looked like she
was watching his sister’s progress on her math page.

Tonight he wore a faded tee shirt that clung
to his chest so closely it could’ve been a second skin. At one time
a navy blue, it had seen enough laundry detergent to settle into an
evening sky color. The contours of his chest gave it an enticing
shape and for a convoluted moment she wanted to place her hands on
his vast shoulders and explore every inch of cotton-covered chisel.
She had to suffice with letting her eyes make the journey instead
of her hands. She secretly savored each visual step of the way,
till the shirt tucked into a denim waistband.

Imagining what lay south of that waistband
caused her face to heat and her breath to go a little shaky.

So, she raised her eyes to covertly study his
face. When she dated, she stuck to men who were decidedly
Caucasian. Blond hair, blue eyes, light-colored skin. Although
there was absolutely nothing wrong with that combination, this man
offered its polar opposite. Everything about him was dark. Exotic.
Foreign. Different. Everything she was not. His skin, the color of
an August suntan, all outdoors healthy and working hard. His face
sported a shadow of stubble. She liked the result. She imagined the
scratchy feel of his whiskers on her palm. His black, wavy hair was
slightly too long for the conventional businessmen she normally
encountered. Yet, it was just one more thing that made him
different and appealing to her.

And his eyes. She couldn’t focus on them now.
Not only was he standing in shadows, the distance between them
prohibited her from sinking into his eyes. But she remembered them.
Memories of the last time she looked into them reminded her of
their chocolate brown warmth. Dark, just like the rest of him.

“I’m done!” Luisa sang, and brandished the
page high in the air.

Monica gasped in surprise, her blood
catapulting through her veins. She shook her head to clear it of
wayward thoughts. “Great!” she exclaimed, a little too
enthusiastically than was necessary. “Want me to check the answers
for you?”

“Sure. But I don’t think I got any
wrong.”

“We’ll see.” Monica was glad for the
distraction. As her blood pressure struggled to return to a normal
level,
he
sauntered into the room.

Monica slowly checked each math problem,
giving herself an excuse not to meet his eyes. Could he read her
thoughts? Had he watched her study him and could he possibly
comprehend where her insane imagination had gone?

God, she hoped not.

“Hi, Carlos,” Luisa said.

Monica stared down at the paper on the table.
She felt her cheeks flush and sensed him nearby. She looked up when
he bent at the waist to give his sister a kiss on the top of her
head. With his lips puckered on her hair, his eyes locked with
Monica’s. Her first sensation was validation – his eyes were the
exact shade she remembered. She jerked her eyes back to the
paper.

She finished grading the paper, and she
pushed it back to Luisa. “Great job. Just take a look at number 12.
You may have a problem there.”

Luisa gasped, examined the problem in
question, and then erased vigorously. As the girl carefully
reformed her numbers with her pencil, Monica chanced another glance
at Carlos. His gaze rested on her.

“So, it’s your first night with Luisa.” His
voice sounded soft, and his tone was grim. A hint of a Hispanic
accent seasoned his words.

“Yes,” she replied, working desperately to
calm her pulse and keep her emotions from showing on her face.
“Twice a week, and every few weekends.”

He nodded, his expression guarded. But those
intense eyes never left hers for a second. What was he searching
for?

“Luisa showed me her room, and now we’ve
started her homework.” He nodded again. “She is very bright.”

Finally, he turned his gaze to Luisa. The
tautness of his face relaxed into affection as she blew eraser dust
from her page. He watched her dig another worksheet out of her bag
and settle into the new work, pushing a strand of hair behind her
right ear.

He turned back to Monica. “She’s a good
girl.” There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but no more words
were forthcoming.

Monica agreed. “Yes, she is.”

He lingered.

“Carlos, I want to get to know Luisa so I can
make a difference in her life. A positive impact. I don’t want
…”

He held up his hand, halting her sentence
midstream. “Excuse me, I have work to do in the garage.” And with
that, he left.

She watched him go, then breathed a sigh of
relief. In her estimation, she had won this round.

 

The lights
extinguished. The stage, formerly fluorescent, now waited in
blackness. Monica darted like a sprinter, grabbed the basket of
firewood left by an actor in the previous scene, stuck it on a
wheeled desk chair, and careened it off stage. Once there, she
grabbed a blanket and pillow and ran back onstage, threw them on
the couch so Brad could use them in the next scene. Backstage
again, she took a deep breath, exhilaration racing through her. Her
heart rate returned to normal as the lights went up again and the
rehearsal continued.

She sank into a backstage chair.

BOOK: Inner Diva
7.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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