The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (60)

Do you have the permits? Yes.

The airport was a maze of its own with empty designer shops, cheap souvenirs. Families hauling mountains of luggage and screaming children. Marimar didn’t quite feel like she was in another country yet. She remembered being very little and her teacher asking them to color in the map all the places their families had traveled to. She was too young to know that there had been a before place for Orquídea, and that’s how she’d thought of Ecuador for so long. The Before place. Getting details of the Before was worse than pulling teeth. At least teeth came out eventually. This was more like trying to dislodge something buried in cement.

She’d asked, “What was it like, Mamá Orquídea?”

“Hot.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to go.”

“Will you take me?”

“I’ll make you a deal. If you can catch a hummingbird with your bare hands, then we’ll go together.”

“Why a hummingbird?”

“Do you want to make a deal or not?”

Marimar did want to make a deal. As she tried, she could never catch one.

Now, she thought she heard the buzz of wings by her ear, but when she whirled around, it was just a fan. Mike held on tightly to Rhiannon’s hand and she pushed her own roller suitcase, pink with several butterflies printed on the plastic shell. Sweat spread around his armpits and the center of his shirt. He covered his mouth and coughed.

“Did you get the taxi confirmation?” he asked Marimar.

“Tía Silvia sent it to me,” she repeated tightly. He’d been asking about the itinerary since they transferred in Houston. “She made all the reservations.”

As they passed baggage claim, several porters tried to flag them down and get their attention, but they kept walking.

Outside the terminal there were dozens—no, hundreds—of people waiting behind the arrivals gate. They held balloons and “?Bienvenido!” signs. A woman holding a baby screamed as her husband dropped all of his bags and ran to them. Grandmothers were swallowed up into waiting arms, and couples devoured each other. Marimar felt a twinge in her stomach.

“This makes me think of the time everyone at school got singing telegrams for Friendship Day except you and me,” Rey said.

As they waded through the crowds, Marimar tried to pull up the taxi email on her phone. She felt people turn toward them, like a slow wave. A little boy ran up to Rhiannon and tried to yank the flower from her forehead. Marimar swatted him away and he ran screaming back to his mother, who glowered at them and made the symbol of the cross over her entire body.

“Do you think they’re wary because we didn’t bring more than carry-ons?” Rey laughed, putting on his sunglasses even though it was three in the morning.

“Hilarious.” She stopped short of throwing her phone against the glass walls. “Roaming isn’t kicking in. Look for a sign that says Oro Verde,” she told them.

But they weren’t exactly listening. Tatinelly was trying to help Mike with the tangled straps of his backpack and Rey was taking a selfie. Rhiannon chased after a stray balloon and Marimar ran after her. Someone asked to join Rey’s selfie and soon it was a swarm. If this was how the rest of the trip was going to go, then they would not survive. Marimar caught up to Rhiannon before she got lost in the crowds.

“Hey, baby girl, don’t run off, okay?” Marimar said, brushing Rhiannon’s hair back. The delicate pink rose looked different. The petals’ edges were saturated pink, the color leeching from the center. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sleepy.” Rhiannon scratched at her forehead and watched the red heart-shaped balloon drift up and get stuck in the ceiling.

“Come, we’ll be home soon.” Marimar hadn’t meant to say home, but the kid wasn’t the only one who’d slept uneasily on the flight. The rest of the Montoyas were back at Four Rivers waiting for them to lay Uncle Félix to rest, and her mind created scenarios that told her the little gold laurel that had taken so much of her energy was not enough to protect her family. She did not believe in God, but she had always believed in her grandmother, and the prayer that passed through her lips was for her.

Rhiannon clung to Marimar and they zigzagged through the porters, families taping boxes that had been gutted by Customs. Bodies moved around them like waves, and if they weren’t careful, they were going to get separated or carried away by the current.

“Auntie Mari, there’s a lady looking at us,” Rhiannon said. Her clear, soprano voice cut right through Marimar’s thoughts as she focused on the petite woman standing feet from their cloister.

She had cat-green eyes and brown hair. The sign in her hand read: Montoya.

Marimar let go of an anxious breath. She waved, then extended her hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Marimar Montoya—”

“Of course! I’m Ana Cruz. I’m sorry I’m late,” she said and pushed aside Marimar’s hand to better pull her into a tight embrace. Rey also allowed himself to be pulled into a hug and kissed, followed by the Sullivans.

The woman’s name sounded familiar, but Marimar couldn’t place it. Her body needed sleep, but she knew enough that the taxi reservation had a man’s name on it.

“Your Tía Silvia got the time wrong on your flight,” Ana Cruz said quickly in her lilting, accented English. “She didn’t account for the time difference. But it’s a good thing I checked the arrival board. You must be exhausted. Your rooms at the house are ready and waiting.”