Jessica Russo knows nothing about her mother's family or her Cuban culture. Every time she's asked about it, her mother has shut down. But when the Cuban grandmother she's never met sends her right-hand man, Luis, to offer Jessica the chance to come to Miami and meet her estranged family, she can't help but say yes, even as she knows it will pain her mother.
The woman that Jessica meets is nothing like what she expected. Her grandmother is successful, intelligent, determined, and all too willing to take blame for what has happened to cause the estrangement, and, more importantly, to try and set things right. As Jessica spends time with her grandmother in her beautiful island home, she learns about her family's history and what caused the schism between her mother and grandmother.
As days with her grandmother turn to weeks, Jessica is determined to find a way to heal her fractured family. And in the end, Jessica might just learn something about herself and what it means to embrace the many facets of her identity.
Read an excerpt:
The love and support between her parents were palpable, which only again made her wonder how her mother could just say goodbye to her family and never go back. How she had seemingly given up everything Cuban to become part of her father’s big Italian family.
Even with all the upset her mother had experienced in her young life, it was almost like cutting off a piece of yourself. But then again, didn’t surgeons cut off limbs that threatened a patient’s life?
A drastic action because it had not only cut her mother off from her family, but it had severed Jessica’s connection to her family’s history and the Cuban culture she had found so intriguing during the last week.
But she held back from saying so, at least until they’d finished dinner and had coffee and dessert. In her humble opinion, a full belly always made for a calmer discussion.
With that driving her, she stuck to neutral things and loved that the meal finished without any upset. As they sipped coffee and assorted liqueurs, ate cannolis from the local Italian bakery and slices of her mom’s cheesecake, Jessica finally shifted the topic to the Miami family.
She excused herself to get the leather portfolio with the photos from where she’d left it on the living room sofa when she’d first come in. She shifted her seat to sit next to her mother and said, “Your mother, my grandmother, sent some photos for you.”
She didn’t give her mother time to protest, depositing the stack of photos in a free spot in the middle of the table. “You probably haven’t seen these in a long time,” she said to hopefully break the ice even though she knew her mother hadn’t seen them in nearly thirty years.
Her mother said nothing. Did nothing as she stared at the photos, her body tense beside Jessica’s.
“Is that you?” her father asked, puzzled, and pointed to her mother in the photo.
“It is. My hair was curlier then and lighter,” she said in barely a whisper, her voice so tight with emotion she was almost inaudible.
“That must be your sister next to you. You look so much alike,” her father said, surprise in his voice, and Jessica understood. Like her, he knew little to nothing about her Miami family.
“It’s Gloria, and they still do look alike,” Jessica said, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction from her mother.
Lara said nothing but took hold of the photo with trembling hands and flipped to the next photo that showed the three young girls in their Easter finery. Matching pale yellow dresses and hats, except for the different-colored, glittering Easter egg on each hat. They were all smiling happily in contrast to the three adults who stood behind them, looking way too serious.
“Lara?” her father said, clearly trying to prompt a response from his wife.
“We had so much fun this Easter, even though my dad…” She choked up then and tears came to her eyes, but she didn’t swipe them away. She let them flow down her face and said, “That’s my abuelo and abuela. My mom’s parents. They watched us while my mom worked. She was always working.”
“She told me as much, Mom. She also said she was sorry she didn’t do more to help you when you came from Cuba.” Jessica held her breath after she said it, waiting for an explosion, but it didn’t come, surprising her.
Her mother flipped to another photo and then another of her sitting at a small secretary painted a salmon-y orange. With a loving pass over the photo, her mother said, “I used to sit here to write. I always thought I’d write a book one day, but when you’re the child of immigrant parents, they want you to have a ‘profession.’”
“Italian or Cuban, not much different,” her father said with an indifferent shrug.
“Yes and no, Sal,” her mother said, her tone slightly brusque, surprising her husband.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, apologetic.
“It’s just that…I know it was tough when your grandparents got here. Lots of people didn’t want them here. Or the Irish for that matter, only…they came here for a better life.”
“And you didn’t?” he challenged, obviously surprised by her demeanor.
Sensing the growing tension, Jessica jumped in to try and ease it. “When I was talking to Luis, he mentioned that many Cubans had better lives in Cuba.”
With a shrug, Lara said, “We did. My father was a police officer and my mother was working at an import/export company and going to law school when they shut down the university due to the political unrest.”
Sal sat back in his chair, a puzzled look on his face. “I didn’t know that.”
Lara bit her lip and shook her head. “That’s on me, not you, Sal. It was just all caught up with what happened with my mother and why bring up old hurts?”
Her father relaxed a little and laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring up the past if it will hurt you.”
“I know, only, it’s hard sometimes to think about it. To know I can’t go home, and I don’t just mean Miami. We’ve been to Italy how many times?” she asked, and even though it was rhetoric, Sal answered.
“Two or three times.”
Her mother huffed out a laugh but said, “I love you, Sal, but you don’t understand. I can’t go to Cuba, as much as I might want to go and see my family’s home. Where I was born. Where my grandparents lived. Because of that, there’s a hole here,” she said and gestured to her heart. “It’s here and there’s no way to fill it.”
“We can go if you want,” he said, still slightly clueless, but Jessica understood. She had been as clueless as well until Luis had explained.
She laid a hand on her mother’s to offer comfort and said, “It’s not that easy, Dad. The Cuban government has all kinds of requirements and why would mom want to go somewhere that was so hard to leave?”
Her father was silent for a moment, obviously considering what she’d said and nodded. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Lara. I wish I had known. I wish there’s something I could do to change it.”
Lara smiled, a sad half smile, and cupped her husband’s cheek. “You have given me so much, Sal. Your love, your laughter, and your family. I don’t know how I would have survived without that. I love you.”
Her father grinned and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “And I love you. I’d do anything for you or Jessica,” he said, drawing her back into the discussion.
Lara smiled and glanced at her. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I wish I knew more, Mom, but it’s a start,” she said, smoothed her hands over the portfolio her grandmother had given her, and pushed on. “We had a big family gathering a couple of nights ago. I got to meet Aunt Gloria and Aunt Anna. It sounds like the three of you were quite a handful at times.”
Her mother laughed, sniffled, and flipped to another photo of the three girls with their mother. They all had parrots of varying sizes and hues on their arms, although Anna and Gloria were both cringing.
“We were. My poor abuelos were always after us, but it wasn’t ever anything dangerous or bad, just…creative,” her mother said and moved on to another photo, this time one of her father in an army uniform. Her grandmother was off to one side, her eyes shattered and sad. Her grandfather cradled a baby Anna in his arms while Gloria and Lara stood in front of him.
“He was so handsome. Strong,” her mother said, worship in her voice.
“It must have been hard for all of you when he was gone. First the Bay of Pigs and then Vietnam.”
“He must have been gone a lot,” her father said, wading into the discussion. Unprepared yet again for the vehemence of Lara’s response.
“He was a hero, Sal. He fought for what he thought was right,” she snapped at him and then glared at Jessica as she repeated, “He was a hero.”
Despite her passionate response, Jessica got the sense it was almost like her mother was trying to convince herself of the truth of her statement. Trying to keep the lines of discussion open, she said, “He was a hero, but it’s a hard life being with someone who’s gone a lot. Especially with three babies.”
“It is, but we didn’t want for love. My abuelos saw to that,” her mother said and flipped to another photo, this one of the entire family in front of the first tiny location for Guerreiro Enterprises.
“And your mother saw to it you had a roof over your heads and food on the table,” Jessica reminded and gestured to the photo. “She gave you a future.”
“One that I didn’t want, Jess,” her mother shot back and glared at her, green eyes spitting emerald fire. “I wanted to follow my own path, but my mother wouldn’t let me.”
“I think she’s realized that. Too late, unfortunately. Your sisters each have their own professions. Only two of the cousins work at the family business,” she explained.
“And that lawyer who came here, I suppose,” her mother said and frowned. “Has he turned you against me as well?”
Jessica shook her head and laid her arm across her mother’s shoulders, but she shrugged it off and pushed away the photos. Taking the hint, Jessica backed off, but not before clarifying one thing.
“It’s not about choosing sides, Mom. It’s about making peace. Being the bigger person. That’s something you taught me my whole life.” She took the discarded photos and gently tucked them back into the leather portfolio, which she left in the center of the table.
“I think it’s time for me to go. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Grandma’s.” She didn’t wait for a reply, hopped up, and dropped kisses on each of their cheeks before bolting out the door. Hoping as she did so that her father could, as he always did, smooth things over and have her mother maybe finally reconsider her exile from her family.
Caridad Pineiro is a transplanted Long Island girl who has fallen in love with the Jersey Shore. When Caridad isn’t taking long strolls along the boardwalk, she’s also a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author with over a million romance novels sold worldwide. Caridad is passionate about writing and helping others explore and develop their skills as writers. She is a founding member of the Liberty States Fiction Writers and has presented workshops at the RT Book Club Convention, Romance Writers of America National Conference as well as various writing organizations throughout the country. You can connect with Caridad at www.caridad.com.
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