Omar placed his menu on the table and looked across at his daughter. She was beautiful, her smile so like his mother's and grandmother's. Samirah clearly got her height from his side of the family since she stood about five-ten. Left-handed—got that from him too.
Angie walked up. “Hey, Samirah. Nice to see you again. Know what you want?”
“Not yet. It all looks so good.”
“What about you, O?”
He lifted his gaze to her face and saw the smirk. “Y'all ain't funny, Santos. Remember, payback is always coming.”
“Bring it on, Conductor,” she retorted.
For once, Omar was grateful his skin was dark enough to hide the blush her words evoked. “Just wrong. A house salad and a special quesadilla.”
“Horchata or Jamaica?”
“Why you ask every time, Angie? You know I don't mess with horchata. Too sweet. When is Javier returning? You've been something else since he left.”
“Cabrón,” she mumbled. “Have you decided, Samirah?”
Samirah's eyes were focused on the menu, but there was no missing her amusement. When she glanced up at Angie, Omar saw the laughter she kept back. “I'll have the burger special and a horchata.”
“Maybe you can teach your daddy something about the best drinks,” Angie quipped. She took the menu and started to walk away before looking over her shoulder. “Flan?”
“Is my last name Valenzuela? Of course,” he replied before he focused on Samirah. “I don't share, just so you know. Not even with my woman.”
Angie mumbled, “Liar,” and walked away.
A server came over with their drinks and left. Samirah took a sip. “This is soo good. You should try it.”
“I have, and still prefer Jamaica. Reminds me of time spent with your grandfather, although he'd put rum in his drink.”
“Were you surprised?”
He knew why the change of topic and what she was asking. Taking a sip, he swallowed and set the glass on the table. “Stunned and happy, then a bit angry. You were in California, four hours away, and I didn't know. To say it hurt, on top of not hearing from you...being told you didn’t want anything to do with me…it ripped me apart when I got your mom’s emails. Did you know she blocked me? Changed your telephone numbers? Told me she filed adoption papers for her husband?”
He rubbed his eyes then his forehead. “Why didn’t you reach out when you got older?
Samirah gripped his hand. She blinked back tears. “I'm so sorry, Daddy. I wrote you, and when your emails bounced back, I thought you didn’t want me. Mom told he you wanted no contact with me, that you had a new life and no room for me.”
Omar stared at her. “Not want you? Don't ever believe that, Samirah. Listen, sweetheart, this isn't a place to talk. Would you like to walk with me after lunch?”
The server arrived with their food, and she nodded. “You really should try the horchata. It's so good.”
“Nah, I'm cool. So, tell me about this program you're in at Santa Cruz.”
As she explained her program, he was impressed. She knew exactly what she wanted, unlike him at her age. He'd finished with a degree in art history and never used it. Baseball became his life after college until it wasn't. It hurt to look at his daughter and realize how much of her life he'd missed. He didn't know what she liked to eat, her favorite books. Was she into sports? There was so much he had to learn about Samirah Valenzuela.
He eyed her when dessert arrived. “You're staring at my flan and drooling, Samirah. Why didn't you order one?”
“It smells so good,” she said and grinned.
He handed her a spoon. “One spoonful. Excuse me, that's half the dessert.”
“Yum! Thanks, Dad.”
With a laugh, he pushed the flan to her and smiled as she wolfed it down. Paying the check, he stood and waited for Samirah to walk out and followed. They strolled toward the inn, and she told him more about her plans. She intended to remain in California, hoping to get a job with one of the labs in the Bay Area. The idea that she'd be closer pleased him.
“What happened between you and Mom?”
They were on the walking path leading to the mine. Omar scrubbed his face with his hand. “Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. We were in our last year of college. I was being scouted, but there were no guarantees. Your mom wanted to spend a year in France. I was cool with it.”
He led Samirah past the mine, staying on the path. “When she came home, we talked about marriage and got engaged. You were born during my second year in the minors. For some reason, your mom was hesitant to marry. Then I was sold to the St. Louis Blues.”
He bent to pick up a twig. “Two weeks before we were to move, she ended everything and returned to France, taking you with her.”
“What about custody? Visitations?” Samirah halted. “I was told you didn't want me. That it would mess up your career.”
“Who told you that bull crap?”
“Mom. She said there was no stability in your life with your career and that you wanted me to live in a household with two parents, not splitting my time. I wrote you and said I didn't mind, but you never answered.”
Omar stopped and faced her. “Because I never got your messages or letters. Your mom emailed me that you considered Laurent your father, sent pictures of the three of you, and said you refused to have any contact with me. “
Taking Samirah's hands, he held them tightly. “I was young, foolish, and a coward. I didn't fight hard enough when I should have. I let my anger at her take over my soul, and I didn't do right by my daughter. I’ also need to deal with Adriana but that can wait. I’m glad you were the stronger of us. Can you ever forgive me?”
Samirah's eyes were wet. “I have. It's mom I'm furious with and it’s going to take time and distance to forgive what she did. She never sent my letters and birthday cards. I found out a few months ago she’d monitored my computer and phone so I couldn’t reach you. When I told her I needed closure with you and I was coming to California, she finally told me what she’d done, admitted that she blocked all contact between you and me. We had an ugly fight, and I said some things I wish I could take back.”
“Have you apologized?” Samirah shook her head. “When we return to the inn, I want you to call her and apologize. No matter what, she's your mother. What she did was wrong, but she loves you and believes she was doing what was best.”
“Aren't you angry, Dad? Do you hate mom?”
“No longer,” he replied, hugging her. “At first I did, but no longer. I'm about to marry the woman who's made me a better man. Taught me what love, trust, and a relationship means, Samirah. Cherie has my heart, and there isn't room for hate. Your mom will have to live with her actions, just as I have to live with mine. Now, tell me about the bachelorette party.”
Samirah's infectious laugh made him smile. “Oh no, you don't. Snitches get stitches.”
His laughter mingled with hers, and they headed in the direction of the inn, their arms wrapped around each other's waists.