Margo milled around Diana’s office doorway. She was technically packing and had a small stack of shirts in her arms fresh from the laundry to place in her suitcase, but when she heard her daughter click on the mouse, her curiosity distracted her from the task at hand.
Diana had been on the computer on and off for the last couple of days, sleuthing. She’d received a list of social media profiles from the investigator’s report that might belong to the family members of Flora Reyes Cruz, and true to her stubborn nature, she was going through the list one by one.
“Ma, I can hear you and your fuzzy slippers back there. Your hair must be standing on end from static,” Diana said, not turning.
How her daughter could tease her at a time like this, Margo couldn’t understand. Margo had been on edge since Diana’s declaration that she would be leaving for the Philippines, with or without her. Now, none of Margo’s plans were on her mind. Instead, she was worried about her daughter’s itinerary, the speed with which she’d bought her ticket, and her spreadsheet of places to visit despite not having a contact in Manila besides her travel agent.
That is, unless her current efforts turned up a contact for a Cruz family relative.
Which would make that relative Margo’s relative, too.
Margo’s heart rate doubled.
Oh God, Margo could have relatives.
And Flora Reyes was alive.
Alive.
Margo shook her head as an avalanche of thoughts cascaded around her. Flora Reyes might be the woman who had seen her father last. This might be the woman who had been married to her father. The woman who had kept her father from her. And her daughter was going to confront her.
“Can you?” Margo said now, curiosity peeking around a corner of her mind. “Can you reread the PI’s letter?”
Diana turned, the note in her hand. “Sure. ‘Enclosed are the following items that connect Flora Reyes to Antonio Cruz: a marriage certificate to Flora Reyes, a newspaper clipping connecting the couple with a mention of their family members, and possible Facebook profiles of their granddaughter, their next of kin. Enclosed is a potential business address in the name of the family. While a trusted partner in the Philippines has provided this information, I suggest making contact and conducting a DNA test for proof of relationship. As discussed, I will wait for further instructions on how to proceed.’ ”
“So he’s not really sure, then?” Margo said, with a spark of hope in her chest. Her life would go back to the way it was if this all weren’t true.
“Ma.” Diana looked up. “This is them. I can feel it.”
“But we aren’t sure,” she said, forcefully now. “Because if this is true … if these people are …”
Diana stood, guiding Margo into the chair while taking the clothes from her arms, and turned her so she faced the table of pictures. The ribbon cutting photo, the photo of Antonio and Flora, a close-up graduation photo of Flora, and of a third woman Diana’s age, with a bright smile and Diana’s eyes. The first time Margo looked at these pictures, she’d casually flipped through them, but now, she examined them intently.
“It’s not too late, Ma. You can change your ticket.”
“No.” Though Margo wouldn’t be able to put this out of her mind forever, she couldn’t back out on her friends. And she refused to subject herself to this … this alternate reality. She’d lived her life in the moment, and that was what she was going to continue to do, not grasp at this potential scam. She turned to her daughter. “Diana, what if … what if this is all a lie? A lie made up by your private investigator, and no one’s waiting for you on the other side. What if it’s a … what do you call it? A catfish?”
She smiled. “I thought of that. I didn’t tell the PI that I was going to the Philippines. And, I could say the same of you: you might be on a wild-goose chase with your wayward friends. It’s the same kind of risk, isn’t it? We’re going to places we’ve never been before.” Under her breath she said, “Though I still think you should come with me.”
“Hello?” A low voice echoed from the hallway. “Dr. Cary? Mrs. Cary?” Lenny, their contractor, materialized in the doorway holding a rusty pipe. His presence no longer surprised Margo. Despite his weathered appearance, he was the epitome of honest and jolly, not to mention another person to chat with during the day while Diana worked.
“That’s not a good sign,” Margo said.
“Not horrible, but not good, either.” He grinned, accentuating the folds on his dusty face. He lifted up the pipe. “We found this behind the wall in your master bathroom. It’s looking bad, and I suggest we replace it.”
Diana sighed. “Well, we don’t have a choice, do we? Can you text me a quote?”
“Will do. Expect it in a bit. Sorry. It’s these—”
“I know … old houses.”
“Right.” He nodded and turned out of their sight.
As his footsteps quieted, Margo was struck with another thought. “Diana, isn’t this too much? The time off, the private investigator, this trip? You have student loans, your mortgage to think of, and now the pipes need replacing.”
“You don’t need to worry about it. I’ve made everything work before, haven’t I?” she said bluntly.
The implication shredded Margo’s motherhood card, a reminder that, yes, in fact, Diana had paid her own way. As a photographer, Margo had made just enough to live, to rent out the downstairs flat of a town house in Old Town, to give Diana the basic necessities of life, but everything else? The clothing Diana had wanted, her varsity jacket, her college applications, not to mention college itself, and medical school—Diana had done it on her own. It had all worked out in the end, with the two of them achieving exactly what they wanted in life, but Diana was right—Margo didn’t have the say-so to worry, to double-check on her financially.
Diana pointed to her laptop screen, snapping Margo out of her thoughts. “Besides, there’s no way I’m backing out now. I’ve found a relative, and her name is Colette Cruz Macaraeg.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Oh, ah … yes.” Margo looked up from her phone’s screen, which had gone dark, to see Cameron sitting next to her, a carry-on bag between them. The rideshare van to the airport rumbled through the street—they were a mile from Reagan airport, where they were meeting Roberta—and she had just posted the picture of herself and Cameron loading the car up with their luggage. She had started to scroll through her notifications when her mind had wandered, far enough away to be noticeable.
A gray eyebrow rose, and his blue eyes gleamed. “Uh-huh. I don’t believe you. Here I am chatting my butt off about our exciting trip, and your mind’s a million miles away.”
She couldn’t deny it. She was caught, so she updated him on Diana’s plans, of the foolishness of her wanting to fly across the world to meet complete strangers. Margo couldn’t get her daughter’s face, or how detached their goodbyes had been, out of her memory. They had hugged (though stiffly) and said their requisite I love yous. There hadn’t been any outward hard feelings, but right now, it felt like the first day she’d dropped Diana off at day care, like she was missing an appendage. “I just wish she had listened to me.”
“About the safety of traveling alone?”
“About everything! About moving too quickly. She and that Colette, who is supposed to be my niece. My niece, the daughter of my already deceased half sister named Marilou. Can you even imagine that, Cam? A sister!” Words tumbled out of her mouth and Margo was keenly aware she wasn’t making any sense. “That is to say if that was truly Colette and not some phony person. Anyway, she and Diana were in communication most of the night. How I know this is because Diana kept walking from her bedroom to the kitchen and back, typing away at her phone. But my God, if the PI is right, and if they are, in fact, cousins by blood, then that puts a new spin on everything, right?”
“More than a spin. That’s a tornado-force wind, Margo.” Concern flashed in his eyes. “So what are you doing here? Why aren’t you traveling with her? Don’t you want to go, too?”
“No,” she said softly. And then in a louder voice: “No! Of course not. I think this is a mistake. Even if they are really family, they’re still strangers—we don’t know what they might want or think. My family is Diana. My family is you and Roberta. My family was my mother. Of what importance are these strangers in my life?”
Cameron turned in his seat and leveled her with a stare. “You meeting new family doesn’t negate the family you have, you know that, right? Nothing would be lost. But I get it. It’s scary as hell.”
“I’m not scared. I’m hesitant; I’m dubious. Besides, this trip has been the light at the end of the tunnel that kept me going last year. I’ve wanted to be able to breathe, and now I’ll finally get to. Is that horrible? Does that make me an ungrateful daughter?”
“No. No, it certainly doesn’t make you ungrateful.” Cameron took her hand. He didn’t do it often, and Margo was surprised at how soft his was. Both their hands were wrinkled, with the occasional spot, and she relaxed into his touch, as simple and gentle as it was.
“Margo, you’ve been through a lot. You loved your mother, and it was this love that made it hard to take care of her in the end, but you did it anyway. You do need to breathe. You shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to take care of yourself. And I support whatever you want to do. We’re all in this together.” He squeezed her hand. “We’d miss you, anyway. Our TALWAC with Cameron YouTube channel name won’t work without Thelma. Anyway, it already has hundreds of subscribers.”
“You think I’m Thelma?”
“You’re changing the subject.” He handed Margo his phone, and sure enough, below their first video, shot by Roberta after their last coffee date, was a series of comments. “I think this idea of ours has legs. Heck, it has wings. And I think it may fly.” He gave her a side-eye. “But yeah, if I had to choose. Thelma.”
“Wow. You might be right,” Margo said, ignoring the blush creeping up her neck as she scrolled through the encouraging comments, recognizing handles from her Instagram followers. In real time, the subscriber count increased before her eyes.
But as they disembarked curbside at Reagan airport and walked the short distance to the airline terminal to pick up their boarding passes, Margo wondered: What would Leora do? Would her mother have left for this trip knowing Diana was going to the Philippines? Would she, too, have given Diana leeway to do what her heart desired, despite the threat of danger, physical or emotional, that loomed on the horizon?
The answer came to her quickly.
Yes. Yes, Leora would have, because she’d allowed Margo this same leeway in her young life. Leora had taken the reins of motherhood whenever Margo needed the time to breathe, to create and capture moments. Despite not having a partner, Margo had the unconditional support of her mother. Leora had known that the faster she let Margo go, to catch the wind’s draft, the faster she would come home.
Right now, though, Margo didn’t feel like she was flying with the current. Instead, every step felt like she was up against it.