Isabel's Texas Two-Step (6 page)

I blushed and nodded. She knew I was an artist just from the way I looked at art? What a compliment!

“I'm Xochitl,” she told me. “That's Zooooo-cheeeeel, but it's spelled x-o-c-h-i-t-l. People always get it wrong. Anyway, what's your name?”

“Isabel.”

“Nice to meet a fellow artist,” Mr. Guerrero said and shook my hand.

As the three of us walked along, he pointed to some of the paintings and told me the artists' names and where they were from. Xochitl was constantly jumping in to add some funny detail. Mr. Guerrero didn't seem to mind, though. Xochitl really did know a lot about the art. I was so impressed that someone who was not much older than me was so knowledgeable about art. I guessed that living and breathing art every day was like taking an art vitamin pill every morning of your life.

“Here at the Blue Turtle Gallery we celebrate the culture of our ancestors,” he explained, as we arrived back at
La Llorona
. “Our family, for example, is of Coahuilteca-Apache lineage. Of course we're Mexican, too.”

“My name means ‘flower' in Nahuatl, the old Aztec language,” Xochitl interjected.

“Oh, wow! It sounds so pretty, too. And your last name, Guerrero, means warrior, right?” I was proud that I remembered the English translation.

“Yes. But trust me, we're a very peace-loving family.”

Mr. Guerrero made me laugh, and I was beginning to relax in his presence. “My cousin was talking about the Coah-whoa-whoa-whatevers last night,” I told them.

Xochitl laughed and shook her head. “Kwo-weel-tekah,” she said slowly.

“Right,” I answered, laughing too. “Sorry. I'll learn to pronounce it eventually. But Apache…I've heard that they were fierce warriors, weren't they?”

Mr. Guerrero smiled again. “Not all the time. But even up to the nineteenth century, San Antonians still had to be on the lookout. People still find arrowheads out there, outside the city.”

I thought about what a thrill it would be to find a genuine arrowhead on my cousins' ranch. As I looked around the gallery again, my eyes returned to the statue of the mysterious woman—
La Llorona
. “I'd love to learn to do metalwork like that someday,” I said, gazing at the rich luster of the bronze.

“No way!” Xochitl exclaimed. “Isabel, I was working on a model for a bronze casting out in the courtyard when you came in! Can I show her, Dad?”

“Of course,” Mr. Guerrero agreed. “I need to get back to some bookkeeping up here at the desk. But I'm certain
Xochitl can give you just as good a tour of our studio space as I could.”

“Better, actually,” Xochitl teased. “Come on!”

I thought about this. I wasn't sure how long I had been in the gallery, and I wondered if my family was looking for me. On the other hand…a real artist's studio space! And Elena Maria probably wouldn't be done dress shopping for
hours.
“I guess so,” I said finally. “But I really should get back soon.”

“Sure, sure,” Xochitl said, pulling me out the back door. “This is so cool, you're going to love it!” She led me over to an old wooden worktable, covered in layers of paint splatters. Right in the middle was a large clay model of a bird.

“I'm trying to sculpt a heron, but something about it is just not right. I just can't
see
what's wrong with it. It's driving me crazy.”

“You like birds?” I asked.

“Love, love them,” she answered.

I told her all about my bird cartoons. “Wow, that's so cool,” she responded when I was done. “What do you think of my heron? I know there is something off, but I'm not sure what.”

I walked around and around, checking out her piece, and then it struck me. “I think I know why it seems off to you. This part, the curve from the head to the back at the neck…I think maybe it's a touch too short. Try making the head a little rounder and the neck a little longer,” I suggested, looking up at Xochitl. I hoped I didn't sound like
too much of a know-it-all. I really liked her and hoped we could be friends.

She walked around her bird, looking at it from different angles. I had a sudden fear that maybe she was insulted by what I had said. But she burst out with, “You're right, you're absolutely right, Isabel.” She slapped a glop of red clay on the back of the head and began to mold. She stepped back. “That's it. Genius, Isabel. I can't thank you enough.”

I blushed. “I like to draw birds. They're so…birdlike.” Xochitl cracked up at that one.

“You have an awesome sense of dimension,” she said. “Would you like to work on something? Come on, don't be shy.” Xochitl tossed me a small brick of pottery clay. Before I knew it I was kneading and pinching the clay. It turned soft in my hands. In a matter of minutes I shaped a small parrot.

“That's so cute,” Xochitl said, striking a pose with a hand under her chin. “It's so parrotlike,” she joked.

“I don't think I got the feet right, though. The feet on your heron look better proportioned. My parrot has too-tiny feet!”

We were in the middle of an intense bird-feet discussion—with some high octane laughing, because Xochitl decided to mimic a heron walking in high heels—when the door to the courtyard slid open. Mr. Guerrero and a policeman entered.

“Miss Martinez?”

“Yes, officer,” I answered. My heart was pounding
like a huge grandfather clock in my chest. Had the broken eagle been discovered?

“Young woman, you've caused quite a scare to your family,” he said. Almost immediately, the entire shopping gang appeared behind him: Lauren and Jill looked giddy from shopping but annoyed, and so did Elena Maria, Aunt Lourdes, who wheeled in my mother, and Aunt Inez, who towered over me.

“
¡Muchachita! Dios mío
, we were so scared. I was worried you were kidnapped,” Aunt Inez said, putting her hands to her throat. “Don't
ever
leave again without asking us permission.”

I was so embarrassed. “I-I-I'm sorry, Aunt Inez. I told Mom—”

“Isabel, you completely disappeared on me,” my mother said.

“No, I didn't. I told you—”

Aunt Lourdes interrupted. “Do not contradict your mother. You've caused enough of a stir.”

“Lourdes, enough,” my mother defended me. “We have found our Isabel. The search party has been successful.” I gave her a huge smile. Having three mothers was two too many for me.

“Hold on a minute,” Xochitl said. “Isabel, Mrs. Ruiz is your aunt?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know my family?”

“Of course,” Mr. Guerrero agreed. “The Ruizes are great patrons of this gallery. They practically keep us in business some years!” He smiled kindly at Aunt Inez.

My stomach began the butterfly dance as I held my breath. I did a quick scan of the gallery through the sliding glass doors, but I didn't see any glass sculpture. I let my breath out slowly. My aunt must buy from several artists in San Antonio, I reassured myself.

“When I saw your appreciation for
La Llorona
, Isabel,” Mr. Guerrero went on, “I should have known you were a member of this family.”

I didn't know what to say. I simply stood there, terribly ashamed about causing such a big scene. Xochitl put her hand on my elbow. “Isabel, let me fire your statue. It looks pretty finished to me.”

Aunt Inez spoke up. “Thank you for your offer,” she said to Xochitl. “I can pick it up later or it can be delivered to my home.” She turned to Mr. Guerrero. “Cesar, thank God she was in good hands. I'm not used to girls,” she said, twisting her ring.

“She was never in any danger, Inez. Perhaps she could have been a little clearer when she separated from you.” He turned and gave me a wink, but it didn't make me feel any better.

I waved good-bye to Xochitl and followed everybody out of the courtyard. When we were back on the River Walk, Elena Maria grabbed my by the arm and chewed me out. “Mami nearly had a heart attack, Izzy.
Please
act more mature.”

Urggg! “
Me
act more mature? Elena, you're the one who just spent a whole morning deciding between pink or white shoes!”

“That's an important decision,
mi hermanita,
” Elena Maria said condescendingly. “You'll understand when you're older.” She exchanged all-knowing glances with Jill and Lauren.

I ran to catch up with my mother and Aunt Lourdes, but as soon as I got there, a voice cried out “Lourdes!” We all turned around to see a woman hurrying toward our group.

“Julia! Oh my goodness!” Aunt Lourdes exclaimed, sounding surprised and happy.

“I can't believe it!” the woman went on as she reached us and gave Aunt Lourdes a big hug. “It's really a small world, isn't it? What are you doing in San Antonio?”

As they chatted I apologized again to Mom. “I'm sorry, Mami, I really am. I thought you heard me when I said I was going to the art gallery.”

“Honey, there are a hundred art galleries along the River Walk. Forget about it for now, okay? I'm just glad you're safe.” She didn't sound mad at me at all. Phew.

“Are you sure?” Aunt Lourdes was saying to her friend. “It's no trouble?”

“Of course not! I would love for you to stay!”

“Well…” Aunt Lourdes hesitated, looking at my mom. “Esperanza, you remember Julia, from the hospital?”

“Of course,” my mom replied. “It's so nice to see you again, Julia. I remember now, Lourdes told me you transferred here to San Antonio.”

“Julia has invited me to stay with her over these few days, Esperanza,” Aunt Lourdes explained. “Of course, if
you need me with you, or if
you
need me, Inez, to help out in preparation for the celebration…”

Aunt Inez shook her head. “It's all taken care of, Lourdes. Give us a call later and we will have your things sent on.” I couldn't wait to tell the BSG about my aunt's special delivery service. It was like I was staying at Hotel Inez.

Mom agreed. “I will be just fine on my own for a few days. I have such good helpers here, after all.” She smiled at Elena Maria and me.

“We can help too, Mrs. Martinez,” Jill and Lauren offered.

Aunt Lourdes broke into a grin. “Wonderful! I will check in with you every day, Esperanza, Inez.” She walked off talking a mile a minute with her friend, looking happier than I had seen her in ages.

But it didn't seem like Aunt Inez was ready to forgive me yet for messing up the shopping trip. She seemed really put out with me as she announced, “There is no time to dine at the Tower of the Americas restaurant. Let's return to the ranch. I'll have Fidencia and Enrique fix something for lunch.”

Elena Maria was about to protest when she saw the look on my mom's face.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered to Elena Maria. I did feel bad that I had ruined their lunch. Lucky for me, my sister was too excited about her purchases to be that upset.

E
lena Maria and her friends were deep in conversation with the boys, who were over-the-top excited about the missions they visited. Scott was wildly impressed by the
acequias
, the water-routing system developed by the Franciscan friars. Uncle Hector had given them a talk about the importance of water conservation. He explained that this area of Texas could experience long drought periods. And then were times when so much rain fell that entire neighborhoods would float down the river. Since I was an official member of the Green Machine, the group the BSG formed to plan our school's environmental science fair, I paid strict attention to my uncle's story.

“What's really cool about all this is that these missions were all here by the mid-seventeen-hundreds,” Scott said. “Think of it! Pre–American Revolution! I always thought
the thirteen original colonies had the lock on civilization in the New World.”

Then Jill said something. “I did some research before we left. Did you know the Spanish had set up their government in Mexico by the middle of the fifteen hundreds?” Research? Jill of the silly iPod videos surprised me. I remembered what my friend Charlotte always said: “Be careful about judging a book by its cover. Sometimes the inside pages are full of gold.”

Alfonso spoke up. “I've often wondered what this country would be like if the Spanish had succeeded in North America, instead of the British. Maybe we'd all be speaking Spanish right now.”

“Oh, Fonzie,” Jill said a little too adoringly. “That is something to think about.” Oops! Scratch previous opinion.

Ricardo and I sat at the farthest end of the long table. My cousin choked down a laugh, then crossed his eyes just as I took a big gulp of milk. It went flying, out of my nose, my mouth, everywhere.

Ricardo totally cracked up.

“Good one, Izzy,” Scott exclaimed, obviously impressed.

“Thanks, Scott,” I said gratefully. I looked over at Elena Maria.

“Oh, Izzy!” My sister got up and wiped the table-top clean with my napkin as if I were a six-year-old and couldn't do it myself.

Frustrated with my sister's “I'm more mature than
you” attitude, I picked up my plate and my glass and walked into the kitchen with my head held high. I heard Elena Maria say, “Guys, I'm going to get some more milk.”

She marched into the kitchen after me and began scolding. “Why are you embarrassing me? I'm trying to give my friends an unforgettable time. It's so obvious you need attention, just like a little baby.”

I crossed my arms and frowned. “Well, if I'm such a baby, why am I the only one who gets her own room?”

“Well, if you think you're all grown-up, then here,” she said, handing me a camera. “Play photographer and document our fun times.” She left the kitchen skipping.

Hello? Why was Elena acting so different? I promised myself that I would never change when I became a teenager.

Enrique and Fidencia, the two cooks, whispered to each other. He took a mug from a cabinet and handed it to his wife, who ladled something that smelled sweet and familiar into it. Hot chocolate!

“
Toma,
” he said, placing it before me. Drink it.

“
Gracias
, Enrique, Fidencia.
Me gusta mucho el chocolate
.” All the BSG were crazy about hot chocolate, including me.

The two cooks were thrilled to hear me speak an entire sentence in Spanish. They peppered me with questions about school, my father, which boy was Elena Maria's
chambelan de honor
, and whether I had a boyfriend.

“I'm only twelve,” I said in my best Spanish accent. “I don't have a real boyfriend yet.”

Enrique said something I couldn't make out for sure, but I know it was like, “Your mother will be fighting off boys with a broom.” I blushed hotly, which sent Fidencia into a fit of laughter, and me out of the kitchen.

It was late in the day, but the sun was far from setting. I took in a breath, heard a bird chirp, and felt the warm sun on my arms. The older kids and my cousins (except Ricardo) were in the swimming pool, flirting and playing ball. Tony and Alfonso had invited some friends over too. A radio blasted hip-hop and rock and roll, but nobody cared or complained. Even though we were close to the city we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills.

I wondered what Ricardo was up to, even though I was still upset with him for our incident with the eagle statue the night before. My sister and her friends were busy, and every time I played paparazzi, which my sister had asked me to do, one of them would complain.

“No, Izzy. My hair's not right,” Lauren said.

“Izzy, seriously, please don't take pictures of me at that angle,” Jill said. “It makes me look fat.” Jill looked like she weighed about ten pounds. I decided then and there that I would never be one of those girls who complains all the time about being fat, especially if I was skinny. It's so annoying.

At one point I asked Tony and his friends to bunch together, which they seemed happy to do, but Elena Maria scolded me. “Izzy, can't you be like real paparazzi? Hide in
the bushes and shoot from there or something. You know, so we have candids.”

Everybody found this incredibly funny. I did not. I walked away thinking,
Take your own pictures, Elena Maria
. Where was my sister? The one who cooked for me, who helped me with my hair, laughed with me. Where was that sister? I missed her.

It was dark and cool inside the house. The doors to the living room were closed, thank goodness. Maybe nobody had discovered anything yet. I decided to go see my mother and went to her room, expecting to find her there, but it was empty. I ran into Mercedes, who was mopping.

“
Dónde está mi mamá
?” I asked.

“
En el balcón
,” she said, pointing upstairs.

Sure enough, I found her on an ancient rocking chair, looking out at the horizon. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and then leaned over the railing and took in the beautiful view. A few dark clouds were visible over a range of hills, but there were blue skies above us. It was an Isabel Martinez kind of day—except for my sister and her friends.

“That must be the start of the Hill Country that Tony was talking about,” I said.

Mom touched my hand. Holding it, I grabbed a nearby stool and sat next to her. We sat in silence, feeling a lovely breeze on our cheeks, listening to the birds that shrieked in the distance. I could have done this forever, except a cow let out this gigantic moo, and that got us both laughing.

“Boy, Mami, this place is beautiful. You should see my room. It's got white walls, but the color changes by the
hour with the sunlight. I didn't want to be there at first because it was so far away from everybody else, but now I love it. It's
charming
,” I said, waving my arms around, mimicking Aunt Inez. Mom gave me a funny look.

“I'll go take a look later, my dear. Right now I just want to sit here and rest. There's nothing for me to do. Inez has taken care of every little detail,” she said, sounding a little wistful.

“I think she's just trying to be nice, Mom.” I worried that Mom didn't laugh at my imitation of Aunt Inez.

“I know that, but…”

“I know what you mean. Even Ricardo said last night his mom was a little pushy.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “He said that? What a naughty boy.”

“He wasn't being mean, Mami. He just said it like it was a fact.”

My mother shook her head. “Poor, poor Inez. All the money in the world can't give her what she really wants. A daughter.”

“But Mom, she has so much. Have you seen the artwork in the living room? It's…” I suddenly realized what I was saying and stopped myself. The last thing I wanted to talk about was the art collection.

“It's beautiful,
sí
?” She finished the sentence for me. I nodded silently. “Yes, I heard about that magnificent art collection downstairs. What a blessing to afford such fine things.” She paused. “Perhaps I should go and look at this fine collection everyone is talking about. Would
you like to take me on a little tour, Isabel?”

My heart was pounding. I thought fast. “Um, I would, but…it's so nice just sitting out here, don't you think?”

My mom smiled. “That is true. This landscape in front of us is just as lovely as any painting, and being here with you makes me much happier than any piece of artwork ever could.”

I felt my heart returning to a normal rhythm, but I also felt completely terrible. I wanted to tell Mom everything. How Ricardo and I were in the living room when we weren't supposed to be, how we broke the tip off the eagle's wing. I opened my mouth but closed it again quickly. Mom looked so happy staring out at the hills, I just couldn't upset her. Later. I would tell her later. I formulated a plan that I would tell her after the
quince
was over. Maybe just before we left for the airport.

“Ricardo said they're not rich, they're just lucky,” I told her.

She shifted in her seat. “Yes, the Ruiz family has been lucky indeed. Just look at this view. I would love to have even a
ranchito
someday.”

“When I'm a famous artist, I'll buy you one. We'll call it Bluebird Ranch, after the Bluebird of Happiness.” She squeezed my hand tighter, and we continued to look at the sky and the hills.

“You know what I think? I think I am the luckiest woman in the world. I have the best family that anyone could ask for. My two girls are more valuable than any piece of art, or piece of dirt, or herd of cattle, cook staff,
cleaning lady…” She looked at me with a guilty smile.

“Mami? Are you a little bit jealous?” I teased.

“Ah, you are perceptive, my little Isabel. Okay, maybe I could use a housekeeper every now and then.” She patted my back. “Now,
mi 'jita
, come with me. I want to show you something. It's a secret we must keep from your sister.”

I was intrigued and wondered what my mom had up her sleeve now. Back in her room, Mom reached into the closet and withdrew a small box. She placed it on a desk and opened it.

“Oh! What's all this, Mami?”

She put a paper figure on a desk. It was an origami-style cat, made from yellow paper with brown and black spots. “This is a jaguar.” She brought out a few more. “And this is a dove. Here is an elephant, a swan, a monkey, a deer, a snake.”

I recognized the rest: a bear, a whale, a mouse, a dog, an owl, a duck, a lamb, a cow, and a unicorn. Each was made with printed paper to resemble the animal's skin.

“Are these party favors?” I asked.

“Yes, I've made almost a hundred of these.”

“Mami, no!”

“Yes, Mami,
sí
!” She laughed.

“When did you do all this? How long have you been doing origami? These are beautiful.”

“I used to do this in college, especially when I needed a break from my exams. I've been making these for Elena Maria's
quinceañera
while you girls were at school.”

She'd been preparing for Elena's
quince
a lot longer
than Elena thought. “These are so incredible, Mami. Wait till Elena Maria sees them.”

“Shhh. I don't want you to tell her. It's a surprise.”

“You don't have to worry about me, Mom,” I said, pulling an imaginary zipper across my lips. She grinned and held out her arms, and I leaned over to give her giant squeeze. She held me like that for a long time. My mom was always the person who made me feel safe, and my dad always made me feel like anything was possible. At that moment, I felt like a very lucky girl, even if I didn't have a Diego Rivera painting in my living room.

“Oh, I almost forgot. There's more.” Mom returned to the closet. This time she took out a large, flat folder. With her back was to me, she put it on the bed. “Look.”

She'd laid out a string of colored, lacey, cut-paper sheets, each connected to the other with string. Every sheet was carefully pierced to depict a different scene. My eyes fell on a cutout of a girl in a princess gown, angels at either side: My sister, at her
quinceañera.
Another one showed a man and a woman, obviously parents, holding the hands of two little girls.

“That's us!” I cried. “
Mooooom!
You're a paper artist!” I couldn't believe it. With two hardworking accountants for parents, I'd never been able to figure out where my love of art came from. Now I knew.

“Did you know there is magic in paper, Isabel? I've been practicing
papel picado
for about a month. It was going to be my little surprise. Will you help me hang them before the celebration?”

I hopped up and twirled around. “Yes, yes, yes! This is going to be the best
quinceañera
ever, Mom. You're a star!”

“
Ay
, settle down,
muchachita
. I need to make more
animalitos
. Here is a package of paper. I'll teach you how to do it, okay? We can never have enough
animalitos
at a party, no?”

“As long as they're the paper kind, and not the obnoxious high-schooler kind,” I said.

She laughed at my joke. We sat at the desk and started to work. It felt so good to be sitting there working with Mom. I decided to say something I'd been thinking for a while.

“Mami, why does Elena Maria have to be so full of herself here? It's like she doesn't even want to hear what I have to say anymore.”

“Let her be, my sweet. Pretty soon she'll be a woman, so let her be a teenager. I know you feel like she's leaving you behind. But don't forget, you'll be a teenager in no time too.”

She held up a sheet of paper. I copied her every time she made a new fold. She wouldn't tell me what the creature would be. I had to figure it out as we went along. Four short legs, a tiny tail, a big shell…a turtle! Very cool. We worked quietly, then I asked her something else I'd been wondering.