Andrea Franco-Cook, Author

Chapter One

Soledad's car screeched to a halt in the middle of the street. She shoved the gearshift into park, swung the driver's door open, and bolted toward her father's bookstore. Although it was lunch hour on a Tuesday, she barely registered the escalating traffic jam and cacophony of car horns. Her focus was on the ambulance parked along the curb in front of Mendoza's Books.

She pushed through the crowd of onlookers until she reached the entrance of the familiar brownstone building. The store manager held the door open.

"Greg!" She waved at him while approaching.

"What's going on?" He motioned her out of the way, making enough room for the two paramedics wheeling her father out on a gurney.

Soledad's knees threatened to buckle as she ran to him. The right side of his face sagged, and his eyes were rimmed in red.

As she reached for his hand, a paramedic waved her off. "Stay back, ma'am." They pushed the gurney toward the ambulance.

"I'm his daughter. What happened?" The paramedic adjusted his patient's oxygen mask.

"He's showing signs of a stroke." Her father's hair, usually peppered with gray, had turned stark white in the two days since she'd last seen him.

"You riding along?" one of the paramedics asked. He activated the hydraulic lift and raised the gurney into the ambulance.

Soledad blinked, as she registered the question. "Yeah, of course."

Greg tapped her on the shoulder. "It—it was awful," he said between tense bites of his bottom lip." I found Jorge on the floor in his office. He kept saying your name."

"He—" she cleared her throat. "He left a message this morning . . . asked me to drop by the bookstore right away. Do you know what he wanted?"

"Ma'am?" the paramedic called.

Soledad climbed inside the ambulance, then turned toward Greg. The crown of his balding head showed signs of a pinkish burn beneath the heat of the August sun. "My car, it’s at the intersection. The motor's running." 

"Go," he said with a thin smile. "Should I call your mom?"

"She’s in D.C."

"That's right, visiting Dominic. What about your other brother?"

"Yeah, call Tony. Number's in Dad's rolodex. Tell him to meet me at the hospital." T

he sharp odor of disinfectant hit Soledad square in the face when she entered the ambulance. She rubbed her nose to hold back a sneeze and sat beside her father on the cushioned metal bench. The ambulance took off with its sirens blaring. Within seconds, the paramedic had loosened her father's shirt, and attached electrodes to his heaving chest. The neon-green line on the small cardiograph screen beat slow and steady.

Soledad forced a smile. "I'm—" She blinked back her tears. "I'm here, Dad."

He reached for his oxygen mask. "Hold on there, Mr. Mendoza." The paramedic inserted an IV drip.

"I headed here, soon as I got your message." Soledad took her father's cold hand into hers and rubbed it. "I was in Morgantown."

His dark brow furrowed.

"I had that literature conference, remember?"

He pulled down his mask.

"Mr. Mendoza," the paramedic scolded. "I can't allow that.”

"Just…one minute," he slurred through his drooping lips. "It's important."

He raised a feeble hand and waved Soledad closer. She lowered her head until the warmth of his breath brushed her ear.

His voice was just above a whisper. "I thought… I wouldn't see you again."

"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"I… don't have much time." He coughed. The effort caused the vein in his forehead to bulge.

"It's… up to you now. I left you the family Bible."

His gaze flickered toward the paramedic's concerned face. "Inside, look inside."

Soledad had no words. Her father would’ve never made such a request unless he thought he was dying.

"Dad, no! Give it to me when you're better."

"Tell… no one… trust no… He drew a deep breath. "Promise me."

Soledad kissed her father's hand. "Okay, whatever you want," her voice trembled.

"Maybe you should put your mask on." He shook his head. "No… this is… important." 

She swept a coarse strand of hair away from his forehead, like he used to do before tucking her in at night. For a second, she was five years old again, giggling as his beard tickled her cheek when he kissed her goodnight.

His cold touch on her arm pulled her back to the moment. "El Demonio… He'll come for you next."

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"I was arrogant. I thought—" He paused. "I thought I was the one…It's up to you now… "

His jaw went slack. The peaks and valleys on the cardiograph bounced on the monitor. Soledad cupped her hand over her mouth and watched, frozen with disbelief as the paramedic injected something into the IV. He grabbed a small device in a plastic case and hooked more electrodes to her father's chest.

"Sit back, ma'am." Unaware she’d moved, her heels hit the bottom of the metal bench, and she plopped down. The machine beeped, and her father's body jerked. In that moment, the drone of the sirens, the paramedic's words, and the hum of the engine, blended into a singular muddled sound. It seemed as if she’d stepped into the fabric of a dream and detached from her surroundings.

Her mind drifted back to a memory of herself as a little girl, holding her father's hand. He'd smiled as he passed her a soft-serve ice cream cone, her reward for finishing A Wrinkle in Time.

"I’d never let the Dark Thing take you away, Daddy," she’d said.

He swept black curls away from her face with a gentle hand. "I’d fight the Dark Thing, just like Mr. Murray did. Nothing will ever take me away from you, mi amor."

The machine beeped. Her father's body jerked a second time. The neon line on the monitor skipped. She straightened, a flutter of hope welled within. A flat-line raced across the screen. Chills washed over her. But it was more than cold. It was the same emptiness she'd experienced after her husband's death, three long years ago.

The paramedic performed CPR. "One and two and three…”  His words fell away as Soledad gazed down at her father's face. His eyes, normally so full of wisdom, were vacant. She sobbed, while watching the man she’d loved and admired for thirty years fight for his life. Don't leave me, Dad. You promised.