Daddy Wanted

“And then I was thinking, we could wait until tomorrow morning, right before church. That way Mamá can go to the priest for consolation and I can go to confession. That might make it easier. Or maybe, right before we leave for home. That way, we can make a quick escape.”

Ryan drew her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Jen, there’s never going to be a good time. You have to tell them this weekend, and if you wait much longer, there won’t be any weekend left.”

“I—I will. I promise.”

“Would you rather I took your father aside and told him first? Maybe he could tell your mother and break it to her gently?”

“You’d do that?” Jennifer asked, her voice filled with relief and gratitude. “That might work. Papi already likes you. And he has a way with Mamá. Oh, yes, let’s do it that way. You can tell him tonight, after the party.”

Ryan nodded. “All right. It’s a plan. Now, let’s go get some breakfast.”

When they arrived in the backyard, nearly everyone was seated at the long tables her mother had set up. Only close relatives had been invited to share in the meal—Jennifer’s aunts and uncles and cousins, totalling nearly thirty. Once again, her mother had gone overboard with the food. The tables were loaded with tasty dishes—huevos rancheros, jamón and salchichas, and pan dulce, her mother’s famous homemade sweet rolls. Baskets of corn tortillas were placed in the center of the tables and platters of fresh fruit were passed from guest to guest while her mother poured orange juice and coffee.

Jennifer slid into a spot next to Tía Yolanda, her father’s only sister, kissing her cheek as she wished her buenos días. Ryan sat beside her, and Teresa, hovering in the background, took the last empty spot beside Ryan. She looked up at him with adoring eyes and Jennifer shot her a scolding look.

When everyone was settled, Diego rose solemnly. “Familia, amigos. With this meal, we begin a very special day for my niña, Maria. I hope you’ll join me in wishing her feliz quinceañera.” He held up his glass of orange juice. “May the Lord bless this day and may he bless our girl, Maria.”

The rest of the guests held up their glasses and joined in the toast. After a short prayer, the meal began in earnest. Tía Yolanda, known for her great appreciation of food, piled Jennifer’s plate high. When the pan dulce made its way to their side of the table, she took two sweet rolls for herself and handed one to Jennifer. “Your mama has a way with her oven,” she said, laughing boisterously. She turned to look for Carmen. “Carmen! I was just telling Jennifer that you have a way with your oven!”

Carmen smiled and made her way over to Yolanda. “Yolanda, you like my baking?”

“¡Muy buena! ¡Me gusta!”

“Jennifer has a bun in her oven,” Teresa piped up, a gap-toothed smile splitting her eager face, her brown eyes sparkling.

Jennifer’s heart stopped and her jaw dropped. Orange juice, halfway down her throat, came back up with a cough and she pressed her napkin to her mouth, her eyes watering.

“Niña, we all know Jennifer is not so good in the kitchen,” Carmen said, ruffling Teresa’s hair.

“No, she is,” Teresa insisted. “I think she’s taking cooking lessons.”

“Teresa, shh!” Jennifer hissed, watching as the rest of the guests began to turn their attention toward her youngest sister.

Ryan handed the little girl a sweet roll, waving it in front of her face. “Have something to eat, Teresa. Aren’t you hungry? If you eat that whole roll, I’ll play fútbol with you after breakfast.”

Teresa took the roll. “Jenny and Ryan were in the garden last night and she told him she had a bun in her oven. I was listening from my tree house.”

Carmen’s eyes went wide. “And what else did Jenny say?”

“She said she’s knocked up, too. And she’s going to have a baby.”

“Oh, God,” Jennifer murmured.

“There it is,” Ryan said.

“¡Dios mío!” Carmen stumbled backward, the pitcher of orange juice slipping from her fingers and shattering at her feet. “Is—is this true, Jennifer? Did Teresa hear right?”

Jennifer looked from her mother to her father, who was slowly rising from his chair, then to all the relatives, who were waiting with undisguised curiosity for her reply. Frantic to repair the damage done by Teresa’s announcement, she scrambled for a way to cover. She slowly stood and cleared her throat. “Mamá, Papi, I—I have something to tell you both.” She pasted a bright smile on her face, but it did little to alter her parents’ glowering expressions. Then, she glanced down at Ryan and he rose to stand beside her.

Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes, but she brushed them away. Now was not the time to turn into a blubbering idiot. She glanced down at the ring, twisting the diamond onto the top of her finger. Trembling, she held out her hand. “Ryan and I are engaged,” she murmured, emotion clogging her throat. “And—and we’re going to have a baby.”

The guests fell quiet, everyone except Tía Yolanda, who groaned softly and fanned her face with her napkin. But the silence didn’t last long.

A wail burst from Maria. “Mama, she’s ruined my quinceañera!”

The guests’ silence dissolved into excited chatter. Linda began to whine that she didn’t understand what buns had to do with a baby. Joe sat at the end of the table, chuckling and shaking his head. Diego shoved his chair back and stalked around the table to join Jennifer’s mother. “Is this true?” he asked Ryan. “Have you ruined my daughter?”

Ryan drew a deep breath and slipped his arm around Jennifer. “Mr. Rodriguez, I love your daughter. And though we may not have followed the traditional route, we are both devoted to each other and to this child. Now, you can accept that or you can send us both from this house. But this baby is your first grandchild and I would hate to think that you’re going to miss out on a single moment of his or her life.”

Jennifer stared up at Ryan, caught by the power and candor of his words. She couldn’t help but wish they were all true. That he did love her and that they were devoted to each other, that this wasn’t all a big lie. Her gaze jumped to her father, whose expression had softened slightly. Her mother, on the other hand, looked completely aghast, as if she’d just seen Tía Yolanda strip off her clothes and dance naked on the breakfast table.

“Can we discuss this in private?” Jennifer asked.

Carmen shook her head. “Diego, this is Maria’s day and I do not want anything to spoil it. We will discuss this later.” She sent Jennifer a glare that made daggers look dull. “I will deal with you later.” Sucking in a sharp breath, she forced a smile and glanced around the breakfast table. “Well, this is wonderful news, is it not? We have many things to celebrate today, but most important is Maria. Now, we must eat. The food is getting cold. Maria, go get your crown and show Tía Yolanda how pretty it is.”

With that pronouncement, the guests understood precisely what Carmen Rodriguez expected of them. Jennifer’s news was to be pushed aside for the more important events of the day. It was not to be mentioned until after Maria’s quinceañera.

Jennifer and Ryan slowly sat back down in their places and smiled wanly as the dishes were passed to them.

“Well,” Ryan murmured after the conversation had turned back to Maria. “Though that didn’t exactly follow the plan, I think it went well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jennifer replied numbly. “I think it went very well.”

* * *

“THIS BABY will not be born outside the sanctity of marriage! We will plan a wedding for the beginning of November. Four weeks should give us plenty of time to make all the arrangements, to post the banns, and for you to take your classes with the priest.”

The house was silent. The last guest had left a half hour ago, just before midnight. The belle of the ball, Maria, had wearily kissed her parents good-night and wandered up to bed, her pretty white dress wilted and her crown askew. Teresa and Linda had retired before ten, and Joe had gone for a late-night pizza with a few of his cousins, who had served as chambelanes.

Jennifer groaned. “Mamá, we can’t possibly plan a church wedding in four weeks. Ryan and I have decided that we’ll wait until the baby is born before we get married. That way it won’t be so obvious to all the wedding guests.”

“Well, it will not be obvious if we rush the wedding along,” Carmen insisted. “If Teresa would not have blurted out your condition for everyone to hear, I never would have suspected. Of course, there will be whispers. Siete mesino.”

At Ryan’s confused expression, Jennifer leaned closer. “Seven-month baby,” she whispered. Considering how her plan was going so far, she wasn’t about to inform her mother that it would be more like cuatro mesino, an even greater scandal. Jennifer had assumed the notion of a pregnant daughter walking down the aisle of St. Benedict’s, dressed in the obligatory gown and veil, was something her mother would never endorse. Though her parents would not consider her a married woman unless she exchanged vows in front of Father Juan, the Rodriguezes’ family priest, she’d been certain they’d agree to a ceremony after the baby was born.

But this turn of events threw a serious kink into her strategy. She’d have to announce her engagement and “breakup” with Ryan in the course of four weeks. Little more than a week or two if she wanted her parents to recover a small measure of their investment in a hastily planned wedding.

“Mamá, we can’t pretend that everything is proceeding in the right order. The entire family knows, and if they know, most of El Paso will know by tomorrow evening.”

Diego exhaled slowly and sat back in his chair. Everyone looked to him, waiting to hear his first words on the subject. Jennifer was afraid he’d tear into Ryan, blaming him for the mess she was in. She reached over and covered Ryan’s hand with hers to show her support.

“Though I am disappointed in your behavior, Jennifer, I am happy to see that you’ve found yourself a fine man to take care of you. You know I’ve never liked you living alone in a strange city, and now my fears are calmed. With Ryan to watch over you, you won’t be making any more mistakes.”