It Can't Be Over (Book 2 - Immortalfox)

Chapter 18

Eddie POV:

A month previously, I had been greeted with the hot, humid air of Cataño, Puerto Rico. A sentimental feeling swam over me as I remembered the last time I had been here. It had been ages—probably about ten years previously when I was all but a teenager, visiting with my sister, mother, and late father.

We had been ambushed by my grandmother and her two other daughters who, unfortunately, were not as successful as my mother. They wore loose, clinking jewelry and tank tops, trying desperately to hang onto their fading youth—it was already long gone, but whatever. 


My grandmother had rushed forward, fattened with age, and kissed me, my sister, and my mother and father square on the lips in greeting, immediately yelling rapid Spanish at all of us. She commented on how much I had grown and changed since she last saw me, and talked passionately to my sister of how much she was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. 


Yes, those had been the days. Then, not even two years later, my father died in an industrial fire, leaving my mother widowed with two growing children. 
And now, here I was, back in what I liked to believe was my home, despite Chicago being where I mainly resided in my younger years.

Since my arrival in my hometown, I had been put to work. Not only did I monitor my mother, but I was also sent out into the fields. At first, I had forcibly complained, telling my grandmother in rapid Spanish that I was in no way fit to go out into the field. Of course, and I had expected it, she replied tersely and told me I was a young, highly capable man. She said I had muscles on my back and muscles on my legs: I could do anything.

I simply gave up. There was no arguing my grandmother, especially when it involved the topic of youths and their capabilities that the old did not.

So I woke every morning at seven and ate a spectacular Spanish dish that no restaurant could provide back in the states. I ate like a king for each meal, even the small snacks being delicious. I worked in the field until one and had a late lunch, oftentimes at my mother’s bedside. To say the least about her progression, she was slowly recovering. I could oftentimes spot her from out in the fields, walking in her nightgown slowly with my grandmother in the long, red brick-tiled flooring of the hallway. Needless to say, her body was slowly becoming healthy again.

I thanked God each day for her growing recovery.

In our small division of Cataño, there was a large, booming marketplace in a small, central square. As a child, all of the berries, herbs, and animals amazed me. My grandmother would often take me to this small little café that specialized in candies. I was always a sucker for these small, sour tarts that they sold, and since my return back into Cataño, I had not yet returned there.

I had, however, returned to the marketplace.

Instead of the grocery stores that the United States had, Cataño had the markets. Everything was guaranteed to be fresh and locally made. I had been sent by my grandmother back there numerous times to get certain spices for her, or even a live chicken that I’d have to manage to bring back in a cage. Luckily, my grandmother had a Jeep, so I did not have to return back home to the ranch on foot.

My grandmother’s ranch; wow, what a sight. Belonging to her family for generations, the large home had a naturally tiled roof and sandy-colored stone for walls. The large ventanas, or windows, were the main attraction to the house. Unlike most homes built in any Spanish-speaking country, the house was completely encased in windows. At night, the house shown brightly, using the lights within.

The back of the house had a large hallway, completely open and supported only by columns. I always admired that openness that the house included in its fine structure.