“I’m sorry I was not here for your quinceañera, your fifteenth birthday, Alicia. It has special meaning for the Ortega girls. Your mama and I decided, years ago, that we would gift our children the story of our blessings, our treasure, on their fifteenth birthdays.”
“Clara told me, Papa. But I still have questions. I would rather hear the story from you.”
“Our stories change as we grow older and wiser.” Papa pulled his jacket around him. The dock grew cooler. “What you and Clara, and your Tío Salvador, have done will change our story forever.”
“We paid the taxes, nothing more.”
“You removed the shame from our family name and made this an official port. I did what I thought was right the night of the shipwreck, but I am not proud of it. There were many drowning men and too few of us to save them all. There were chests of gold at our feet and we were unpaid scouts, hungry and hopeless. God forgive us.” He looked at the Pacific, as if he could hear the sailors calling out for help. A pained expression hung on his face.
Alicia realized these were the most honest words and emotions she had ever heard from her papa. Father and daughter, he confided in her as if she were an old trusted friend.
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