What Had to Be Done

By DelSheree Gladden

Everyone has bad days. Anna Elizondo is going on three years of bad days. It started with her mother’s illness and eventual death, continued with a decision that ruined a friendship, and culminated in her father announcing they were broke and moving away right before her senior year of high school.

Maybe a fresh start will turn things around.

Or maybe it will put her face to face with her former best friend Felix and the hatred in he still carries for her.

The only bright spot in Anna’s move to Santa Fe is meeting her new swim coach, a long-time hero who has big plans for her athletic career. The pool is her refuge, but she can’t hide there forever. Living in a small town makes it impossible to stay out of Felix’s way, and unlikely their history will remain just between them for long. If Anna can’t find a way to make things at least tolerable with Felix, it’s going to be a very long summer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DelSheree Gladden
• Release date: Nov 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463421826

DelSheree Gladden

DelSheree Gladden was one of those shy, quiet kids who spent more time reading than talking. She didn't speak a single word for the first few months of preschool. Her fascination with reading led to many hours spent in the library and bookstores, and eventually to writing. She wrote her first novel when she was sixteen years old, but spent ten years rewriting before it was published.Native to New Mexico, DelSheree and her family spent several years in Colorado before returning to northern New Mexico. When not writing novels, you can find DelSheree reading, hiking, sewing, playing with her dogs, and working with other authors.DelSheree has several bestselling young adult series and has hit the USA Today Bestseller list twice as part of box sets. DelSheree also has contemporary romance, cozy mystery, and paranormal new adult series. Her writing is as varied as her reading interests.

Book preview

Hollow

It is a universal truth that three teenage girls living in the same house are incapable of getting along for more than five minutes at a time. Dad knows this, but every time a fight breaks out, he always seems surprised. His head shakes back and forth slowly as Isabel’s voice rises in pitch and volume. Maria matches her. I shove another piece of fruit into my mouth and try to block them all out. Unfortunately, that’s impossible.

You’re still in high school, Maria. What does it matter where you go to school? Isabel demands. I’m the one going to college. My degree is going to be the difference between me getting a good job and being passed over because it came from some second-rate school!

NMSU isn’t second rate! It’s way better than Santa Fe University.

NMSU isn’t a dedicated arts college! Everybody knows you have to go to a real art college if you want to get anywhere in performing arts. You don’t know anything about this, Maria. This is up to me and Dad, not you!

I try to bite my tongue, but after that I have to speak up and risk Isabel’s wrath. It’s up to all of us, Isa. You’re not the only one in this family who has a future to think about. I don’t want to move to Santa Fe, either.

Shut up, Anna. Nobody cares what you think, Isabel growls.

Besides, Maria pipes up, the only reason you’re going to college is to find some rich moron who’ll marry you and spare you from having to admit our family is broke!

Isabel’s entire body goes scarlet. I am positive she’s going to launch herself over the breakfast table and strangle Maria. Bringing up Isabel’s failures never ends well. Mr. Ford, Dad’s accountant, spares us from adding homicide to our already abysmal morning.

Ladies, please. Can we get back to the original discussion? he begs.

Dad nods, but my sisters kept glaring at each other. Girls! Dad finally shouts. Sit down and listen! You have to leave for school soon. Could we please just let Mr. Ford finish?

School! Maria whines. Daddy, you can’t possibly expect me to go to school after this! I am too emotionally distraught to deal with teachers and homework today. And arguing with Isa has given me a horrible headache!

Then stop arguing with Isa, I say under my breath. Maria hears me and redirects her missile-like glare to me.

"Maria, you claim to have a headache or stomachache, or something every morning. Could you please spare me your whining for one day? I have more important issues to deal with right now than your phantom illnesses!"

But…

No! You’re going to school! I need some peace and quiet today.

Dad rubs his hands over his face and blows out a long breath. After a few seconds of quiet Mr. Ford dares to continue the conversation he started over an hour ago. The one where he is telling us that our father, the recently retired state Supreme Court judge, had spent the three years since our mom died blowing his money on extravagant living. Yes, as a retired judge, he has a pension that will keep us from being totally despondent, but with Dad’s current debt and the cost of staying in our upper echelon home in Albuquerque, we have no choice but to sell the house and move to something more affordable.

I am seriously unhappy about having to transfer schools right before my senior year, but I can deal with it. I have no other choice. Isabel, on the other hand, thinks her life is over. Status is the air she breathes. She takes after Dad in that area. Neither one can stand the thought of anyone finding out about their problems and looking down on them. Mr. Ford has been trying to allay their fears for the past hour, but it hasn’t been working very well.

If we sell the house people are going know we don’t have any money anymore, Isabel whines.

"We do have money," Dad snaps. Mr. Ford ducks his eyes and makes a very wise choice not to correct my father. Instead he addresses Isabel.

Your father retired because of his health problems, Isabel. Everyone knows his heart couldn’t take the stress of the courtroom anymore. Selling the house will look like nothing more than a continuation of your father trying to alleviate his health issues. I’ll let slip that he wants a smaller town with a more relaxed environment. Plus, with you girls getting ready to leave the house in a few years, it wouldn’t be unusual at all for your father to want a smaller home. It would be too much for him to manage by himself.

We have staff to manage the house, Maria points out.

You used to, Mr. Ford says under his breath. Thankfully I am the only one close enough to hear him. To Isabel he says, Santa Fe is a smaller community. You’ll be able to go there and maintain a comfortable lifestyle more easily than if you went to Las Cruces. In Las Cruces people will expect your father to purchase a substantial hacienda, live as he does now. In Santa Fe his scaling back will be seen as an effort to blend into the community and not overpower everyone with his status. Your family will be able to maintain the illusion of not having lost anything.

Dad sinks into his chair a few more inches. I can tell he hates having to tell us about his finances, but he never was very good at making family decisions. That was always Mom’s place. It seems a little ironic that he was a judge and spent his day making decisions with incredibly serious consequences for so long, but crumbles at the thought of choosing between wheat and white bread.

Ford’s right, Dad finally says. Santa Fe will allow me to save face.

Oh, who cares about that, Dad? I explode. You’re only thinking about yourself, but what about me and Maria? Neither of us likes Santa Fe. The last time we were there we were both miserable!

That’s only because Maria was faking sick again and made you stay with her the entire time while Dad and I went skiing. Isabel smirks. She’d been more than happy to dump Maria on me, again, and jaunt of to the ski slopes. Maria was convinced she was allergic to the outdoors. That is probably the real reason Isabel wants to go to Santa Fe so bad. She’s probably hoping Maria will sneeze herself into delirium and I’ll be forced to take care of her. Both of us would be out of her way.

I don’t want to go to Santa Fe, I snarl at her.

Neither do I! Maria adds.

Nobody cares what either of you think. Maria will whine and pout and play sick no matter where we move, and Anna will hate wherever we chose because she hates everything! Isabel says.

I do not!

Yes, you do.

Maria nods in agreement with Isabel. I scowl at both of them. I do not hate everything, just being stuck here with the most incomprehensible, irritating family in the world! Mom was the only other person in this family who had a logical bone in her body. Now I have no one to be on my side. We wouldn’t even be in this situation if Mom were still alive! She never would have let Dad blow all his money on stupid things like five luxury cars only he is allowed to drive. I want to scream at all of them, but I know all that will accomplish will be getting myself grounded.

Without my egging on the other two, the argument reaches a stalemate. Dad finally lifts his head from his hands. He meets only Isabel’s eyes, as if his other two daughters really don’t have any bearing on his decision. Which might be true. He and Isabel are so alike. Vain, status hungry, lacking in common sense, and generally self-absorbed. Because of that, he thinks Isabel is the only one of his daughters really worth his time. Maria annoys him—I really can’t blame him there—and I am too boring for him to pay any attention to. When Mom was alive, it never bothered me that much because she and I were so close. Since her death, I feel very alone most of the time, especially since Felix was banished.

Dad glances around the table once then says, We’re moving to Santa Fe. I don’t want any more arguing or discussion.

Maria’s mouth pops open to do just that, but a silencing glare from Dad does the trick. I don’t even try. I knew as soon as Isabel threw in for Santa Fe that he would choose the artsy tourist trap for sure. My short-lived fight is over. I push my plate away and slump into my chair.

As much as I hate the idea of moving to Santa Fe, I know Mr. Ford is right. Dad will never control his spending fetish in Las Cruces surrounded by his wealthy peers and having access to anything he wants right at his fingertips. In Santa Fe, he will have somewhat less temptation to indulge. It’s the smartest choice, but I still hate it. Part of me even resents Dad for landing all of us in such an easily avoided situation. If only Mom were still alive.

All right then, Mr. Ford says after he seems sure the room isn’t going to explode again. You mentioned a realtor you trusted. Camille Espinoza, correct?

Dad nods.

Mr. Ford makes a note. I’ll call her this morning and start the paperwork to sell the house. The market is still depressed, but I think you’ll be able to sell quickly. I know there have been a lot of out-of-state buyers looking around here because the homes are more affordable in this area than places like California.

I’m not selling this house to just anyone, Dad says. The fire in his voice makes me groan. This house has been in my family for three generations. Selling it is almost sacrilegious! No California yuppy family is moving into my family’s home!

Yuppy? I don’t think anyone’s actually used that word since before I was born, Isabel drawls. But Dad’s right. We can’t trash our family name by selling out to some transplant family with no history. Our family has been here since the Spanish settled this area. The Elizondo name carries a lot of weight in this community. Our home is practically a landmark.

A landmark? Maria scoffs. I think you’re being a little dramatic, Isa. Sure our family has been here for centuries, but who cares? It’s just a house.

I stare at my sister open-mouthed. Just a house! How can you say that, Maria? This was where Mom brought us all home. You know she loved this house. She played with us here. She tucked us into bed here. It’s not just a house.

Then you agree we can’t just sell it to anyone, Isa says triumphantly.

No. It will be a rare day when I agree with Isa about anything. I don’t care who moves in here, as long as they treat the house with respect. Someone with a family should live here, someone with kids who’ll laugh and play and be happy should have this house. They can be from California or Spain itself for all I care. I just want someone to love this house like Mom did.

For once, Isabel doesn’t argue with me. One corner of her mouth turns up and I know she’s thinking of Mom. That is the one thing we can all agree on. Mom was the most wonderful person in the world, and her memory deserves every respect we can give it.

So, Isabel says, we should sell the house to a family with children, but not one from California. They’re all so gauche and high on themselves.

I roll my eyes at her, but say nothing. There is nothing wrong with Californians. Dad has a long-standing hatred for California because of something that happened between one of his ancestors and the Spanish government over a century ago. I don’t think anyone alive now knows the exact details of the travesty but, as far as I can tell, our family was promised a huge land grant in California back when it was still under Spain’s control. When the time came to collect, political alliances had changed and the Elizondo’s were forgotten. I couldn’t care less, but my dad does. I tune out Dad and Isabel as they add to their list of criteria for potential buyers.

Neither of them notices when I leave the table. Maria only follows me because I’m her ride to school. Neither of us speaks as I drive. Maria gets under my skin occasionally, but she and I get along most of the time. When she isn’t faking sick and sticking me with the job of babysitting her, anyway. Maria is flaky and vapid, but she is also a good person at heart. I wonder about Isabel sometimes.

When I pull into one of the few parking spaces left on campus, the final bell is ringing. We’re late, but neither of us jumps to get out of the car. Dad’s position does still have a few perks. Everyone knows who he is and always lets things slide for his girls just in case someone in their family ever lands in his courtroom, or now that he’s retired, one of his friends’ courtrooms. In general, I don’t agree with giving people special treatment, but today I am in no mood to complain. Maria and I part ways and trudge to our classes.

As expected, Ms. Waverly stifles a snide remark when I walk in as she stands at the whiteboard writing something in her scratchy scrawl. Her son is frequently a guest of the correctional system. I slide into my seat in front of Rosario and hunch down in my seat. I don’t even bother getting out my books. I’ve already done the assignment for this week while I was sitting at home over the weekend instead of going to the Mendoza’s for dinner with Dad and Isabel. Maria was sick that night. Really, she’d had a fight with Wally Mendoza over something she had clearly been wrong about and couldn’t bring herself to face him.

I want to tune out Ms. Waverly’s annoying voice and sleep, but Rosario pokes me in the back with a particularly sharp pencil. Turning slightly, I glare at my best friend. What?

What happened this morning?

I texted her when Dad called everyone down to breakfast. She knows something is up. We rarely eat any meal as a family anymore. Texting during class is forbidden, but I slip my phone out of my pocket and hold it where Ms. Waverly can’t see it.

Dad wanted to talk.

About what?

Moving to Santa Fe

What!?!

Blew all our money. Have to downsize.

That sucks

Tell me about it

When?

Soon as the house sells.

Rosario? Ms. Waverly calls. What was the main theme of the reading for this week?

Uh…

Making your own decisions, I type and send to my friend. She never reads anything. She gets my text and stumbles through the answer. I really shouldn’t help her, but I do it anyway. Rosario has been my friend my whole life. In a lot of ways, she is more of a sister to me than my own flesh and blood. When Mom died, she stuck by me through everything, the hospital visits, the final vigil, the grief, and the inconsolable crying. Rosario never wavered. I figure feeding her answers about a couple English assignments is the least I can do.

Eventually, class ends and I drag myself on to the next one. My second hour class is an art elective Isabel talked me into taking. I am so bad at drawing that Mr. Haply practically begged me to ditch so he won’t have to look at my clobbered messes of hen scratch. Rosario has a free period, so to the commons we go. We plop down on a bench near the wall. I don’t get more than two seconds before Rosario is banging out the questions. I recount the entire conversation, my spirits taking a nosedive as I do.

Maybe my mom would let me come stay with you this summer.

I thought you were going to your dad’s for the summer?

Rosario slouches against the wall. I was supposed to, but now I’m only staying with him for three weeks. He and Susanna are going to Europe for the rest of the summer and I wasn’t invited to tag along.

Sorry, I offer, trying not to let my relief show. Rosario tries so hard to have a relationship with her dad, but he just isn’t interested.

Whatever, she says. His loss is my gain. I love Santa Fe. We’ll have a blast there.

"Ugh. What is so great about a tourist driven town that caters to Easterners who only come out here to gawk at the primitive natives and their fascinating artwork? Or how about the wackos who throw rocks through people’s car windows just because they don’t like the work the people from Los Alamos do?"

That only happened once.

Once that is was reported. It probably happens a lot more often than that, I argue.

You’re so cynical.

I tuck my knees up on the bench and looked away from her. I have reason to be cynical, but I prefer to be called realistic. When it comes to Santa Fe, I’m right. It is a very liberal town not far from a nuclear research facility. I was there on a school trip in third grade and witnessed several men throw bricks through a car window and spray paint obscenities on the sedan just because the owners had driven in from the lab. Isabel is, of course, too self-absorbed to remember that’s the real reason I don’t like the town. I know that probably hardly ever happens, but it terrified me at the time.

A shadow falls over me, causing me to look up. The bright and warm smile of Aaron Welsh greets me. The sight of him looking down at me is both unnerving and enough to flush my skin. He smiles wider. Hey, Anna.

Hey, Aaron. Ditching Spanish again?

You’re one to talk. Aren’t you supposed to be drawing pictures no one can decipher right now?

Rosario snickers, but so do I. I wasn’t judging, just asking a question.

Speaking of questions, you wanna catch a movie with me on Saturday?

My stomach clenches. Sorry, Aaron, but my Dad just informed us this morning that we’re moving to Santa Fe once school is out. We’re going to be packing this weekend.

Moving? He looks honestly disappointed. His sadness almost makes me reconsider. What are you guys moving for?

My dad needs somewhere quieter before he has a coronary.

Well, that really blows.

Tell me about it, I agree.

Aaron tugs at his backpack strap as if he isn’t sure what to say anymore. I would help him out, but I can’t think of anything either. Finally, Aaron looks at me again, and says, Well, if you need a break from packing, give me a call. We’ll have to hang out before you leave.

Yeah, thanks, Aaron.

With that, Aaron bails on the stalled conversation. As soon as he is out of sight, Rosario elbows me in the ribs. For the second time today, I glare at her. What?

Why didn’t you say yes? Aaron is a serious hottie!

He’s not my type.

Now Rosario is the one glaring. Not your type? You mean he’s not Felix.

I don’t say anything. I don’t have to.

You made the right choice, Anna.

She says I was right. Dad and Isa say the same thing. But if that were true, why do I feel hollow and sick every time I think about him?

Chapter 2

Empty

The house went on the market the day Dad announced we were moving. Two weeks later it was sold. It was faster than any of us thought it would happen. None of us were prepared. When the buyers asked for a quick sale, I begged Dad to hold them off, but Mr. Ford pressured him into accepting. Apparently, Dad’s finances are worse than either of them had let on.

I sit alone in my room while Dad and Isa go to the closing. It’s even harder than I thought it would be to say goodbye to seventeen years of memories. Fourteen of those years had been spent here with Mom. She’s everywhere in the house. Even with it emptied, her touch remains in the wainscoting we put up in my room together, the stained glass inserts she made for each of our bedroom windows, and the beautiful wrought iron curtain rod she made that is still hanging in the room. It looks so lonely without any curtains hanging on them.

Isabel suggested we take the curtain rods and other fixtures Mom made, but I argued to let them stay with the house. Most of them anyway. Any of her work that isn’t physically attached to house is going with us, but I want something of her to stay in the house she loved. Isabel argued a little, but I think it was mostly out of habit, because she didn’t argue very hard. Artistic ability is the one thing Isabel got from our mom. It is also the one thing I missed out on.

I wish Rosario could be with me right now. She was shipped off to her dad the day after school let out. She’s been texting me all day, but it isn’t the same. As the hours tick by, I watch the patch of sunlight from the window crawl across the hardwood floor. Rosario’s texts try to distract me, but they can only do so much. Eventually, I can’t stand the silence anymore and go to find Maria. She got left behind as well. I find her curled up on her bedroom floor, asleep with a stuffed elephant for a pillow. Mom gave it to her the Christmas she was four and spent the holidays in the hospital with pneumonia. I consider waking Maria so I have someone to talk to. Instead, I curl up next to her and fall asleep.

I dream of Mom, the happy times, not the sad ones. I don’t dream about the days I would visit her in the hospital. Her cheering for me during my first swim meet fills my mind instead. I don’t let myself recall the endless hours I sat next to her bed watching the cancer eat away her body and spirit. My dreams take me away from those sad times and remind me of vacations to the beach where we would play in the sand and sun until we were all too exhausted to even stand.

I want to stay in my memories, but a soft shake of my shoulder pulls me back to reality. Anna, Isabel says, wake up.

Opening my eyes takes a moment. When I finally manage it, I nudge Maria. Grumbling follows her pushing up from the floor with a groan. She rubs at her sore neck. Dad? Isa? What time is it?

Six-thirty. The closing took a little longer than we planned.

No kidding, I say. You were supposed to be back two hours ago. What took so long?

The buyers had some paperwork missing. Their banker left several important documents at his office.

Dad and Isabel shake their heads in irritation. I can only imagine the scene those two might have caused. Neither one can handle being made to wait for anything. I hope Mr. Ford kept them from embarrassing themselves too much.

"So, are