Pursuit of the Pudú

By Diana Delacruz

Even as Melissa and Nicolás fall in love, everything else in their lives falls apart.

In this Christian YA adventure and sequel to Destiny at Dolphin Bay, recent high school grad Melissa Travis returns to southern Chile's enchanting Chiloé on a mission. Her youth group plans to build a church on the island of Chauquelín, and chasing a romantic relationship is not part of the agenda. But as soon as Melissa encounters her old friend, Nicolás Serrano, the earlier sparks between them burst into a blaze.

While the construction project races ahead, myriad obstacles conspire to drive a wedge between Melissa and Nicolás. Their future career choices appear to lead in opposite directions. Family worries gnaw at Nicolás as his brother opposes their mother's upcoming wedding. Melissa's ex-boyfriend and Delicia, her old nemesis, form an unlikely alliance to plot against her and Nicolás.

Then in a fit of fury, Delicia blurts out a stunning claim that unleashes on Melissa and Nicolás a chain reaction of suspicion and accusations. How can their new love thrive or even survive the fallout? Still more unsettling, have they strayed out of sync with God's timing?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heart Ally Books, LLC
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9781631070587

Book preview

Map of Chiloé

Map of Chauquelín Island

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A Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Diana Delacruz

epub-cover.pngTitle Page - Pursuit of the PuduHeart Ally Books Logo - book heart

Heart Ally Books, LLC

Camano Island, Washington

Pursuit of the Pudú

Copyright © 2024 by Diana Delacruz

Maps created by Najla Kay

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Quotations in the book:

Love is the river of life in the world - by Henry Ward Beecher (1813 - 1887)

Published by:

Heart Ally Books, LLC

26910 92nd Ave NW C5-406, Stanwood, WA 98292

Published on Camano Island, WA, USA

www.heartallybooks.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-63107-058-7 (epub)

ISBN-13: 978-1-63107-057-0 (paperback)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Delacruz, Diana, author.

Title: Pursuit of the pudú / Diana Delacruz.

Description: Camano Island, Washington : Heart Ally Books, LLC, 2024. | Series: Desert island diaries ; 2 | Audience: Grades 10-12. | Summary: As Melissa and Nicolás navigate their blossoming love amid a mission to build a church in southern Chile, family conflicts, career choices, and unexpected accusations, threaten to unravel their relationship.

Identifiers: LCCN 2023048819 (print) | LCCN 2023048820 (ebook) | ISBN 9781631070570 (paperback) | ISBN 9781631070587 (epub)

Subjects: CYAC: Christian life--Fiction. | Romance stories. | Interpersonal relations--Fiction. | Chile--Fiction. | LCGFT: Christian fiction. | Novels.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.D45543 Pu 2024 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.D45543 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023048819

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023048820

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Dedicated to all who have ever served and sacrificed time, tears, and toil on a mission trip. You may never know this side of heaven how many lives you changed.

If your goal is purity of heart,

be prepared to be thought very odd.

–Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity

Map of Chiloé

Map of Chauquelín Island

1

pudu deer

June 4, 1993

Mellehue, Grand Chiloé Island, Chile

The moment I glimpsed Nicolás Serrano on the soccer field, I suspected I was in danger. And when he spun his head and looked at me as I squeezed into the crowded bleachers, I knew it for sure.

What if this whole thing was a mistake? Maybe I shouldn’t have come back to the Chiloé Islands right now. A mission trip is designed to challenge you, inspire you, not mess up your life. It’s meant to touch your heart, not break it.

I’d only just landed from the States and barely touched bases with my sister and her family. So why was I perched on the edge of my seat with a racing pulse? Why was I holding my breath at an inconsequential soccer match in a third-world fishing village? I should have the sense not to harbor more than a passing thought about a guy from another universe.

Blame it on raw emotions—after all, I’d just ended one relationship gone sour. But no way did I intend this summer mission project in the backwaters of Chile to morph into some sort of spring break fling. It wasn’t supposed to get complicated.

But here he was again, the island boy who’d haunted my dreams since my visit here three years ago. Now in the flesh in front of me, he sprinted down the playing field, fleet as a deer, solid and real and more devastatingly handsome than I remembered. All this time, I’d compared every other guy to Nicolás Serrano.

What made his memory shine so unrivaled? At eighteen, wasn’t I too old now for an adolescent crush? Surely time and distance had blown my obsession out of all rational proportion. Or was he the most amazing guy I’d ever met? Nicolás, the Dolphin Boy, had once been my best friend.

A referee’s whistle screeched. From a bench four rows up in the half-moon stands, I craned to see who would make the free kick for the home team. The field blazed a dazzling emerald, streaked with black and white jerseys. I knew so many of the players from my stint at the local school, this felt like a homecoming game. Looks like they’ve designated Nicolás, I said.

No big surprise there. My Chilean girlfriend, Miriam Barrientos, had dragged me out to the stadium before I’d even unpacked. She elbowed me and winked. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you gawking.

Heat slid up my neck. True enough, Nicolás had riveted my attention since we’d arrived at the start of the second period, but I’d hoped it wasn’t so obvious. I pretended to ignore her not-so-subtle ribbing. It’s great to be back, Miri. Mellehue versus Castro, it’s a Saturday classic—

One of the opposition players headed off Nicolás’s shot on net. Out of control, the ball blasted toward the bleachers, hurtling straight at me. I flung out my arms. Air whooshed out of my lungs as I trapped it against my chest.

I lurched to my feet to toss the ball back onto the field, but in an instant, Nicolás bounded up the benches to retrieve it. Our eyes met. Mutual recognition…and something more. The throng of people around us blurred.

Flashing a roguish smile, he scooped the ball from me and tucked it under his arm. Welcome home to Chiloé, Melissa Travis.

Some welcome.

"See you’re still on your fútbol toes, though." He whirled and vaulted back to the ground.

Well, well. Miriam leaned back. Even slouching, she was half a head taller than me. Didn’t take you two long to pick up where you left off.

I bit my lip and rubbed my breastbone. Gonna have a bruise there. Guess he hasn’t forgotten me. During the seven months I’d spent here before, I’d fallen in love with this last corner of the earth, as they called it. I’d never forget Chiloé. But I could hardly expect that my time here had impacted my Chilote friends as much as it had me.

"You think anybody’s forgotten you? Miriam shook her mane of pencil-straight hair. Not likely, considering the avalanche of greetings this afternoon."

It’s just, no one’s written much lately. Miriam, loyal as an old nanny, had kept up, but I hadn’t heard from Nicolás in six months. We’d corresponded often—for a while, every week—those first couple of years. His last letter, no more than a note scribbled inside a Christmas card, mentioned his grandmother Luisa’s death, his high school graduation, and his new job with our classmate Delicia’s father. That was all…

Sorry, we’re terrible about writing, Miriam said. But everybody remembers you. And you haven’t changed much.

"I hope that’s not true." Everything was different for me now, everything. I never wanted to go back to who I was before.

Then you’re prettier, if anything.

I grinned. Don’t know about that either, but I’m tanner than you, Snow White. I might be the typical blond gringa in Chilean eyes, but everything except my hair was dark compared to milk-skinned Miriam.

No fair, Meli. It’s winter here! And a cold one too. Guess that’s better than rain, though, for building the church out on Chauquelín Island with your group from the States.

Yeah. But you can never tell what the weather might be like a month from now around this place. My gaze sought the bright sapphire ribbon of the channel that glimmered beyond the sloping roofs of the seaside village of Mellehue. Sunshine sparkled on the water, just as I’d first glimpsed it back on that mid-summer afternoon three years ago. Today indigo mountain peaks, heavily frosted with snow, slashed the eastern horizon. And gave me the shivers. Why?

The crowd around us erupted. In a dance of intricate footwork, Nicolás pried the ball away from an opposing player and wove it down the center field. A hard kick drove it to a teammate dashing in from the left. The ball flew over the goalie’s head and straight to the back of the net, tying the score. Miriam and I leaped up to cheer our team.

What a goal. Still panting, she clutched my arm and pulled me back to the bench. I’m glad you have a few weeks to visit here in Mellehue before you head out to the island. When do your friends from the States arrive?

The twenty-fourth of June. I drew up the hood of my parka against the deepening cold. There’ll be seventeen in the team, plus the two leaders. And me, of course.

Your boyfriend’s coming with the group?

If you mean Joshua Ellis, he’s not my boyfriend anymore. My tone went brittle.

He’s not?

Might as well explain and get it over with. How had I ever gotten mixed up with a guy like Josh since I’d known Nicolás, anyway? They came from different galaxies. Ever since Chiloé, I’d felt a little lonely in Baltimore, even in the center of my crowd. But going out this past year with that pretentious paragon of movie-star perfection, my ex-boyfriend Josh, had to top the list of my dating blunders. People said we looked ideal together. Hadn’t I outgrown such trivialities? Next to Nicolás, Josh faded to grainy sepia.

Definitely not. I attempted a casual shrug but couldn’t camouflage the embarrassment in my voice. Not that we were ever serious, but I—well, at our grad party the other night, I told him we were over.

Finished, dead, done. I wouldn’t elaborate on the details—the sting felt too private. But our relationship had headed in a direction I found uncomfortable. Whatever blinders I’d worn before, I’d glimpsed a less-than-golden side of Josh lately.

Miriam gave a wry grin. Nicolás will be happy to hear that.

I squinted into the waning sunlight. Then, drawing a tremulous breath, I ventured to ask the question at the forefront of my mind. "How…how is Nicolás? What’s he been up to?"

Same mischief as always, that scamp. Old Cahuel, we used to call him…still cocky as a rooster and bold as a poacher. She chuckled. And too smart and good-looking for his own good.

I laughed too. You always had it in for Nicolás, Miri. How can anybody be too good-looking?

Her forehead furrowed. "A flock of girls is always swooning over him. And mostly the wrong kind of girls, like Delicia Treviño. You remember her, I’m sure."

"Only too well." Dramatic Delicia, the reigning belle of Mellehue’s liceo, had resented my friendship with Nicolás. While she chased him, she’d made me the target of her jealous spite. Nicolás never seemed to pay much attention to Delicia, though.

Or to any of those other girls either, but that doesn’t stop them from throwing themselves at him. It’ll be good for him to get out of Chiloé.

He’s leaving? I could’ve kicked myself for the breathless reaction, but I couldn’t help it.

They’re supposed to call him for entrance tests at the naval academy in Valparaíso any day.

Really? The navy, huh? It fit, but…

I don’t think he’s sure what he should do, though. He talks a lot about going to Bible college, like you.

I suppressed a surge of pleasant surprise. What about you, Miri? How come you’re still hanging around Mellehue?

I didn’t get a high enough score on the university exams to bother applying anywhere. She glanced toward her lap and scrutinized her bitten nails.

Open mouth, insert foot. I-I’m so sorry. That must have been disappointing for you.

Especially when Viviana Pacheco sailed through with flying colors, and she’s never worked half as hard as I have.

But you can take the test again this coming December, can’t you? Have you been studying?

That’s what your sister said, but I don’t know.

You can’t give up so easily. I patted Miriam’s shoulder. Of course, you should try again. That’s what I despise about that infamous exam. One bad day doesn’t make you a failure for life.

Um, maybe not. She sounded tentative, but a glimmer of hope flickered in my friend’s gloomy face.

A groan rumbled through the crowd as our opposition from the island capital scored again. The match continued fast-paced and tight. Our catch-up girl talk sputtered in fits and starts.

Nicolás’s test score was good, Miriam said, but he decided to stay here this year since his grandmother had just passed away.

Right, last November. How’s the rest of his family? Marcos, Señora Angélica?

Marcos stayed on another year with his Serrano grandparents after the rest of the family came back from Santiago. Not sure if that was good for him or not. A frown etched between her ink-stroke brows. But he’s doing eleventh grade here in Mellehue this year. Chauquelín has up to eighth now, so Valeria’s with her mother out there. You knew Señora Angélica finished her nursing degree last July, right? She’s lived on the island since then. Took care of her mother those final months before she died, then accepted the position at the med-post after Doña Luisa passed. Miriam smirked. Maybe the luckiest decision she ever made. Or not, who knows?

What do you mean?

Didn’t your sister tell you? She met Don Ricardo Treviño when he was setting up a salmon farm in the bay in front of the Bórquez property, and—

In Dolphin Bay!

You know the place, don’t you? So now they’re engaged. Nice for her, but if they do go ahead with the marriage, I smell disaster.

I stared. Señora Angélica’s getting married again?

People kind of saw it coming when Don Ricardo bought out old Bórquez about the time Angélica returned to Chauquelín to nurse her mother. He’s a good man, they say, Meli. A Christian now, too.

Ricardo Treviño’s the guy Nicolás works for, right? Isn’t he Delicia’s… And what’s the Bórquez mansion got to do with… Wait a minute, you’ve lost me somewhere.

"No, you’ve put it together exactly. Ricardo Treviño is Delicia’s father, and he’s also Nicolás’s boss. Treviño Enterprises is the big fishing business in these parts."

And he’s a believer, you say? Incomprehensible. Nicolás’s fairy-tale princess mother and a money-grubbing fishing tycoon? Father of that nasty little vixen, my old antagonist? What about Delicia?

Miriam sniffed. She’s the same mean cat, that one. Not thrilled about the change in her papá lately either. Guess he tries to cramp her style now.

So Nicolás’s mother is going to marry this man? But that would make—

"Nicolás and Delicia family, sí. Stepbrother and sister. Hysterical, isn’t it? Miriam nudged me and rolled her pale blue eyes. She’s only chased him since eighth grade, and he’s avoided her like the plague for almost as long. And Marcos, you know how laid-back he is about most things. But he can’t stomach Delicia."

Well, if Nicolás is off to the naval academy soon, that should— A maneuver on the field caught my attention. Who’s the ponytail in number nine? Is it my imagination or is this the third time that same guy’s held on to the ball until Nicolás was offside?

I saw that too. But it can’t be deliberate. He’s the new captain of the Mellehue club. Why would he want to help his own team lose?

Why indeed? Unless he had some personal quarrel with Nicolás.

Although the home team dominated the field, Castro pulled off a ninety-minute breakaway that gave the match advantage. After the final whistle, I stomped my feet and blew on my fingers. As the subdued crowd sifted away, another dozen old acquaintances jostled to greet me.

No doubt they remembered. But what did they remember about the gringa, Melissa Travis? Nothing connected with Jesus, for sure. A burden of debt gnawed at me.

When the swarm thinned again, Miriam tucked back her hair and poked me. Aren’t you going to talk to Nicolás? Like old times?

Now that the moment had arrived, I squirmed. Sure, I wanted to talk to him—so much that I felt shy. But what if he wasn’t interested in our friendship anymore? And what was he like now? He’d be going on nineteen, but he looked about the same. A little older, though he’d always seemed old for his age. I’d been the childish one back then. I prayed I was more mature today than I’d been at fifteen, that it was evident I’d changed.

Maybe he’d wander my way. But no. After the rival teams shook hands, he remained huddled with his teammates on the far side of the field. Probably needed to debrief after they’d lost the game.

I started down the bleachers, then froze. A buxom girl in an oversized purple sweater clambered toward us, blocking my view of Nicolás. A girl whose beautiful, sullen face I recognized at once.

"Ay, speak of the devil," Miriam muttered.

2

pudu deer

Once, I’d sort of wished we were friends, though it was like getting close to a hedgehog. I’d given up trying with Delicia Treviño. But she was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered. A cloud of raven-black ringlets spilled over her shoulders and cascaded down her back nearly to her waist. Her rounded cheeks glowed rosy.

"Vaya, vaya. Obsidian eyes glittered and then narrowed as she raised her chin. If it isn’t the little china doll come back to haunt us."

H-hi, Delicia. As always, her acid tongue left me dumbstruck.

"Hola, gringa. No time wasted staking out your old territory, I see. Already managed an interlude with Nicolás, eh?"

Can’t you just say a civilized hello? Miriam snapped. Forget the theatrics for once?

I’ll do more than say hello. Delicia’s pouty crimson lips curled into a saccharine smile. "Someday soon let’s get together for a little chat, Melissa. I’ll fill you in on all the news here. But we’ll wait until Miri’s not around. It’s a date, eh, gringa?"

I shrugged and bit my lip. How did anyone respond to such a snide invitation? My stomach clamped.

Get a life. Miriam wagged her head in disgust. I can imagine what kind of news you’d share.

Enjoy him while you can, gringa, and hang on tight. Delicia sidled away, simpering. The competition’s tougher now than it was three years ago. You’ll have to work harder.

When she left, I released my breath in a soft explosion of air. She’s more poisonous than ever.

"Afraid so, amiga."

A twinge of guilt pinched me. What happened to making a difference this time, the new-approach-to-old-friends strategy I’d formulated? Now seemed as good a moment as any to start implementing it. I inhaled. So, uh, what’s Delicia been doing these months since graduation? Wind whirred in the trees bordering the field as a pause stretched and strained between us. What is it, top secret? Did I ask a touchy question?

Miriam sighed. Delicia bombed the university exams worse than anybody. She’s going nowhere soon, small comfort to me. She met my gaze. Delicia’s been home knitting, I guess. She’s pregnant, Melissa.

Oh. My voice flattened. It was only Delicia, irritating and petulant, but still. I knew about mistakes and bad choices with guys myself. Not that far, but enough to stir a pang of regret for her. I had no idea. Linda never wrote about that either.

Your sister hates gossip. I should take a lesson from her.

I’d never have realized. Delicia was always, you know, plump. When’s the baby due?

Oh, early spring, I’d guess. I asked her once and she just scowled and ordered me to mind my own business. So I do.

And the guy?

I couldn’t tell you that for sure either. She’s had so many different ones. She’s not publicizing any names, and I wouldn’t dare ask. But I could hazard a guess.

He’s not married, is he?

No, but the thing is, they’re not together anymore if it’s who I suspect. Miriam pointed toward the far net of the soccer field, where the Mellehue team still hadn’t dispersed. That guy you noticed before? The new captain with the sloppy ponytail? It might be him. Pedro Bustamante.

Should I know him?

I doubt it. He’s from Curaco, across the channel on the next island. He’d had some diving experience in Puerto Montt, so he got hired on with Don Ricardo a year or so ago. Until recently. Kind of good-looking if you like tough, swaggering types.

Do you? I couldn’t resist.

She rolled her eyes. "She likes anything. Remember how she always used poor Tito Bahamonde as her default?"

Oh, yeah, Tito. I missed him today.

He’s out on a fishing crew this week. He didn’t do any better than I did on the university exam, so he works for Don Ricardo, same as Nicolás.

And Marcos? Does he work too? I didn’t see him playing either.

Sure, he scored the big goal, didn’t you see?

I did a double take. That long-legged buck was Marcos? Why, he’s taller than his older brother.

By five or six centimeters, at least. He’s a super player. Sweet too. But there’s something about Marcos I can’t quite put my finger on… Anyway, come on, Meli. Miriam tugged on my sleeve. I’ve got to get home and do a few chores, or my mamá won’t let me out of the house for youth group tonight. I’ll leave you with Nicolás.

What if he’s too busy right now? My breath snagged in my chest.

She blew a raspberry. Was Romeo too busy for Juliet? Why the sudden bashful maiden?

Why? Because I was afraid of catching an incurable disease. Of careening down a mad path where I might lose myself forever.

My pulse thrummed through my temples. I’d eluded sentimental entanglement here before. Right now I should bolt in the opposite direction, not saunter up to trouble.

Oh, good grief, he’s only an old friend.

A friend I’d missed way more than I cared to admit. But pursuing this secret yearning was reckless, lunatic. It could prove more disastrous than the web I’d just escaped from. Like leaping from the frying pan of a mediocre-to-bad relationship into the fire of an impossible fantasy.

I caressed the dolphin-shaped charm that hung on a chain inside my jacket. A gift from that special old friend, it seemed to sear my skin.

But the lure was irresistible. I followed Miriam across the lush meadow.

As we drew near, a thickening knot of players and straggling spectators gathered in front of the goal net. Nicolás stood smack-dab in the center of a flaring dispute.

I clutched Miriam’s arm. What are they arguing about?

The tall guy she’d pointed out as the captain, and Delicia’s ex-boyfriend, crossed muscular arms over his chest. What do you mean you won’t be playing tomorrow? You can’t just bail.

This Pedro Bustamante looked maybe twenty-five. He’d untied his ponytail and flaunted a mat of unkempt hair. His blustery posture and stony expression made me cringe. I shoulder-checked, but Delicia had disappeared.

Pedro’s lips stretched into a snarl as his next words lashed out. You missed a game two weeks ago too, Serrano, and you weren’t out on Treviño’s launch then either.

You’re a genius, Bustamante. Nicolás tugged up his black and white jersey to mop the sweat that trickled down his neck. I explained it to you once, I’ll go over it again. I told the guys when I joined the team to count me out of Sunday games that conflicted with the services at my church. It hasn’t been much of a problem until now.

You can’t put conditions like that. Your church, of all the garbage. Contempt darkened Pedro’s face, sharpened the craggy features.

I was completely up front about it, and the other guys agreed. Nicolás compressed his lips and scrubbed tousled coffee-brown hair off his forehead.

Who agreed? Pedro bellowed. I didn’t!

"Well, I haven’t changed my mind just because the team changed captains. I enjoy playing, but some things matter more to me than fútbol."

What kind of a wimp are you, letting the team down like this?

In the face of the open taunt, Nicolás met his glare with an unflinching one of his own. If the team doesn’t want me under those circumstances, fine. Just let me know if I’m cut.

I bit my lip, trying to absorb the crux of the conflict: Nicolás under fire from his irate team captain because he held his church as a higher priority than soccer. That was Nicolás, all right. Always dared to be different, passionately committed to whatever he felt was right, even if someone ridiculed him.

A mutter of protest arose from the other players, but Pedro Bustamante snorted. "Chu, let the waste go, guys. No great loss. He was no asset to the team today."

Watch who you call a waste, Bustamante. Marcos Serrano lurched forward. Nicolás’s brother might be baby-faced and only sixteen, but his towering height commanded respect. "Cahuel assisted the goal I made, and he could’ve done a lot more if you hadn’t loused up the passes. I wonder if you did it on purpose."

Pedro sneered and spat. What are you, kid, Big Brother’s guardian?

"No importa, Marc, Nicolás said. My conditions stand, Bustamante. I’ll be at practice Tuesday unless otherwise notified." He pivoted away from the circle.

And caught me gaping because he noticed me at once.

3

pudu deer

Bella lola! This time Nicolás sprang to offer a proper Chilean-style kiss on my cheek. "I’ll admit I hoped to greet you when I was more pituco at church tonight, not while I smell like a boatload of sardines."

When he called me bella lola, the beautiful girl of a song our old school folkloric group had performed, my shyness vanished—along with the rest of the world—in a bubble of laughter. I couldn’t wait any longer, I said. Besides, this is the real you, isn’t it?

Miriam cleared her throat. Since it appears you two have met somewhere before, I’ll toddle along home.

See you later, Miri, I called after her.

Nicolás rubbed the back of his neck. Miriam doesn’t approve of me, I’m afraid.

Yeah, she does. But she also thinks you’re an incorrigible rascal.

Oh, that’s it, eh? He took my elbow and steered me across the field toward the street leading down into the village. His relaxed self-assurance put me at ease, as always. "And what do you think, Señorita Melissa Travis?"

Whoa. Nicolás always shot straightforward too, but was he asking me what I thought of him? I didn’t know what I was feeling.

So I chuckled. I’ll reserve my opinion for now, Don Nicolás Serrano De la Cruz.

I see. Keep me wondering.

Where are you abducting me to?

Thought I’d take you to Señora Ana’s for tea. Okay? Tito Bahamonde’s mother, remember. I board with them when I’m here in Mellehue now. You can visit while I clean up for the meeting. She’ll enjoy that.

Your old sidekick Tito. He’s working out of town right now, Miriam said?

"With one of Don Ricardo Treviño’s fishing crews, out in the Desertores island group this week. I just got back Thursday from a ten-day trip and traded off with him. We’re buzos, divers. His golden topaz eyes twinkled. Can you believe it? When the season opens at the end of July, I’ll be out harvesting abalone. Ought to be good at that, no?"

We shared a laugh, as only people with a collection of memories in common can. Within just a couple of minutes, we’d fallen into step in the lane, not at all as if nearly three years had passed since we’d last rambled together down this street.

Sounds like a challenging job, right up your alley. You were always part fish, Dolphin Boy.

Not responding to that last remark. But sí, I enjoy it, for now. Don Ricardo just opened a new processing plant at Flamingo Beach, along the coast east of Mellehue, this past summer.

Miriam said something about a salmon farm in Chauquelín?

I’m supposed to train some new guys for that operation between now and abalone season. He winked. So I’ll be out there when you are.

My cheeks warmed. I heard there were some other big changes on the island. Your mother—

I broke off as we turned onto Freire, the town’s main street, and glanced at the imposing three-story house on the left. Though it was nothing like the glass-and-concrete condos of Santiago, this place represented the Chilote version of a mansion in the small port town of Mellehue. Built of lustrous, top-quality wood and flanked by short-needled mañío trees, it stood out amid the mildewed shingles and peeling paint, the flimsy post-earthquake shacks, and the modest homes clad in corrugated zinc that surrounded it. An arch of late-blooming crimson copihues draped over the front door.

This is the Treviño place, isn’t it? I jutted my chin toward the luxurious residence. Is your mother really going to marry Delicia’s father?

You heard, eh? In theory, Mamá’s agreed to the engagement. But sometimes I don’t think she’s too sure about—

A street-front window on the second floor banged open. Delicia’s dark Rapunzel-like locks swung out over the sill. Gringa, that’s got to be record time, she sing-songed. "Or was it you who chased her down, Nico? That’s a switch, you chasing a girl."

Nicolás’s jaw clenched, a nerve in his right cheek twitching. Nobody’s taking the bait, Delicia. You’ll have to find someone else to torment. Come on, Meli.

Remember my advice, gringa. Delicia made a kissing sound.

Heat flooded my face despite the frigid air. Nicolás tugged me away. Ignore her. She’s nothing but trouble.

Seriously, what kind of parents raised her?

Don Ricardo’s been on his own since she was about five. I think a lot of him, Melissa, his daughter to the contrary. He’s been a good friend to Mamá since she moved back to the island.

And she’s been a widow for what, over six years now?

She deserves another chance for happiness more than anyone I know. It’s just…

You kids. Families complicate things.

No kidding. He hunched his broad shoulders. Delicia’s balking at the idea of her father remarrying, and she treats my mamá pretty nasty.

Uh, no big surprise there. What a pill.

You know how she likes to be the center of attention. And I think she’s especially moody right now because of her pregnancy. Suppose you’ve heard about that too.

I gave a sober nod. No possibility she’ll marry the guy and leave her father in peace?

He shook his head. She won’t even tell her papá who the guy is. Or was, since he doesn’t seem to figure in the picture anymore.

"Miriam thought it might be your fútbol captain back there."

Charming dude, no? He sighed and tilted his head. Delicia went out with Bustamante for a while, true enough. Then there was another guy after that, some glue-sniffer who drifted down from Valparaíso to work in the fisheries. I pray to God it wasn’t Santana. That space cadet only has a couple of brain cells left.

Don Ricardo must be worried about her.

Nicolás grunted in agreement. Despite her odious behavior, even he seemed concerned. Maybe I should accept Delicia’s invitation to talk.

What do Marcos and Valeria think about the future wedding? I asked.

No problem with Vali. She adores Don Ricardo. He heaved another sigh. "Marcos is another