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Chapter Forty-Five

Shantal

G iven a three-week break between Jaipur and Las Vegas, the season coming to an end far faster than seemed possible, the team returns to Rio for some development and well-needed rest. But Darien and I, it turns out, are on a mission, cleverly disguised as a casual walk through the city that eventually brings us to the town of Santa Teresa, where we had taken the tram before Imola.

‘And the last stop,’ announces Darien as we near a small home much like the others we’ve passed on our walk. It’s surrounded by open grass and trees, with an old Corvette out front. The house is maybe two floors, and just slightly peeling on the facade, but flags and flower baskets hanging at windows spruce it all up.

‘What’s this?’ I ask with a raise of my eyebrow.

‘This,’ he says happily, ‘is family dinner.’

I gasp as I start to put together pieces. ‘Oh, Darien, your mom’s house? I can’t, I wouldn’t be—’

He squeezes my hand and nods. There’s so much pride in his eyes that I can feel it radiating like the rays of the sun above us. ‘Listen, we want you here. You’ve done so much for me, you know that? This is the least I can do. Get you to meet the people who stood behind me from day one.’

Just as he’s wrapping up his thoughts, there’s a shout from one of the windows. A woman stands up there, leaning over with a broad grin on her face – a very Darien grin. It’s a completely different expression from the one I recall seeing on her face back at the hospital after Darien’s accident. She brushes curls from her face, regarding us cheerily. ‘ Oy! Magalinho! ’ she chirps.

‘Hey, M?e!’ he yells back. ‘Look who’s here!’

She turns to me, waving. I’m not sure if she recognizes me from Miami – we hadn’t interacted, and I hadn’t yet been close with Darien – but the excitement in her voice fills my chest with the warm sensation of hope. ‘Come in, my dear!’

I just laugh, waving back to his mom, but something in her happiness fills me with warmth, almost concealing my nervous tension.

Darien leads me up a narrow driveway and down a weaving sidewalk that brings us to a threshold, beyond which is the bright orange front door. He gives it a firm knock.

‘Time for you to meet the family,’ Darien teases, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

The door finally creaks open, and there, with the biggest smile across her face, is the woman herself: Darien’s mum.

She pulls the door open and immediately brings both of us into an enormous hug. ‘ Olá, olá . Oh, how exciting! Darien and Shantal, hmm?’

‘Yep,’ Darien manages through his mum’s sweater.

Mrs Cardoso-Magalh?es holds us back at arm’s length, regarding us with pride. ‘What a beautiful couple. I’ve been waiting to finally meet you, filha .’

She radiates warmth, with the same bronze tan and chocolate irises as Darien. Her corkscrew curls fall around her face in piles of brown streaked with the smallest hints of blonde, as well as a faint grey. Smile lines just like Darien’s crease the corners of her eyes as she holds the door open for us.

‘Come on!’ Darien grins, taking my hand. ‘Come meet everyone.’

I sigh with a laugh as he herds me inside. It’s a symphony of colours. Decorative plates, brightly coloured furniture draped in handmade blankets. And the photos, they’re everywhere.

‘M?e loves photos,’ says Darien, reading my mind. ‘I don’t remember some of ’em, but this is my favourite.’ He points to one that hangs in the living room, next to the clock, visible straight ahead as you enter the house. It looks like both his parents are in it, all three of them standing on a makeshift football pitch in a park. A toddler Darien holds the ball, and his mum and dad are laughing so hard that their eyes are closed.

‘Dar!’ a new voice calls from the kitchen.

‘My cousin, Karolina,’ Darien tells me, grinning.

As we approach the kitchen, I realize that the woman standing there is my age: short with dark waves of hair perched in a bun on her head and a faded blue scarf tied at the top as a headband. She wears a loose white dress and slippers. Her eyes look tired, but they glow when they see Darien, and a smile spreads across her face. She has his clever smirk and expressive eyes.

Darien embraces his cousin with jovial greetings as Karolina beams and says something in Portuguese that sends them both into a riot of laughter. She gestures inside, where four other people are craning their necks to see us from around a dining table. Hello and olá and e ai are in the air, happy sounds of reunion.

Before I can even start to take stock of all the people around the table, someone’s hustled me into my own chair and put a plate in front of me. Karolina takes a seat beside someone who I believe is her husband. He holds a very loud, very small bundle in his arms.

‘My nephew,’ whispers Darien. ‘Felipe. Total daddy’s boy.’

I watch as Karolina smiles down at her son, offering him a finger to hold with that tiny hand of his. Her husband beams down at them both, plants a kiss in her hair.

Something wiggles its way into my heart as I watch them: sadness? Envy?

But I’m quickly distracted from my moment of pause when the family members eagerly turn their attention my way. A tangle of questions in Portuguese fly towards me, and as chaotic as it is, I can feel the affection practically emanate from them. I don’t even try to hide my resulting joy. I’ve longed to feel this chaos, this affection, for the past year.

‘Guys, guys!’ Darien waves his hands frantically. It’s as humorous as it is sweet. ‘ N?o fala português! ’

A resounding ‘ohhh’ of understanding echoes around the table. There’s a momentary bustle to choose a representative speaker before Darien’s mum silences all the overlapping chatter with a flail of her hand and an excited little, ‘Shantal, let me introduce you. First …’ She points to Karolina. ‘You’ve met Karolina. Felipe, the littlest; Cassius, his pai ; and then this here …’

‘Tia Manuela, M?e’s sister; and Tio Julio,’ Darien finishes happily. ‘My aunt and uncle.’

Tia looks like she could be a twin to Mrs Cardoso-Magalh?es, except for her striking hazel eyes. Tio, in his straw fedora, smiles contentedly at us both, and then, to Darien, says, ‘Took you this long?’

His remark makes everyone at the table laugh, and I chuckle. The statement reminds me of my family’s embarrassing jokes.

They exchange looks full of mischief and excited smiles before Tio Julio turns to me. ‘Oh, filha , imagine how relieved we are to find out he’s finally brought a girl home to meet us.’

A blush reddens Darien’s cheeks as I glance his way with a barely concealed grin. I’m the first. There’s a certain gravitas to that title.