by Jan Moran
“My mother has told me about the satirical comparsas, witty performers who compete in the Teatro Falla for the best skits. And the chirigotas, the happy minstrels.”
They edged closer to the plaza. “I think we should park while we can,” Johnny said, easing to the curb. “Ready to have some fun?”
Johnny bought glittery Venetian-style masks from a street vendor, and they quickly got into the spirit. It was a joyous crowd bent on celebrating the last days before Lent, the forty day period of abstinence before Easter.
Tango and flamenco music filled the air, and Johnny and Scarlett were swept into the merriment. Johnny thought he’d never seen Scarlett so carefree. She swirled through the night in her bright tangerine sundress, her coppery blond curls falling in a dazzling riot around her feathered Venetian mask.
“Scarlett, stay with me,” Johnny called out, laughing, as a pirate danced her away from him. A woman in a masked Venetian costume of turquoise and coral whirled him around.
“Over here, Johnny.” Her bright sundress was a beacon to him, and he led his dance partner through the crowd. When he reached Scarlett, he executed a smooth exchange, and the pirate danced away with the Venetian princess into the merry night.
“Am I glad to see you,” Scarlett said, falling into his arms.
“At your service,” he replied with a grin, and twirled her into the center of the plaza where the revelry was at its peak. Throngs of performers, groups of students, and families with children were celebrating in the square. A riot of colorful costumes blazed around them.
A long conga line of people shimmied by them, and Johnny and Scarlett were cheerfully pulled into the line. They danced through the avenue and alleys, with everyone chanting, “Esto es carnaval,” as they went. Finally, Johnny and Scarlett spun away to catch their breath.
Johnny swept Scarlett off her feet, swirling her in a circle. She dissolved into gales of laughter, and they collapsed on the edge of a fountain. “Something to eat or drink?” Johnny asked. He couldn’t remember when they’d laughed so hard.
“Both,” Scarlett said, catching her breath. “Oh, let’s go there.” She leaped to her feet and pulled him into a tapas bar where jamons hung from the ceiling.
“Lance would love those hams.” Johnny ducked under one on their way to the bar. He wanted to remember every sight and aroma and texture around him, and take the essence of it all back to their restaurant.
“They’re Iberian hams, and they’re muy delicioso.” Scarlett’s face flushed with joy.
“Are you lapsing into Spanglish, mi corazon?” He hugged her neck, thinking she was the most adorable, fearless, fun-loving creature he’d ever laid eyes on. How could he win her heart?
Scarlett pushed her mask over her head. “My papa used to sell a lot of this at his stall at the Farmer’s Market.”
Johnny remembered tagging along with her brother Franco when they were young. Those were some of the happiest moments of his childhood—because of Escarlata Sandoval and her family. On impulse, he flung an arm around her and kissed her with passion.
Behind them, the bar exploded with cheers for them, and other men slapped him on the back and congratulated him.
“Su esposa es encantadora,” a man said to him, and soon all the men in the bar were agreeing that Scarlett was a most enchanting wife, indeed, and began buying him wine.
“No, no, no,” Scarlett protested, but soon she found it easier to go along.
A young woman in a glamorous showgirl costume edged closer to Johnny. “Su marido es guapo,” she murmured and ran her hand down his arm. A woman next to her playfully smacked the girl’s hand. “Please excuse mi niña,” she said to Scarlett.
“He’s very handsome,” Scarlett said. “And he knows it,” she added, laughing. Though he certainly wasn’t her husband.
“Muy guapo, muy guapo,” waved across the bar.
Johnny ordered Spanish Lanjarón mineral water for Scarlett, and then toasted her with a glass of bubbly rosé cava that was forced into his hand. “Here’s to looking at life through pink champagne bubbles.”
Scarlett took a sip, and then, with a glint in her eye, she kissed him back, nearly overwhelming him with her passion. “Ay, mi amor.” He grinned and kissed her back.
Soon the revelers around them were clapping again. A waiter leaned in. “If you’re hungry, order now. This crowd can go on until morning, which isn’t that far away.”
“We didn’t realize it was so late,” Johnny said. They’d been having so much fun dancing and watching the performers’ witty repartees and songs.
Scarlett and Johnny glanced at the menu scribbled on a chalkboard. They talked about what they wanted, and Johnny ordered. “Salmorejo, carpaccio de atún rojo, ensalada de langostinos, y alcachofas, por favor. Gracias.”
The small plates came out one at a time as they were ready. “I thought this would be like gazpacho,” Johnny said, tasting the cold salmorejo. The creamy soup was made of tomatoes, thickened with olive oil and baguette bread, and served with a traditional side of Iberian ham and hard-boiled eggs. “I have to tell Lance about this.”
They devoured the red tuna carpaccio, a prawn salad with mangos and avocado, and a steamed artichoke. More small plates of cheeses, almonds, and olives followed, until they could eat no more. The bartender poured a special sherry for Johnny and toasted with them to their health and children.
Johnny and Scarlett chuckled at the sentiment, though Johnny hoped it might come true.
“How about a walk?” Jonny paid the tab and took Scarlett’s hand. “I hear the beach is this way.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
He encircled her waist with his arm and they strolled toward the water. A few other couples were walking along the water’s edge, also tired from the party.
Scarlett kicked off her sandals, and Johnny did the same. Beneath the sun baked crust, the sand was cool and moist. They raced to the shoreline and splashed in ankle-deep water, holding hands.
“Why isn’t real life more like this?” Scarlett mused.
“Maybe it can be.” He pointed out restaurants that lined the beach. “People do the same things we do here, only at a more leisurely pace. Except for conga lines in the streets.”
“That was wild,” she agreed. “Wonder how the firm would feel if I closed up shop for the afternoon and took a siesta?”
“Not unless you had your own shop.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re a smart woman, you can create any kind of life you want for yourself.”
Scarlett gave him a curious look, “When I graduated from law school, I thought there was only one path for me. Land a job at a top firm, word hard, and make partner. I was so focused. Now, I find that life doesn’t always turn out the way you’ve planned.”
“Sometimes it might turn out better.”
“That’s what I love about you, Johnny Silva.” She stood on her tiptoes and ruffled his hair. “You’re always so positive.”
“It’s true, Scarlett. You have to have a dream. Lance and I have been talking about our restaurant for a long time.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said quietly. She stooped and picked up a white shell.
“You weren’t here. You were in New York.” During that time, he’d missed her more than he ever would have imagined. He’d dated a lot, but no one ever measured up to Scarlett in his eyes.
“And we didn’t talk much.” She tossed the shell into the ocean. “I was always working and traveling, wasn’t I?” She gave his a playful punch in the arm. “And you were busy cavorting with celebrities.”
“Yeah, like Maude Magillicutty.” He chuckled.
“Have you heard anything else from her and her husband?”
“They’re studying the plan I gave them. Lance and I will meet with them when I get back.”
Scarlett paused and took his hands in hers. “I really hope this works out for you, Johnny.”
A gust of sea breeze whipped her hair. Pink tendrils of dawn framed her face, igniting the
golden flecks in her arresting green eyes. Johnny reached out to tame her wild mane and smoothed it back from her forehead. He drew her to his chest, feeling the strength in her slender frame. She pressed her cheek to his chest.
Johnny kissed the top of her head and wished he could suspend time. This was the relationship he’d always dreamed of. Scarlett was everything he’d ever wanted. To him, she was the most sensual woman alive. She made him laugh; he loved her stubbornness, her brilliance, her playfulness, and her intelligence. Most of all, he simply loved being with her. She made his life complete.
They stood swaying with the incessant waves that lapped their ankles until the sun burst onto the horizon, cloaking their shoulders with warm golden beams. He wanted to capture this precious feeling, and hold it forever between the two of them. Johnny lifted her chin. “Scarlett, mi amor. I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
Her upturned face was so earnest and serious that it scared him. Why was it he could charm women he cared nothing about, but when it came to Scarlett, sometimes the right words eluded him?
He cleared his throat and grinned. “I have no idea where we parked the car.”
13
“WHAT A FUN night that was,” Johnny said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. He was bleary-eyed from being up all night, and Scarlett was, too, but they’d had such a good time that it was well worth it. “I think we both needed that.”
“We sure did,” Scarlett agreed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed and danced so much.
After Scarlett and Johnny had walked back from the beach, they’d spent half an hour trying to find the car, and finally decided they needed their morning coffee if they were going to have any success.
Johnny reached across the small mosaic table and clasped her hand. “I’m glad we came here together, Scarlett. I like having time to ourselves again.”
Though it was never quite like this. “I’m happy, too, Johnny.”
They lingered over café con leche at a sidewalk café, watching the groggy city awaken around them. Scarlett hadn’t seen her cousin Teresa in twenty years; she certainly hadn’t wanted to wake her at daybreak.
After they found the car, they started off in the direction of the address her mother had given her. Scarlett peered at the crumpled map. “We’re almost there. Teresa should be in the next building.” They were driving parallel to the ocean, and the sound of breaking waves was a pleasant constant. Condominium and apartment buildings rose along the strand, their balconies open to the sea.
“Here it is,” Scarlett said, pointing to a stately white building. Johnny parked, and they made their way up to the penthouse unit.
A housekeeper answered the door. Scarlett introduced them and asked for Teresa.
“The family is not here,” the housekeeper told them. “They left for the horse farm late yesterday.”
Scarlett was disappointed. “We were told to come by yesterday.”
“Sí, sí, they were here then.” The older woman looked flustered. She asked them to come in, and said she would call La Señora for them.
Scarlett and Johnny stepped inside. From the expansive glass windows and doors, the view of the ocean was astounding. The living room was furnished with casual white sofas and chairs, accented with marine blue pillows and hand-painted pottery. Colorful abstract paintings covered the walls. Even at this height, the sounds of the ocean filtered in, and the breeze carried the scent of the sea.
“Senorita, La Señora would like to speak to you.”
Scarlett picked up the phone. Her cousin was excited, and invited them to stay with them on the farm. “We’d love to, but we’ve been celebrating Carnaval all night,” Scarlett explained. “We thought we’d find a pensione to catch a few hours of sleep.”
Johnny grinned at her, and Scarlett felt herself flush.
“No, no, no, you’ll stay at the condo,” Teresa said. “Come to the farm whenever you want. I’ll have the casita prepared for you. We dine late here, so there’s no hurry.” Teresa gave her directions, and then told her housekeeper to show them to the guest rooms where they could rest before making the drive.
Johnny went to the car to retrieve their bags, while the housekeeper showed Scarlett to one of two rooms that also opened onto balconies overlooking the ocean. Scarlett peeled off her sundress, and nestled into a downy soft bed, grateful for a place to lay her head. She was so tired the café con leche hadn’t had much effect on her.
The sliding glass door was open to the sea, and the sound of the ocean waves was mesmerizing. Scarlett felt safe here, especially after she heard Johnny arrive in the room next to her. The breeze rippled the curtains, and the squawk of gliding shore birds punctuated the quiet tranquility.
A few minutes later, her door creaked open, and Johnny shut it quietly behind him. He slid under the covers and curled his body around hers.
“Let’s sleep, mi amor,” Johnny murmured.
She snuggled into the curve of his body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. No phone, no email, no schedule. No one except her mother knew where she was. The incident at the Ritz receded from her mind, and before long she drifted into a deep, satisfied slumber.
After sleeping for several hours, Scarlett and Johnny rose to the aroma of baking bread. The housekeeper had prepared a fresh seafood salad with warm bread slathered with butter.
After eating, they freshened up, thanked the housekeeper, and soon they were on the road again, heading into the countryside of Andalusia.
Scarlett watched the scenery change to green pastures lined with olive trees. “We’re definitely in horse country,” she said. They passed several horse farms. Through open-sided arenas she could see riders practicing dressage, the balletic performance of horse and rider.
Johnny rested his hand on hers as they drove, and Scarlett felt reassured. Occasionally she checked the rear view mirror, but no one followed them. They were alone. Out here, with clear blue skies above, the world seemed brighter and finer than it had in Madrid. She’d almost convinced herself her attack had been a random occurrence. Maybe it was someone who’d sat next to her in a restaurant, or overheard a conversation. Crazed people often looked like everyone else, didn’t they?
She glanced at Johnny as he navigated the twists and turns of the narrow country roads. The wind tousled his glossy black curls, and his bronzed cheekbones gleamed in the sunlight.
She was well aware of Johnny’s reputation as a ladies’ man; more than a few Hollywood stars lusted after him. She’d known him for so many years. What had shifted in their relationship? she wondered. Is it real and true?
They turned into a long driveway, passing pastures on either side. Johnny eased the Citroën convertible to a stop in front of a sprawling, white stucco home topped with a tile roof. “This is an amazing property,” he said, swinging around to take it all in.
Scarlett looked out. Palm trees soared above an enormous trickling fountain. Red bougainvillea grew in profusion, and bright green ferns sprawled with abandon. Behind the house and beyond the pastures, purple mountains rose to frame the verdant valley.
A trim, dark-haired woman of her mother’s age strode from the house. She wore a white shirt, beige pants, and black riding boots. “You must be Scarlett,” she said, a broad smile lighting her face. “I’m Teresa.”
The last time Scarlett had seen her cousin, she’d been a little girl leaving Spain for America.
Scarlett introduced Johnny and they greeted each other with warm embraces. They followed her into the main house, and Scarlett felt the immediate warmth of family. Photos of their children and prized horses lined the walls. Wood-beamed ceilings soared overhead, cool tiles paved the floors, and comfortable groupings of sofas and chairs filled the room.
“It’s wonderful to have you,” Teresa said. “My children are away at university, so our home is quieter than usual.” She continued through the house and out onto a covered courtyard filled with potted plants.
“This is where we have our morning coffee, and on the other side is the casita where I thought you’d be comfortable.”
Scarlett threw a look at Johnny. Teresa had assumed they were a couple. Was it obvious? In such a short time she’d grown to love the intimacy of Johnny’s arms around her. Teresa swung the door open.
Scarlett caught her breath. “It’s lovely.”
“I’ve been redecorating,” Teresa said. The casita was a smaller version of the main house and consisted of a living room, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. “The workmen installed the new whirlpool tub a few days ago. It’s large enough for two,” she added, arching an eyebrow. She opened a pair of French doors. “Here is the pool, and over there are the horse stables. I’ll show you our Andalusian horses tomorrow.”
“As we drove in, we saw a lot of magnificent horses,” Johnny said. “What an incredible place. You might never get rid of us.”
“I like having company,” Teresa said. “I love our horses, but as you can see, our neighbors aren’t very close. Fortunately, we have many friends who visit us here. So make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.”
Teresa had left a bottle of Spanish Rioja wine in the casita. Johnny poured a glass for himself and opened a ginger ale for Scarlett.
Scarlett swung open French doors to the gathering dusk. “Let’s watch the sunset.” The patio was paved with terra cotta tiles that felt cool beneath her bare feet. She’d changed into gauzy, airy white cotton pants and a matching loose shirt. She brought a light jacket to ward against the encroaching evening chill, though the temperature was moderate, much like southern California. Feeling relaxed, she sank into a tufted cushion on a loveseat to watch the sunset.
“Look what else Teresa left for us.” Johnny appeared behind her. “Blanched marcona almonds with sea salt and olive oil, Iberian ham, and Spanish olives.” He placed the tray on table and sat next to her.
Scarlett sipped her bubbly tonic. “What a wonderful way to live.”
“Here’s to enjoying life, Scarlett.” Johnny raised his glass. “You should do it more often.”
