Salvador was stunned. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. So he just sat there, saying nothing, and the silence grew until it screamed.
“Well, all right,” said the priest, turning to Doña Margarita, “I should have realized that a man in your son’s business wouldn’t exactly be open, even to a priest. But you see, Señora, we priests are also men, and there are three of us here in the diocese who used to get together several times a month to enjoy ourselves, playing cards and drinking in the evenings. And, well, with circumstances being what they are in this country, we can’t do that anymore.”
Salvador looked at his mother. Up to this point, she hadn’t shown anything to the man of God, either. But now hearing the priest speak directly to her, she nodded for Salvador to go ahead. Still, Salvador decided to go slowly. His mother had always warned all of them to be cautious even of priests, for they were men, after all, with the weaknesses of the flesh, like all other mortal men.
“Well, Father,” said Salvador, “you’ve heard wrong from these people who talk. Because I don’t handle any liquor myself, you see. But I do know a man who might have some.”
The priest smiled. “All right,” he said, “could you talk to this man?”
Salvador nodded. “Okay, I can pass on your message to him. And, well, maybe not tonight or tomorrow night, but some night this week you’ll find a couple of bottles of the finest whiskey by your back door. And when you want some more, you just tell my mother that you’d like to see me, and I’ll understand and pass on the word, and you’ll get a couple more bottles, free of charge.
“But understand this, Father, I haul fertilizer for a living. I don’t know anything about this bootlegging business. So you please tell these people who talk about me that I’m an honest, law-abiding man, Father.”
“Of course,” said the priest, looking at Salvador with new respect. “And I salute you, Señora; you raised a very cautious man. He would have gone far in our Church. Maybe even a Cardinal!” he laughed.
Driving his family back home to the barrios, Salvador had his mother sit up front with him, and they got a chance to talk together. He told his mother of how he’d worked with Lupe’s family for nearly a week before he’d gone to Escondido to work with Epitacio. He told her how they’d treated him so well.
“That’s wonderful, mi hijito,” said Doña Margarita. “But what happens now? From what you say, this girl sounds ready for marriage, and I’ve seen many young men lose the woman of their dreams because they didn’t move fast enough. When a girl is ready, she is ready!”
“Oh, Mama!”
“Don’t ‘oh, Mama’ me until I see you married and settled in your own home. But, oh, how I wish you would’ve met that angel that I’ve told you about that came to milk our goat.”
“Mama, not again,” said Salvador, having heard about this angel many times. “Lupe is the one for me. I feel it here, inside my heart and soul, as I’ve never felt anything before in all my life.”
“That’s how it was for me with your father. But I didn’t waste time, I tell you. I had him in my wedding bed within two months after I met him.”
Salvador blushed; he couldn’t help it. This was his own mother, after all. But then he started laughing. His mother was just never one lost for words. She got to the heart of the matter immediately.
“I’m going over to see her now,” he said.
“Good,” said his mother. “And I’ll start preparing for my trip to Chee-a-caca. Oh, I gave the Virgin a warning; I can’t be waiting for Her anymore. Sometimes one has to take even the heavens by the horns, I tell you!”
The sun was going down behind the orange groves when Salvador drove into Santa Ana. He found that no one was at Lupe’s house. The woman from across the street came up to him and handed him a letter.
“They were waiting for you,” she said, “but they had to go to Hemet to do the apricots. Lupe told me to give you this letter. They said that they’ll be back in a couple of weeks or so.”
“Gracias,” he said, taking the letter. The envelope bulged out, and Salvador could feel that it had something other than just paper inside of it.
He went up to the porch and sat down on the new rocker that they’d bought for Don Victor. Opening the letter, Salvador found dried mountain lilies inside. He smiled, putting the dried flowers to his lips, kissing them, smelling them. He was overwhelmed with emotion.
Lupe was so different from any woman that he’d ever met. And her family was so different from his, too. No one in his family would ever have thought of putting crushed flowers inside a letter. He glanced around and saw how nice and clean their home was. Lupe’s people were village people who’d always lived with neighbors close by and were used to keeping things neat and orderly. On the other hand, his were ranch people, six miles from their closest neighbor, and used to riding horses up to the front door and coming inside with guns on their hips and cowshit on their boots.
Oh, part of him just wondered if Lupe and he would ever be able to make a home together, they were so different. Why, even the holy pictures and crucifixes that hung in Lupe’s home were different than his people’s, who had tortured-looking saints and crucifixes with huge, gory thorns and lots of blood. Lupe’s holy pictures and crucifixes looked kind, unbloody, and their faces weren’t tormented.
He sat there, rocking in Don Victor’s rocker. He hugged Lupe’s letter close to his heart, and he thought back on his life before he’d met his truelove. He’d done so much and he’d been with so many women. But now all his past life seemed like it had only been a lesson, a preparation for what he was going to undertake in making a home.
Tears came to his eyes, and he squeezed Lupe’s letter against his face, not needing to try and read it, but feeling it, breathing it, holding it to his heart. He realized that his father and mother had not had a good marriage, but his grandparents had had a wonderful life together. He remembered how his grandfather, Don Pío, had always gone down to the corrals to see the men off to work when he first awoke, but then he’d return to have his first cup of hot chocolate with his beloved wife, Silveria. Oh, their love, their admiration and respect for each other had been legendary! And this was the kind of marriage that he wanted for himself and Lupe.
He sat there, rocking, holding Lupe’s letter and, yes, he fully realized that Lupe and he were as different as two people could be, but still, he was sure that they could make a home together.
He brought the letter to his lips and kissed it, smelled it, and he trembled with desire. Oh, just the thought of her sent him shooting, flying, sailing across the heavens like a timeless star and yet, he also was so afraid.
And all this time, the woman across the street watched out her window, and she was moved. Love was in the air, reeking off him. He was a young buck deer in heat; he was a human being made in God’s own image of pure love, and he was burning, going crazy with life’s juices.
Going over the tall, green-grey mountains to Hemet, their truck overheated and Victoriano had to pull off the road into a grove of oak trees. There was water in the canyon behind the oaks, with tall ferns and large boulders. Lupe took off her shoes and walked up the creek to cool off. Her father and mother had come along on this trip, but with the strict understanding that they wouldn’t do any work.
Doña Guadalupe followed her daughter up the creek. Lately, she’d noticed how quiet Lupe was. Finding her daughter by a small pond surrounded by tall ferns, the old lady took off her own shoes, sat down on a boulder beside Lupe, and put her feet in the cool water.
“Look, mi hijita,” she said, glancing up at the mighty oak tree overhead, “why this tree is almost as big as my crying tree back home. See those broken branches? This tree has seen lightning, too.”
Lupe looked up at the great oak tree and saw the large, broken branches, and it was true. This tree did, in fact, look a lot like her mother’s crying tree back in La Lluvia.
“We women need our trees,” said the old woman, “and our flowers, t
oo. They listen to us as no man ever can, no matter how much we love him or he loves us.” She breathed deeply. “What is it, mi hijita?”
Lupe looked down into the pond, watching two oak leaves caught in the current go down between the boulders. She really didn’t want to get into it with her mother. She was now seventeen years old, after all, and it was time for her to start solving her own problems.
“Lupita,” said her mother, reading her mind, “I might be too old to work in the fields anymore, but, believe me, I still know a lot more about life than you. And, besides, you either talk to me or you’re still not so big that I can’t grab you by the ear and discipline you,” she said, laughing.
Lupe smiled. Her mother was still the same. She had to know what was going on with everyone in the family at all times or she’d go crazy. The oak leaves now went rushing around the last large boulder and went cascading down the creek, out of sight. Lupe breathed deeply.
“Come on, mi hijita,” said her mother, taking her hand, “I’d like to be your friend. Please, tell me, is it that Salvador didn’t return like he told Victoriano he would?”
Lupe nodded, but then shrugged. “No, it’s only partly that,” she said. “It’s more like-oh, I just don’t know how to say it!” she added in frustration, grabbing a rock. “Salvador makes a game of things. Like leading Papa on with the gold mine and then leading me on, too. Oh, Mama, I truly think that I hate him sometimes!” she said, throwing the rock into the pond.
Her mother smoothed out her dress on her lap. “About the gold mine and your father, don’t worry, mi hijita. Men need their entertainment. It’s either that, or cards and liquor. But, now, about leading you on, you hate him, eh?”
“Oh, yes! I do!”
“But Mark you don’t hate?”
“No!” said Lupe. “That’s what’s so confusing to me! I love being with Mark. He’s so wonderful, and we talk about books and the future and I feel so happy when I’m with him.”
“And you never hate him?”
“No, of course not.”
“But Salvador you do hate sometimes?”
“Oh, yes! I hate him good sometimes, Mama!”
Doña Guadalupe only smiled. “Well, then, it’s settled. It’s Salvador that you really love.”
“No!” said Lupe, staring at her mother. “Didn’t you hear me? I hate him!”
“Yes, I heard you, mi hijita,” said the old woman calmly. “But, sadly, the things of the heart are seldom what they seem.” She wiped her own eyes. “Believe me, I know. I, too, was once in the same place that you are in now.”
“You, Mama?”
“Well, yes, mi hijita. I wasn’t always married to your father, even though it may seem that way to you. I, too, once had to make a choice between two very different men.”
“You did?” said Lupe, looking shocked.
The old woman laughed again. “Yes, and I chose your father with his hat and that little flare of his. Little did I know that he wore the hat because he was losing his hair, even back then.”
Lupe tried to picture her father as a young man with thinning hair, and she started laughing. Her mother joined her, and it was good.
“I almost envy you, mi hijita,” said the old lady, reaching out and stroking Lupe’s dark, rich hair. “You have so far to go. A whole new world is just beginning to open up for you.”
“But I feel miserable, Mama!”
“Oh, if only I could hurt with such misery once again, to feel the powers of love here inside my heart, the joys of heaven and the pains of hell!”
Lupe stared at her mother. “But what shall I do?” she asked.
“When the time comes, you’ll know, mi hijita; believe me, you’ll know.”
Lupe looked at her mother for a long time, at her eyes, her face, her wrinkled old neck, and she went over her words once more inside her mind, “When the time comes, you’ll know,” and she wondered if she’d ever be as smart and as strong and as beautiful as her mother.
Then, the men started calling, saying that the trucks were ready and it was time to go. Lupe and her mother got up and started back down through the creek, going around the boulders, past the tall ferns. Lupe listened to the breeze blowing overhead through the treetops, and she heard quail calling in the distance. Oh, she felt so close to her mother. Life truly hadn’t changed much since their days in La Lluvia when she’d awaken each morning and reach across the warm-smelling covers, searching for her mother’s warmth. A life of dreams, a life of sleepy thoughts and feelings, a life of mystery and wonderment. They continued down the creek, hand-in-hand, mother and daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The angel of love came down from the heavens, whispering to the butterflies and the bees and the birds, “Be careful of love; you might just receive your heart’s desire.”
Entering the church, Doña Margarita went straight up the aisle to the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary and knelt down and brought out her rosary, making the sign of the cross over herself.
“I’ve come to talk to You, woman-to-woman, one last time, before I go to Chee-a-caca to get my son,” she said in a firm, strong voice. “So, I don’t want Your Most Holy Son coming in this time and interrupting us.
“Besides,” she added with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, “I just heard a good one, and I think You might like this one.
“So, anyway, there was this old married couple who’d been married for over fifty years,” said Doña Margarita to the statue, “and one day they were sitting on the porch, passing the time, when the old man turned to his wife and said, ‘Tell me, vieja, have you ever been unfaithful to me? Come on, you can tell me if you have. We’re old, so what does it matter now?’
“But the old woman just shook her head, saying nothing. The old man got closer to her. ‘Come on, querida, it’s all right,’ he said, ‘let’s be open with each other and entertain ourselves with our little adventures. Look, I’ll go first, if it will make it easier for you,’ he said, becoming excited with memory.
“‘Remember your cousin that came to stay with us one summer about forty years ago when we lived on the ranch by the river?’ he asked. ‘Well, to tell the truth,’ he laughed, ‘she and I, we got it good, right down there by the river when she did the wash. Oh, that was good. And remember the neighbor we had when we lived in town? Well, I got her good, too, she and her sister, both of them, real good.’”
And he was all smiles, remembering the past. “‘Now you tell me, come on, let’s be open, he said. We’re old, so what could it possibly matter now?
“But still, the old lady wouldn’t say anything. She just sat there quietly while her old husband went on and on, telling her of his different adventures. But, finally, the old lady couldn’t stand it anymore and she dried the tears from her eyes and spoke up.
“Well, to tell you the truth, dear husband, she said, I’ve never been as adventurous as you. But you know the wrangler we’ve had all these years, the one who still lives here behind us? Well, I’ve only been with him. And still am.’
“The old man heard the words, ‘still am,’ and he leaped from his chair. ‘Why you lousy, dirty old lady! Don’t you have any shame?’ he yelled.”
Doña Margarita laughed and laughed and she saw the statue of the Virgin Mary start laughing, too. “Oh, My Dear Lady,” she said, “isn’t that the truth of men! Bragging all the time until they get a little bit back, then they go wild! Oh, I can just see that old man’s face; he must’ve gone mad with rage.”
She continued laughing, looking at the statue of the Virgin Mary. Her eyes overflowed and her sides began to hurt, but still, she couldn’t stop laughing. Laughter was the greatest healing power of all.
But then she wiped her eyes, stopped her laughter, and looked up at the statue of the Virgin Mary and said, “All right, My Lady, enough of this. Now let’s You and me get down to business!”
And saying this, she stood up. “What I came to ask You for today, I do not ask! I demand as one mother to ano
ther! Do you hear me, María? I demand that You send my son home to me before the end of the next full moon, and I don’t care if Domingo has been killed or drowned or fell off the end of the world and gone to hell! I want him here before the end of the next full moon, which is in two weeks, or I’m going to Cheee-ooo-caca myself and cause more problems than You can ever imagine!”
A young priest came in through the backdoor to see what the commotion was. He was stunned. He’d never heard such outrageous blasphemy.
“I’ll go to every church in Cheee-ooo-caca and even to the Protestant churches, too, if I have to! But I will not rest until I get my son back! DO YOU HEAR ME?” she yelled, standing up to her full height of four-foot-ten. “I’m speaking to You! Woman-to-woman, so You pay attention good!”
The young priest was aghast, and he turned to go to get Father Ryan.
“And I will accept no excuses from You or Your Son or Your two husbands! Do You hear me? I want my son here at my side before the end of this next full moon, and I want him well and strong and all his bones and flesh intact, or You’re in for trouble! After all, we’re good friends, You and I. You lost one son and so You know how I feel. I lost seven!
“Seven!” she repeated, tears streaming down her face, “that came here from my loins and I had baptized in Your Most Holy Family’s name.” She wiped her eyes. “So, please, grant me this, and then I’ll gladly turn over my soul to You for all eternity.”
“But don’t You dare say to me that You can’t do this, for You and I both know that Your powers are infinite when it comes to ruling the universe. Two husbands, You have, and they still call You a virgin! So You use those persuasive powers of Yours and talk to Your Son and Your Heavenly Husband, Our Lord God, and get them to bring my son Domingo back to me.”
Just then, the young priest came rushing back into the church with the older man of the cloth. Father Ryan was still chewing his food and wiping his mouth. The young, terrified-looking priest pointed at Doña Margarita.
Rain of Gold Page 60
