“You’ve been nursing that drink for a while now,” Zenna said behind him.
He didn’t turn to face her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Payback time for all the times you sneak up on me.”
“I don’t sneak up on you.”
She sat down on the sofa next to him. “Too much work?”
“Something like that,” he said, drinking down the liquor in his glass.
“You worry too much.”
He smiled wryly. “It’s my job to worry.”
She seemed unsure of her words. She rubbed her legs. “Etán, I want to tell you something...”
“What is it, Zenna?”
“It’s about the visions.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so tough on you.”
“It’s all right. I’m glad I’m finally facing it. I’ve been running from it for as long as I can remember.”
“Still, if there is anything I can do...”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Actually, there is something I need to say to you.”
“Talk to me.”
“You know the vision I had in my ... in Catalina’s room?”
“It’s your room, now, Zenna,” he corrected gently.
“All right. My room. The one about her?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve had that one twice now during my last two sessions with Margarita.”
“Really?” The realization he hadn’t been there for her last few sessions tortured him anew.
“Yes, but during these sessions, the visions are more detailed. Sometimes it feels like they last for hours, telling me whole chapters of stories when it’s only minutes.”
“Oh, Zenna, it must be hard,” he said compassionately.
She ignored his gentle tone. “Twice now, I’ve seen the vision more complete. It was more than just the flash I had of your sister standing in the bathroom. During the last session, there were some very strong feelings coming through. I’m learning with Margarita how to sift through the information, how to distinguish between the facts and the emotions, and how to place those emotions. At first, it was very hard. I’m pretty sure now what Catalina was trying to tell me was meant for you.”
Etán’s hands stilled. “What are you saying?”
“In the vision, she was speaking to me.” Zenna looked at her hands. “She told me it wasn’t your fault and you have to let go, you have to be happy.”
Etán’s hand that gripped the glass trembled.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t sure, Etán. Margarita felt it, too. I think she tried to tell you to stop blaming yourself. She wants you to be free from the chains of your guilt. I came to tell you because I thought you would feel better knowing.”
Etán had been exposed to the strangeness of his family and his mother’s talent all of his life. He had even learned to live and cope with his brother’s empathic abilities, always exploring his feelings. He hadn’t been prepared for this. He lowered his head into his hands.
Zenna reached out to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted his head. “No, don’t be. Thank you.”
She observed him closely. “You still look like the world is resting on your shoulders.”
He turned his head toward her. How could he tell her they could lose everything his family had ever worked for, everything he loved, in less than a month? How could he tell her seeing her so happy with Luca was killing him? How could he tell her he wanted her more than anything in the world, but he knew he was a man who didn’t make women happy? He didn’t dare risk making her unhappy. It would kill him. How could he tell her he worried about her safety night and day? That her pain snaked through him every time she worked her sessions? That he couldn’t stop thinking about her? Finally, he managed a tight smile.
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. “It’s all right, Etán,” she said softly. “It’s all right to let go. You don’t always have to be in control.”
He turned his head an inch, and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair and her skin. She was like a drug to him. He needed her more than water. He desired her more than the land he was trying to fight for. He cared way too much about her to submit her to his faulty self. He had learned the hard way, he wasn’t an easy man to live with. She was better off with Luca. Luca would take care of her.
He gently removed her arms from his shoulders and freed himself from her embrace. He tried to smile bravely, wished her good night, and fought not to turn back for her as he made his way to his suite.
Working like an ox didn’t help Zenna one bit to take her mind off her biggest distraction. She sat at the kitchen counter, facing the fragrant curry dish she had taken from the oven, waiting for the big helping on her plate to cool, contemplating the subject the food was meant to erase. She did everything that was expected of her in the office and more. She worked extra hard with Margarita. She even helped Teresa in the house and the kitchen. Yet, her eyes and her mind always wandered back to Etán.
Between them, Luca and she were building a deep friendship. She was grateful for his attentiveness. He had even mentioned to her his plan to move her to his flat in the city once she was out of danger. If her feelings for Etán weren’t so strong, she wouldn’t have considered it. Maybe some distance was exactly what she needed to get him out of her mind. Her frustration building, she had finally escaped to the kitchen and cooked one of her father’s favorite curry recipes. Hot, spicy food was what she needed to cure her erratic thoughts.
Etán stopped in the door of the kitchen, inhaling. “Beef. Raisins. Curry. Coconut. Peaches. Banana. Turmeric. Ginger. Apricot. Brown sugar. Coriander.”
The fusion of flavors was an insult to his logic, a confusion, whereas the aromas suffusing from the vapors that reached his flared nostrils were tantalizing, a seduction. As was the woman in front of him.
She looked up and gave him a wary smile. The man himself. The one she was running from. “You’re good.” She couldn’t help looking at him in awe. He never ceased to amaze her.
“Thank you, but what you have thrown together there does so not work logically, yet, my mouth is literally watering.”
“You’ll take back every word once you’ve tasted it.” Resignedly she motioned to the chair opposite her. “Get a plate.”
He did as he was told, pushing a plate toward her as he sat down. She dished up a generous helping. She sighed, and dug her fork into her food.
“Comfort food?” he asked teasingly.
“If only you knew,” she mumbled.
“Try me. Talk to me.”
Only her eyes lifted. “Rather not. I think it’s wiser to eat,” she said, taking a bite. She took another bite, and another one.
Etán watched her, mesmerized. He had forgotten how good it was to eat with her. She obviously enjoyed her food so much. He could watch her forever. He realized it had been a while since he had eaten with the family. He was always locked up in his office or in his suite eating from trays.
He watched the woman in front of him lick her lips, and wanted to taste the food on those moist curves rather than eating it from a plate. He wanted to drink his wine from her tongue, taste her skin like he did that night in the shady bar, that early evening in the cellar. He could get drunk on the taste of her mouth alone.
He watched her eat, his thoughts unguarded. It was supposed to shock him, but it didn’t. Not anymore. Maybe he had been too long without a woman. He never considered himself dependent on women. Yet this one was his weakness. There was something about her that made him feel animalistic. It excited him and made him loathe himself at the same time. He forced his feelings to the back of his mind, returning to the food in front of him. He almost faltered when she stuck a long, delicate finger in her mouth, licking the spicy juices from it.
Desperately turning his focus away from the sensual act, he dipped his fork into the beef dish topped with a layer of baked egg-milk. He brough
t the fork to his mouth and tasted. He stilled. It was indescribable. He had never tasted anything so wickedly tantalizing in all of his life. Taking another bite, he marveled at how the flavor caused a whirlwind of pleasure through his senses. He understood why Zenna called it comfort food. He noticed it was her turn to watch him, a smile on her face.
“One of your father’s recipes?”
“Yes. This is a typical Malaysian dish. He taught my mother, and to this day she still cooks like this.” She shrugged, looking disconnected, but he could sense the pain in her voice. “I guess it makes her somehow feel a part of him is still there.”
“I’m sorry. Why do you speak of your father in the past tense?”
She shrugged again. “For me, he is past tense.” A little silence followed. “He ceased to exist for me when he decided to leave us.”
“Is that why you always go for the bad guys, Zenna?”
“Who says I do?”
“It’s obvious.”
She got up to scrape the rest of her food into the garbage bin. “You’re a grape crusher, not a psychologist. Stick to your trade, winemaker.”
He caught her by the wrist as she brushed past him. She stopped, surprised. He took the plate and the fork from her, his eyes not leaving hers, and put it on the counter. His free hand went to the corner of her mouth, wiping over the soft, warm flesh. He wasn’t going to touch her. He had promised himself, but that was before he felt her body’s reaction to his touch, before he saw the look in her eyes. He saw her heartbeat under her blouse increase. God knows, he tried, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her down into his lap. He couldn’t stop his lips from finding hers, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.
“God, I could eat every inch of you,” he spoke hoarsely into their kiss.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips had a demanding nature all of their own. If she had to step back and watch herself, she would have been ashamed of the urgency with which she kissed him. His hands went down to her waist, searched for the opening under the loose blouse, stroking up her back. His palms were hot against her bare skin. If he didn’t stop, she was going to have a stroke. His lips left hers to smooth over her cheeks, planting kisses on her eyes, her nose, and her ears. She heard him groaning softly, nibbling at the lobe of her ear.
“Are you happy, Zenna?” he whispered against her ear, hot strokes of air stealing her breath away. When she didn’t answer, he pulled back, lifting her chin with his fingers, forcing her to open her eyes.
“Are you happy?” he repeated the question.
She was taken aback. Reason came back to her senses. “As happy as I can be,” she said, pulling back from him and getting to her feet.
He looked pained. “Then it’s better to leave it like that.”
“What is it with us, Etán?”
“I don’t know, Zenna. I was hoping you could tell me.” He suddenly looked very tired. “You have bewitched me, my body, and all of my senses.”
“But not your heart?”
“Have you forgotten? I don’t have a heart.”
“That’s not enough.”
“If I told you I’ve never wanted any woman as much as I want you, not even Sanita, would it make a difference?”
“No. I don’t believe you because you’re going to walk away from me again, leave me cold. I won’t let that happen, ever again.”
“Yes, sweet Zenobia. This time, you are going to walk away from me.” He spoke his deepest fear. “Go. Walk away. Before neither of us can.”
She looked at him with uncertainty, searching his face, but he turned away from her.
She got up, biting back the tears. “Clear up for me, will you?” She did walk away, her heart heavier than ever.
Could Zenna truly be happy with Luca? He couldn’t stand the thought, and, yet, if he couldn’t give her what she wanted, how could he deny her finding it in someone else’s arms? The thought was almost too painful. Maybe, if he tried a little bit harder, to give her what she needed...
Only when she was out of sight, did Etán turn and look longingly at the space where she had lingered a second before she had walked through the door. Only her scent remained.
Chapter Twenty-One
Despite the cold, the Saturday morning was glorious. Ana sat in the inner courtyard, reading a book, a wrap around her shoulders. When Pedro walked up to her in the late morning, he carried two glasses of port.
She looked up smiling, and lowered her book. “Where have you been off to this morning? Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
Pedro put one glass in front of her and took the seat opposite her. “I went by Juan’s house this morning. I need this today, Anita,” he said, lifting his glass and wiping a hand across his face.
“What is it, Pedrito?” she asked tenderly, alarmed, her face lined with worry.
“Land reforms,” he said. His shoulders stooped as he glanced in the direction of the doors leading to the lounge. “I wanted to talk to you, alone.”
“The boys?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Talk to me, Pedro.” She was suddenly uneasy, a sense of doom nestling in the pit of her stomach.
“They are going to vote the new law in, Anita, very shortly, when the National Congress sits next in Valparaíso.”
“But that’s crazy.”
“It’s happened in other countries. It didn’t seem so crazy until it came so close to home.”
“You are an influential man,” she said, hopeful.
“I don’t have any influence over this one. I’m sitting out on this vote. Not by choice, of course.”
She put her hand over his. “What can we do?”
There was a long pause. Finally, when he spoke, Pedro didn’t look into her eyes. “I spoke to Juan. I think there is a way out.”
Ana’s eyes lit up in alarm. “Our neighbor, Juan?” She knew who he was talking about, but she didn’t want to believe it.
Still, he didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
A terrifying suspicion started to take form in her mind, making her feel sick. “Pedro, please tell me you are not thinking of joining our land with his.”
Finally, his eyes met hers. “It’s a way out. Probably the only one.”
She shook her head in denial. “Surely there will be measures put in place against exactly that. If you simply give him the land or sell it to him for next to nothing, it will be annulled.”
“If we don’t join our land to his, ours will be bought from us by the government for less than the price of a sack of potatoes. You know that.”
“I don’t understand...”
He gripped her hand tight. “Not if the land is joined in holy matrimony. The government won’t dare to touch something sacred to the church.”
Ana pulled her hand away from his. “You mean, Clara? How old is Juan’s girl? She can’t be more than twenty two.”
“Twenty three.”
“Exactly.” She laughed. It was an anxious laugh. “Pedro, what on earth are you cooking up?”
He looked guilty. “Juan agrees with me. This way, we join our lands, and make it a more powerful estate. It will be the biggest in the country, Ana.”
“But one of our boys will have to marry Clara,” she said with shock. “She’s only a child.”
“You were only a child when we married,” he retorted.
“But you loved me,” she argued, “and I loved you.”
“Juan had already spoken to the girl this morning. She understands the situation and is willing to do what needs to be done. For her family’s sake. I don’t think our boys will act any different than her.”
“How can you even bring such a proposal to them?”
Pedro looked regretful. “We still have to tell them, Anita. Our sons have a right to know, to make their own decisions in this.”
“Oh, Pedro,” she sighed sorrowfully, titling her head. “Is there no other way?”
“Believe me, woman, I have thought this through from top
to bottom and all the way back. There’s no other way. It’s combining our land with Juan’s through a sacred ritual or lose it all.”
“How could you have gone to Juan without talking to me first?”
Pedro looked guilty. “I knew you would object. Juan agrees with me. He thinks it’s better to tie our two families together than lose everything that has been in our ancestors’ families for centuries. Our fathers and their fathers worked for this. They died for this. How can I just let it go? Besides, Juan is in danger of losing his land, too.”
He was trying to justify himself, what he wanted, to Anita, but he already knew that she wouldn’t be sharing his sentiments. Anita was incredibly detached from material value.
He continued carefully. “Juan thinks it will be best if Clara marries Etán. You know this land means more to Etán than anything in this world. Would you rather see him destroyed or at least give him the option?”
Ana shook her head. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, Pedro.” She looked sad. “Is Etán’s happiness really worth this?”
Pedro let go of her hand to put his hands on the table in front of him. “That’s the point. Will Etán ever be happy without this?” He motioned around the courtyard. “The estate is Etán’s life, Anita. Especially after everything that has happened.”
She shook her head again, looking away from her husband, unseeing into the distance. When she turned back to face Pedro, she seemed calmer. “Promise me you will respect Etán’s choice in the matter, that you won’t force him into this with feelings of guilt and responsibility.”
Pedro looked at his hands. “Of course I will respect what he wants, Anita.”
They didn’t speak of it again, but Pedro saw something in his wife’s eyes that made him wonder if she didn’t know more than she cared to share with him. She had never held anything back from him before, and he regretted that his actions in the matter had forced this wedge between them for the first time since they’d met. He simply didn’t see any other way out.
* * * *
Zenna smiled when she entered the office with a flask of tea. Her smile faded when she saw Emmie sitting behind her computer. Her eyes narrowing, she stalked to her desk.
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