by Day Leclaire
“Sí, corvina.”
“And sea bass.”
Ella smiled her appreciation. “It looks wonderful.”
“It tastes wonderful, too,” Shayne assured her. “Chelita is a marvelous cook.”
The housekeeper served Shayne next and finally Rafe. Crossing to her cart, she began to swiftly roll it toward the kitchen.
“Chelita. One moment, if you please,” Rafe said mildly.
Ella glanced up in alarm. She knew that tone of voice. It didn’t bode well for any of them. Apparently, Chelita knew it, as well.
“I must get to the kitchen,” she began.
“First you will explain this.” Exerting some effort, he managed to spear a cut of meat on the end of his fork. “Would you mind telling me what this . . . this black item is, please?”
“Steak,” Chelita whispered, her gaze glued to the floor.
“Steak,” he repeated, lifting it off the plate for a closer examination. “How interesting. And have you discovered a new method of cooking it, perhaps?”
She cleared her throat. “Sí, Señor. It is a new method.”
“I see. And this new method, is it one that involves leaving the meat on the grill until it shrivels up into an inedible lump of coal?”
“I believe that is how it is prepared.” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “Gusta usted?”
“No, Chelita. I don’t like it. If this is your clever way of preventing La Estrella’s eventual departure, it has failed.” He returned the steak to the plate. “Be so kind as to take this to the kitchen and bring me a fresh meal.”
“Sí, Señor,” she replied in a subdued voice.
“And, Chelita?” He waited until he had her full attention. “No more experiments of this nature. I have told you La Estrella is welcome to stay as long as she wishes. Burning my dinner will not succeed in keeping her here any longer than she chooses to remain. Just as it didn’t succeed in convincing me to rehire Manuel. Is that understood?”
With a quick nod, she fled.
The minute the housekeeper cleared the room, he turned on Ella. “This is your fault,” he informed her.
“My fault? How could it possibly be my fault?”
“She wouldn’t dare risk her job in such a manner if she didn’t believe prosperity and happiness awaited just around the corner. She undoubtedly expects La Estrella to remedy everything that goes wrong in her life. Including the loss of her employment.”
“Well, I wouldn’t let you fire her, that’s for sure.”
“Really?” He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a curious gaze. “And just how would you go about stopping me?”
“I would hire her myself.”
“A novel idea with only one unfortunate flaw.”
“Which is?”
“You forget, amada. This is my home. Who works within its walls is up to me.”
“And your wife has nothing to say about it?”
“No,” he stated succinctly. “She doesn’t. That being the case, may I recommend you do nothing to encourage Chelita or any of the others in their misguided beliefs. You are not this prophecy come to life. Nor can you fix their various problems. To attempt such a thing will only further complicate matters.”
After a few moments of awkward silence, Shayne offered a new topic for them to pursue. Ella seized it with relief. She sympathized with Rafe’s position in regard to the villagers and his dismay at their eagerness to believe in the prophecy. She just didn’t agree. But until she could change his mind, the less said, the better. Once they’d finished eating, Chelita served tacita de café—a small cup of coffee—which Ella discovered typically concluded the meal.
“It’s the estate’s own blend and absolutely wonderful because it’s processed with more care than larger commercial operations,” Shayne said. “Our coffee is classified as an arabica strictly hard bean which makes it one of the finest products in the world.”
“I’ve always wondered how coffee was produced,” Ella commented. “I saw the trees on my way here, but I didn’t see any beans, just berries.”
“The beans are hidden inside, two to a ‘cherry,’ except for the occasional peaberry which contains only one,” Rafe explained. “When they turn red, they’re ready to pick.”
“I assume you don’t wake up one morning to discover a field full of ripe cherries?” she teased.
He smiled. “No. It’s an arduous job, requiring several return visits to the same tree. Once the coffee beans are picked, our particular variety is washed through several machines to remove the pulp. The beans are then left to ferment for a day for a variety of reasons, one of which is to add sharpness or acidity to the flavor. It makes a superior cup of coffee, don’t you agree?”
“It’s delicious,” Ella said truthfully.
“I’m pleased you like it.” He stood and to her utter astonishment leaned down and snatched a quick kiss. “I apologize for deserting you, but I have a phone call to make.”
“That’s all right,” she said faintly. “I understand.”
After he’d left, Shayne grinned. “So, how did you like your first lesson on coffee production?”
“It was fascinating.” Ella poured herself another half cup and added a large dollop of warmed milk from the earthenware pitcher Chelita had provided. “In fact, I’d enjoy learning more.”
Shayne made a face. “That’s what you think. You’re lucky Rafe decided to give you the shortened version or you might have found it far less fascinating. It’s more complicated than he’s making out.”
“I can imagine.”
“Listen, I have an idea.” Shayne shifted her empty cup to one side and stood. “Why don’t I take you to see the mosaic in the courtyard? My dear brother would probably discourage my showing it to you if I suggested it. But since the mosaic is of you I think you might enjoy seeing it.”
“Of me?”
Shayne laughed at Ella’s expression. “I’m kidding, or perhaps only half kidding. Actually, it’s supposed to represent La Estrella. Would you like to see a rendering of your namesake?”
“I’d love to.” Ella followed eagerly as Shayne led the way through the corridors toward the center of the ranch house. “Is it one of your designs?”
A momentary darkness slipped across Shayne’s features. “No, though I did work on restoring it at one point.”
“Shayne, what happened?” Ella asked gently.
They stepped out into the central courtyard. Deep purple bougainvillea arched overhead and ferns leaned across the pathway. Flaming heliconia and bright pink torch ginger turned the area into a blaze of color.
Shayne remained silent and Ella slipped her arm around the younger girl. “Why did you give up something that meant so much to you?”
A coolness settled into Shayne’s dark eyes. “Creating mosaics is a pipe dream, not a profession. Studying to be an accountant is much more practical.”
“That’s your brother speaking.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“What happened to the girl I knew?” Ella questioned sadly. “Where has she gone?”
Shayne pushed free of Ella’s hold, her pace increasing. “She doesn’t exist anymore. She grew up.”
“Growing up doesn’t mean letting go of dreams.”
Shayne laughed, the cynical sound particularly harsh in the serene beauty of their surroundings. “That’s exactly what it means. You’ll discover that for yourself if Rafe has anything to say about it.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“I’m not.” Shayne gestured toward an open area skirting a large fountain. “This is it. I’d stay, but I have some computer work to finish before morning. Excuse me, won’t you?”
She’d blundered, Ella realized. She shouldn’t have pushed so hard. At least, not this soon. “Shayne, wait. Please, don’t go—” But she was ignored.
She didn’t attempt a pursuit. There’d be time enough to make amends at a later date. With a sigh of regret, she turned her a
ttention to the mosaic beneath her feet.
It was a fascinating piece. A brilliant rainbow of colors coiled around the fountain seemingly at random, bright at one end and fading to black at the other. At length, she began to discern a pattern. And what she saw took her breath away.
The bright swirl of colors was a woman’s gown and had been designed to wrap around the fountain as though she knelt in prayer. The black section was her hair, the mosaic tiles dusted with specks of silver so it did indeed look like a midnight sky. And the two golden stars... They were the woman’s eyes—an oddly familiar shade between gold and amber.
When the two golden stars appear in the midnight sky, happiness and prosperity will return to Milagro.
Ella hadn’t understood why Marvin thought the prophecy referred to a person instead of a celestial event. But now she did. If Marvin had seen this, it was no wonder he’d mistaken her for La Estrella.
Whether it was Shayne’s restoration work or the interpretation of the original artisan, the woman depicted in the tiles bore an uncanny resemblance to the face Ella saw in the mirror each morning.
A small sound captured her attention and she turned to peer toward the denser shadows in the far corner. Rafe stepped into the dusky light, a brandy snifter in hand. He gestured toward the mosaic. “The two of you have a lot of work to accomplish.”
“So it would seem.” She glanced at him uncertainly. “I thought you had a call to make. Have you been standing there long?”
“Long enough. My call was brief so I came out here to enjoy the sunset. If I hadn’t so rashly disposed of my cigarettes, you’d have detected me the instant you and my sister arrived.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Because I overheard Shayne’s comments?” He took a healthy swallow of brandy. “She said nothing I didn’t already know.”
“Rafe, there must be some solution to all these problems. You can’t honestly believe Shayne is better off as an accountant than doing the work she loves?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He shoved his hand into his trouser pocket, and though he shrugged almost negligently, she noticed his fingers bunched into a fist.
“After the accident, she lost the heart to design. That’s what your Cinderella Ball did to her.”
“Isn’t there anything—”
“Enough, Ella! You are not La Estrella. You cannot solve all the problems that exist here. To try risks more than just disappointment.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Being the fulfillment of a prophecy is a dangerous business.”
“Only to those who don’t believe.”
“Dios! Don’t tell me you are buying the fairy tale, as well?” he demanded. “You’re not here to bring happiness and prosperity to Milagro. Nor are you here to restore my faith or Shayne’s. To try such a thing is to risk doing more harm than good.”
“How can it hurt anyone to give them hope?”
“Because they believe in you. They trust you. Which means they can be led astray by you.”
“Led?”
“You must realize that wherever La Estrella leads, the villagers will follow.”
She lowered her gaze to the mosaic, digesting his words. They offered some intriguing possibilities.
As though sensing the path her thoughts took, he warned, “Don’t be diverted from your purpose, Ella, or you’ll regret it. You’ve come to Esperanza for one simple reason. To try and reach a compromise regarding your parents’ situation. Stick to that and you have a chance of achieving some limited success.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” came her instant denial. “I came because I—”
“Don’t say it.” The words were torn from him. “Not again.”
“Is it so difficult to hear?” she asked regretfully.
“You confuse lust with love. Don’t tempt me to show you the difference.”
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I wish you would.”
He lifted the brandy snifter to his mouth and tilted it, draining the contents. Then he set it on the rim of the fountain and approached, grim purpose in every line of his body. She didn’t wait. Taking the initiative, she slipped into his arms and caught his face between her hands.
The gathering of night was kind to him, gentling stark lines and softening taut planes. But the need torching his eyes rejected even that slight kindness. His gaze burned with the harsh light of necessity. Determined to give him what he craved, she tugged his head toward hers and kissed him.
He tasted of warmth and brandy and heady passion. Tilting her head to one side, she deepened the kiss, parting her lips and surging into the sweet, tangy warmth. His groan slipped from his mouth to hers, full of primitive demand. It touched a primal chord she’d never known existed, resonating with a power that left her with no option but one.
To give herself body and soul to this man.
In the brief space from one breath to the next, he took control. His mouth consumed hers. It wasn’t a gentle loving, but a hot, urgent mating. Taking. Plundering. Invading. His hands settled on her hips, cupping the narrow bones. With each frenzied kiss, his hold grew more aggressive. He surged against her, rocking rhythmically, fighting to get closer than cotton and silk would allow:
Her reaction was as instantaneous as it was violent. She shuddered in his arms, a desperate moan catching in the back of her throat. “Oh, please, Rafe,” she whispered. “If this is lust, I’ll take it.”
He reared back as though she’d struck him. Thrusting her away, he snatched the brandy snifter from the rim of the fountain. For a split second she thought he meant to hurl it against the side of the house. Instead it shattered explosively within his grasp. For a long, shocked moment, he stared at his hand. A trickle of blood spread across the palm and he pulled the air into his lungs as though it were a great effort.
“Rafe!” She started toward him, but he shook his head, warning her off.
“You should not have come to Esperanza,” he rasped.
He looked her full in the eyes. Where once passion had blazed like a thousand candles, a terrible darkness had descended, snuffing the light.
“How can you say that?”
“It is so simple, a child could see. You have no one to protect you from harm as long as you remain here.” His mouth twisted. “No one to protect you from your husband.”
She held out a hand. “I don’t need protection. I just need you.”
“No! Don’t you understand? I will use you. I will hurt you.” He drew in on himself, raising an impenetrable wall between them. “I cannot allow that to happen.”
“For the love of heaven, Rafe. Explain it to me. You can’t allow what to happen?”
“I have destroyed a life once before by failing in my duty, by failing to protect one of my own. I won’t destroy another. And that’s what would occur if this went any further. I’d destroy you.”
“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.”
“I will, amada, because it is in my nature to do so. And nothing you can say or do will change that.” He inclined his head in an oddly formal manner. “Excuse me while I see to my hand.” And with that he turned and disappeared into the night.
Ella didn’t move for a long time. He’d destroyed a life once before by failing to protect one of his own? That could only refer to Shayne and the Cinderella Ball. She shook her head in confusion.
She still didn’t understand. Something more motivated his anger, his fierce drive to protect those he cared for. And until she found out what, their marriage didn’t stand a chance.
Releasing a sigh of frustration, she took a final look at the mosaic. “Well, Estrella. It looks like Rafe was right. We do have a lot of work to accomplish. But thanks to him, I believe I’ve figured out how to perform our first miracle.”
Bright and early the next morning Ella trekked down the dirt road to the village of Milagro. It was a beautiful day, the air dry, but far softer than the aridness she’d grown accustomed to in
the desert. The amount of green also astounded her. If she didn’t have a job to accomplish, she’d have stopped every few feet to examine a new tree or bush or flower. She grinned. Or ant trail. The first person she ran into when she reached Milagro was Marvin.
“Estrella,” he greeted, clearly surprised by her presence. “You have come to visit us?”
“Actually, I’ve come for some help.”
“But, of course. How may we assist you?”
“I’d like to pick coffee beans and I don’t know how to do it. I’d hoped someone from the village could explain the process and loan me whatever equipment I might need.”
His mouth fell open and he stared in astonishment. “You play a joke on Marvin, sí?”
“No. I’m quite serious.” She glanced over his shoulder at the people who’d begun to gather in the street and offered her warmest and most confident smile. “Hello.”
The response was typically Tico-friendly. Returned smiles and an occasional “pura vida” came from the ever-expanding crowd. Marvin turned and relayed her request in rapid Spanish. After several minutes of debate, he switched his attention back to her.
“You understand, we are on strike,” Marvin began uncomfortably.
“Oh, I understand. I don’t expect anyone to help me. But it’s past time to pick, isn’t it? And somebody has to do it.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m that somebody.”
Another man stepped forward. “It is my fault, Estrella. I am the one responsible for this strike.”
“You must be Manuel.” She looked at him, secretly surprised. She’d expected an angry activist. Instead she found a sincere young man with a bright smile and lively, intelligent eyes. She held out her hand. “I’m Ella Beaumont.”
He took her hand in his. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Perhaps you could help?” she suggested. “If you would equip me with the supplies I need and then explain whatever I should know in order to pick the beans, it’ll give us a chance to become better acquainted.”
“I’d like that,” Manuel instantly agreed. Intense curiosity crept into his nut-brown eyes. “You’ll need a canasta. A wicker basket. And to protect your clothing, an apron would be wise.”
