A Love for Rebecca

by Uceda, Mayte

  “Sally was a smarter drinker than you. She drank a little at a time, and even then, you know how that ended.”

  “Fine, so sheep hold their whisky better than I do,” she said, slurring her words a little. She yawned.

  “Don’t go falling asleep or I won’t be able to wake you until tomorrow, and I don’t want to return you to your friends passed out.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  She held back a snort. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “How about the beginning? We’ve got time before you’ll be able to stand.”

  Rebecca looked at him again. He stretched out his hand and moved a lock of hair that was covering her right eye. She grabbed his hand and tried to stare at it.

  “The drummer’s hand,” she mumbled, almost incomprehensibly. “It’s big.” She compared it to her own, putting their palms together. “How do you play with seven fingers?”

  Kenzie smiled. “Don’t worry. In a little while there will be five again.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  She closed her eyes and held Kenzie’s hand to the middle of her chest. Then she placed hers on top, pressing down on his.

  He was aware of the contours of her breasts, warm and firm under his hand, rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing.

  He removed his hand and took her chin in it until she opened her eyes again. “You were going to tell me about your family.”

  “Oh, yeah . . .” She took a deep breath and began to speak slowly, her voice drowsy. Her words sounded clumsy and her accent got thicker, to the point that Kenzie had a hard time understanding her. She mixed English and Spanish, frequently interrupting herself with uncontrollable giggles.

  Definitely drunk, Kenzie thought. He’d been witness to enough of his father’s inebriated states before he and his sister went to live with their grandfather on Skye. He was glad, however, that Rebecca was a happy drunk, not a mean one.

  And that’s how Kenzie learned about Rebecca’s life, a life that should have been enviable. But her stories indicated an uncompromising mother, unfeeling and dominating to the point of forcing her own daughter into a marriage of convenience—in the twenty-first century, no less.

  When Rebecca stopped talking, Kenzie guided her to the edge of the rock for another drink of water.

  Seeing the serious look on Kenzie’s face, Rebecca thought he looked very solemn, like a portrait from long ago. She’d noticed he didn’t smile easily, although when he did, he had a delicious smile. She imagined him as a little boy, wandering the Isle of Skye, fishing on his own for hours, sometimes not coming home at night.

  She felt a tenderness in her heart—and an irrepressible desire to kiss him. Turning back away from the water’s edge, she noticed how close he was. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. He looked at her silently. She leaned into him and brought her lips to his. His mouth was soft and warm. She closed her eyes and pressed into him instinctively.

  She thrilled to the moment of union, even as its power scared her. She couldn’t pull away from his lips. Instead, she wanted to go deeper, as if she had come upon an incredible treasure. She had never imagined a kiss could feel like this.

  When their lips finally separated, Rebecca’s eyes remained momentarily closed. Numb with emotion, her mind slowly resurfaced, like a diver coming up for air. She blinked a few times.

  He placed a hand on her cheek. “Rebecca,” he whispered.

  She felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. “Do you think my body is pretty?” she asked him, still slightly slurring her words.

  Light as a feather, he slid the back of his hand along her side, from her rib cage to her hip.

  “I think your body is perfect, mo leannan.”

  Rebecca repeated the Gaelic phrase, and he smiled.

  “It means ‘my sweetheart.’ ”

  “We say mi cielo in Spanish.”

  “I like the sound of it.”

  She closed her eyes and lay back on the rock, briefly succumbing to sleep. She woke again when she felt his arm around her waist. Kenzie put his other arm under her knees and lifted her onto his lap. Rebecca reached a hand out and placed it on the back of his head. Her fingers played with his soft hair. Then he kissed her. But this kiss was different, more intense, invasive. She responded with equal passion, floating on a dreamy cloud.

  Suddenly, the image of Mary straddling him by the river popped into her mind like an intruder. She banished it, her senses buzzing with the passion of their kisses. He nibbled at her lips and probed with his tongue, flooding her with desire. She had never experienced anything like it, nor had she wanted anything so fervently. She didn’t even care if he forgot about her, the way he had Mary. She couldn’t help it. Her body had wanted to be in his arms since the time she’d seen him at the river kissing another woman. Now she had the answer to her question; now she knew what it felt like to be kissed and held like that.

  And she would never forget it.

  Between kisses, Kenzie murmured sweet words. She didn’t understand, but their sound comforted her and lulled her. She was like a little girl who couldn’t avoid the call of dreamland.

  She fell asleep. Not even his soft caresses on her face could wake her, and he cradled her in his arms until she woke an hour later, her mouth dry but her body warm. She opened her eyes but had to close them again. Blinking several times, she realized strong arms held her. It took her a moment to get her bearings.

  Still muddled, Rebecca removed herself from Kenzie’s lap. She remembered a kiss. She remembered more than one, but she wondered if she had dreamed them.

  “I should go,” she said quietly.

  She held on to his arm as they walked. Her legs felt like two heavy logs. She couldn’t stop thinking about those kisses but hesitated to ask for confirmation. Finally, she could stand it no longer.

  “Did we kiss, or was it a dream?”

  “We kissed.”

  Rebecca sighed and raised a hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes a moment and stumbled. Kenzie grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t fall.

  “They were just kisses,” he said to reassure her.

  Instead, his words had the opposite effect. She walked faster, stumbling again in her hurry. Kenzie insisted she hold on to him, but she refused his arm. The rest of the way, she was lost in thought. She didn’t even pay attention when he pointed out a puffin high on a rock on the other side of the river. He said they weren’t common in this area, but on Skye you’d often see them on the edges of the cliffs.

  At any other time, Rebecca would have loved the sight of that strange bird. But at that moment, she still felt dizzy, as well as terribly guilty about what had happened. All she wanted was to sleep and wait for her head to clear.

  When they got back to the cottage, Kenzie gave her some advice: “Make sure you drink at least a couple of glasses of water. Alcohol dehydrates you. The walk did you good, but you need water. Don’t forget.”

  “OK.”

  Standing next to the little wooden gate, she watched him get in his truck. His kisses still burned on her lips, and she was surprised by the realization of how much the image of Kenzie kissing Mary bothered her.

  She took a deep breath and went into the cottage to face her friends. They came to the doorway, and she found them unnerved by their wait for her, their faces worried.

  “Finally, Rebecca,” Berta said as soon as she entered. “We didn’t know what to think.”

  More observant than Berta, Lola noticed her friend’s disheveled hair, flushed face, and distant look. And worse, she reeked of whisky.

  “What did you do?”

  “I want to go to bed.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until you answer,” Berta declared.

  She took Rebecca by the arm and walked
her to the parlor, where they all sat.

  “Would you bring me a glass of water, please?” Rebecca said with a raspy voice.

  Berta brought her one. She drank it all and asked for another. Then she composed herself and began telling them what had happened—at least what she remembered clearly. She paused occasionally to take another sip of water. Until the last second, she wavered about filling them in on all the details. But she decided it was for the best, since she seemed to be losing control.

  “How could he let you get drunk?” Berta asked.

  “I’m sure he did it on purpose,” Lola said. “He obviously likes you.”

  “I just told you no one made me drink. I asked for a little whisky. I didn’t think it was going to affect me so badly.”

  “Well, nothing can be done about it now,” Lola said. “And a few kisses don’t mean anything. You’re sure it was just kisses, right?”

  Rebecca nodded.

  “Thank God,” Berta said under her breath. “Now go shower and get in bed. You need to sleep.”

  Rebecca showered and drank another glass of water before getting in bed. Berta and Lola remained in the parlor, talking quietly. When Berta thought Rebecca must be snuggled under the covers, she went in and sat on the edge of the bed. There was something she wanted to talk to Rebecca about. It was Lola’s idea, actually, but Lola thought it might go better if Berta did the talking.

  “Rebecca,” she whispered. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked at her. “Listen, honey, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Well, be quick, Berta, I’m exhausted.”

  “Listen, Lola and I were talking and . . . we’ve come to a decision. We should cancel the camping trip this weekend. We don’t have to go. We can change plans and do something else, just the three of us. Lola thinks so too. We can go see the dolphins in Nairn.”

  “Forget it, Berta. It’s too late.”

  “Too late? What do you mean?”

  “I mean there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “While I was walking back with him, the whole time I was thinking how much I wanted to kiss him again. That first kiss might have been fueled by alcohol, I know. But even now I’m dying to kiss him again.”

  Berta realized things were worse than they’d thought. Thinking quickly, she offered an alternative.

  “No, Rebecca, listen. You’re still out of it. It could happen to any of us. But you shouldn’t let yourself be a slave to your desire. It’s an infatuation, and it will pass, believe me. We could go home tomorrow; you just have to say so. Tell me and I’ll pack our bags right now. Tomorrow you and I will go to Inverness and wait until we can book a ticket to Barcelona. We don’t have to stay here. It’s crazy—”

  “You’re right, it is crazy. But when I think of going home and never seeing him again . . . my heart hurts. Deep down, I want tomorrow to get here so I can be with him again.”

  “It’s just a crush. You’ll end up regretting it.”

  “Not long ago, Enric told me I would never know true love. That hurt so badly, but it really made me think. I doubt my brother has any idea how much his words affected me. One side of my brain thinks about Mario, and I know he’s the man who can give me the life I want. But what I felt when Kenzie kissed me . . .” She stopped and took a deep breath. “The worst is that his kisses weren’t enough, I wanted more . . . to feel him even closer, and I would have done anything he asked.”

  “Luckily he didn’t ask.”

  “He held me while I slept. Waking up in his arms, I felt deliriously happy. It meant more than his kisses. I wanted to wake up in his arms every day of my life. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Rebecca,” Berta whispered solemnly. “I do.”

  LOCH NESS

  The next morning, Rebecca was the last to wake up. Her friends let her sleep late and made as little noise as possible. It was after ten when she finally got up. She left the bedroom and went to the kitchen. Having expected to wake up with a terrible hangover, she was pleased at how clear her head felt, good as new.

  Berta and Lola were doing a bit of cleaning. The day had dawned cloudy and drizzly, so they hadn’t left the house yet. Rebecca tried to ignore their furtive, worried looks. She had no desire to rehash yesterday’s events. But despite the fresh outlook that comes with a new day, she could not shake a vague sense of dread and found herself reevaluating her life yet again. She was unsure if what had seemed so wonderful yesterday could stand up to the light of day.

  Berta reminded Rebecca one last time that they didn’t have to go—all Rebecca had to do was say so. There was still time to back out, and Lola could find some excuse to justify their absence. It would all be in the past, like a bad dream.

  For just a moment, Rebecca was tempted. But the thought of disappearing like that made her heart contract. No, she would not run away.

  Lola didn’t say anything, not a word of reproach or advice. She didn’t even give Rebecca a suspicious look. She’d never been a fan of Rebecca and Mario’s relationship. To her, stumbles and setbacks were a necessary part of learning how to live one’s life. Lola thought Kenzie would be a stumble in Rebecca’s life, but she was convinced the complication would help her friend mature and come to realize that her perfectly planned life was just as precarious as everyone else’s. If Rebecca had a crush on the Scotsman, she should enjoy the moment and then figure the rest out later.

  At a quarter to six that evening, the backpacks were piled up on the front porch. Rory had arrived an hour before and was giving some last-minute advice. It had stopped drizzling. They knew everything would be soggy at the lake, but Rory didn’t think it would be a big deal.

  At six on the dot, Kenzie parked his blue pickup in front of the house, and the group stowed the backpacks and sleeping bags in the back of the truck. Mary was in the front seat, her high spirits evident on her face. They gave her a friendly greeting but received a look of annoyance in return as they settled in the backseat. Rebecca’s pulse quickened. After everything that had happened yesterday afternoon, she realized she was bothered by Mary’s presence. Remembering the image of her in Kenzie’s arms gave Rebecca a cold and empty feeling that she chose to ignore every time it arose, each time more irritating than the last.

  During the drive, Kenzie’s eyes would meet Rebecca’s in the rearview mirror, as if searching for answers. Each time, Mary, who was paying attention to Kenzie’s every movement, would interrupt with chatter about the first thing that came to mind. Some of her comments were so ridiculous that even she finally realized it and fell glumly silent. The mood was strained. Only Sophie seemed interested in lightening the awkward silence. She talked about the forecast; they were expecting the weather to improve significantly over the next few hours. She hoped that would make them all feel better, since it had started to sprinkle again. Still no one said anything.

  Sophie knew something had happened. The previous night she’d overheard a terse conversation at home. She didn’t hear quite everything, but one sentence was enough: “She’ll leave and she’ll break your heart, son.” That was it—a simple, revelatory sentence that explained the tension in the vehicle. As if that were not enough, she hadn’t been able to prevent Mary from going with them. Sophie was getting tired of her friend’s vain attempts to win her brother. More than once, including just yesterday, she’d tried to convince Mary to forget it; Kenzie wasn’t interested in her. But Mary just laughed it off.

  They took the A833 toward Loch Ness. At first, Berta found the scenery beautiful; enormous trees stood watch over the narrow highway, alternating with the unending meadows that boasted deep green hues intensified by the rain. A cottage appeared here and there. But after a while she began to find the scenery monotonous: trees, moors, sheep . . . The order changed, but the elements were always the same. A green world for little green pixies, Berta thought.
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br />   When they turned onto the A82, which led to the lake, things got a little more interesting, and the town of Drumnadrochit broke the monotony of the scenery. The tip of the lake became visible from the road, and a few minutes later Sophie asked her brother to stop so she could show her friends the ruins of Urquhart Castle, magnificently situated on a hill overlooking the lake.

  Once they were under way again, it wasn’t long before they reached their destination. It had stopped raining, giving them a chance to put out all the camping gear without its getting wet. They distributed the gear and hiked a little way down a path through the vegetation. They passed by the ruins of a stone hut, with only three walls and part of the roof remaining. Soon they arrived at a beach-like area of small rocks along the lake.

  Berta and Rebecca continued right down to the shoreline, not even bothering to remove their backpacks. They looked at each other and smiled.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Rebecca.

  “Incredible. And we get to be here for two days!”

  They could hardly believe they were at the famous loch. It was such an emblematic location that they felt as if they were in a Highlander movie. All they needed was the sound of a bagpipe in the background. And they’d have that soon.

  They studied the long, narrow shape of the loch. Set back from the shoreline, rolling hills dotted with pine trees provided a refreshing montage of intense greens.

  “From up high, the lake looks like a deep crack in the ground,” Berta said.

  It took them less than thirty minutes to set up all three of the little tents. They stowed their backpacks inside and laid out their sleeping bags on top of thin mats. From his backpack, Kenzie pulled out a collapsible contraption that he set up, revealing a cooler. They placed all their food inside to protect it from insects and other curious animals. The pesky midges didn’t take long to show up. Rebecca pulled out the mosquito repellent and passed it around. Kenzie passed it on without using it, saying they never bothered him. He did, however, get out some candles to place around their campsite. When the candles were lit, a pleasant lavender smell enveloped them. Sure enough, the midges found the odor unpleasant, and the annoying buzzing subsided.