Three Wishes

by Lisa T. Bergren

  But as I opened my eyes and dared to look around, the men exploded into applause. I smiled, laughing under my breath, surprised by the flood of appreciation. Every face glowed with delight. That was the only way I could describe it. Well, except for Doña Elena. She looked…tight. So did Frani.

  I tried to lift my guitar and set it aside, but Captain Craig half rose out of his seat, pulling pleading hands to his chest. “One more, Señorita Ruiz. I beg of you.”

  Javier nodded, giving me his okay. “One more,” he said. “And then we must bid you farewell, Captain.”

  “Agreed, agreed,” he said easily, settling back into the corner of the settee.

  I didn’t dare to look toward the Ventura women. I could feel their tension from ten feet away, both with their own reasons to dislike this. But I didn’t see that I had any other options. I closed my eyes, considering. And this time I remembered something far more subtle. A gentle ballad. I hummed along, in time, the chorus irresistible.

  Captain Craig urged me to sing, but I smiled and demurely shook my head as I continued to play. At the end, as the last note hung in the air, I looked around at all those rapt faces. They appeared dumbstruck, as if they’d never heard anything like it in all their lives. And perhaps they hadn’t.

  Captain Craig began applauding first, and then the rest joined in. “Brava, Miss Ruiz, brava. Would you be so kind as to bring your guitar tomorrow? The men of my ship would appreciate a few songs.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Enchanté, Miss Ruiz.”

  “It was so nice to meet you,” I returned, having no idea if that was the thing to do. Probably not.

  Javier stood, looking even tighter. “Until tomorrow at sundown, Captain?” He shook each of their hands and saw them to the door. As he did so, I slipped up the stairs, instinctively feeling that I’d made things somehow more complicated. Best to become scarce, I thought. Somehow I was in hot water with Javier, his mom, and Frani, all for different reasons.

  The guests were out the door before I reached the top of the stairs. I practically raced for my room, hearing Javier behind me, taking the stairs two at a time, his mother calling his name. I was just closing my door when he pressed it back open and marched in.

  “What?” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “What were you doing?” he asked, moving toward me. “You hid away all day in here, and when he comes? Him? Then you come out?”

  I shook my head, wondering what fueled his rage. Fear or jealousy? “Who is he? I don’t know! I was only…curious.” I dropped the last word, suddenly ashamed, wondering what harm I’d caused. Captain Craig seemed harmless. A charmer, for sure. But all lights and show, no true stage. And Javier seemed to have a handle on his particular brand of politics…

  “Curious,” Javier said, taking my arm. “That is a man to be carefully managed,” he said. “Every interaction I have with him is a poker match, not a frivolous game.”

  “You gamble with him?”

  “In a way,” he said, running his hands through his hair and over his face. “It is all far too complicated for you, Zara.”

  “You might be surprised,” I said, disliking his patronizing tone.

  “No, it is not that I doubt you,” he said, reaching out to run his hands down my shoulders to my elbows. “It is that I have yet to uncover all of Alistair Craig’s motivations. And I don’t wish for you to be in the middle. It may very well be dangerous, because a man like that would not hesitate to use every angle he could to bring me into his fold, including my feelings for you.”

  I swallowed hard. He had feelings for me. Serious feelings.

  He shook his head back and forth, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. And then he pulled me roughly against his chest, cradling my head right beneath his. “Saints, woman, what you do to me…Zara, you’ve practically turned me inside out. Not seeing you all day…Forgive me. I’ve overreacted, over Craig. It’s only that…Oh, Zara. How could I have missed you so much these last hours?”

  I could feel his heart pounding as I stood there, certain my own was pounding at a similar staccato beat. He was hugging me, and oh, it felt so good to be in his arms. Warm and welcoming and…

  He moved slightly away from me, and he cupped my neck with one hand. Then he caressed my cheek with the other, our faces just a foot apart. “Zara,” he breathed, leaning closer. “May I kiss you? Please give me permission to kiss you. Not seeing you all day, and then…And now…Please. May I simply kiss you? Just once?”

  I nodded, transfixed; his intoxicating mix of need and frustration mirrored my own. I lifted my lips as he lowered his own to mine, and he began softly, searchingly, as I hesitantly yielded. Then he tugged me deeper and deeper, until we were both gasping for breath.

  He stepped away suddenly, leaving me slightly dizzy.

  We stared at each other for a long moment.

  “There is something between us, yet. Tell me what you must,” he whispered. “Tell me your secret, Zara.”

  “You have secrets of your own,” I said, stepping toward him, placing my hand over his heart. “There is something happening—something that involves Captain Craig?—that you don’t want me to know either. Perhaps we best both keep our secrets for another day,” I breathed, moving even closer. “And just concentrate on this…”

  He abruptly stepped away from me, as if trying to regain his composure. “It can’t wait another day. I must know, Zara, this very night. Who are you?” he repeated, looking pained this time as he said it. “You seem to entrance everyone you meet. Patricio, Rafael, Captain Craig…” He shook his head, winding his fingers through his dark curls and then releasing them. “My family. Even my mother, before yesterday,” he said pointedly.

  I ignored this last jibe and remained silent for a moment. “Who are you?” I asked, half-desperate to get him off this track. We couldn’t have this conversation, not now. It would ruin everything! “No one has made me feel the way you do in all my life. No one.”

  He stepped toward me without hesitation. Took my hips in both of his hands, and bent to rest his forehead against mine. “I am Javier de la Ventura. Do you not yet know me?” he whispered, and oh, the look in his eyes…the look. “Is there not yet a part of you,” he went on, “that has always known me, as I’ve known you?”

  He kissed me again, softly.

  It was my turn to push him gently away, feeling dazed. “Javier.”

  “Zara,” he breathed, moving in again.

  “Javier,” I said, more firmly, holding him away with both hands.

  He stood there looking hurt, then chastised. “Forgive me,” he said, lifting his hands. “I only wanted to—”

  “No,” I said, raising my hands now, first to stop his speech and then to drop them in conciliatory fashion. “It’s all right. I did too,” I said softly, smiling as his eyebrows rose in hope. “It’s just we can’t keep kissing. Not when…” I glanced out my open doorway to the hallway, hoping against hope that none of his family had seen any part of that make-out session. “Not when I haven’t told you what I must. There are things you need to know…things that might change everything.”

  And make you want to never kiss me again…

  He lifted his chin, his jaw clenching, his brow lowering. Then he sat down heavily on my stool, and took a long, deep breath. It was as if he fought to bring his attention back to what mattered, rather than the crazy pull between us.

  I sank down to the edge of my bed, three feet away.

  His dark eyes met mine. “Tell me, Zara. What you must. Quickly.”

  I stared at him. Waffled. Wondered.

  He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “Is it as I feared? Are you a spy?”

  I blinked. We were back to that again?

  “For the Union? Did Captain Craig leave you on my shores? Was he here to check on you? Was that why he insisted on escorting you to the music—”

  “I’m no spy, Javier,” I blurted out, shaking my head. “I’m…I’m fr
om the future.”

  “What?” His full lips quirked to the side, as if he thought he’d misheard me.

  “It’s true. That golden lamp I came with? It brought me here, almost a hundred and eighty years back in time.”

  His dark eyes shifted back and forth, and a frown came and went as if some things now made sense, but then he dismissed it, shaking his head. “That’s impossible.” He rose, reaching for me. “It must be your head injury, making you believe something so fanciful. You—”

  “No,” I said, standing in turn and putting up a hand, warning him not to come closer. “It’s the truth. The truth, Javier.”

  He stared at me. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I was on that beach and I found that lamp and I was thinking about what I wanted in life, and the next moment, I was here.”

  “Here,” he said slowly. “As in, now.”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head again. “Zara, what you’re saying is impossible. You’re saying that that old lamp is some sort of fantastical device, capable of transporting a person from one time to another?” His last words came out in a scoff, making me defensive.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You’re unwell,” he said, lifting a hand, his face awash with concern. “Not in your right mind.”

  “I wish that was the case, truly. It’d be easier to accept, in a way. But no, this is the truth, Javier. I am from the future.”

  He frowned and shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “Yes,” I said, matching his tone.

  “This is far worse than anything I feared, Zara. I’m telling you, you’re unwell. That blow you took to your head…We will seek a doctor. I will take you to Monterey. Or to the East, if necessary.”

  “There was no blow to my head, Javier. No blood, no bruising, because—”

  “Perhaps we can secure passage with John, to Panama. Get you to the East. They have better doctors there.”

  “Javier…I am from the future. I am completely in my right mind. I know it sounds crazy.”

  “He should return in the next couple of weeks. He’d be more than—”

  “Listen to me!” I cried, leaning forward too. “I am telling you the truth!”

  He gave me an incredulous look and paused, gathering himself. “You want me to believe that you are from the future,” he said tonelessly. “Almost two centuries distant.”

  “Yes.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not.”

  It was my turn to pause. Somehow, I hadn’t expected his outright disbelief. Anger flashed through me. Tears pricked behind my eyes. “Ask your mother, Javier. Ask her if what I say is true.”

  His lips clamped into a line. “My mother. I don’t think it wise that we bring her into this sort of hysteria.”

  “It isn’t hysteria,” I said, frowning and wiping away my hot tears. “It is the truth, and she knows it.”

  He shook his head sorrowfully and reached for my hand. “Zara, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “Listen to me,” I whispered urgently, taking his hand in both of mine. “Your mother knows I speak the truth because I am not the only one here who has travelled through time. I came back in time. A hundred and eighty years back. But she went to her future, where she met your father.”

  He pulled back at that, brows lowering, and shook his head slowly, as if he felt sorry for me. Perhaps sorry for himself too, falling for a mental patient. “It’s not true.” He folded his arms. “It’s not true, Zara.”

  I sighed and squeezed my temples between thumb and finger, closing my eyes a moment before staring into his again. “Ask her if you don’t believe me, Javier. Ask her why she’s always been so certain I am to be your wife, a girl she just met. A girl who doesn’t live up to her expectations for a hundred different reasons! It’s why I was so furious with her after our ride to the beach yesterday. That’s when she told me.”

  “Told you what?” he asked faintly.

  “Javier, she tossed that lamp into the sea, that lamp that brought her to her future—she tossed it back in and prayed it would bring you a wife.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. Squinted at me, as if doubting again, then opening his eyes wide, as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place for him.

  “It’s why I couldn’t tell you where I’m from,” I said. “Because I’m from here, Javier. Right here. Or, well, right by Pirata Cove. Tainter Cove, in my time. It’s why my accent is different than yours. Why I play the guitar when no other girls do. Why I cook and helped my abuela in a restaurant. It’s why I didn’t know how to ride sidesaddle, but can defend myself. Because in my time…well, things are much different. In a thousand ways, they are different.”

  He searched my eyes, my face, for a trace of lie. On and on he searched.

  Finding none, he licked his lips, looking dazed, and stood. “Thank you,” he muttered, shoving out a hand as he turned to go. “For telling me at last.”

  “Javier…” I began. I walked on trembling legs behind him, going to the door, clinging to the jamb. It could not be as simple as that. There was no way it could be as simple as that. He just…believed me now? Or had he decided I just believed my own whacked version of the truth?

  He was staggering along the hallway as if drunk, although I knew he hadn’t had any wine. He glanced back at me, eyes wide and wondering—as if I were an apparition in his dreams, the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come—and then reached for the railing to steady himself, still moving away. It was as if I’d wounded him, shot him with an arrow that both cursed his dreams and resolved all his wonderings.

  Both torture and treatment.

  I shoved the door closed and leaned my head against it, unable to watch his pain any longer or bear that pain of the soul. Things were falling into place in his mind and heart, as perfectly as a long-sought puzzle piece finally slipping into its uniquely cut hole.

  All I could think was What have I done?

  Because I’d finally told him what I had to.

  But I’d also just outed Doña Elena.

  Big-time.

  CHAPTER 21

  I later heard the low, urgent tones of the escalating argument downstairs, in the music room, but could not make out any of their words from my hiding place beside the column. At last Javier stalked out, strode through the front door, and slammed it behind him. Minutes later, Doña Elena came out, stopped in the front hall, and looked up in my direction. I quickly ducked backward. She looked shaken, her hands clenched in a ball, her face wan. I dared to peek out at her again; she stared at the front door as if she feared Javier had left and would never return.

  He didn’t. At least all night.

  I was up for most of it, alert to every sound, keeping my window wide to listen for his horse, waiting for the front door to open again. As morning dawned, I sat up and rubbed my face. I’d gotten maybe a couple hours of sleep, dozing off and on. Might he have slipped in while I was out?

  I’d ruined things here—caused a rift in this big, wonderful family. Why hadn’t I found a way to leave before I’d done such damage?

  I moved to the green and black dress Captain Worthington had given me, something I could put on by myself, and then paused. I turned toward the chest and fished out my maxiskirt and cami, bundling them inside Abuela’s shawl.

  I had to get back to a time when a cami and maxiskirt were cool, not this crazy costume from a Western set in Hollywood.

  I had to get home to my own time, before I destroyed everyone I was coming to care for.

  Let the Venturas—these people who had so quickly wormed their way into my heart—get back to their normal life, before I screwed things up even more.

  That thought brought me up short. I was coming to care for them, I admitted to myself. Every one of the Venturas. Javier. Each of his siblings. Adalia and little Álvaro. Even Doña Elena.

  That wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at
all. Surely that would tie me here to this time all the more securely, making it more difficult to get back. The beginnings of love? Family?

  I shook my head and sighed, running my fingers through my curly mop, pushing it up into another messy bun. Doña Elena wouldn’t approve, but I was about to get out of her hair shortly. I just had to get into that safe…

  I slipped on my socks and boots, opened a drawer to grab the fossil and Javier’s note, reached for my clothes bundled in Abuela’s shawl, and hurried down the stairs and into the library. No one was about, the house curiously quiet, other than servants chatting and laughing back in the kitchen. Maybe everyone was exhausted after entertaining the guests so late the night before. I moved behind Javier’s massive desk, slid the chair to one side, and then cautiously opened the huge oil painting that covered the safe like a door. It squeaked on the hinges, but thankfully, no one came to check out the noise.

  I stared in relief at the smooth, black surface. It was here, right where I assumed it was. One hurdle crossed. But now…

  There was a lock on the metal door. With an opening for a sizable key. I tried the handle, on the crazy-lucky chance that Javier had left it unlocked. But it didn’t move. My eyes went back to the keyhole. At least it wasn’t a combination lock. Where would he keep the key? I opened his desk drawers, starting at the bottom, checking for false bottoms or sides.

  “What are you doing, Zara?” Doña Elena barked, striding through the door. She came straight to the desk.

  I rose, startled, feeling the blush of guilt on my cheeks.

  “I’m searching for the key to the safe. I-I need that lamp. Javier put it in here. I need to try to get home.”

  Her dark eyes pierced mine. “You are home, Zara. Where you are meant to be.”

  “I need to try and get back to my own home in my own time, Doña Elena. This was a mistake. Such a big mistake. I will find what I wished for there and not divide your family any farther.”