by Nan Ryan
Burt sensed Sabella’s presence, looked up, and his eyes, when they met hers, were cold, indifferent, uncaring.
Her hopes dissolved completely as his expression became glassy, without life or recognition.
“How is he?” he finally said and his voice was rough and dry and expressionless.
“About the same,” she managed coolly and swept haughtily past him as if the last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk to him. Sabella hurried down the hall, holding back tears of bitter disappointment and regret.
How foolish of her to suppose things would be any different between them. She saw everything in a new light now since learning Burt was totally innocent and ignorant of his father’s terrible duplicity. But for Burt, nothing had changed. Nothing would change. He would never find it in his heart to forgive her.
Burt continued to stand there, leaning against the wall. But when she was completely out of sight and several long minutes had passed, he slowly turned. He placed his forehead against the wall. His haggard face twisted in pain. With a clenched fist he slowly beat against the wall.
How ridiculous of him to suppose things would be any different between them. Sure, he saw things in a new light now that he’d learned the terrible truth, that his father had actually stolen Lindo Vista from her mother. But for Sabella, nothing had changed. Nothing would change. She would never find it in her heart to forgive him.
In the desperate days that followed, Burt and Sabella shared only one thing: their deep concern for the gravely ill Cappy Ricks.
Cappy had slipped back into unconsciousness, so he was not left alone for a minute. Burt, Sabella, and Carmelita practically fought for the privilege of sitting at his beside.
When it was Sabella’s turn to sit with him, she talked as if he could hear and understand every word. She told him repeatedly that he was going to get well. They needed him, couldn’t get along without him.
And in those long, silent hours, she also talked wistfully about Burt. She was, she said, sad and sorry for all the pain she had caused.
“If I had to do it all over again, I’d never have come to Lindo Vista and caused all this trouble. What I did was abominable, unforgivable. But, Cappy, you have to understand that I was raised on a deep, abiding hatred of the Burnetts. I hated Burt before I ever laid eyes on him. I really did.”
Sabella sighed, then sadly smiled.
“I’ll never forget the first time I actually saw him. It was at his engagement party and he arrived late. I remember everyone was talking and laughing, then all of a sudden there was some kind of disturbance at the arched entrance to the ballroom. Conversations lowered and died away. A low buzz of twittering excitement rippled through the room.
“Well, naturally I was curious. I quickly maneuvered myself in front of some guests just as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into view. He paused directly beneath a big chandelier and my knees began to shake. He was wearing a tuxedo that was as black as his hair, and a snowy white shirt that contrasted beautifully with his smooth, suntanned face. I knew in that instant it was Burt Burnett.”
Sabella fell silent, remembering.
When finally she spoke again, she said, “I never dreamed I would fall in love with him. I have and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing.” She exhaled slowly, and shook her head sadly. “But you know something, Cappy? When I’m an old woman and my eyesight is failing and so is my memory, I’ll still remember that night. And many nights that followed. For a brief, beautiful time Burt gave me more love and happiness that I’d ever dreamed existed. And even if it didn’t—couldn’t possibly last, I’ll always have those memories to hold here in my heart.”
Softly, barely above a whisper, she said, “I love Burt and I would give anything if I could make it all up to him. But I know he will never forgive me.”
When Burt took his shift at Cappy’s bedside, he talked just as Sabella did. He assured the unconscious ranch foreman that he would regain his health. In no time he’d be back out on the range where he belonged. No doubt about it.
And in the quiet, slow hours, Burt also talked about Sabella. He had been, he admitted, the world’s biggest fool. She had stepped into his life and wrapped him around her little finger in record time.
“Trouble is, if I had to do it all over again … if I’d known exactly what she was up to from the very beginning … I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
Burt sighed loudly, then began to smile sadly.
“Jesus, I’ll never forget the first time I saw her. I was late to my own engagement party. When I got there, the ballroom was packed, but when I walked through the archway, I stopped and for some reason I looked across the room and saw her. And then I saw no one else.
“She was stunningly beautiful. A breathing, living golden goddess with silky blond hair and lightly tanned skin and a slender body all wrapped up in shimmering white silk. The largest, darkest eyes I’ve ever seen were looking straight into mine.”
Burt whistled low under his breath, and fell silent, remembering.
When finally he spoke, he said, “I knew then and there I had to have her no matter what the cost. Hell couldn’t have held me.” He chuckled mirthlessly at himself then and added, “God, I fell so much in love with her I didn’t just hand her my heart, I gave her my soul as well.” Burt inhaled, shook his dark head. “But you know what, Cappy. I don’t regret it all that much. If I live to be ninety I’ll never forget that pleasurable moment when I first looked and saw her.
“Sabella is an extraordinary woman and before I learned the truth, she gave me—for a little while at least—a kind of happiness I had never known before. I didn’t know such happiness was possible. So it wasn’t permanent. What is? I can look on that interlude as a warm, wonderful season in the sun.”
Burt paused, smiled, and said, “And after she’s gone, when I’m alone with the empty years stretching ahead, I’ll always have that memory of her to warm a lifetime of loveless affairs.”
For several minutes he said nothing more. Then finally, “I’ve forgiven Sabella, but it’s clear she hasn’t forgiven me. I haven’t stopped loving her. I never will and I wish more than anything in the world that she loved me. But she never did and she never will.”
Carmelita also talked to Cappy when she took her turn at his bedside.
In a warm, almost motherly tone, she told him, over and over and over again, that he was not to worry. He would get well. She would see to it.
And in those calm, still hours, she talked to him about something else that was weighing on her mind. The two of them. Not Burt and Sabella. But Cappy and herself.
“It isn’t too late for us, you know. We still have some good years left.” She clutched his hand to her breast. “I’m not saying I could ever take the place of your Geneva. I know I couldn’t; nothing measures up to that first young love. I feel the same. Victor Rivera was a god to me and I adored him. But Victor and Geneva are dead and we’re still alive. We’re good friends, you and I, and we’re content together. At our age, isn’t that more than plenty?”
Carmelita suddenly frowned and shook her head. “Oh, Cappy, I do wish I was still pretty. I’d like to be pretty for you. I’m too plump and there’s silver in my hair and wrinkles in my face.” She laughed then and said, “You told me your eyesight is not what it once was. Maybe you can’t see me so good, no?
“I will take good care of you, Cappy. Soon as you’re better I’ll fix you some of my special sopapillas. We’ll sit on the south patio in the afternoon and take walks together at sunset. We will enjoy ourselves, querido.
“Por favor, Cappy, open your eyes,” she said patiently, again and again.
At straight up noon on the nineteenth day of March, Carmelita stood at Cappy’s bedside, once again asking him to open his eyes. To look at her. To her delight, he did.
It was St. Joseph’s Day.
Each year on this day the swallows came back to Capistrano.
This year Cappy Ricks
came back as well.
Forty-Six
TO THE TRAVELER PASSING by or the occasional visitor who came to call, Lindo Vista seemed the same that spring as it always had. The imposing adobe mansion on the cliffs shimmered in the bright May sunshine. A miraculous profusion of fuchsia and purple bougainvillea spilled over the whitewashed walls in vivid splashes of color. The wisterias bordering the south patio were heavy with lavender blossoms. And the rose bushes flanking the front flagstone walk were covered with rare pink Castilian gems.
Birds sang sweetly from their perches in the pepper tree beside the kitchen window. Out offshore, peregrine falcons left the safety of their bluffside nests to soar high above the cliffs. The low sounds of the ocean were a placid constant, lulling to the ear and to the soul.
From without Lindo Vista was still the picture of pastoral peacefulness. But behind the whitewashed walls of the sprawling hacienda, things were far from tranquil.
Cappy Ricks was well enough to feel guilty about not helping Burt, but was not well enough to do any of the work. He was as weak and helpless as a baby. For a man who had never been sick a day in his life, the helplessness was hard to take. Cappy was irritable and anxious to be up and around. If Burt ever needed him, it was now, and here he was laid up like a beached whale. Carmelita listened to his rantings, sympathized sweetly, and refused to let him get out of bed.
Sabella was even more unhappy than Cappy.
The physical sickness of early pregnancy had passed, but her slim figure was changing and she was beginning to feel clumsy and unattractive. The physical transformation taking place in her body was not the only change. She was more emotional than she had ever been before. She cried at the drop of a hat. She didn’t sleep well. She felt so unwanted and unloved, she rashly considered flinging herself into the ocean and swimming out so far she couldn’t make it back.
She badly needed to feel a husband’s loving arms around her. She rarely saw Burt. He was away from the mansion much of the time and she wondered where he was and what he was doing. When she did see him, he had nothing to say to her.
Looked right through her as if she wasn’t there.
He despised her and she was miserable!
Burt was not only unhappy, he was worried.
Lindo Vista was faced with the worst water shortage since the devastating droughts of the sixties. There was no grass. No wheat. No grain. Hundreds of cattle had died and those who had survived were so poor, their ribs showed through their dusty hides.
Not a drop of rain had fallen since early March. Irrigation ditches, ponds, and brooks were so dry their sandy bottoms had become broken, sunbaked clods curled up around the edges.
Burt had given up on rain. The drought continued, so it was useless to hold on to his diminishing herd any longer. He had no choice but to ship them to market and take what he could get for them.
The roundup was hard work, with none of the fun and good times it had been in past years. There was no cash to hire seasonal help and no profits to be realized from the sale of the poor, underfed stock.
So Burt was worried, far more worried than anyone knew.
The pleasantly warm days of May turned into a hot dry June. June dragged torpidly by, finally giving way to a sweltering July. It was so sultry that even the occasional breeze felt more like the hot dry Santa Anas that blew in off the desert than the cooling winds from the ocean.
There was no relief from the heat.
The very pregnant Sabella found it almost impossible to sleep. No longer able to lie on her stomach, she stretched out each night on her back, a thin batiste nightgown sticking damply to her fevered skin. She wondered why she bothered going to bed. She was far too hot and uncomfortable to sleep.
On a muggy night near the end of July, Sabella couldn’t bear lying there in the hot darkness a minute longer. Straggling to rise, feeling like a poor old turtle that somebody had cruelly turned onto its back, she finally managed to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She sat there for a moment before coming to her feet.
She moved clumsily across the darkened room and stepped out onto the balcony. A hand to her back, she inhaled deeply, hoping for a breath of fresh invigorating air. But even outside, it was hot and still. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she thought irritably, she’d go for a cooling dip in the ocean, sans clothes.
Sighing, Sabella trailed a hand along the railing and lumbered slowly toward the south side of the wide balcony. Once there, she leaned cautiously over, peering down across the courtyard, and instantly shivered in the oppressive heat.
She saw Burt.
Bare-chested, perspiration pooling on his heated belly, Burt sat alone in the library, poring over books and worrying about the future. His eyes were bloodshot from so much reading and so little sleep. His head ached dully. He was far too hot and lonely and troubled to sleep.
The Silver Lining had been sold more than a month ago. A prospective buyer would examine the California Cloud sometime next week. Then what? Sell off some of the land? Start whittling down a vast rancho that had been intact for a hundred years?
The prospect of letting one acre of the prized Lindo Vista go to an uncaring stranger was almost more than he could face.
But then he reminded himself, this rancho wasn’t even his.
It was his wife’s.
No matter, he had to find a way to save it. Even though it didn’t belong to him, had never really been his, it would be his son’s. Nobody could dispute his son’s claim to Lindo Vista.
Burt sighed and closed a heavy book, dropping it noisily to the floor. He rolled his bare, aching shoulders, then leaned back in the tall burgundy chair and closed his scratchy eyes.
Several minutes passed.
Burt’s gray eyes flew open. His sweat-dampened back came up off the chair and he slammed the palm of his hand against his forehead.
“Jesus Christ!” he said aloud. “The answer’s been right here all the time. As plain as the nose on my face!”
He recalled three, maybe four years ago he had read in the Los Angeles Times that on just one day during the winter floods, enough water ran into the ocean to supply the entire city for a year!
“That’s it!” Burt told himself, snapping his fingers and leaping to his feet.
No longer tired, he hurried to the tall bookshelves, withdrew a heavy volume, blew the dust from its spine, and sank eagerly down to the floor on his bare heels. Crouching there, he spread the book on the floor and anxiously flipped through the pages until he found what he was searching for—something he had read about a long time ago.
Finding it, Burt again read about the ancient Nabateans in Jordan during the Roman Empire. Heart beating faster, he read the part about them trenching the dry land so that the rain that occurred once a year all went into deep cisterns, supplying their needs for the rest of the year with that one short season’s water.
Staring to smile, pleased with himself, Burt reasoned that while it was too late for this year, now was the time to begin work on developing the cisterns for next year. It would take months to dig the vast deep holes all across the far reaches of the rancho. But if they started now—tomorrow—they could have a drainage system in place for when the winter rains came.
“Thank you, God,” he said aloud, eyes and arms lifted toward the fretted ceiling.
Despite the scorching summer heat, Cappy Ricks had bounced back to good health remarkably fast. He credited Carmelita. He told anyone who would listen that he hadn’t felt so good in years.
They believed him. There was a new sparkle in his eyes and that, too, was credited to Carmelita. Since Cappy’s illness, the two had spent many a companionable hour together. For people of their advanced age, they had been remarkably shy and ill at ease in each other’s company until Cappy’s brush with death. Now they talked about everything under the sun.
But they talked most about Burt and Sabella.
“What can we do?” Carmelita would say to Cappy, though she had asked that qu
estion dozens of times before. “We must do something, we must. Sabella loves Burt, I know she does. Can’t you speak to Burt, tell him that—”
“Now, Lita, we’ve been over this a hundred times,” Cappy would gently, but firmly reply. “I said all I had to say back when I was sick and thought I’d bought the farm. I told Burt the truth about his father. I told Sabella that Burt was innocent, that he knew nothing about any of it.”
“Sí, I know, but—”
“I can’t do any more. Burt’s stubborn as a mule, always was. Anytime I so much as bring up Sabella’s name, he shuts me off.”
“It is the same with Sabella,” Carmelita lamented. “She will not believe that he could care for her after what she did to him. But I do. I see the pain in his eyes and—”
“They’re grown, both of ’em,” Cappy interrupted. “We can’t be telling them how to run their lives.”
Carmelita sighed heavily. “But they love each other!”
“Then let them sort it out. We can’t go meddling anymore.” He smiled then, and added, “We wouldn’t want them meddling in our lives, now would we? We wouldn’t appreciate their offering advice we hadn’t asked for. We wouldn’t need their permission if we decided to … to—” Cappy needlessly cleared his throat and he reached for Carmelita’s hand “—if we wanted to … marry.”
Carmelita’s dark eyes flashed and she smiled at him. “Are you proposing to me?”
“I guess I am.” His face flushed and he hurriedly added, “If you’ll have me. Now, I figure we should wait ’til the baby comes. See what happens with the kids and all before we say anything to the others.”
Carmelita touched his face affectionately.
“You are a very kind and caring man, Cappy Ricks,” she said. “Sí, mi amor. I will have you.” Tears of happiness filled her eyes.
“Aw, Lita, come on now, don’t do that,” he said and reached for her.
August was a real scorcher.
Constantly concerned for Sabella’s comfort and health, Carmelita anxiously watched over her through the long, blistering days. She gave Sabella cooling sponge baths and kept ice-filled tea or lemonade always at hand. She made sure Sabella ate properly. She watched for any sign of pain or danger to the nearly full-term pregnancy.
