The Forever Tree

by Rosanne Bittner

  Santana kissed his hand, such a strong hand, yet he’d been so gentle with her that first time. It had been so beautiful…not ugly like with Hugo. She would never again compare the two experiences, or allow what Hugo had done to turn something so wonderful with her husband into something hideous. This was Will, and he was a good man who loved his wife and had patiently waited through something most men angrily would have refused to allow. He could have forced himself on her, taken his husbandly rights, but he had left her alone. Because of that she was a whole woman again. “The Santana you married is right here, Will. And she will never leave you or deny you again.”

  Will felt a wave of new energy sweep through him. By God, she was right. He wasn’t ready to die! Not if there was a chance his family life could get back to what it once was. He had survived the war and prison camp, and he would survive this, as long as Santana was at his side. “Santana,” he murmured. “I’ve never known…such pain.”

  She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “Think of the forest, mi amor, the peace and beauty you find there, the strength you draw from the giant redwoods, the smell of pine and fresh-cut wood, the feel of the bark against your hand, the quiet of the forest where you can walk with God. When you are well, we will walk in the forest together, just the two of us. We will lay a blanket on a bed of pine needles and we will make love with only the birds and the deer to see us. Think of that, carino mio, and before you know it, it will be so.”

  A tear slipped out of his eye and down the side of his face. She remembered and understood the things that gave him strength. “I would like that,” he answered, his voice growing weaker. “Making love to you…alone in the forest. Are you sure…that’s what you want, Santana?”

  “Si, mi amor, it is what I want. I have never been more sure.”

  “I wish…that I could hold you.”

  “You will hold me again, when you are well, and it will come sooner than you think. The children and I will help you.”

  He managed a faint smile, in spite of more tears running from his eyes. “I miss them, Santana. I miss Valioso…the way he smiles at me.”

  With those words she knew keeping the truth from him had been worth it, for the love Will felt for an innocent child who deserved that love. She had borne her secret alone, and now she could live with it. Never again would she let it rob her of the treasures of life and happiness.

  “Children! Children! You must quiet down and be little ladies and gentlemen,” Santana scolded. “Someone is at the door. It could be another business friend of your father’s.” She walked down the carpeted hallway of their mansion on Nob Hill, deciding to answer the door herself rather than call the maid all the way from an upstairs bedroom.

  She liked this San Francisco home better than she’d thought she would when Will had first started building it. But she had not been happy then. Now this home was filled with love and laughter. All the children were there, the younger ones playing hide-and-seek in the hall and parlor and library. She called to Glenn, who was in the study with his father. Santana had pushed Will there in his wheelchair so that he could do some paperwork. He could not push himself around in the chair yet because his arms were still not fully healed.

  “Glenn, come out here and get your brothers and sisters involved in something less noisy, please. Take them in the library and let them work on puzzles. And Ruth, you should be practicing your piano.”

  They did not obey immediately, but rather gathered around her to see who was at the door. As soon as Will had been well enough to travel, they had come to San Francisco. He had not been healed enough to continue the three-day journey to the ranch, and he had decided to stay here until he could walk. There were better doctors in San Francisco, and he was close to his offices. His managers and accountants could come to the house for meetings. Santana had sent for the children to join them, and they had been thrilled to come to San Francisco. It was an adventure for them. Soon they would all go home together, where Will would heal fully.

  It had been four months since the accident, and Will was getting stronger every day. She was eager for the day when he would be well enough for them to do the one thing they both needed to consummate the new love they had found. She was ready to be a woman again, Will Lassater’s woman.

  Santana opened the door, and quickly her smile left her. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Hugo Bolivar standing on the porch with papers in his hand and anger in his dark eyes. “What—”

  “I wish to speak with your husband!” he demanded.

  Santana put a hand on Valioso’s shoulder as the boy leaned against her leg, grasping her skirt. The rest of the children stared, and Glenn, old enough to understand the hatred and rivalry between this man and his father, stepped forward. “What do you want with my dad?”

  “That is our business!”

  Santana stiffened with pride and defense, quickly regaining her composure and wits. She was pleased to realize she could face Hugo without the horror and dread he had always brought her before. “This is our oldest son, Glenn, and he knows a great deal about his father’s business,” she said sternly. “You will not speak to him as though he were hired help. And Will is still not well. Perhaps you do not know about—”

  “Of course I know,” Hugo interrupted. “The whole town knows about your poor, dear husband.” He sneered. “But his injuries have not stopped him from robbing me behind my back!”

  Santana frowned. “I do not understand—”

  “Your brother now owns Rancho de Rosas! And don’t tell me you didn’t know about it!”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “It was purchased by an anonymous buyer. If I had known it was your husband…”

  “You said Hernando bought it.”

  Hugo stepped closer. “Your brother is not devious enough to have done this on his own. Hernando is simple-minded and too honest for his own good. Will Lassater did this! I want to speak to him!”

  Santana kept a hand on Valioso’s shoulder, worrying Hugo intended to say something that would spoil everything she had worked so hard to protect. She stepped back, holding Hugo’s gaze defiantly. “Show Don Bolivar to your father’s study,” she told Glenn.

  Glenn glared a warning at Hugo. “Follow me.”

  Hugo walked past Santana, and she realized he had aged considerably since she’d seen him at the governor’s ball more than two years ago. He seemed to be shrinking and was much thinner. Will had mentioned that he’d heard Hugo had overinvested and overspent, and now that San Francisco was in a financial slump, Hugo was losing money. The thought pleased her, and apparently Will had done something to take advantage of the situation, but he had not told her about it. She told Ruth to take the children to the library and followed Glenn into the study.

  When she reached it, Hugo was already raging at Will, who sat in his wheelchair behind his desk. He was watching Hugo with satisfied humor in his eyes as the man carried on about being deceived, threatening to sue Will.

  “You put Rancho de Rosas up for sale,” Will said calmly when Hugo finally stopped to take a breath. “I made an anonymous offer through my lawyers, a fair price, and you accepted. You needed the money and it was a legitimate sale, after which I put the ranch in Hernando’s name. Now La Estancia de Alcala is doubled in size, and Hernando’s and my descendants will be wealthy for years to come. I have no doubt that in the end, the most valuable asset in California won’t be its minerals and forests. It will be the land, and Dominic Chavez Alcala’s descendants will own plenty of it. You made a mistake selling that land, Hugo, and you’ve just realized it; but all your ranting and raving won’t get it back for you. I also know the gold mine you owned has played out. Seems to me like you’ve made some bad investments and poor decisions all the way around.” He put his pipe to his lips and gave it a couple of puffs, then leaned back and grinned. “If you have anything else to sell, I’m listening.”

  Santana stood behind Hugo, but she could feel his rage. “You stinking gringo bas
tard!” he shouted. “I would not knowingly sell you a clod of dirt!”

  Will shrugged. “Then get out of my house. I am certainly not going to give Rancho de Rosas back to you, and since you have no other business to conduct with me, you have no reason to be here. And I’ll thank you to watch your language in front of my wife and son.”

  Hugo stiffened. “Your wife?” He turned and looked at Santana, and her heart seemed to move into her throat. She held his gaze squarely, though. Surely he would not say anything. How would he ever explain it? He knew Will would never believe she had willingly allowed Hugo to violate her, and at the moment he was already embarrassed at how Will had taken advantage of him. He had raped her solely to destroy her from the inside. The problem was, he had failed, and he knew it. It frustrated and disappointed him, and Santana felt a rush of victory at the look in his eyes. He was caught. He could say nothing, and as long as what he had done had not ruined her life and marriage, then he could not enjoy the revenge he had planned.

  He looked back at Will. “Your wife deserves no respect from me. She was once promised to me and she broke that promise and brought dishonor to the Chavez Alcala name. She married a gringo, and her children are half-breeds, one of them a worthless retard!”

  Glenn moved in front of the man, his fists clenched. He was shorter than Hugo, but gaining his father’s burly build. “You shut up and get out of our house,” he told the man, teeth gritted. “I’d never ordinarily hit an old man, but I’m sure tempted!”

  “It’s all right, Glenn,” Will said. “Your mother and I know Don Bolivar is just puffing smoke, trying to make up for the things he’s lost through his own ignorance and bad reputation. He’s a lonely, childless old man who thought money was all that was important in life, and now he’s losing that too. He’s masking his own hurt by trying to hurt others.”

  Hugo glared at him. “I wish my bullet had found your spine!” he growled. “And someday you will learn that the worst decision you ever made was to let me live that day!”

  He looked at Santana, and she knew he expected his words to cut hard, but she did not flinch.

  “You have nothing left to threaten me with, Hugo,” Will said. “Get out.”

  Hugo turned back to Will. “You have stolen everything from me.”

  “I stole nothing from you. Everything you’ve lost, you lost from your own ignorance. As for Santana, she fell in love. Being promised to you was an arrangement made by two people from the old world, and I suspect that if Santana’s father had known the kind of man you would become, he never would have made that promise, no matter what your father did for him. You’re just damn lucky I’m in this wheelchair, or I’d take you out on the front lawn and make you pay for your remarks about my wife and Valioso. Now get the hell out of my sight before I let Glenn light into you!”

  Hugo stood with clenched fists. Santana waited in strained silence, half expecting him to blurt it out. I bedded your wife, Will Lassater, while you were off fighting your gringo war. But he knew it was useless. He looked her over scathingly, but Santana no longer felt the shame and guilt such a look had once caused. She felt, instead, a surprising peace.

  Hugo walked out without another word, and Glenn followed. “I’ll make sure he leaves,” he told his father.

  Santana folded her arms, giving her husband a scolding look. “You didn’t tell me about buying Rancho de Rosas.”

  “I intended to. I only signed it over to Hernando yesterday. I told your brother a long time ago that if I could ever find a way to get my hands on Bolivar’s land, I’d grab it up. I’ve had my lawyers watching his estate for a long time. He’s losing money and assets fast. He’s a wicked, lonely, spiteful old man who’s going broke, and I’m enjoying watching it happen. Don’t let his words hurt you.”

  She walked around the desk and knelt in front of him. “As long as I have you, nothing he can do could hurt me. I know that now. I used to be afraid of him, but today I saw what you saw, a lonely old man who is nothing. He is of no significance.”

  Will smiled, reaching out to touch her face. “To hell with Hugo Bolivar. Let’s not even talk about him. I’m proud of how you’ve managed here, bringing the kids, taking care of me, playing hostess to important men you’ve had to entertain while I’m healing, letting them use our home like an office. Things will calm down and I’ll be getting out of this chair soon. We’ll go home then, find some peace…find each other. I can’t wait until I’m healed enough to be able to make love to you, Santana.”

  She reached up, and he met her lips. Yes, to hell with Hugo Bolivar, she thought. We have won, Will.

  Valioso ran into the room then, holding a piece of paper with crayon scribbling on it. “For Daddy,” he said, the ever-present smile on his face. He came around the desk, oblivious to his father and mother kissing, and proudly handed the paper to his father.

  Will saw the love in the boy’s eyes, and smiled when he took the paper. “This is beautiful, Valioso. Thank you.”

  Valioso laughed, throwing back his head, always excited to please.

  Santana turned away at seeing the guilt her husband still felt for Valioso, a guilt he did not deserve, but could not be helped. Thank God Hugo had not blurted out the truth in his anger, and thank God the man did not consider that Valioso could be his own son. She rose and walked to a window that faced the street. She saw Hugo talking to a neighbor. He was mounted on a fine black horse, sitting straight, arrogant as ever. To have faced him and felt nothing was a wonderful experience.

  He finally rode off, and she raised her chin and breathed deeply. Go, Hugo. Go away and never come back. You are done. Finished! My husband will never know the truth.

  Twenty-Nine

  Santana watched her children open their Christmas presents. She had not even dressed yet, but had only pulled on a robe. None of the children had dressed either, too excited about Christmas to take the time. This was a day to be lazy and enjoy the family.

  She could not imagine a more wonderful Christmas, with so much for which to be thankful. Will was fully recovered, although he would always walk with a slight limp from one knee never healing right. He could not bend it completely, but it seemed a minor problem considering the fact that he could have died. The healing had taken six months, but doctors in San Francisco considered that speedy and remarkable, and they attributed the recovery to his excellent physical condition at the time of the accident. He was a strong man, and determined…determined to get well so that he could again be a husband to her.

  They were home, back at their new house at La Estancia de Alcala, now one of the biggest spreads in northern California, thanks to the purchase of Rancho de Rosas. Hernando had been overwhelmed by what Will had done, and Santana was proud of how well her brother was managing the enormous ranch. Dominic would have been proud too.

  She watched as Will sat on the floor playing with Valioso and the puppy they had given the boy for Christmas. Valioso was in heaven. He loved being with his father, and he was thrilled with the puppy, which eagerly licked the boy’s face. Valioso threw back his head and laughed, something he always did when he was especially pleased. Saliva trickled out of the side of his mouth when he got so excited, and Will took a handkerchief from his pants pocket and gently wiped it away.

  Again Santana felt the stabbing pain of her husband’s suffering over the boy, but the glow on Valioso’s face was worth the price she was paying and causing Will to pay for the secret she had to keep. Valioso carried the puppy over to her and plopped it in her lap, and Santana laughed as it began busily licking at her neck, its tail wagging with joy. She took pleasure in the feel of its soft belly and its thick black fur. She handed it back to Valioso.

  “Bring it here, Valioso!” nine-year-old Juan told his brother. “We’ll all play with it.”

  Valioso ran to his siblings, who had finished opening their presents, and the children began teasing and darting at the puppy, making it chase them. Soon the room was filled with screams and laughter. Will a
nd Santana watched for a few minutes, before Will took hold of her hand and tugged, making her get up. He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back. “This is one of the best Christmases I can remember,” he said.

  She looked into his blue eyes, taking great pleasure in feeling again the stirrings of her youth, the old desire, the longing to mate with this man she loved so. They had not made love yet since the accident, and she had not said anything, afraid he was not ready. Now, though, she saw a sparkle in his eyes that she used to see so many years ago…before the war…

  “This is a wonderful Christmas,” she said. “I am glad we came back here for it. San Francisco is an adventure for the children, but they are happiest here, especially Valioso.”

  Will sighed and kept an arm around her. “Come to my study and drink a little wine with me, Santana. A Christmas toast to each other someplace quiet.” He led her out of the great room and down the hallway. “We had to get out of the city, you know, what with the threat of riots. Men without jobs are beginning to blame it all on the Chinese laborers. There have been a lot of scuffles and some raids and beatings. I have a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better, and I feel sorry for the Chinese, who really aren’t to blame. They’re good workers, sober and dependable, and we’re the ones who brought them over here to work on the railroad. Be that as it may, I don’t think San Francisco is a good place for the family right now.”

  “I agree.” They walked into the study, and Will closed the door, quietly slipping a bolt to lock it without Santana noticing. “I also am worried about the drought,” she continued. “It frightened me when we read about the Chicago fire two months ago, the terrible loss of property and lives. It made me want to get out of the city. If you had been well enough, I would have left then, but I wanted you to be near the doctors. Our own Dr. Enders is a good man, but he is getting old.”