Ana Martin

by J. L. Jarvis

  “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be. He still is my friend. Have you given any thought about what your actions could do to him?”

  “No one would hang him.”

  “Perhaps not, but he won’t fare much better if they catch him with you.”

  “I don’t believe you. Don Felipe wouldn’t hurt him.”

  “Ana, what you are doing— Look, there are things, Ana, that simply aren’t done.”

  “Things. What things?”

  “Ana, don’t make me say it.”

  “All right.” Ana walked away.

  Eduardo watched, but made no move to follow.

  She arrived at her room, closed the door with a sigh, and sank into a chair by the window. There were thousands of stars in the sky. She had only just noticed. A knock at the door drew away her attention. Although she hoped it was only a maid, she knew better.

  “Come in.”

  Eduardo opened the door but remained at the threshold. “Please understand that I want you to be happy.”

  “But not with Carlos. I understand.”

  At the mention of the name, Eduardo glanced down the hall and quickly stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “I won’t lie to you. This is not what I had hoped, but you must know that I love you both.”

  Ana knew. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Please, Ana.” He held up his hand to stop her, and he walked to the farthest window and looked out. “He’s out there now, waiting.”

  “What?”

  “I told him I would bring you to him.”

  “You what?”

  “I can’t have you out wandering alone.”

  “Oh, Eduardo. If he knew how you felt, he would never have asked.”

  “I know,” said Eduardo.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “No!”

  His vehemence silenced her. Such passion often came out in his writing and politics, but he had never aimed it at her, not like this. She was taken aback.

  He forced his voice to a hush. “You will not say a word of it, Ana.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  His whispers were stabs made more sharp by her affection. She said, “I wish I could love you better.”

  This only stirred up more rancor. “If I find out you’ve told him, I will never forgive you.”

  She nodded.

  He continued, “It is my problem, and I will take care of it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t—!” He lowered his voice. “Damn it, do not be sorry for me.”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “Then do not pity me.”

  “It’s not pity. I care.”

  “Well don’t. I don’t want it.”

  Ana lowered her head and nodded.

  Eduardo grew unbecomingly bitter. “Don’t think I won’t get over it. I’m not some runt of the litter who needs your attention to survive. So stop feeling sorry for me and get on with your life.”

  There was nothing to say, and besides, if there were, he was not going to listen.

  His emotions now in check, Eduardo spoke in measured tones. “Now let’s go. He’s out there waiting for you.”

  She stopped outside the door and put her hand on his arm. “Please. You don’t have to go with me.”

  He touched her chin and gently lifted it. “I’m sorry if I sounded unkind.”

  “I deserved it.”

  “No. You deserve to be happy.” His eyes swept over her face. “Now, let’s go. You shouldn’t go out wandering alone.” He held the door open for her and they left.

  They walked the rest of the way without speaking. When they reached the outside of the stable, he left her and walked back to the grand house.

  The stable door was ajar. She slipped inside and pushed it closed behind her, praying no one but Eduardo would hear the loud creaking. It was dark, but she had been here so many times as a child, her feet knew every brick. She was not afraid. A foot brush against the cobbled floor. She almost said his name, but instead said, “Who’s there?”

  “Ana.”

  “It’s you.”

  “Yes,” Carlos said from behind her.

  “I can’t see—” She reached out. His hand brushed against hers and clasped tightly. They found one another and clung tightly.

  His warm whisper brushed her neck. “I had to see you.” His lips touched her earlobe on the way to her mouth. She went weak from his kiss. She held onto his shoulders, so hard beneath the soft linen shirting. It was too dark to see, but their fingers and lips touched each feature as they breathed in each scent and each sound until they were lost in each other.

  Ana trembled.

  His voice was low and soothing. “Are you frightened?”

  “A little.” She buried her face in his chest. His arms were protective. His fingers combed into her hair and took hold gently. His mouth found her lips and they opened to his as her body took over, responding to him. Her head whirled. She pressed away, scarcely able to breathe.

  “Ana?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it could be like.”

  “To kiss?” His tender grin was lost in the darkness.

  “To kiss so my heart would feel close to breaking, and to want it to break.”

  “Oh, mi amor,” he said, touching his lips to her brow and her cheeks. “What’s this?” he asked, brushing a tear from her cheek.

  “It’s so much. And here, in the dark, to be with you—it’s almost too much.”

  “This is not what I wanted for us.”

  “What do you want?”

  Carlos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He took her hand and they sat on a fresh bale of hay. “I want to ride beside you to the mountains, and walk together in the bright sun, and let everyone see us together, and to love you—not just in dark places.”

  Carlos leaned his back on the wall. “It’s all I have—shadows to give you.”

  “And you.”

  “That’s not enough—not for you or your family. Did you know that they have lined up rich prospects for you to marry?”

  “Who told you that?”

  Carlos cast a knowing look. “Who do you think?”

  “Eduardo told you and not me?”

  “Perhaps he did not wish to upset you.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, they can line up rich men from here to Mexico City, but I will not marry.”

  “It isn’t so simple.”

  “There’s nothing as simple as ‘No,’” said Ana.

  “Yes there is, when it means losing everything.”

  “I’ve already lost nearly everything. You saw what I brought with me from Texas. A couple of trunks. It’s not very much to give up.”

  “A life of wealth?”

  “What sort of life would it be without love?”

  “A very comfortable life.”

  “If you think I would be happy that way, then you insult me.”

  “I think that don Felipe is trying to help you. He is a good man.”

  “Yes, he is—why are we talking about all this?”

  “I have to be sure that you know what you’re risking. I have a responsibility.”

  “You aren’t responsible for me.”

  “Your uncle is. He will protect you.”

  “He won’t have to.”

  “If he found out, it could hurt him. He’s your family.”

  “To whom he owes a duty. But I am no different from these horses. He feeds me and cares for me now, so one day he will auction me off to the highest bidder.”

  “That is not true,” Carlos told her.

  “But it is,” Ana said with a practical tone. “I never expected him to replace my father, but I had hoped for some sense of family.”

  “You have a home.”

  “Since the first time I sat and talked with Abuelita, I felt more at home there than in the grand house.”

  Carlos kissed her c
heek.

  Ana said, “I will not marry without love.”

  He held her and said, “I won’t let you.”

  She wanted to hide in his kiss, with his lips, full and soft, and his strong arms about her. But he whispered, “We should go.”

  Her lips brushed against his as she whispered, “Not yet.”

  “Ana, we must.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to.” She felt his smile. They were not enough kisses.

  “Tomorrow—I’ll send word with Eduardo.”

  “No, not Eduardo.”

  “Why not? We can trust him.”

  “Please leave Eduardo out of this.”

  “But he’s our friend.”

  “I don’t want him in the middle. It’s not fair.”

  Carlos froze for an instant as realization struck him. “How selfish I’ve been. If I had just opened my eyes—”

  “What would you have done?”

  “Let you go.”

  “Then it’s my turn to feel selfish.”

  Eduardo’s light was still on. Ana tapped on the door. Soon it opened, and there stood Eduardo with shirt tails hanging over his trousers, his hair in damp curls on his forehead, beneath which a stranger stared through hollow eyes.

  “Eduardo?” She barely recognized the wretched man who stared back at her.

  “Ana.” His voice was unnaturally calm. “Go away.” He pushed the door, but she held out her arm to block him.

  “I was worried.”

  “Don’t be. Just leave me alone.”

  “I can’t. Please don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not.” He looked down and prepared to close the door again.

  Footsteps mounted the stairs. Ana glanced back, then said to Eduardo, “Please? Talk to me.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Ana slipped inside the door, inadvertently brushing against him. He flinched.

  “Please, Eduardo. Don’t leave things this way.”

  A slight stirring caught Ana’s attention. Now inside, she could see past Eduardo, past the small hallway to his room. In his bed, a young Chinese woman clutched the bed sheet to her bare shoulders. Their eyes met, each woman as stunned as the other.

  Eduardo slurred a formal introduction. “Ana, may I introduce Su Ling, my friend? Do you know her? No, of course not. But you should. She works in the kitchen all day, preparing your meals.” Eduardo carefully walked to a table and emptied a bottle into a glass which, from the looks of Eduardo, had been filled more than a few times. “Here, Ana. You look like you could use a drink.” He swaggered toward her and offered the glass.

  Ana looked at it and shook her head slightly. “No thank you. Forgive the intrusion. Excuse me.” She escaped through the door.

  In the clear light of morning, Ana set down her pen and read with ringed eyes what she had written.

  My dearest Eduardo,

  Have I lost you? It is a loss I cannot bear. Please try to forgive me for loving Carlos. I love you with a love that, while different, is no less strong. I see the pain you feel, and I don’t know what to do.

  I am sorry about last night. I should never have intruded. I want you to be happy. I miss you, my friend.

  Ana

  Ana sealed the note inside an envelope and walked down the hallway to Eduardo’s room. The door was open. She knocked and the door opened wider. She was reluctant to look in, but it was clear that the room was now empty. Ana looked down the hallway and saw no one. She decided to leave her note on his desk so, when he came back to write, he would find it. Piles of books covered the desk where he spent most of his time. She looked about for a safe place where it would not be lost in loose piles of paper. A book lay on the top of some papers in the middle of the desk. She left her note jutting out from the opening of the thick volume, and then turned to leave. As she did so, her skirt dislodged some loose papers, which cascaded down to the floor. Ana sighed with frustration and stooped to retrieve them.

  They were numbered. She shuffled and sifted to get them back into order. Eduardo’s hand was fine and easy to read. Perhaps this is why certain words leapt from the page and made her curious for more. Before long, Ana found herself sitting in his chair, and reading his words. They were powerful and poetic, and most of all disturbing.

  He had never hidden the political thrust of his writings, nor had he explained them. In these pages he described the Mexican people, their lives and struggles to surmount conditions made impossible by an unjust society and corrupt administration. The strong lament roused in her a kindred compassion. The love he bore for his country, so sincerely expressed, made her weep.

  He sought freedom for people—all people. A worthy ideal, but the cost he outlined for such freedom alarmed her. He spoke of comrades and anarchy, and people downtrodden by a corrupt system which was ruining their country. The only hope, he wrote, would come through revolution. Only by overthrowing the existing regime to start anew would people rekindle dreams of hope and equality, of land and liberty. His words were incendiary, but they flowed from a heart that was wholly sincere, born of dreams that were noble. But he called for such violent action, Ana shuddered. Was there no other way?

  The hacienda system must be ended, and the lands divided among the people from whom they were unjustly taken. She sifted through more papers. Cryptic notes and references implied that he was deeply involved in some sort of smuggling. Whether weapons or other supplies, it was secret, and clearly illegal.

  Ana lowered the papers to her lap. “My God, Eduardo.” She returned the papers to his desk, left her note, and returned to her room.

  Hurried footsteps filled the house as carriages and automobiles pulled up to the entrance outside. Friends and neighbors from every ranch within driving distance were arriving to watch their charros compete for the honor of being the best at trick riding and roping and wrestling steers. Other ranches had charreadas, but the Martínez Charreada had been long known as the grandest. Graciela would be in her glory, thought Ana, as she lurked in her room dreading what the evening would bring.

  Dressed in a peach silk frock, Ana was rushed out of mourning by Aunt Graciela, who had found the perfect man for Ana to marry. He took the opportunity of this visit to voice his interest to the delight of not only Graciela, but don Felipe, as well. Don Limón owned an enormous estate upriver from the Martínez hacienda. All their water came through his estate through a system of canals, which the Martínez plantation needed to survive. This made don Limón highly appealing to everyone in the family but Ana.

  Ana opened the door, expecting her maid. Instead, she found Eduardo. She did not even try to hide her surprise. He had ignored her, as well as her note. They had spent the past week barely speaking, and then only enough to avoid the awkward revelation of their strained relationship to the others in the household.

  Now he stood in her doorway looking once more like her friend. “He is here,” said Eduardo. For the first time in days, he regarded her with the soft look she used to see in his eyes. She invited him in. Her dismay over what awaited her downstairs finally found an outlet. The tears were a welcome release for Ana’s pent up emotions.

  It was not easy for Eduardo simply to say, as her friend, “Ana.” When he held out his hands, Ana took them and sank into his arms.

  “I can’t do this,” she told him.

  “It’s just one night.”

  “No. It’s just the beginning.”

  “Don’t think that way. Do not look at him as—”

  “As a husband? I can’t. I can’t even imagine.”

  “Just endure this one night.”

  “And then what? Just one more? Already I hate him, and I don’t even know him.”

  It would have been a good time for Eduardo to point out some of don Limón’s better qualities, but he struggled to think of one. “He cares for you.”

  “How could he? He has never met me.”

  “He met you on the night you arrived.”

  “I don’t remember.”

 
Eduardo frowned as he tried to think of some way to make the evening more hopeful, or even tolerable. “Just get through the evening.”

  Ana looked at him frankly.

  He averted his eyes. “I will be there to help you.”

  “There will not be a marriage.”

  Eduardo led her to a settee and sat beside her. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Ana, who wiped her eyes and nose while he explained. “We must handle this carefully. Try to understand that your family depends on don Limón for their water. Without water, all this land would be desert. They’d be ruined.”

  “Are you saying I should let them offer me up for sale—my body for their water?”

  “I am saying you should try not to anger don Limón until we can find some way out of this situation.”

  “It’s Graciela’s fault. She arranged this—gave him hope. And now I must endure this so your aunt can save face. This is the last evening I will let her do this to me.”

  Eduardo stood and paced a bit, ending up by the window, looking out upon the gathering mass of visitors. He chose words carefully. “Before you make such bold pronouncements, be sure you’re ready for the result.”

  “Which would be—?”

  Eduardo was reluctant to go on.

  “Eduardo, what has she told you?”

  “Nothing. But you’re a smart girl. Think it through.”

  “Tío Felipe would never send me away.”

  Eduardo looked at her with resignation.

  She sounded much less sure as she said, “He wouldn’t.”

  But the look on Eduardo’s face made it clear. His forehead creased into lines as he said, “What would happen to you if you left? A woman alone—with no home, no skills. You would be helpless. Ana, people starve for want of work and food. Women sell their bodies for food. What makes you think you would fare any better?”

  Ana got up and walked to him. “Well, that’s just what will happen if your aunt has her way. I’ll be selling my body, but for water—not food.”

  Eduardo did not respond—not in words. Ana wanted to scream. She would do something—anything else. But as she tried to think it through, the ugly truth flowered before her: he was right. Hope faded from her eyes as she looked out the window and watched guests arrive. Eduardo came up behind and put his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back into his arms and looked out at the growing crowd.