The Forever Tree

by Bittner, Rosanne

  Will walked to a cabinet and took out a bottle of wine, made from grapes grown on La Estancia de Alcala. He poured a little into two glasses he took down from a shelf. He kept drinks and glasses handy for visits from business acquaintances, but this morning he wanted to share a quiet drink with his wife. “I’m worried about the drought, too, but not in the city. I’m worried about the mills. The forests are tinder-dry.” He walked over and handed her a glass. “But we aren’t going to let it spoil this very special day, are we?”

  “No,” she answered. She took the glass, and they each sipped the sweet red wine. “Not just because it is Christmas. Every day is special now that you are well again, carino mio.”

  Will took a second drink of wine before setting his glass aside. “I’m more recovered than you think,” he said with a grin. He ran a hand along her arm while she sipped more wine herself. “Well enough to want my woman.”

  Santana frowned. “Will Lassater! We cannot just go to our bedroom in the middle of the morning. What would we tell the children?”

  He took her wineglass away and set it down. “The older ones wouldn’t need an explanation, but it doesn’t matter, because we aren’t going to the bedroom. I locked the door to the study.”

  She glanced at the door, then looked back at her grinning husband. “Here?”

  He pulled her close. “Watching you this morning, how beautiful you look…I don’t want to wait until tonight, and like you said, it would be awkward to go to our bedroom. Hell, you’re still wearing your nightgown and robe. It gives you an excuse to go upstairs and wash when we’re through.”

  “Will…”

  “I told Glenn earlier that if we disappeared for a while, he should keep the children busy and make them leave us alone.”

  “You told Glenn?”

  “He’s old enough to understand.”

  “Will, I will be embarrassed to death to face him at the breakfast table!”

  He untied her feathered satin robe and pulled it open to study her breasts, pleased to see her nipples aroused to hard peaks beneath the satin cloth. “Just act natural.” He lost his smile, touching her cheek with the back of his hand while he pulled her close with his other arm. “I have waited a long time for this, Santana.”

  She felt the power in his arm and was aroused by her husband’s strength and desire. Her eyes teared. “Too long, my beloved, and I am so sorry.” She let the robe fall to the floor, and her heart beat so hard it almost hurt. She wanted him! She felt no reservations, saw no repulsive visions. She saw only her husband’s beautiful blue eyes, knew only that she wanted to please this man, and to take her own pleasure in return. It was a final victory for her, for nothing from the past rose up to interfere with this wonderful desire and passion she was feeling. “Are you sure you are well enough?”

  He slipped his fingers under the straps of her gown and pulled them off her shoulders. “There is only one way to find out.”

  Santana shivered with want as she dropped her arms so that he could slide the gown off them. It fell to the floor, leaving her standing there wearing only a pair of lacy drawers and her slippers. “I hope…” She swallowed, suddenly feeling like an inexperienced virgin. “I hope my body still pleases you.” Her nipples tingled as Will studied them while he removed his smoking jacket and threw it aside.

  “You are as beautiful as you were when I married you, and you know it. Still slender in the right places and round where it matters.” He removed the silk pajama bottoms he’d worn under the smoking jacket, and Santana faced one last challenge by dropping her eyes to gaze at her husband’s manhood, large, hard, eager to find its way into her lovenest. It did not frighten her as she thought it might. Instead, a burning need to feel him inside her caused her to throw her arms around his neck and meet his mouth in a fiery kiss.

  Her eagerness was all Will needed to know that he had back the Santana he had married. He groaned with the want of her. He slid his hands inside her drawers, grasping her firm bottom while he kissed her suggestively. She responded with whimpers of desire, running her tongue between his lips, pushing herself against his hardness.

  “God, I want you so, Santana,” he said between kisses, his voice husky.

  “And I want you, mi esposo,” she whispered, “as I have never wanted you.” She threw back her head as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, bent down to taste a taut nipple with eagerness, as though it were a succulent fruit. She groaned his name when he moved farther down, kissing her belly, the crevice between her thigh, and her most private place, a place she had never given willingly to any man but Will Lassater. She sank to the thick Oriental rug that decorated the floor of the study, allowing her husband free rein with her body.

  Santana floated into ecstasy from a combination of the magical things Will could do to her, and the wonderful joy of realizing she was free of the past and could enjoy this as a full woman again. She wrapped her fingers into his hair and rocked herself against him. It had been so long since she’d enjoyed this, in only seconds she gasped in a shuddering climax that left her wanting to scream for him to fill her as only he could. She had to force herself to be still because of the children, and she knew it was the same for Will, whose eyes were glazed with desire when he raised up to meet her gaze.

  Neither said a word as he reached for her and pulled her up, leading her to a leather couch that had a blanket spread over it. She lay back on it, closing her eyes when Will moved between her legs. He came down to meet her mouth and pushed his throbbing hardness inside her, and her scream of satisfaction was muffled against his kiss. He moved in quick rhythm, a man who had gone too long without his woman. He was so swollen, it almost hurt, but Santana took erotic pleasure in the pain. This was Will, and he had waited patiently for this for so long. Other men might have been untrue, and she could not blame him if he had turned to another, but she trusted that he belonged only to her. He was the most wonderful, forgiving man a woman could want, and she would never deny him again.

  Too quickly his life surged into her. But within the space of a breath, his shaft grew hard again, and he continued the rhythm as though there had been no break at all. Eagerly they clung to each other, bodies heated and damp, mouths meeting in fiery, hungry kisses. She dug her nails into his shoulders, ran her hands along his arms to revel in the strong muscles there. No, Will Lassater was certainly not ready to die. He was alive and well, and as much man as he ever was.

  He pounded into her, a man on fire mating with a woman ready to consume that fire and help him calm the flames. She responded by arching up to greet each thrust, secretly celebrating her own freedom, freedom to be a woman again, freedom from the past and the secret she would carry to her grave. This was Will, her beloved Will! They belonged to each other again in every way.

  Santana clung to him desperately, so happy he was alive and in her arms. She ran her hands over his body, wanting to feel every muscle, the hairs on his chest, his face, his nose, his thick hair. She trailed her fingers down to his buttocks, pressing with his every thrust as though to push him deeper. He raised to his knees, lifting her hips, and finished in a last wild surge of desire, his eyes glazed and determined, as though he would conquer whatever it was that had kept her from him for so long.

  And you have conquered those fears, my love, she thought. At last I belong only to you again. She closed her eyes and gasped when his life surged into her once more. She could not control the tears, tears of relief and joy. She reached around his neck and pulled him down to her, and he kissed her.

  “I love you, Santana,” he whispered.

  “And I love you, mi vida,” she answered. “We are one again, in body and in spirit. Nothing will ever come between us again.”

  “Never.” He kissed her cheek. “Never.”

  He took an afghan from the back of the couch and pulled it over them, then made love to her again, gently, slowly, able to take his time now, so they relished every inch of each other, sharing a strong bond that had never really left t
hem. He was still her brave and handsome gringo, and she was still his exotic Spanish wife, the forbidden young girl for whom he had been willing to die.

  Santana awoke with a start. The house was dark, yet there seemed to be a soft glow outside the window. She heard a rumble in the distance. Rain. Finally they would get some rain, but it wasn’t raining yet. She got up and put on her robe, then jumped when a bolt of lightning caused a loud pop not far away. It was followed by a clap of thunder that literally shook the house.

  One of the children started crying, and Santana hurried into the hallway. The crying was coming from four-year-old Julia’s room. She hurried there, realizing the child had been frightened by the thunder. When she went inside, she saw the strange glow again, and now that she was more awake, she realized what it might be. Her heart seemed to climb into her throat as she ran to the window to look outside.

  Fire! The entire forest north of the house was in flames. She quickly picked Julia up in her arms, telling herself to stay calm for the sake of the children. “Hush, Julia. It’s all right. Mama’s here.”

  “Santana! Santana, where are you?”

  Will must have awakened and seen the fire. “Here!” She ran out of Julia’s room. “Will, the forest is on fire!”

  “I saw it!” Will was buttoning a pair of pants. “Wake the rest of the children. I’ll get Valioso and wake the help.” He grabbed a lantern that hung lit in the hallway. “Take this with you. I’ll get one for myself.”

  “Where will we go, Will? What will we do?”

  “Just gather everybody at the front garden! There may not be time to hitch a wagon. We’ll have to make a run for the valley. Maybe we can reach the pond below the hill!” He left her then, and for one frantic moment Santana wondered if there was something she should try to save. No. There was no time to save anything but the children.

  “Mommy! Mommy! I’m scared!” Julia cried.

  “You mustn’t be. Madre and Padre are right here. Be a brave little girl now, won’t you?” She set Julia down but kept hold of her hand, calling for Ruth as she hurried to Juan’s room. She knew a forest fire could spread over acres in minutes, jumping from treetop to treetop. Outside the lightning continued to rip through the sky, casting quick, bright, eerie light inside the house that made everything more confusing.

  Ruth ran out into the hallway. “Mama! What is it?”

  “Forest fire! We have to gather the children in the front garden. Your father went to get Valioso. Help me wake the rest of the children. We must all stay together! I’ll get Juan. Go and get Dominic!”

  Glenn came running down the hall. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He went to get Valioso. You and Ruth get Dominic and meet me and your father in the front garden.” Santana hurried into Juan’s room, keeping a tight hold of Julia’s hand. She woke Juan and hurried him into the hallway. Downstairs Anna, Ester, and Louisa were yelling “Fire!” Louisa headed up the stairs to find Santana, who met her halfway. “Go to the front garden!” she ordered.

  Ester began screaming and crying, carrying on that her husband was probably trapped up at the mill. The cook, Anna Martinez, told the woman to calm down for the sake of the children and get to the front garden. The house was glowing now, and a rush of flames suddenly exploded through a back window. Santana clung tightly to Julia and Juan, looking back to see Glenn and Ruth hurrying down the stairs with Dominic. She quickly counted. Five. All five. Will had gone for Valioso. She felt a rush of panic at the realization that she had not seen Will or Valioso since Will had said he would get the boy. Valioso’s room was just on the other side of hers and Will’s, so they would always be close to him.

  “Get to the garden!” she ordered Ruth and Glenn.

  They all ran down the stairs, past an already-burning kitchen. Santana told herself she must not worry about the fact that her beautiful new home was burning. The tile roof had not kept the fire away as Will had hoped. Instead, it had blasted right in through the windows, like an orange monster come to consume them. They all raced to the front of the house, and Santana did not have to hold up her lantern to count heads. The fire was so close, it lit up the sky, and the air was stifling hot. She quickly looked around. Everyone was there, even all the help…everyone but Will and Valioso.

  “Where is your father?” Santana asked as she looked around, her heart pounding. “Will!” she screamed. “Will! Valioso!”

  “I’ll go back and try to find them!” Glenn told her.

  “No! More of the house is burning now. It is too dangerous! Your father would want you to stay with us. He knows the forest and fires. He knows what to do!”

  The tops of trees beyond them suddenly exploded in flames, and embers spilled down everywhere. The children screamed as some of them landed in hair and on clothes, burning them. “Glenn, stay with us!” Santana demanded. “Help me get the children to the pond! We cannot stay here and wait!”

  She picked up Julia. Glenn took hold of Dominic and Juan, and Ruth took Juan’s other hand. “Run! We must run!” Santana shouted, the fire roaring all around them now. Wearing only nightclothes, all of them barefoot, they dashed down the drive, Louisa running behind the children to be sure they stayed together. Santana told herself to concentrate only on matters at hand, but she could not help being frightened for Will and Valioso. Would her husband die trying to save a child who was not even his own? Yet she knew he would risk his life for any child, even if it was the son of a man who worked for him. That was his nature.

  And Valioso! He was so sweet, so innocent, and it was only because of him that she had been able to bear those black years after Hugo’s rape. She could see his ever-present smile, feel his little arms around her neck. She could not imagine now that any parent would put such a child in a horrid hospital for the insane, to rot away unloved. She had never regretted for one day keeping the son she’d been so sure she would hate.

  Her lungs ached from running while breathing the furnace-hot air, and she could feel fire on her heels as she raced for the pond nearly a half-mile below the hill. It had never seemed so far away. She ignored the stones and sticks that cut into the bottoms of her feet. There was no time to worry about her or anyone else’s injuries, for a much worse injury would be deadly burns if they did not reach the water.

  The forest all around them now was a raging inferno, the fire creating its own rush of wind that made it spread even faster. Finally they made it to the pond, and Santana ordered everyone to get into the water and wet themselves down. “Glenn! Ruth! Make sure the younger ones do not go out where it is too deep!”

  They all huddled in the water, the children crying and whimpering, Ester sobbing that her husband was up at the mill, which had also surely burned. Santana dunked herself and little Julia, who screamed in protest, but it was the only way to protect themselves from falling embers. She held the little girl close as she looked up the hill. Both their first home and their brand-new home were engulfed in flames. To the right she could see Gerald’s home also burning. It was then she saw others heading for the pond. “Bernice!” she called out to Noel Gray’s wife. “Here! The pond!”

  Bernice Gray, panting and crying, reached the water with her thirteen-year-old daughter, Mary, and eleven-year-old son, Johnny. The Grays’ two oldest sons, Tommy and Mark, worked at the mill with their father. Santana wondered about James, prayed he was all right. She would not want to have to write Agatha and tell her her son was dead. Or that Will and Valioso…

  No! It could not be! But where were they? Her chest ached so, she thought her heart might stop beating.

  “Oh, thank God we made it!” Bernice said. The heavyset woman plunged into the water, clinging to Mary and Johnny. “Oh, Santana, the mill! My husband and sons!”

  Santana waded over to the woman, keeping an arm tightly around Julia as she reached out to touch Bernice’s shoulder. “We can only pray for them.”

  Bernice sniffed back tears. “Are you all right? Are all the children here?”

  Santa
na looked toward the house again, feeling sick at the sight of her home in flames. She prayed the fire would not spread to the ranch below and burn out Hernando and his family. “All but Will and Valioso,” she answered. “Will went to get him, and I have not seen them since.” She struggled against an urge to scream and scream, just as loudly and for as long as she could. Where were they? Where were her husband and son?

  Finally she saw the figure of a man walking toward them. The bright orange light behind him made it impossible to see his face, but Santana recognized her husband’s shape, the broad shoulders and slender hips. She handed Julia to Glenn and told him to stay put, then waded out of the pond. “Will!” she called. “Hurry!”

  Why was he going so slowly? He could be burned! She ran to him, grabbing his arm, and in the glow of the fires she could see his eyes. She felt as though her blood had left her, and she thought she might faint. His eyes! Such tragedy there! His face and clothes were black from smoke, and there were burns all over his bare arms and shoulders. Tears began to stream down his face, making salty pathways through the soot.

  “I couldn’t find him,” he said. “He must have run away, confused by the shouting and the flames. He wasn’t…in his room. I searched and searched until the fire…forced me out. I couldn’t find him, Santana. I couldn’t find Valioso.”

  They stood staring at each other, suddenly oblivious to the roar of flames all around them. Santana looked up at the house to see the roof beginning to cave in.

  Valioso! Everything went black then. She felt herself falling, felt Will catch her. He picked her up in his arms, and as he carried her back to the pond, she could feel him shaking with grief.