by Pati Nagle
His cousin, Nathrin, apparently disapproved of me. Madera seemed to want to keep us apart too, or maybe he was just being a proper host, officially giving me my own room but willing, in the spirit of Miss Manners, to ignore nocturnal comings and goings in the hall.
There would be some of that, if I had anything to say about it. I’d have to find Caeran, though, and I should probably wait a bit. He might be talking with his friends.
I collapsed backward onto the bed with a sigh. This whole day had been weird. Too many mysteries, and I was too tired to puzzle them out. Instead I indulged in reliving Caeran’s kisses.
I woke up cold, with my bladder insisting on relief. Sat up stiffly and looked around. My room had one door besides the front one, obviously a closet. I dug in my pack for the toothbrush I’d bought, then went out into the hall.
Had we passed a bathroom on the way to my room? I retraced my steps, looking at each door. One stood open to a dark room smaller than my own. I reached in and fumbled for a light switch, then noticed a glint of metal—the weight at the end of an old-fashioned string pull hanging from a ceiling light.
I pulled it, lighting up the welcome sights of a bathroom. Bingo.
A few minutes later, much more comfortable, I returned to my room and dug in my pack for my cell phone to check the time. It was almost eleven, and there was no signal so I turned the phone off so it wouldn’t run the battery down trying to roam. I’d forgotten to bring the charger, of course.
I poked around in the pack some more and turned up a couple of condoms I’d picked up at the Student Health Center at the beginning of the semester. Stuffed one in the back pocket of my jeans, and decided to go in search of a glass of water and whatever else I might find.
The living room was dark, though by the time I got there my eyes had adjusted well enough that the faint starlight coming through the windows was enough to keep me from tripping. I went through to the entryway and on to the kitchen, also starlit through windows. Señor Madera didn’t seem to believe in curtains, though to be fair there wasn’t much need for them out here in the middle of nowhere.
The dish drain was empty. I got out a glass and filled it with water, then walked over to the table where I’d sat with Caeran.
I missed him. It was like an ache, and I knew that probably wasn’t healthy, but it was how I felt. Short of going down the hall knocking on doors, though, I didn’t know how to find him.
Had he really read my mind?
I shivered, not just from the chill of the night or the cold water I’d drunk. Things Caeran wasn’t telling me—things they were all hiding from me—made me worry. It wasn’t my imagination; I was sure of that. Too many weird things had happened. Who were these people, anyway?
I sat down and took a long swig of water. I could walk away. Couldn’t I?
No. I didn’t want to. I closed my eyes.
Caeran. I want you.
I listened, and only then noticed how silent the kitchen was. A tiny hum from the refrigerator, that was it.
Caeran, come and find me. Please.
I felt foolish. Spent a few minutes slowly drinking the rest of my water and realizing Caeran wasn’t going to rush to my side.
Finally I got up and refilled my glass. Before going back to my room, I decided to see what else was in this wing of the hacienda. I went to the far end of the kitchen and opened the door on the west wall.
A hallway, its courtyard side a wall of windows, just like the other wing. This looked more utilitarian, though. Fewer ornaments. An open doorway proved to be a laundry room. Other rooms had closed doors. No lights showing anywhere.
I opened the first door and peeked in. A pantry. Lots of pottery jars and baskets. Not a single tin can—it looked like a museum display. Apparently Madera was one of those back-to-nature, do-it-all-yourself dudes, although the electricity had to come from somewhere.
I wandered on down the hall until I reached a door in the glass wall. I opened it, figuring it would be shorter to cross the courtyard to my room than to go back around through the kitchen and living room. It was bitter cold outside and I instantly wished for Caeran’s cape, which I’d left in my room.
The courtyard was beautiful, with vines climbing up the pillars between the windows, beds of greenery, and flagstone pathways. Patio furniture sat in the shadows beneath bare-branched trees that would be deliciously shady in summer.
A fountain stood in the courtyard’s center—a classic round, three-tiered number, ornamented with Mexican tile—very traditional. The water was flowing, though the temperature had to be below freezing. Maybe Señor Madera had a heater in the fountain. Or maybe it was magic.
I shook my head. Getting too punchy. Sleep would restore my perspective.
I started across the courtyard toward my room, but the door on that side opened before I got to it. For an instant my heart leapt at the thought that Caeran had come to me after all, but it wasn’t Caeran. It was Mirali.
She looked pale and drawn, though that could be from the starlight. She leaned out, clinging to the open door with one hand. She wore the clothes she’d had on all day: cotton pants and a woven jacket. Not warm enough for this time of night, up here at seven-thousand-whatever feet.
She frowned at me and said something that sounded like Martian. I had no clue at all what any of it meant.
“Honey, you should get back inside,” I said. “It’s too cold out here.”
She talked more gobbledegook. I shifted from foot to foot, starting to shiver.
“Let’s go in, OK? I bet Señor Madera wouldn’t like it if he found you out here.”
I started toward her, intending to gently guide her indoors. When I got close she shouted something and flung her arm out toward me.
The world went white, and I felt like I’d been slammed by a flying door.
= 4 =
I heard a crash, tinkle. My water glass, I realized as I stumbled backward, blinded. I bumped against a patio table, heard it scrape on the flagstone.
Someone was shouting—a man’s voice. I was too busy trying not to fall down to pay attention. Realized I was going to lose the battle, and opted for sitting rather than collapsing. My knees were rubber. I made it to the ground, ungracefully but without major damage.
More shouting, more voices. I wondered vaguely what they were saying. Stars were flying around in front of my eyes. Meteors, I thought, and giggled.
The next instant, warm hands grasped my shoulders and a voice—familiar, comforting—spoke to me. I struggled to pay attention.
“—at me. Look at me, Len.”
I managed to focus on Caeran’s eyes. The meteors faded away.
His beautiful face was contorted with worry. “Can you stand up?”
Wanting to reassure him, I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a croak. He hauled me to my feet and let me lean on him.
“Come inside,” he said, coaxing.
Great idea. I was all for it, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Caeran tried to help me walk, but after a couple of wobbly steps he scooped me up in his arms and carried me inside.
Madera closed the courtyard door after us, looking grim. Mirali was nowhere in sight. Nathrin must have taken care of her.
Caeran carried me to my room and gently put me on the bed. He sat next to me, smoothing my hair back from my face.
“I am so sorry, Len. So sorry.”
“No,” I croaked. I really could have used that glass of water.
He leaned closer, speaking softly. “She did not mean to hurt you.”
I heard another voice, Madera’s. Couldn’t tell what he was saying. Might have been that foreign language. Caeran looked at him, then back at me. He squeezed my shoulder, stood up and walked away. Madera took his place.
The healer laid a hand on my brow and another on my breastbone, very impersonal, though gentle. His hands were incredibly warm—so warm I felt drowsy. Pleasant enough, but I wanted Caeran. I fought to stay awake, but the warmth and the shock I’d take
n were too much. I slid under the rising blanket of darkness.
The next time I woke, it was morning. Sunlight slanted in past the partly-open door. I saw cotton-clad legs, someone sitting in a chair by the bed. Looked up hoping for Caeran, and was disappointed to find Madera’s blue eyes watching me.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Dunno.”
My throat was parched. I sat up carefully. My head swam a little but settled down after a second. I looked at the nightstand and saw, to my delight, a full glass of water. I gulped it down and gave a sigh of relief.
“Yes, better. Thank you.”
He smiled. “You are welcome. There is bread and fruit in the kitchen if you are hungry.”
“Sounds good.” I eased my feet to the floor and bent down to put on my shoes, which someone must have removed for me. “Don’t suppose you have any coffee?”
“No, but I could make tea.”
“Tea’s good.”
I needed some caffeine. The format didn’t matter so much.
Madera led the way through the courtyard to the kitchen, pausing to hold the door open for me. Sunshine lit up the flagstones and glinted from the fountain. A rosebush I hadn’t noticed had two cream-colored blooms on it, even this far north and this late in the fall. There was no sign of broken glass or disarranged furniture.
I followed Madera across to the kitchen, which was warm and smelled like fresh baking. My stomach instantly demanded to sample the product. While Madera filled a kettle, I hacked a slice from a still-warm loaf that was sitting on the table, smeared butter on it, and gobbled it down. It tasted fantastic. I cut another slice, trying a dab of some jam on it this time. Apricot. Heavenly.
Madera must not have spent the whole night watching me. Not if he’d baked bread.
Hah. My brilliant powers of deduction were still in order.
Of course, someone else could have baked the bread.
I glanced at the sink, where Madera was washing some pears. Two small plates in the dish drain. Madera’s and Caeran’s? Nathrin’s and Mirali’s?
What had happened last night, anyway? Being the one that got knocked on my ass, I felt like I had a right to know, but instinct kept me from asking Madera. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be forthcoming.
If anyone would explain, it would be Caeran. I looked out the window at the fountain, wishing he’d show up.
“Mirali will need to stay here for a few days.”
I glanced at Madera but he had his back to me, standing at the counter slicing the pears. I picked up the bread knife and started on thirds.
“It was very kind of you to bring her and her friends all this way,” he continued. “She asked me to tell you she is grateful.”
“That so?”
Could have fooled me. She’d looked angry, last night.
“She—was quite ill. Is still quite ill. She knows she is fortunate to have had your help.”
Madera brought a plate of sliced pears to the table and sat across from me. I bit into a piece of pear and its sweet, juicy softness exploded in my awareness. Either my taste buds were hyperenthusiastic this morning, or I was hungrier than I’d thought.
“These are wonderful!” I helped myself to more.
Madera smiled slightly. “I will send some home with you.”
I looked at him. Had that been a not-so-subtle hint? I chose to ignore it.
“Did you grow them?”
He nodded. “I have orchards to the west. Pears, apples, apricots—”
“So you made the jam, too?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. And nobody’s married you?”
He looked disconcerted. I picked up the last slice of pear and ate it, watching him. He returned my gaze thoughtfully. I had a feeling I was being studied.
The kettle started to whistle. Madera got up, breaking the stare-off. While he fixed my tea I had ample time to kick myself for the marriage comment. What if he was a widower?
“Your furniture’s really beautiful,” I said, trying to make up for it. “Was it all made by the same craftsman?”
“Yes.”
“Same person who did the owl at your gate, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, whoever made it’s really good. They could sell this stuff in Santa Fe for big bucks.”
He put the lid on the teapot and turned to face me, leaning against the counter. A small, wry smile slid onto his face.
“Thank you.”
I paused in the act of picking up bread crumbs with a fingertip. “You made the furniture?”
He dropped his gaze. “I have a lot of free time.”
“I thought you were a curandero.”
“Yes, but this community is small.”
How could he afford this big place, then? I didn’t voice the question. Maybe I’d guessed right, and he was selling his furniture in Santa Fe. Bottom line, it was none of my business. I didn’t want to cross from chattiness into nosiness.
I looked out the window. “Your fountain is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t tell me you made that, too.”
He laughed. “No. I did the tile.”
“It’s lovely. Reminds me of Mexico.”
“You have been to Mexico?”
“When I was little. I remember lots of flowers and fountains. Have you been?”
He hesitated, reminding me suddenly of Caeran. “A long time ago. Your tea should be ready.”
He turned away to get out a cup for me, a slim, pottery piece with a gorgeous glaze in shades of green, and no handle. He set it before me along with a cream pitcher and honey jar, then poured tea from the pot.
All the pottery matched. Had he made it?
I decided not to ask. It was getting too weird.
I picked up the cup and blew on the hot tea, then took a sip, burning my tongue. To give it time to cool down, I added some honey and stirred it with the spoon Madera had provided, which looked like real silver.
“I will fetch you some pears.”
He left, rather hastily I thought, through the west door. I turned over the spoon and peered at the back of the handle. Old maker’s marks. They looked hand-incised, not stamped.
Old money? That might explain some things. I still felt like I didn’t have the whole picture.
And he was fetching me pears, so it definitely had been a hint. He wanted me to leave.
OK, well I knew better than to outstay my welcome, but I was going to see Caeran before I went. That was all there was to it.
I realized I was frowning, clenching the spoon handle. I put it down and tried the tea again. It was the perfect temperature, and tasted better than any tea I remembered. The honey had added a fragrance of flowers.
Everything about these people seemed hyper-wonderful. It wasn’t just my imagination.
I drank the tea and poured more. Stared out the window at the fountain, trying to decide what to say to Caeran.
Ask for an explanation of the whammy Mirali had laid on me. Ask if he had really read my mind.
Ask when I’d see him again.
I swallowed, thinking I probably wouldn’t like the answer to that last one. But I’d ask it anyway. If he was going to push me away, I wanted to know why. The disapproval of his friends wasn’t a good enough reason.
I finished my second cup of tea and poured a third, thinking that might bring me up to a cup of coffee’s worth of caffeine. It sure was taking Madera a long time to fetch those pears.
The door to the entryway opened and Caeran stepped in. He was carrying his pack, and smiled when he saw me, lighting up the room like the rising sun.
“Good morning. You look much better.”
“I feel better, thanks.” A lot better, as of that moment.
“Are you feeling well enough to drive back to Albuquerque?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Nathrin is staying with Mirali, so I will be your only passenger.”
Be still my hear
t. I smiled and nodded, hoping my delight wasn’t too obvious.
“Want some tea? Bread?”
“No, thank you. I ate earlier.”
He sat across from me and set his pack on the floor. I watched him, mesmerized. He gazed back at me and I was absolutely certain of the affection in his eyes.
“Caeran—”
He shook his head and put a finger to his lips, glancing toward the west door. A moment later Madera came through it, carrying a small, intricately woven basket filled with pears. He glanced at Caeran, then set the pears on the table beside me.
“For you.”
“Thank you! Do you have a grocery bag I can put them in?”
“The basket is for you also. A gift of thanks.”
I looked up at him. “Seems like I’m the one who owes you thanks, for your hospitality, and for helping me last night—”
“You owe me nothing.” He picked up my empty plate and turned away.
Caeran spoke softly. “We are all grateful to you for bringing Mirali here.”
His eyes got the intense look I was getting used to, and I had a feeling he didn’t want me to say anything more. I finished my tea and put down the cup.
“I guess I’d better get my things.”
Caeran nodded. When I stood up he rose also, and followed me to my room, carrying the pears. Nice to have him staying close for a change, but I wished we could talk.
It only took me a minute to collect my miscellany into my pack. I slung it over my shoulder and turned to the door, where Caeran waited. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him, but they could wait. We’d have the whole drive back to Albuquerque.
We walked along the hall to the living room. Mirali was behind one of the doors we passed, I was pretty sure. Looked like she and Nathrin weren’t going to see us off. No big surprise.
Madera was waiting in the entryway. With the sun still in the east, the room was shaded and a bit chilly. I summoned a smile and offered to shake hands.
“It was nice meeting you. Thanks for putting me up, and for—well, for everything.”
“You are welcome.”
He nodded, but didn’t shake my hand. I stuffed it in my back pocket, felt the condom still riding there, and blushed. To hide my reaction I started for the front door.
