by Anna Burke
March ended and April surprised me by arriving so quickly. I tried not to become sad and tearful at the thought of Guillermo leaving me. Finally, one night in late April, it was time to say goodbye. I thought my heart would break with him so far away. Mexicali then, Chihuahua and, finally, Los Angeles—why did Guillermo have to be such a traveling man?
Then, I thought of the women in my village whose husbands and sons went off to the sea, day after day, or for days at a time. It might as well be Mexicali or Chihuahua or Los Angeles. What if the sea claimed them, as it did on occasion? If my Guillermo had decided to become a fisherman, there was always the chance that he might not return to me ever again. There were dangers on that ranch of his, too. I thought how sorrowful my mother would be if something happened to my father. Even if their marriage lasted another fifty years she would not be happy to give him up, to the sea, or to old age. So I cherished every moment we spent together.
We walked along the beach that last night, a walk we had taken so many times before. Our footsteps were always gone when we returned, but the sea still knew us. I could feel it in every breath of sea air. Even when there were no traces of our comings and goings, we mattered, and our love mattered most.
The Sea of Cortez is a special place, in so many ways. That last night Guillermo pointed out its magic once again. As we walked, barefoot, at the edges of the sea, I was distraught about our parting. So distraught that I did not see our footsteps lit up behind us, briefly, as we walked. This was something we had come to take for granted in San Felipe. The waters in the Sea of Cortez sometimes carried small creatures invisible to the eye. They made their presence known by lighting up the water puddled in our footprints.
“They call it bioluminescence,” my Guillermo said in prayerful tone. “It’s still magic that the sea lights up for us, tonight.” Then, he bent and drew a heart at the edge of the sea. Inside it he wrote our names—Bernadette y Guillermo. Wherever he wrote in the sand, it lit up. That heart and our names glittered!
“It is written in the sand now, as in the stars, Bernadette. Hasta luego is not goodbye,” he said that April night as we clung to each other. And then he was gone. The house, the courtyard, the town and even the sea all seemed quieter after he left. His absence would have been even more noticeable, perhaps unbearable, except that we were all still preparing for that trip to meet his parents. Chihuahua waited and I would see my Guillermo again, soon. “Hasta luego is not goodbye,” I whispered to myself many times.
10 El Pinto and the three witch birds
The trip to visit Guillermo’s family was a long one. We traveled through Mexicali then, east before turning south again. For nearly two days we drove, stopping for a few hours to sleep that first night. Not at a hotel, but along the road, sleeping in our truck. I rode with my father and mother in the cab of that beat up old truck, hoping and praying the entire trip that it would not stop. Especially when I got my first view of mountains that we had to cross on our way east. The truck groaned and grumbled, but did not give up. My father and brothers had placed wooden rails around the bed of the truck. They provided better shelter to my brothers and sisters who rode in the back crammed in among boxes that held our treasures for that trip.
Carlos and Juanita drove with us and had loaded more of our baggage into the bed of their truck where Tomàs and Rosa rode. Both Carlos and Juanita had apologized, several times, for the savage words Juanita had spoken on Christmas Eve. Carlos apologized more often than Juanita, who offered more profuse apologies, apparently, to Guillermo than to me. I tried to forgive her since my anger did not make me, or her, a better person. I also tried to accept, even though I did not understand it, that some people are just not right in the head, whether by choice, a sickness of the mind or the bottle. I prayed the rosary along the way, using the beautiful rosary Guillermo had given me. I prayed not meet others like Juanita in Guillermo’s circle of family and friends.
For most of the trip, my brother Paolo sat in the cab of the truck with Carlos and Juanita. Both he and Tomàs had obtained licenses to drive so they could help. Each took turns driving, giving Father and Carlos time to rest.
On the second day we finally arrived at the town nearest to Guillermo’s family’s ranch. The ranch was still miles away, but we would be leaving paved roads behind as we traveled beyond that town. Without road markings to guide us at that point, we had decided that Guillermo, or another of his family members would meet us. I hoped it would be Guillermo.
My father and Carlos parked our trucks in front of a cantina in a town not much bigger than San Felipe. The shops were more modern, as was the gas station where we had already stopped to fill the tanks of the trucks. The instant we stepped out of the trucks, people came to greet us from inside the cantina. In no time at all, the sidewalk in front of the restaurant was crowded with our family members and well-wishers from the town.
“Welcome, welcome,” they called to us. The owner of the cantina stepped forward to introduce himself.
“Please come inside. You have ridden a long way and must be tired. Let us fix you something to eat and drink before you get back on the road.” From the back of that crowd, a young man pushed his way through. My heart jumped—a little taller and thinner than Guillermo, and sporting a mustache, it was clear that this was a family member.
“Let me welcome you on behalf of my family. I am Roberto, Guillermo’s brother. Guillermo is seeing to a few last minute arrangements, and has gone down the street, to a place where he can call long distance. He has been keeping an eye out for you, so I am sure he will spot the crowd and come running.” When he said those last few words he smiled directly at me. “You must be the lovely Bernadette,” he said. “Allow me, please, to escort you inside in my brother’s absence.”
I took his arm that he offered and turned to follow the crowd of people heading into the cantina. As I did so, I heard a voice, calling my name. It was Guillermo, running toward me from half a block away, as if straight from a dream. I could not stop myself and took off to meet him. In seconds we were in each other’s arms and the crowd behind us clapped and hollered, loudly, with great emotion. Almost as much emotion as I felt. Mostly what I felt was love, but I also worried that I had only been in his town for a few minutes and had already created a scene.
“I’m sorry, Guillermo. I should have waited for you to catch up with us rather than run like a, like...”
“El Pinto?” He asked with a broad grin on his face, before embracing me again. “Let’s go get refreshments so we can go home where there will be more refreshments. We may all need to run a little, now and then, to work up an appetite. Food is very important in this family.”
“Well, our families have that in common. Your brother seems almost as charming as you, Guillermo.”
“Then, I’m glad, even though he is younger than me, that he is already married.”
“Guillermo, I said almost as charming. And not nearly as handsome,” I added in a whisper as we caught up with the crowd waiting for us. Guillermo squeezed my hand where I had gripped his arm. My heart sang and my toes tingled—not ready to run, but to dance.
Once we had been seated and served cold drinks—sodas for most of us, but beer for others, a round of introductions began. The crowd continued to grow as we sat in the cantina eating and drinking. An endless stream of snacks, tapas as they are called today, began to appear. And disappear as my family and others in the jostling crowd ate them. Even though no formal announcement had yet been made about our engagement, it might has well have been so. Congratulations came to us, over and over, along with the parade of people and introductions. Roberto looked amused, perhaps because he had already gone through the same thing.
There were also remarks that made me think that there was plenty of gossip about Guillermo and his family. Juanita was pleasant enough, but mostly quiet as she drank her beer and picked at the food set in front of us. The banter went on for some time. They quipped about Guillermo’s wanderlust and his seeming unw
illingness to give up his freedom as a bachelor, unlike his younger brother, until now.
“So you are finally going to settle down, Guillermo.” One man in the crowd said, causing a round of laughter. Even more laughter erupted when another spoke.
“Yes, it seems Guillermo is the one who has been caught in the net, after his adventure at sea,” an older man said smiling. Guillermo laughed, then, spoke.
“I have been caught, true, but with this woman in my life, I doubt I am ever going to settle down. As you have already seen, she has a spirit that gives her the speed and grace of a fine racing filly. I was only glad she was running toward me and not away.” That set off more laughter, and a round of whooping and clapping, as I blushed. A fine racing filly was better than El Pinto, but his words made me realize how often I bolted when under pressure. Guillermo spoke again, quietly. “More than once she has left me breathless.” Murmurs replaced the laughter, along with a few sighs. I don’t know how I found the words to speak, but I did.
“I am the one left breathless, Guillermo, by your courage, your kindness and your adventurous nature. I only hope I can keep up with you as you charge ahead toward your dreams.” There were more sighs and ‘ahs’ from the crowd. I saw Roberto’s head tilt a little, as though he wondered what I meant by those words. Then someone in the crowd suggested a toast.
“To love!” Glasses were raised. The buzz of the crowd resumed. Guillermo squeezed my hand and gave me a little wink as we joined in that toast.
By the time we finally arrived at Guillermo’s house, I was exhausted. It was growing dark as we wound our way on dirt roads, through wooded areas, up and down and around the foothills that led down into the valley where he lived. I rode between Guillermo and his brother Roberto in a truck of their own. Both men talked steadily, describing where we were, and pointing out landmarks as we passed them. We were unable to travel very fast on those dirt roads, so my family had no trouble keeping up as Guillermo drove toward home.
When we came up over the last rise in the road, I could see into the valley below. The land glowed green and gold in the setting sun. Cattle were scattered about in the distant, some grazing, but most sat huddled together, on the ground in clumps. Maybe a half mile down the road ahead, was the sprawling hacienda where Guillermo’s family lived. The lights were already on in the house, shining from more windows than I could count. A fire pit blazed and torches lit up a large courtyard set with a long table. I breathed a sigh of relief as we grew close enough for me to see that the table and seating were as rough as any we had at home in my village.
“Oh my, Guillermo, Roberto, this is as beautiful as the Sea of Cortez at sunset. A sea of grass and rolling waves of land,” I said. Guillermo smiled broadly.
“You have captured it exactly, Bernadette. Did I not tell you she is well-spoken, Roberto?”
“Yes, and as you have also said, not afraid to say what’s on her mind,” I looked sideways at him, trying to figure out what exactly Roberto meant by that. I was finding this brother much harder to read than my Guillermo. He glanced over at me, then, at Guillermo, who must have caught his eye, because they both burst out laughing.
“Graciella is going to love her, yes?” Guillermo asked.
“Yes, Guillermo, you are right about that. You see, Bernadette, I have married a small El Pinto of my own.” With that my mouth flew open. Roberto and Guillermo both hooted with laughter as I looked from one to the other, finally closing my mouth. I felt my blood stirring, but then I was overcome by a burst of gratitude. It was a great relief that I might not be the only one to stamp my feet or take off like a race horse at some point over the next couple weeks.
“Well at least you have not married a woman who needs to wear a muzzle,” I murmured almost to myself. That drew another round of hooting from both men.
“No, my Graciella is nothing like that witch Juanita,” Roberto said, as my mouth popped open again. Had Guillermo shared everything that had happened in San Felipe with this brother of his?
We had slowly descended that last steep hill into Guillermo’s valley when suddenly, out of nowhere, we were accosted by a group of young people on horseback. Guillermo slowed even more as they darted about on either side of the road. A shiny coated chestnut-colored horse, ridden by a boy a couple years younger than me, came up alongside our truck, now that we were creeping along.
“Guillermo, Guillermo, is that her sitting beside you? Is that Bernadette?”
“Yes, Javier, this is Bernadette. Her family is behind us, so be careful not to trample anyone, okay?”
“Aw, I wouldn’t do that. Margarita and Miguel might, though. I’ll go tell them you said to be careful, Guillermo.” With that he was gone, dashing to catch up with the even smaller riders on horseback, who were already closer to home. I could hear him shouting as he urged his horse forward. The three of them took off, crossing the road ahead of us. They went through a tall archway that led into a long driveway. The driveway curved around a cluster of trees, and back toward the road. To the right of the long driveway ran a huge courtyard with the house set back behind that. As we passed under that entrance I caught sight of letters carved into the wood overhead.
“That is the name of our ranch, Bernadette, the large letters the brand on our cattle,” Guillermo said as he pulled up and stopped the truck. My father pulled up behind us and Carlos behind him. We all stepped out of our trucks and fell into the waiting arms of Guillermo’s family.
Women of all sizes and ages, in a rustle of skirts and shawls, rushed toward us, embracing us one by one. I tried to catch names, wondering for a moment if the whole town had, somehow, beat us to this house. I saw a couple of the women greet Juanita. I tried to pay special attention hoping to learn who they might be. Juanita’s sister and sister-in-law, as it turned out. I didn’t yet know what that meant about how they were related to Guillermo’s family or whether they might have helped Juanita utter such hurtful words about me and my family.
The youngsters who had been on horseback had tied their horses to the rails of a fence that ran along the roadway in front of the ranch. They had moved immediately to speak to my brothers and sisters closest to their own ages. Guillermo’s married sister, who had returned home, held her young daughter in her arms as she introduced herself to me and other members of my family.
Several men stepped into the courtyard from the house. The oldest among them was Guillermo’s father, as I soon learned. A man of some stature, with hair that had begun to gray, he was older than my own father by maybe ten years. They set about introducing him, first, to my father and my mother, then, to the rest of my family and, finally, to me. Beside Agustìn stood his wife, Isabella, nearly as tall as her husband. The two greeted me very formally at first. I clutched at my skirt, hoping to make sure my palms were not sweaty if they reached for my hand.
“Welcome to our home, Bernadette. We are grateful that you have made such a long trip. We are glad to meet the young woman who has talked Guillermo into becoming a married man.” Those few words sent my thoughts whirling. By ‘young woman’ did he mean too young? On the other hand, he spoke of Guillermo as a married man almost as though the decision had already been made that we were to be wed. Then again, did married man mean that they thought he was going to “settle down” as people who spoke at the cantina suggested? My mind raced, time stopped, I held my breath.
I saw the flicker of firelight on the faces of Juanita and the two women standing on either side of her. La Lechusa, I thought, the legendary witch bird, standing there; a trio of them in fact. I took a half step, sideways, toward the fire. My vision shifted as I blocked the fire with my body. The three women faded into the shadows of the night. I stood as tall as I could and saw my own shadow lengthen, towering over Guillermo’s parents. In a firm voice, I spoke.
“I am the one who is grateful to have been invited to this grand home of yours. I have looked forward to meeting you, too, hoping to learn the secrets of how a man such as Guillermo was brought in
to the world. Now it is already clear to me where Guillermo gets his grace and bearing, as well as his generous and welcoming nature.” I had practiced this little speech, or one like it, dozens of times. There would have been more, but in that moment I felt a tug at my skirt. I looked down at a tiny girl staring up brightly at me.
“Bernadette,” she said, “I’m Izzy, for Isabella, like my grandma Isabella, but different so they don’t get us mixed up. Can I ask you something, please?”
“Of course, Izzy.”
“Can you pick me up? It’s a secret.” I swept the little girl up into my arms. She was light as a feather. The same child who had been riding on the hip of Guillermo’s sister a few minutes before. When I held her in my arms she leaned in and whispered.
“I’m not supposed to ask you this, but where is your El Pinto?” The night had grown so still, even with thirty or forty people standing around. You could hear the crackle of the wood in the fire pit as it sent up sparks. The last word of that sentence was spoken loud enough for all to hear. Yes, I thought, there is plenty of gossip in this family. Instead of making me angry it caused me to laugh with delight.
“I will show you, but it will no longer be a secret. Is that okay?” She shook her head up and down, emphatically. “Okay, I’m going to set you down. Then, you must do exactly as I do so you will have an El Pinto of your very own whenever you need one.” She bobbed her head again as I set her on the ground.
