Ruy must have spent hours writing those romantic and passionate words.
Carmela had come to La Gaviota early to bake churros for breakfast. She’d stepped out of the kitchen when Luna came downstairs. ‘Just look at all these flowers! Ruy está loco por ti, Ruy is crazy about you,’ she’d told her. ‘Legions of women have run after him, even when he was sixteen. Doña Luz, his mother, used to confiscate his mobile phone because it never stopped ringing! But he’s never given his heart to anyone until you came along, señorita.’
She paused and there was a wicked twinkle in her eyes.
‘You know, Doña Vaina moved heaven and earth to make him love her. Dios mio, that woman was a piece of work! But he kept his heart untouched para la mujer de su vida, for the woman of his life. Now he has given his heart to you.’
She smiled warmly at Luna, who was both touched and amused by the Spanish woman’s gushing approbation. ‘Usted es su primer amor, you are his first love. I know you’ll be so happy together.’
There was no doubt that Carmela doted on Ruy, whom she’d helped look after from birth. She had witnessed the days of depression that followed his accident and it was understandable that his family’s housekeeper should feel protective towards him. Luna was aware of the secret message in her dark eyes that read: Take good care of this man. No one will ever love you the way he does.
She went up to the señora and put her arms around her. ‘Ruy is my first love too, Carmela, and I know that I could never live without him. I remember once reading a quote that said: “Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our heart, and we are never the same.” That’s exactly what has happened to me. You need not worry, señora. Without Ruy, life wouldn’t be worth living.’
Carmela sighed with pleasure and patted Luna’s cheek affectionately. ‘I knew you were special when I first saw you on the beach. You two are good together; I have seen the way you look at each other. Maybe God has done this to end the feud that has been tearing apart your two families for generations,’ she mused. ‘Go upstairs now, and I will bring you a real Spanish breakfast, like the one I used to make for Doctor Ruy and for Doña Luz when she was a young girl. You must relax. It will be a long day; the festivities don’t start until the evening.’ She gave a mischievous smile. ‘El Medico has a surprise in store for you.’
‘A surprise?’
‘Sí, sí, señorita. It’s a big one but you’d better go now in case my tongue runs away with me. Ay, may the saints sew my lips together for my prattling! I’ve said too much already … He’ll be very cross if I let the cat out of the bag.’
As Luna was not allowed to see Ruy before the evening, she decided to sit in the shade on her bedroom terrace and have a quiet morning. She was trying to take in everything that had happened to her since her arrival in Spain; it was incredible to think it was still not that long ago.
She smiled inwardly. Now that she came to think of it, Ruy had never really asked her to marry him. In his usual way, he had been very autocratic, just stating they would be married, almost as if he was not giving her a choice. Coming from anyone else, she would have been offended at such a proposal, but not with Ruy. It was so like him, this spontaneity: an almost childlike innocence that made him believe in the magic of the moon and the stars and the One Thousand and One Nights fairy tales, in legends and in fate; and that, of course, included happy endings. For him it was a foregone conclusion that they were meant to be together, not out of arrogance but because he knew that now she believed it too.
So was she apprehensive about the wedding itself? She had never really given it much thought. Well, perhaps a little. Everything had happened so quickly. There was one thing about which she was sure, though: she didn’t ever want to relive the despair she had felt when she thought she’d lost him.
Ruy was exciting, intelligent and fascinating. In just a few weeks he had introduced her to so many novel things; most of all he had introduced her to her true self, a self that had lain dormant and that she might never have discovered had she not met him. In fact, she liked this new Luna, a woman freed of inhibition, who felt feminine and good about herself because she knew she was loved and wanted by a man like Ruy, a man she admired and respected more than any other in the world.
Watching the waves surge up the sandy beach below and the white foam recede with a gentle hiss, Luna’s heart swelled with joy. Love! Passion! She had never imagined what they were like until she had met him, until he swept her off her feet and helped her defeat her fears. He had a zest for living, the like of which she had not encountered in anyone before.
But it was not only Ruy’s flagrant masculinity, his expertise at most things and his knowledge of life that she loved. The man behind the mask had touched her most: the kindness and vulnerability that hid beneath the outer shell of competent doctor and accomplished womanizer. He had stirred feelings inside her that went well beyond admiration, physical attraction and respect. It might sound crazy, after such a short time of knowing each other, but the truth was she could scarcely imagine life without him now.
‘Do you really want to live in Spain?’ her father had asked when she had called to tell him the news. ‘You’ll be away from your family, all your friends … everything you’ve been familiar with the whole of your life. It’s a huge step, one that should not be taken lightly, Luna.’
The answer to that question was also clear. She loved Spain and its smiling, vibrant people who, it seemed to her, contained the essence of the country’s sunshine and light. Not the hard-nosed society types like the Herreras, the polished upper classes found in any part of the world, whom she had never much cared for. No, she was talking about the ordinary folk – the Carmelas, Morenas and Chicos – the passionate, spontaneous, happy-go-lucky men and women who formed the core of this ardent and colourful country. Besides, travelling was so easy nowadays. She could go back to visit friends and family at any time.
No, she had no misgivings; she really wanted this.
* * *
Restless from sitting about, Luna spent the afternoon running on the beach and going for a swim, much to Carmela’s disapproval.
‘You’ll tire yourself out with all this exercise. … Just like Luz was always doing at your age,’ she tutted, shaking her head.
Then, two hours before Luna was due to leave for her gypsy ceremony, she and Carmela, who was about to begin the painstaking task of getting the bride ready, heard the sound of the doorbell. ‘Who could that possibly be?’ wondered Luna aloud. ‘Ruy knows not to come over before the ceremony.’
‘Maybe a delivery of flowers or some such thing,’ said Carmela, leaving Luna at the dressing table and walking down the stairs.
Luna heard the housekeeper’s questioning tone, then the sound of a man’s voice: the deep resonant American drawl she knew so well. In seconds, she had run down the stairs, tying her kimono around her as she went.
‘Dad!’
Montgomery Ward, tall, broad-shouldered and built like a rock, stood in the hallway of La Gaviota and scooped up his daughter as if she weighed no more than a feather, whirling her round as he used to when she was a young child. All at once Luna felt overcome, her heart so full she felt it might burst, and tears of joy flooded her eyes.
‘You came!’ was all she could stammer, her mouth quivering with emotion.
‘I couldn’t let my little girl get married without her old pa there to give her away,’ said her father, a gruffness in his tone betraying the strong feelings he too was experiencing at their reunion. ‘There were times in your childhood, my darling, when my work took me away from you – many, many times, to my eternal shame. Well, here I am … and I wouldn’t have missed this day for anything.’
‘Yes, here you are, and I couldn’t wish for more. I still can’t believe it!’ Luna exclaimed ecstatically, clasping her father’s hands, her eyes shining with happiness.
‘I rang that young man of yours and we decided to keep it a surprise. He likes surprises, I can tell. T
old me there’s another up his sleeve but he didn’t say what it was.’
Carmela, who stood beaming at the door, gave him a look and he put a hand to his lips. ‘There goes my big mouth again! I won’t say another word.’
‘Well, this is just the best. It couldn’t get any better, it really couldn’t!’
Montgomery smiled as he placed a large arm around his daughter. ‘I don’t know what’s in store for us today. A bit of a mystery, this gypsy wedding. I won’t be walking you up the aisle, I presume.’
‘We’ll just have to play it by ear,’ said Luna laughingly. ‘I was a little nervous about the whole thing before but, now I’ve got you, I’m not worrying about a thing!’
‘That’s just the way it should be,’ said Montgomery. ‘Until I hand you over to the arms of your new husband, you’re all mine. I intend to make the most of it, I assure you, and look after you very well indeed.’
* * *
As Luna made her way with her father and Carmela to the gypsy camp, the summer sun was sinking, a ball of fire set in fleecy crimson clouds. It was as if a magician had extended his golden wand over the stunted countryside and now the sky, sea and hills were ablaze at its touch. The landscape was enrobed in flames of cinnamon and vermillion, with shades of pale yellow and pink that melted and mingled together.
The journey was a silent one, each passenger lost in deep thought. Luna’s father held her hand clasped gently in his and, every now and then, Carmela would check a tendril of Luna’s hair with careful fingers or ask Mr Ward to mind his daughter’s dress. By the time the white limousine had reached its destination, darkness had fallen and nothing was left in the vaulted, studded sky but the silver crescent of the young moon and the stars, flashing brightly in attendance.
There was an earthly radiance about the camp, an atmosphere of high revelry. Tonight the gypsy settlement was in festive mood, lit by a thousand torches and braziers and great blazing fires. Tents, wagons and cars were decked with green oak leaves, willow branches and a kaleidoscope of wild flowers from the surrounding hills. Everywhere there was bustle and movement. Large pots and cauldrons bubbling with piria – the aromatic stew of the gypsies – hung over man-made clay stoves, smoke floating up in thin wisps. A suckling pig and other meats were being turned on spits by stout women in cheerfully coloured dresses, who seemed oblivious to the fat that trickled out, spluttering on the red-hot coals beneath.
Ruy, magnificent in a white suit, was waiting for Luna in front of one of the brightly lit caves. As he strolled to their car with long, panther-like strides, she saw that his glossy, jet-black hair was slickly pushed back from his forehead and drawn into a short ponytail. She had never seen him wear a ponytail before and she felt her heart pound suddenly in her breast. It definitely added to his roguish look and enhanced the mystery and sex appeal emanating from him. More than ever his sculpted-bronze face reflected the passion and the pride, the strength and that tinge of gypsy arrogance that characterized everything he did.
He threw open the door of the car and extended his hand to help Luna out. A tint of rose flushed her cheeks when she read the blunt message in the cobalt-blue eyes that studied her elegant, tapered silhouette as it emerged from the car. She looked every bit the Queen of the Night in Grandma Ward’s pure-white wedding gown. It was made of embroidered chiffon over satin and its high, French-lace collar showed off her graceful shoulders and enhanced the slenderness of her swanlike neck. The boned bodice moulded her bust to perfection and ended in a wide V-shaped waistband that added definition to her hourglass figure.
The dynastic dress made Luna feel both stylish and unique; she was acutely aware of the fact that she was wearing a little piece of history and Ruy’s intent gaze told her everything she wanted to know: that tonight he found her ravishing, sexy and unforgettable.
Carmela had done wonderful work with Luna’s hair, which she had twisted and knotted, Spanish fashion, at the nape of the bride’s neck. The veil was secured by a floral ring encircling her head like a crown; entwined on its stem were three orange blossom flowers fashioned out of pearls, each with a diamond at the centre of the five petals and leaves made of tiny emeralds – every bit a jeweller’s work of art. The teardrop diamond earrings that swung from her ears gave the last glamorous touch to the ensemble. Coiffed in such a way, Luna’s Castilian genes shone through. Carmela had cleverly brought out her Spanish characteristics for what was to be, gypsy or otherwise, a uniquely Andalucían ceremony.
‘My beautiful goddess of the night,’ Ruy murmured hoarsely as he lifted her slim hand and touched it to his lips. ‘I am so proud of you.’ He then turned to Montgomery Ward and paid his respects like a true hidalgo with a slight, aristocratic bow. Luna could tell that her father was charmed.
She stood for a moment, taking in the beauty of the scene, arm in arm with the two most important men in her life, one on each side of her. Then two little girls with huge, laughing black eyes appeared from nowhere, dressed in frilly pink dresses. With great care, they picked up Luna’s train. The entourage made its stately way to where two throne-like chairs made of caoba wood had been set up under the plane trees.
Gypsies from all over the camp gathered behind the couple as they walked; Luna caught sight of Ruy’s family in their midst, Alexandra arm in arm with Salvador, Luz holding Andrés’s hand; she saw Charo beaming with happiness next to Miguel, whom Luna had finally met, and whose quiet, steady demeanour seemed a perfect foil for her gregarious friend. On the other side of them, Morena walked with Chico, whose wink to the bride and groom could be seen by everyone because he stood a head taller than anyone else in the entourage. Then there was the sound of cannon and a flock of pure-white doves flew into the air and over their heads.
Luna was exhilarated; intoxicated by the buoyancy of the people around her and the flamboyant personality of the man she loved. It was as if a fever were running through her veins. She was in a dream, an extraordinary, weird but wonderful dream.
As the bridal pair sat on their royal seats, the chief of the gypsies, a tall, surprisingly straight-backed old man with a wispy white beard, whom Luna recognized from the christening, followed by his helper, came forward, bearing a loaf of bread, some salt and a glass of wine. In the sudden silence that fell on the camp, the only thing she could hear was the distant whinny of a horse, carried on the soft sea breeze.
The old man, his swarthy sun-baked face taking on a serious countenance, broke the loaf in two, sprinkling salt on the portions with his knobbly fingers before handing the pieces to Luna and Ruy. ‘The day you tire of this bread and this salt will see the day you tire of each other,’ he said in a cavernous voice that echoed sonorously in the night. ‘Before eating your share, you must exchange it with your partner’s,’ he explained more quietly.
When they had done this, the chief poured some wine into the glass. He offered it first to Luna, asking her to drink just half before passing it to Ruy.
‘This bread and this salt are the symbols of your love, of richness and of prosperity, with which I hope your marriage will be blessed.’ He turned first to the bride. ‘Luna, you now belong, body and soul, to Ruy.’ Then, looking at the bridegroom, he said: ‘Ruy, you belong, body and soul, to Luna.’
It all seemed to happen in the briefest moment and, almost before Luna could register what had happened, the chief was bringing their heads together as a symbol of their union, with the simplest of phrases: ‘You are now married.’
Luna’s and Ruy’s eyes locked, and there was an ocean of meaning in their twin gaze, an eternity of love so freely and willingly bestowed. For a short while it was as if there were no one else present: they were conscious only of each other, alone under the moonlit sky, in silent and mutual exultation.
The chief had a final word of warning for the bride and groom, and his eyes glinted ominously as he delivered it. ‘Unlike gajo marriages, that of the gypsies is sacred and dangerous to break. Infidelity by either man or woman is not tolerated. Any infringement of o
ur laws by either party will be heard before a tribal council.’ Then the old man’s gaze softened and his face – which until then had worn a serious expression – broke into the widest of smiles. ‘Go in peace now and be happy.’
As people gathered around them, Luna turned and smiled at the old man, who clasped her hand in his strong brown fingers. ‘This is a very unusual ceremony,’ he said. ‘Gajos hardly ever marry Calés and only once before have I seen it, with Ruy’s father. Like him, your husband is not a pure gypsy but, as the grandson of the very beautiful and gifted Marujita, he is a valued member of our tribe. She was the queen of it for many years, and this wedding is homage to her, as well as to her son, who still helps us in every way he can. I hope you will be very happy together. We know Ruy well – he is a good man.’
Luna smiled again, demurely. ‘Thank you for this honour. Ruy is more Calés than gajo. I know we will be very happy. He’s wonderful and we love each other very much.’
Just then Morena appeared at her side, her striking sable eyes gleaming with affection. ‘You see, Luna, El Destino caught up with you after all.’ The gitana embraced her warmly and kissed her on the cheek, whispering: ‘The Queen of the Night has emerged from the dark at last and into the light.’
Luna’s smile trembled slightly with emotion. ‘I know, Morena. You were right, of course.’
The end of the ceremony had been greeted with lunatic merriment as the guests wished the married couple luck. Grains of rice were showered over the pair, and the gypsy camp erupted into singing and dancing. Huge plates of food and enormous gourds of wine were passed around. In the light of the flickering fires the riotous celebration, in which all ages took part, had begun. Luna was taken up in a fantastic whirlwind, joining wholeheartedly in this outlandish merriment.
She looked over at her father. Montgomery Ward was standing with the men of Ruy’s family and Salvador was laughing at something he had just said, clapping the powerful-looking American on the back in a genial fashion. Her father’s face seemed entirely smoothed of care, Luna noticed: gone were the habitual frown lines scoring his broad forehead and the vertical creases either side of his generous mouth. She couldn’t remember ever having seen him look so happy.
Legacy Page 47
