by Ruth Wind
He stood, his face closed. "No mistake, Saint Molly. This is best." He blew out the candles, all of them. "For both of us."
* * *
Chapter 15
«^»
Josh couldn't sleep, but it wasn't for the same reasons that had caused his insomnia the past week or so. Confession evidently was as good for the soul as they always said, because stating out loud that he'd been the one who fired a gun into a group of terrified migrant workers had eased his conscience. It still shamed him, but it wasn't festering in the same way tonight.
It also helped, he thought wryly, looking out to the piles of snow in his yard, that the guy hadn't died.
No, what kept him awake tonight was his sister. The funny light-struck expression in her eyes whenever she looked at Alejandro. Over and over, he played one moment: when they'd been at the stove, moving easily around each other as if they'd been married a hundred years. Then Molly had put her hand on his sleeve and lingered there. In that moment, the tall Mexican had looked at Molly as if she'd hung the damned moon. And just for a second, Josh had seen the same thing in his sister's eyes.
Love. Not a mistake. Not for show. Not even admitted, he thought.
The clincher had been when Alejandro spoke to him about the house. That falling-down old white elephant Molly had been in love with as long as Josh could remember. Alejandro wanted her to have the house so she would have something that belonged to her. So she wouldn't – how had he put it? – go hollow.
Stirring sugar into a cup of tea, he pursed his lips. Hollow. That was such a damned good word for the way Molly had been since Tim died. The only time she'd really come alive was when she started on that house again, wanting to buy it and fix it up. But Josh, too, had been grieving his brother-in-law, and it hurt him that Molly would leave the land she and Tim had bought together.
Damn, but he was a self-centered SOB at times. Stubborn and stupid and sure he had all the answers. Guilt moved in him over his part in the separation of Molly from Alejandro. What right had he had to do that?
He'd make it right in the morning. Whether she knew it or not, Molly was crazy in love, and with a man who deserved her. Who would take good care of her. Who worshiped the ground she walked on. He'd call the sheriff –
Cut it out, a voice said wryly. What he had to do was step back and stop meddling. Let Molly make her own decisions. Claim her life – ask for what she wanted.
He could do that. But he suspected she might need at least a nudge. He'd beat her down pretty hard this time. The least he could do was fix that part.
She could take it from there.
* * *
Josefina could not believe the sight outside her windows when she woke up. There was snow. Tons of it. Piles and piles, and more of it coming out of the sky. She wanted to go out and play in it so bad!
It took awhile for her to notice the other thing: it was quiet in the hospital. And the lights were not on. In surprise, she looked at the machines with their tubes and blinking lights and bleeping noises, and they were still, too. A nurse hurried in, frowning, though she brightened when she saw Josefina was awake. "How you doing, sweetie?"
"Good. Look at all the snow!"
"Yeah," she said, and didn't sound happy about it. "Three feet and it's still coming down." Quickly, she disconnected the machines and, giving Josefina warning, pulled the needle out of her arm and put a bandage on it. A pink one with doll faces.
"Am I going home now?"
"In a little while." She rolled up the various tubes. "The electricity is off in here and the machines won't work right. We have a generator to make electricity, but it's not working the way we want it to. There are some people who are really sick, and we have to save the power for their machines."
"Oh! I'm not so sick now."
The nurse patted her hand. "I know." She bustled out.
They brought her a breakfast that was cold. Kinda cold, anyway. Cereal and milk that tasted as though it might have been sitting on the counter for a little while. Still, she found she was hungry enough for a bear, and ate all of it. When she was finishing up, a man came to her door.
She frowned. He did not wear a uniform, but she thought of a policeman, anyway. But he was pretty nice. "Hi, Josefina. I'm Molly's brother. Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?"
She nodded, deciding to wait and see what he had to say.
He had on a heavy coat with sheep fur on the inside. He had another one in his hands, littler, and she got scared, afraid it was for her. "What do you want?" she said, mean as she could.
"I need your help, kiddo."
"With what?"
"It's kind of secret. Let me ask you something, first. Do you like Molly?"
"Yes," she said fervently. "Does she like me?"
His smile was nice, Josefina decided. "Oh, yeah. She talks about you all the time. And about your uncle."
Josefina giggled. "She likes him a lot!"
"I know. He likes her, too."
"No," Josefina said gravely. "Tío is in love."
He made that expression grown-ups always got when they thought they were so much smarter than kids. "Really," he said. "What makes you think so?"
Now she wasn't so sure she wanted to tell him. He might just laugh at her, and she knew what she knew. "Lots of things."
"Like what?" When she didn't answer, he sat on the edge of her bed. "It's important, Josefina." He said her name wrong, but Anglos did that a lot. Like they were embarrassed to say it right.
"Ho-se-FEEna," she said.
"Oh. Sorry." He said her name again, right this time.
"Okay, this is how I know Tío is in love. One." She held up a finger. "He kissed her. He does not kiss women, not ever, even when there is a dance and they really want him to, bad. He says kissing leads to other things."
The man nodded, a little frown on his face. "I see. He's right."
"Two." Another finger. "He sang her the song about love. I don't know it in English, but he keeps that one for secret between us." Another finger. "He never stops looking at her when she's there. He tries to stop, but then he's doing it again. And there's so much happiness when he does."
The man was smiling now. "You know what, Josefina, that's exactly what I saw, too. And you know, my sister looks right back at him the same way." He got up and closed the door. "We have a problem, and you're gonna help me fix it."
"What problem? They got married."
He sighed. "I know. But it was only to get a green card."
"But they—"
"My turn to talk. I know. They're crazy in love. Loco," he said, and she smiled. "But they don't know it, so we have to help them find out."
"How?"
"We got lucky. You see that snow? My sister can't drive in it. Her truck got buried. So there they are, stuck."
Josefina grinned. "Ah-ha! So they probably have to kiss a little, huh?"
He laughed, and the sound was big and wide, like sunshine. Josefina liked him a lot better. "Exactly. You're pretty smart, for only being eight."
"I'm old for my age."
"Yeah." For some reason that seemed to make him sad. "Anyway. I have a better truck than my sister, and I can drive there. You get to get out of the hospital because they're worried about power failures, and I'm driving you up to Molly's house."
"Really? Is my dog there?"
"Not yet. He's still with Mr. Wiley. But listen, sugar. You and me, we're going to trick them, so they both see that they really are in love."
Josefina grinned. "Okay!"
* * *
Molly dreamed of a rooster. A big black one with a flare of red feathers at his chest, sitting on a fence post. For some reason, Tim was there, and her brother, Josh, and they were so happy to see the rooster, boasting about it. It was a Mexican rooster, they said, and very rare.
Behind them, she saw goats and sheep, and something green waving its fronds in the fields of her land. She frowned, confused. "I haven't planted anything. How did that happen?"
she asked them, but they were already gone, and Molly was left to puzzle it out herself. The rooster crowed, and she turned to it, thinking he had the silkiest feathers she'd ever seen.
When she woke up, she half thought she'd heard the rooster, that it had been her alarm clock, and it took a long moment to realize it wasn't a rooster at all. It was the light.
Snow light. She sat up, surprised, and pulled open the curtains. "Holy cow!" she cried, half laughing, half appalled. Leo leaped up on the windowsill, his tail switching. "You won't be going outside today, my dear," she said to the cat. "You'd be buried."
The snow that had begun falling last night had evidently not ceased the entire night. It fell with deceptive sweetness, giant fluffy flakes, piling up. And up. And up. There was at least three feet in low spots, much more where the wind had piled it into drifts, and it showed no sign of slowing.
Secretly pleased – she loved these wild, surprise snows – she tugged on heavy socks and a pair of warm sweats and bundled her bathrobe around herself and went to make a pot of coffee. Padding silently down the hall, Leo rushing ahead to his food dish, she paused by Alejandro's half-open door to peak in. He slept, oblivious, his black hair scattered over the linens. She found herself smiling, thinking how lucky it was that fate had sent the snow today, so she could keep him a little longer. The phrase made her smile – keep him. Like Josefina's dog. Please can I keep him?
Silly. She shook her head, smiling, and went to make the coffee, moving quietly so she wouldn't disturb him. Although he seemed to possess an almost superhuman constitution, sleep was the body's way of repairing itself, and there was still a lot of healing going on in Alejandro's body.
As she fed Leonardo and waited for the coffee, she looked out the windows and thought about the rooster. In the bold light of morning, she had to chuckle a little at the imagery – a black rooster with red chest feathers. Gee, wonder who that could be? Certainly not Alejandro, with his black hair and red shirt. The only thing the rooster had lacked was a guitar.
Crossing her arms, she stood before the glass door and saw the land the way it had appeared in her dream: fertile, productive, alive. Alive with sunshine and growing things and animals. In comparison, the dullness of empty fields filled with cactus seemed almost criminal, and for the first time, she understood how Tim and Alejandro viewed the potential of the land.
And Josh.
Josh. Of course. He was struggling so desperately to make ends meet, the kind of grueling, day-to-day struggle that wore a man out too soon, made him bitter and small. She'd seen the tension of it in his face often the past couple of years, and had repeatedly offered to help him – give him money, pay off his mortgage, whatever was best. Pridefully, he refused everything.
But if he worked the land, it would be the labor of his own back that would bring security. As much as possible anyway. She thought of what Alejandro had said about self-sufficiency. Maybe the land would never make a fortune, as Sunshine Farms and Wiley Farms, but at the very least, it could provide chickens and eggs and food of all kinds. It could bring in some extra money to be set aside for emergencies and eventually college for the kids.
She heard a step behind her, and Alejandro emerged, his hair tousled, his torso bare. She beamed at him. "Good morning!" she said, and without a single hesitation, she moved across the room, put her hands on his chest to brace herself and kissed him full on the mouth.
He was startled, but sleepy enough he didn't immediately protest. His hands went to her arms, and he gave her a quizzical look. "Molly?"
"It will wait," she said, and gestured toward the view. "Look! We're snowed in!"
He blinked at the brightness, and a hand went to his chest. "It snowed a lot!"
"And still coming down." She heard the gurgling of the coffeemaker. "Go wash up and I'll get some coffee."
Humming under her breath, she pulled out the makings for pancakes and stirred together dry ingredients, a sense of complete rightness in her. Josh and Lynette, Tim and Alejandro, the old house in town and the puzzle of her own land – all of it seemed so perfectly clear this morning that she couldn't imagine how she'd missed seeing it before.
Alejandro came back, buttoning his red shirt. She grinned at that, and he stopped. "What?"
She gave him a cup of coffee. "I'm just happy this morning. I was thinking about my brother and my land. He loves to work the land. He and Tim were going to do it together."
"A good idea. You need more than one man for so much land."
"Yeah, but when Tim died, I didn't even think of that. I didn't think about why Josh wanted me to go on with the farm." She shook her head. "I feel so selfish, but I was just not thinking all that clearly." She cut pieces of butter and put them in a bowl to melt in the microwave, then turned. "You were so right about the potential that's out there. I don't have to work the land myself. My brother can do it."
He still looked a little confused. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and took his socks from his back pocket. Then scowled as he realized the tops didn't match. Molly chuckled. "Check the corner over there. Leo probably stole your sock."
As if he heard his name, Leo dashed out, grabbed the sock Alejandro had dropped on the floor and picked it up in his teeth. Alejandro laughed and tugged on the sock, taking it away, then dangling it in the air before he tossed it, in a ball, across the room. Leo, tail switching, raced after it, retrieved it and brought it back to Alejandro, who laughed, low in his chest. The half-moon shine of teeth showed, and his eyes crinkled a little and Molly thought he was going to be a very dashing old man. When he looked up, his eyes were dancing with that zest and life she found so appealing. "A cat who fetches. His name should be Spot."
Everything narrowed to this minute. Finding a courage she didn't know she possessed, she said, "Alejandro?"
Hearing the shift in her tone, he looked up from his game with Leo and sobered.
"Will you stay? Make the land what it should be, work with my brother, show him what you know?"
His head bowed. "I cannot do that, Molly. I do not wish to cause—"
"No, it wouldn't be like that. My brother will be so glad to work the land that he won't care who does it with him. And Josefina could have a solid place here."
He said nothing, only listened, a stillness in his body. His eyes were deep, his mouth sober.
She met that liquid gaze, and bit her lip. Her heart pounded a little in fear and hope. "Alejandro, can we be practical here?"
His mouth turned down at the corners, as if he had not expected that word, but it was okay. "Sure."
She took a breath, remembering what he'd said about the women in his village, the ones who would have valued him as a husband. "I value your strong back and your good financial sense. I'm strong, too. And I have land to offer as my dowry." She managed a little chuckle. "Isn't that how it's done?"
He looked troubled. "Molly—"
She held up a hand. "Let me finish, okay? I don't know if I'll ever be able to offer you more children, but as you said, there are many children who need homes, and I would be willing to bring some of them in if you need that in your life." She found her hand pressing against her ribs, and noticed that her fingers hurt with the pressure. "I'm a widow and I'm lonely, and I don't want to live alone anymore. We get along well. There is something good when we have sex. It seems to me that there would be worse things for both of us than to just—" her voice croaked a little "—stay married."
His lids fell, hiding his eyes, and Molly thought there was a burn of color on his cheekbones. "Practical, eh?"
"Is that wrong? I don't want you to feel you have to give me some promise of undying love or something."
"Practical," he said again, and stood. He wore an odd expression, both fierce and hurt, as he crossed the room and stopped in front of her. She looked up, sensing she'd done something wrong, but completely bewildered as to what it might be, how she had offended him.
"I am a practical man," he said. "I see your bargain is a wise one for
both of us." But he shook his head. "But I am not practical in matters of love, Saint Molly." His eyes burned, molten again, hot as lava, and be lifted his hands to her hair, letting it trail through his fingers. "My heart is bound to magic. My soul needs wonder." He grasped her head in his hands and lifted her face to his kiss. A slow, knee-buckling kiss.
He lifted his head again, and there was a sad smile on his mouth. "You see, Saint Molly, I am not a man who loves lightly. There is too much passion in me, I think, and so I don't let it out." He shook his head, brushed his thumb over her mouth. "I cannot be the man you wish. That practical one. I wish I could."
Her heart swelled, and before he could move away, she captured his wrists with her hands, holding him there. "I believe in magic, Alejandro," she said softly. "There's a story that the old women tell, of the face that's carved on the heart of a woman. Every woman. It's a story they use to warn young girls to be careful with themselves." She swallowed, moved her hands to his face and whispered, "When I found you that morning, I saw the face that was carved into my heart." Holding his gaze, she said, "Everything I've done since then was because of that."
Alejandro stared down at her for a long, long moment, a rush of something unnamed, unknown till now, moving through his body. It was dizziness and pleasure and passion, and such vast, intense relief that he did the only thing he could: he made a sound and kissed her. Kissed her mouth and her face, her eyes and her neck, his need urgent and carnal. In the cold kitchen, he untied her robe and tugged up her nightgown and kissed her breasts. He cradled her hips and hauled her hard against him. As if his passion kindled hers, they shed as many clothes as they needed, and without moving anywhere, joined together leaning against the sink. Only then, when he was buried in her, her naked breasts against his chest, her mouth open to his, could he speak. He lifted his head and looked into her ghostly eyes, silvery now with passion, and said, "Te amo, Molly. I love you." He closed his eyes, feeling the words too small to express what he felt, and kissed her and hauled her closer, "Te amo."
