by Wind, Ruth
She didn’t reappear that evening, and just before he turned in, Ramón knocked on her door, softly. Light spilled out from below it, and he knocked again, a little louder, when she didn’t answer.
Still no sound from beyond. Concerned, he pursed his lips and weighed his choices. Although she’d tried to seem calm, he’d seen her distress earlier, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he found out she was all right. He knocked again, firmly. Again, no answer.
He could go down the stairs and get Desmary, but that would mean making the old woman walk up three flights of stairs on her bad feet. He didn’t have the heart. There were no other women in the house.
But what if he opened the door and Tanya wasn’t dressed?
He’d just peek in, carefully. If she was all right, he’d just close the door and go on his way. If not, he’d be glad he looked in on her.
Turning the handle very slowly, he pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. For a moment, he could see no sign of her at all. Then he spied her, on the bed and mostly dressed.
She was sound asleep. A small snore wheezed in and out of her slightly parted lips. She’d evidentially started out curled in the covers, but the house was warm, and she’d flung parts of the covers off. Her shirt was unbuttoned a little, and a swell of breast spilled from the opening, as if anxious to be freed. One arm and one bare leg were uncovered.
Ramón stood at the bedside admiring her with a feeling he couldn’t quite identify. How many times had he thought of her sleeping in the cold, dead confines of a prison cot while he lay alone in a double bed, a pillow clasped to his chest? How many times had he wondered how time had changed her, molded her?
Every day. Every day he had thought of her.
As he stood there, she turned, muttering to herself, and a spill of hair fell over her face. Gently, he reached out to push it away, unwilling to leave her alone just yet. He wanted to just watch her sleep, knowing she was finally safe here.
His touch startled her. She came awake with an eerie, sharp suddenness, sitting straight up and bumping his mouth with her head. He made a noise and moved back, bringing his fingers to his lip, and tasted blood. He stumbled backward, out of her way.
She blinked, staring at him, at her room in disorientation. Slowly, she seemed to get her bearings, and Ramón felt guilty for disturbing her. “What are you doing in here?” she asked at last.
“I was worried about you.”
Tanya rubbed her head, eyeing his mouth. “I’d suggest in the future that you don’t touch me when you wake me up. Just say my name.”
“No problem.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry. Soon enough you won’t need a worrywart checking on you.”
She rubbed her face, pulling back her hair in an unconsciously sexy gesture that put her breasts in relief against the lamplight shining through her blouse. He looked away, but his gaze snagged on her bare knees, smooth and neat-looking. He backed toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said.
She looked at him soberly. “I’m sorry about the way I left the dinner table, Ramón. I just got scared all of a sudden.”
“I know,” he said. All at once, he was struck with her isolation here. Who did she have to lean on in this new time of her life?
Who had she ever had?
Ramón pointed to the bed, nearby her. “Do you mind if I sit down for a minute?”
The smallest hesitation marked her response. “No,” she said quietly. “No, I don’t mind.”
He sat down next to her. Felt the warmth of her leg against his own. “You’re as jumpy as a cricket,” he said, looking at her. “What scares you the most?”
She gazed up at him steadily for a minute, and in the dark blue waters of her eyes, he saw a thousand moving thoughts. “You,” she said at last. “You scare me.”
The answer was so unexpected, Ramón found himself speechless. Finally he asked, “Why me?”
But the first honesty had been all she could manage. With a diffident lift of her shoulder, she looked at her hands. “I don’t know.”
He ached to put his arm around her, as he would one of the lost boys he took in. He wanted to hold her until the cold places inside her could thaw. But he’d seen her reaction to his touch earlier and knew it would take some time before she could allow her walls to be breached.
Instead, he bent almost sideways to look into her face from an exaggeratedly silly angle. “I’m a clown, grilla. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“Gria?”
“Cricket,” he said, smiling.
A reluctant grin touched her mouth, and he saw a flash of the impossibly young girl he’d danced with at a wedding reception so long ago. “No, I’m not afraid of you like that. I know you aren’t mean,” she said.
He knew what she meant, but didn’t know if it should be acknowledged between them or left to lie. Acting out of pure instinct, he said, “Ah, you mean because I’m so gorgeous!”
It was the right thing to say. She laughed. “Yes. That’s it.”
“Well, don’t worry,” he said briskly, and patted her knee. Standing to take his leave, he winked. “It happens to all the girls. You’ll get used to it.”
The open, trusting smile on her face just then was worth anything. He wished with all of himself that he could bend and put his mouth to hers, that he could taste that sweet smile.
But he could no more do it now than he could have done it fifteen years ago. Before he could be further tempted, he bowed with a flourish. “Good night, Tanya.”
“Good night, Ramón.”
* * *
Ten days later, in the crisp ghostly air of early October, Tanya stepped onto the wooden porch of the farmhouse. Above the Sangre de Cristos, pale dawn had begun to bleed the night from the sky. Tanya gazed at the peaks as she methodically stretched her calves and arches and hamstrings, getting ready for her morning run.
Around the corner from the barns came a dog. It was gold and white, with patches of gray. One of the counselors said he was a blue heeler mix with more good nature than good sense. She didn’t care if he wasn’t smart—he’d run with her every day so far, and his companionship was one of the most pleasant things she’d ever discovered.
“Good morning, Merlin,” Tanya said, moving from side to side to stretch her spine. He lifted his nose at her and sat at the bottom of the steps to wait.
Her days since her arrival had settled into a pattern. Mornings she ran her usual three miles, then got back in time to shower and help Desmary get breakfast on the table before the bus came for the boys who had clearance to go to public school. The rest went to classes held in rooms set aside for such purposes in the dorms.
The days she spent working with Desmary and whatever boys happened to be on KP that week or just drifted in to sit at the table and steal nibbles of carrot or apple or cake batter. Sometimes Tonio was one of them.
They seemed so hungry to just sit in the kitchen with the women that Tanya asked Desmary about it.
“They miss their mothers,” Desmary had replied simply.
“You ready, Merlin?” Tanya skipped down the steps and paused to scratch the dog’s ears. He made a soft, whining yip to signal his impatience.
“Come on, then,” she said with a laugh.
Tanya began to run loosely, past the barns and the corrals, the pens with their sheep, the vast gardens with tangles of yellowing squash and melon vines, and pepper and tomato plants still heavily laden with fruit. Behind them grew stands of corn.
The air tasted like leaf smoke, and Tanya smiled, thinking it had been a long time since she’d smelled that particular aroma. Out here, some agricultural burning was allowed.
Her body fell into its natural, loping rhythm. She didn’t run fast, just steadfastly. This morning, she took particular joy in the sturdy new running shoes on her feet. They had cost almost half her first paycheck, but even after one day, Tanya could feel the difference. In the prison yard, where she’d run in the grass along the perimeters of t
he fence, a pair of ordinary sneakers had been fine. Here there were cacti and thorny goatheads and the possibility of snakes, and she’d quickly seen the need for better shoes.
Aside from the protection they offered from pointy invasions, they made her feet feel embraced. Bouncing, she tested the sensations once again. A hug around her arch, a cushion under the balls of her feet. Quite luxurious.
She’d also purchased a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt in dark blue, and she was grateful for their warmth this chilly morning. Her cheeks tingled with a sharp breeze sweeping down from the northern mountains.
Merlin crisscrossed the path in front of her like a vigilant scout, and it made her feel safe. The fine thin mountain air tasted as cool and sweet as apples, and she breathed in with gratitude.
Glorious.
As a girl, Tanya had never been athletic. She was hopelessly incapable of doing anything with a ball, whether it be basket, bowling or tennis balls. There was just some short circuit in her brain that made it impossible for her. In school she’d suffered endless humiliations at the hands of Gestapo teachers and cruel classmates. She flunked PE her junior year and vowed she’d never go back.
And she hadn’t.
In prison, however, she’d discovered the deep pleasure of solitary noncompetitive exercise. At first, she’d simply walked the perimeters of the yard, over and over and over, walking away her grief and fury so she wouldn’t lose her mind inside the walls of the cell. That had gone on for a long time, her restless, endless walking. One day, almost crazy with missing her son, she bent her head down and leaned into a run. When she stopped twenty minutes later, her heart pounding, her breath ragged, she had felt a strange peace.
Sometimes, she didn’t feel like running, so she walked. Sometimes she didn’t feel like even walking, but she did it anyway. Over a long, long time, her body had grown lean and ropy, like the body of an antelope, and she moved with a loose freedom she’d never known. Running made her strong.
She and Merlin made their circle and returned to the main buildings just as the sun came over the horizon. At the barn, she slowed to a walk to let her body cool down, feeling a pleasant tingle in her limbs, as if her blood were seltzer. Next to her, Merlin gave a little dancing leap and licked her fingers. She patted his head. “Good dog.”
When she came into the yard near the house, she saw Ramón standing on the porch. He wore jeans and well-used riding boots, a black jean jacket and a flannel shirt. Ready for a day in the yard, she thought calmly. But it was only attempted calm. She couldn’t catch a glimpse of him without feeling a small, electric charge at the sensual promise of that face, that mouth, those hands. To hide her discomfort, she tugged the fat band out of her hair and shook her hair loose. “Good morning,” she said.
“Did you have a good run?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Always.”
He didn’t say anything more, but Tanya could sense there was something on his mind. At last he said, “There is going to be a harvest dance here. I wonder if you would help me plan it.”
Tanya gaped. “A dance?”
“Yes. The boys can ask girls from school. We’ll clear the dining room and let one of the kids play DJ. Serve food.” He smiled. “You know. A dance.”
For one small moment, Tanya looked at him, remembering the reception at which she had danced with him so long ago. Remembered the feeling of his strong, lean arms around her, the press of his flat stomach against her swelling one. How odd, she thought now, that the child in her at that moment had gone to him for safekeeping. “I don’t know a lot about that kind of thing,” she said at last. “Next to nothing. I got married pretty young.”
“I know.” He cocked his head in a purely Latin gesture, lifting one shoulder at the same time. “We can learn together.”
It would be churlish to refuse. He’d been nothing but kind to her. “All right.”
His smile—white and fast in his dark face—flashed suddenly. It struck her as forcefully as always, right in the knees. A tingling that had nothing to do with her run crept through private parts of her body. “Good.” He shifted to let her pass on the steps. “Be ready about 2:00 and we can go into town for some books.”
“Town?” she echoed. She’d been very, very careful to avoid his company. A cozy little ride into town didn’t seem exactly the best idea. “I—”
“You haven’t been to the library yet. You’ll like it.” His gaze was steady, fathomless. Somehow Tanya knew that he sensed all her objections and silenced them. “See you at 2:00.”
There was nothing to say to that. Tanya gave him a half smile of capitulation. “Okay.”
He gave her a wink and headed toward the barns. Into the quiet air rang his jaunty, tuneful whistle, and Tanya had to smile. He was the most relentlessly good-natured man she’d ever met. In ten days, she’d never heard him raise his voice or snap at a child, or get annoyed with a task. Relentlessly good-natured.
But as she watched him walk away, Tanya had to admit it was not his nature upon which she feasted her eyes. He had a rear end like a quarterback, taut and high and round.
“You gonna stand there all mornin’ watching his behind,” Desmary said in a droll tone from the back door, “or you gonna come help me cook sometime today?”
Tanya gave a quick laugh and turned around, aware her color was high. The old woman winked. “I’m still inclined to admire it myself.” She gave a quick flick of her head toward the interior of the house. “Go get your shower. I’m all right for a little while.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter Four
Dear Antonio,
One of the last warm days of the year. I spent the last few days roasting and peeling chilies, and my fingers are blistered. I don’t mind, though. I love the smell of them roasting.
I wonder what foods you like to eat. When you were a baby, you ate so many strawberries you got allergic to them. And you liked pork and beans and McDonald’s hamburgers and candy. But you were still so little then, it isn’t like big kid eating. Like having your own set of favorites and dislikes that isn’t like anyone else’s. I hate egg whites, you know that? And milk and okra. I love chilies and tomatoes and lots of fresh vegetables. I’m pretty good in the kitchen, too. That’s where I’ve been working lately. It’s a good place.
You be sure to eat all your vegetables. They give you clear skin and good vision and strong bones.
Love, Mom
After breakfast, Tanya chopped vegetables for the stew they would all eat for supper—fresh green peppers, some late cabbage and broccoli, and tender fresh carrots. Desmary, sitting on her high stool, gazed out the window as she kneaded bread on the counter. Tanya hummed softly a tune from childhood, about a woman who got married the day before she died.
“That’s such a happy sound, that humming,” Desmary said, flashing a smile over her shoulder. “Makes me think of my youth.”
Tanya grinned. “Not everyone shares your enjoyment. I’ve been told very bluntly to shut up.”
“People just get used to things being a certain way. The kids now, they don’t have people sing to them. Their mothers turn on the radio when they do chores. Mine used to sing.” With a deft move of her wrists, she flipped the bread dough twist and looked at Tanya. “Amazing Grace.”
From the short hallway that led to the communal dining room for the boys and the counselors came a child. It was the same little boy who’d been on the porch the day of Tanya’s arrival. His name was Zach and he was in trouble almost all the time, and Tanya felt sorry for him. She had asked if he could be assigned to the kitchen more often, and the counselors had only been too happy to do it. For some reason, Zach calmed a little in her presence.
In his arms he carried a basket of green Anaheim peppers, long and shiny and freshly picked. Behind him came a second boy and two counselors, all bearing bushels of peppers. Desmary caught sight of them and made a noise of frustration. “I haven’t seen so many peppers in one season in years!” She put her knife down and
came over, her rolling gait obviously more painful than usual. With a gnarled finger, she poked the flesh of the peppers and sighed. “They have to get done right away. We’ll have the apples to do this weekend.”
“Apples?” Tanya echoed.
With a gloomy look, Desmary nodded. “We’ll sell most of them, but some get put up in cider and butter.” She snapped her fingers in annoyance. “Which reminds me—I’ve got to get Ramón to pick up some canning jars for me.”
Tanya looked at the piles of peppers and realized she couldn’t leave Desmary to fend for herself. She couldn’t possibly go with Ramón to town this afternoon. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.
To the counselors, she said, “We need a few boys to peel chilies this evening. Can you send about four or five over after supper?”
David winked. “Sure.” He touched Zach’s head. “Come on, kid.”
Zach shot the man a glowering look and didn’t move. His bristly blond flattop had been recently trimmed and stood at rigid attention over the top of his head. Freckles dotted his small nose.
“Can I keep him in here a little while?” Tanya asked. “I need some help getting these washed.”
“I guess it won’t hurt. Zach, you’ll be in reading class in an hour—are we clear?”
“Yessir.”
The counselors left. Desmary peered at the table with a look of great doom on her face. “I hate chilies,” she said. “What kind of fool vegetable is that, anyway? One that burns you?”
Tanya touched her shoulder. “I’ll take care of them. Why don’t you take a little rest?”
“No, you need help this morning.”
“No I don’t.” Gently, she turned Desmary around. “I’ll get Ramón in here to help me with lunch. Zach is going to help me with washing the chilies, and I can get them roasted this afternoon. The boys will peel them tonight.”
Desmary looked at Tanya for a long moment. “You’re supposed to go to town with Ramón today.”
