by Mimi Milan
“Like this,” Nacho said. He grabbed hold of her hands and helped her center. Once she found her balance, he pulled her a little towards him. They spun around together, laughing. “Hey, you’re pretty good at this!”
“I better be,” Josefina laughed. “I’m the best dancer at…”
She inhaled sharply, surprised at the near revelation that she had been a dancer at Hank’s Whisky River Saloon. Nacho’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the best what?”
She pulled away and ran her hands down the front of her dress, busying herself with smoothing it out. “I meant to say I was the best dancer at home – back when I still lived with my parents and my sister, Elena.”
His eyes were filled with uncertainty, but his smile offered nothing but understanding. “Well, then you’ll surely have the town at a disadvantage should there ever be a fiesta. I’ve seen you move, and if you are anything at all as your name would imply, then I believe you would dance circles around us all.”
She smiled uncomfortably. While she appreciated the compliment, it only served as a further reminder of her old life. Unlike her family who had called her Fina as a shortened form of her full name, men in the saloon used it as a translation to mean she was as “fine” in bed as she was on stage.
The wind began to pick up again.
“Ay, caray! I better get the recipe,” Nacho said.
“I’ll go get it,” she offered and started out towards the middle of the pond. She slowly slid her feet along the ice, looking down at the glossy mirror that shined back at her. She reached the page and bent forward to retrieve it, noticing the strange color beneath when she lifted it up. She called back to Nacho, pointing. “Isn’t that interesting? The ice is darker here… and, look. It’s almost black over there.”
His face went ashen.
“Fina, get off the pond.” Nacho backed away, fearful that any additional weight would force the ice to cave in. He reached the bank and called out again. “Hurry!”
“Why?” she asked as she stepped forward.
A cracking sound made her look back down and she finally realized then that the ice appeared darker because it was thinner; the dark spot was water that hadn’t yet frozen.
Another pop of the ice fracturing below her feet spurred her into action. Firmly clutching the paper to her chest, she skated forward as quickly as she dared.
“That’s it,” Nacho encouraged. He reached out to grab hold of her. “You’re almost there.”
Another sound of the ice popping – this time all around her – made her freeze. “I don’t think I can make it.”
Nacho looked around the yard behind him and took off running.
“Where are you going?” Fina cried out, fear welling up inside her.
He grabbed a thick branch that had fallen off a dying tree and made his way back to her. He carefully held it out over the pond. “For this. Now grab hold.”
Fina crumpled up the recipe into a tiny ball and threw it at him. “Ten. Catch!”
He did as instructed, bending forward to snatch the paper up from where it landed beside his feet. In so doing, the branch dipped, smacking hard against the ice, producing a glorious cracking noise. Nacho shot back up. He tightened his grip on the bough just as the frozen crystal gave way to a monstrous vision of Josefina slipping into cold, wet jaws beneath her.
“Josefina!”
She bobbed back up to the surface with a scream, furiously splashing about. Nacho dropped the branch to the ground, along with the recipe so he could better grip the thick limb as he laid his body on top of it, anchoring it to the bank. “Grab hold!”
Eyes wide with terror and heart full of fright, she latched onto the tiny bit of salvation before her, clinging to the branch for dear life.
“I need you to try to pull yourself towards me. Can you do that?”
The frosty winter air bit into her bones, but she nodded all the same and did as she was told. One hand worked itself in front of the other as she got on with the tedious task, slowly hefting herself closer towards the bank and Nacho. Her arms shook from the sheer strength required to pull her weight, magnified by a multiple she couldn’t possibly fathom from all the water that must have gathered in the heavy dress she bore. When she was finally within arm’s length, they reached out for one another.
Josefina let out a wretched sob as Nacho pulled her onto the embankment and held her close.
“Ya, ya. No llores, chiquitita.”
He could have sat there, continuing to comfort her, but the chattering of teeth beside his ear served as a reminder that she was soaked straight through. He stood, pulling her up with him. “Come. We must get you inside by the fire before you get sick.”
She allowed him to lead her back to the house, the chilly wind nipping at her, numbing the tip of her nose along with her ears, fingers and toes. By the time she reached the door and stumbled into the sitting room, she wondered if there was a single part of her with any feeling left at all.
“Stand here by the fire and I will help you get out of those wet clothes.”
She raised a brow at the suggestion. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”
“I am,” he said and then realized she was teasing him. A smile lit his face. “I won’t look… too much.”
She laughed and allowed him to remove her coat. Then he began unbuttoning the back of her top dress, his fingers deftly moving down her back. With only the thin cotton shift left, he left her to sit beside the fire as he ran upstairs to fetch a dry set of clothes and blankets. When he returned she had already removed her boots and had peeled off one of her wet stockings.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for your feet,” he explained and handed them to her. He turned around to offer her some small form of privacy as she slipped out of the wet undergarments and into the clothes he offered. “Nor do I have any women’s dresses left. So, you’ll have to make due with some of my attire.”
The idea of donning his dead wife’s wardrobe didn’t appeal much to Josefina. So, she was fine with the fact that there was only one of his oversized button-up shirts and long johns to wear. However, cold feet were far less desirable than she wished to admit.
“Thank you for the clothes,” she said. “You can turn back around now.”
He did so and the sight of his shirt hanging loose off her slender body ignited a small, desirous blaze within. Clearing his throat to remind himself that now was not the moment to feel amorous, he stepped forward and wrapped the blanket around her, his hand lightly brushing against the nape of her neck. Her cold skin stung his own flesh, effectively cooling him. He directed her back towards the fire. “You’re still too cold. Sit here and warm up while I make you some té de manzanilla.”
“You have chamomile? I thought you said you didn’t stay out here anymore.”
“I don’t,” he explained. “However, I still try to keep some of the basics. Just wait here while I prepare it.”
He picked up the bucket of snow they had filled earlier and carried it to the kitchen.
“I suppose it’s good we didn’t use it to clean the house with,” she called out to him as he found a pot and lit the small wood burning stove. It warmed quicker than she had anticipated. With a fire roaring beside her and a warm glow behind her back, Josefina could feel life crawl back through her body. She snuggled down deep into the blanket and enjoyed the warmth that filled the dusty little cabin. A tiny sneeze escaped.
“That is exactly what I feared,” Nacho said as he returned to her side. He held out a mug with dried flowers still floating around in it, the withered buds staining the water with a soft yellow tinge. “You’re catching a cold.”
She accepted the hot tea. “I think it’s more the fact that the house is still dusty.”
Nacho turned to retrieve his coat. “I’ll go fetch some more snow and get to cleaning it.”
“No, don’t do that.” She patted the floor beside her. “Sit with me for a while. There is something I wanted to give you.”
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He did as requested and she reached into the blanket with her free hand, pulling up a fist on the return. “I think you dropped this.”
She opened her hand to reveal a ball of crumpled paper. Nacho’s eyes grew wide with surprise.
“I can’t believe you saved it,” he said and graciously accepted the recipe.
“I hated the idea of losing something so precious,” she explained. “It is hard enough to lose a parent. I wouldn’t want you to lose your legacy, too.”
“Ay, mi Fina.” He leaned forward and gently ran the back of his hand down her face. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Between this page and the ones I stuck in my coat pocket, we still have almost all the recipes. At the very least, we have enough to create some incredible dishes at the restaurant. What can I do to thank you?”
“What can you do to thank me? Nacho, you just saved my life.”
He clucked his tongue. “That is nothing. Anyone would have done that. Come, there must be something you wish for.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. What she wanted more than anything was to be reunited with her father and sister. Although, was that really true? She considered the last few days with Nacho. They had been comfortable ones filled with revealing moments and the small, surprising revelation that she liked the idea of marriage to him – for no other reason than to be with him. Of course, she wanted to find what was left of her family and try to put the pieces back together again. However, she didn’t want to do so at Nacho’s expense. Asking such a favor was too much.
“Well?” he pressed her.
She stretched her feet in front of her, shaking them. “Are you sure you don’t have any socks? My feet are still freezing.”
“I can honestly say I unfortunately do not have anything for your feet.”
She frowned and nodded to where her leggings hung beside the fireplace. “Then I guess the best I can wish for is that my stockings dry out quickly.”
“Not so fast,” Nacho said and reached out for her feet. “Oooh, you weren’t kidding. You have chilly toes.”
She giggled. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m going to help warm them up. Now drink your tea. It will make you strong.”
“I know,” she said as he began to massage the tops of her feet. “My grandmother was a curandera.”
Surprise lit Nacho’s face as he gently worked around her ankles. “Was she really?”
“Mmm, asi es.”
“Oh, does that mean you’re going to read my fortune? Eh? Maybe tell me what are in those tea leaves.”
“Don’t be silly. I said she was a healer – not a fortune teller,” she admonished him. A coy smile tugged at a corner of her mouth. “Besides, it was my cup of tea – not yours.”
He baited her. “Then tell me… what is in your future?”
She looked down at the near empty cup and squinted. A mischievous look filled her eyes and she scrunched her nose, pretending to read the leaves. “It says I’m going to marry soon.”
His hands stilled for a moment as he studied her dark eyes. They were filled with humor. He shrugged and looked back down.
“That might very well be true,” he said and began massaging her feet again. He pinched one of her toes. “I think I could get used to looking at these little salchichas.”
“Nacho!” Josefina squealed and tried to pull her feet back. He held on to them, though. “How dare you make fun of my feet. They do not look like sausages.”
He roared with laughter and held on even tighter to her feet, trying to pull her closer. When she wouldn’t budge, he scooted forward. “Oh, don’t be mad, amor. I couldn’t help myself.”
She turned her pretty nose up, feigning indignation. “You made fun of me.”
“Never,” he said. “I think your feet are beautiful. I love them and everything else about you, too.”
She turned back to find his face full of sincerity and for one brief moment she was full of hope. But then she remembered the lie she was still living. She sighed. “Ay, Nacho. You say that now, but we hardly know one another. What if you find out something about me that you don’t like?”
“Cómo que, Fina? What do you think you could possibly say to make me change my mind?” He waited expectantly for an answer. When she failed to give even one, he made his own list of attributes he appreciated, ticking one after the other off his fingers. “Fina, I love how you are kind, but not too soft or weak. You are made of strong stuff. That’s obvious just by looking at you. Oh, and to speak of looks. Well, let’s just say you are no ugly duckling. Acuerdo? That’s a good thing. You know? Because I’ve looked in the mirror once or twice and I don’t think I’m so bad either.”
He wagged his brows at her and she snickered. “Ay, tan chistoso. And here I thought you were trying to convince me of all my great qualities – not yours.”
“I was talking about you. I just thought I might throw one in for me, too. Maybe that would help you decide I’m the right choice.”
“Nacho, why would you think otherwise?”
“Well, you know, some of the other men have already exchanged their vows. I figured maybe we hadn’t because you weren’t too sure about how you felt about me.”
She stared at him, astonished. Could he really think the reason they hadn’t made it to the alter was because of her? If she thought about it long enough, she supposed she did seem somewhat inaccessible. Every time he came over to La Maison, she was too busy helping the other women to return with him to the diner. If she wasn’t watching the baby for Zee, then she was trying to convince Penny that she didn’t really have bad luck. Then there was Minnie who she tried to reach out to, but the woman appeared to be hiding even more than Josefina herself. Every conversation with the woman would dead end into thick air.
So, Josefina had done what little she could do – studied the recipe book Nacho lent her and practiced a dish or two, hoping to impress him when he came for his daily visit between the breakfast and dinner rush.
The dinner rush!
“Nacho, what time is it? Shouldn’t you be back at the diner?”
Nacho’s head whipped around. He looked at the darkening sky and jumped up. “Ay, caray! I completely lost track of time. You’re right. I’ll have to get back quickly… but your clothes. They are not dry yet.”
She stood and joined him beside the hanging wet clothes. She grabbed hold of the fabric and squeezed. Large drops of water splashed to the floor beneath. “You’re right. They’re still far too damp to put back on… and I most certainly can’t go back into town wearing your shirt and a blanket.”
“Ha! Most definitely not.”
“Then I guess there is no other choice but for me to stay here tonight.”
“I don’t know,” Nacho hesitated. “The idea of you out here all alone by yourself… I suppose it would be fine for a short while. There is still a rifle upstairs in one of the bedrooms – not that I think you would need it of course. Still, it is there in case some animal was to come looking for trouble.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I know how to shoot.” She patted his arm. “No te preocupes, Nacho. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded his agreement. “Very well. I will go out to the restaurant and get dinner served and return as soon as the last customer leaves. Sale?”
“Yes, that sounds like a lovely idea.” She lifted up onto the tips of her toes and leaned in, lightly brushing her lips against his cheek. “Be safe, amorcito.”
He stood, staring at her as if he had forgotten how to say goodbye. Finally, he reached for his coat and slid it on, followed by his hat. He touched the brim of it and quietly slipped out the door.
Chapter 7
Josefina dipped the rag into the water once again and scrubbed the step before her. It was the top rung of the dusty staircase and she couldn’t wait to get it clean so she could check out the bedrooms. She supposed she could have done that sooner, but now that she had rid the downstairs of all its
filth, she refused to track a bunch of dirt and dust through the newly cleaned house upon descending. Speaking of clean…
She looked down at the bucket and grimaced. The murky water inside had turned dark – it’s terrible color reminding her of the thin pond ice. She shuddered, knowing it was more from the thought of the ordeal than any actual cold. Despite the fire dying down to little more than glowing embers, the house still remained wonderfully warm and inviting. She hated the idea of going back outside to dump the water and retrieve more fresh snow, but the idea of having the entire house cleaned before Nacho returned delighted her.
“Oh, well. Let’s go, feet.”
Thankful that her stockings and boots were finally dried, she bounced down the stairs, silently laughing at how she must look with the long johns and shirt to match. Perhaps I’ll start a new fashion. The thought made her laugh until she remembered that her clothes were still wet. That meant she would have to venture out with the blanket wrapped around her again. She could only be thankful there would be no one to witness the display.
Clutching the rope handle, she passed the table and picked up the lantern she had left there. She came across it while cleaning the living room earlier and was thankful for that small blessing. Night had descended rather quickly and despite all the stars in the sky, she liked the idea of having a little extra light to see by – especially on such a cold, spooky night. The tree branches looked like long fingers reaching out to snatch her up, and the wind whispered terrifying stories.
Stepping off the porch, she carefully placed the lantern down and walked several feet away before tossing the dirty water. It sunk into the snow, scarring the perfect white fluff with a dark jagged scar. She turned away and walked a little further in the opposite direction and then knelt down the best she could with the blanket wrapped around her. She scooped a few handfuls of snow into the bucket and then stopped to wipe her hand her hand along the blanket, rubbing until there was feeling in it once again. With her hand warmed, she repeated the procedure of gathering more snow. Once the bucket was full and her hand felt somewhat normal, she stood and walked back towards the lantern, picking it up as she made her way to the house, pausing only momentarily as she studied the tracks in the snow.
