The Love of a Latino

by Ewing, A. B.

  “Gather your things; it is time I take you home.” His words were a firm command. Releasing her, he watched as she scurried away. Looking up to the darkening sky, Rafe offered a silent prayer because he would need a lot more than self-control to suppress this undesirable feeling that tugged at his heart.

  ****

  Dahlia sat silently in the taxi, Raphael at her side. Insisting he see her home, he had called for a cab, which was a new trend in this country, one which Dahlia was quite grateful for right about now.

  The sun was beginning to set in the west, but she paid no attention to the golden globe that lit up the afternoon sky. Her thoughts were preoccupied with the events of today. Raphael had said she was beautiful, but she knew it wasn’t true. He had kissed her, but obviously was not impressed with her inexperience. He tried to be nice by telling her it was him not her. How many times had she heard that before? She was foolish to allow herself to think he could be attracted to her. She was a simple nobody. This was not some fiction novel; it was real life and in real life, men like Raphael Cavos did not fall in love with people like her.

  “Dahlia…?” His voice called to her.

  Against her will, she turned to face him. She had deliberately sat as close to the door as possible, trying to put as much distance as she could between them.

  “Why do you look so sad?” His low accented voice sounded too near for comfort. But she too, was conscious of the driver, intermittently glancing in the rearview mirror.

  Raphael slid closer to her and once again, her pulse began to rap.

  “Why do you look so sad, mi amor?” He questioned again.

  “It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” She lied. If only he knew the turmoil inside, this need to be close to him that was stifling her.

  “You do not lie very well, Dahlia. You wear your emotions on your face. You do not believe the things I said to you are true.”

  Was she really that obvious? She looked away from him, instead focusing her gaze on the sky, now a heavy shade of burnt orange.

  “I do not lie, mi tesoro, and you will come to understand this.” He took her hand from her lap bringing it to his lips. Turning it over he kissed the palm, his tongue briefly flickered out to tease the tender flesh. She breathed out unsteadily, her heart thudding at an irregular rhythm. She tried to steal her hand away, but he held it firmly, his lips trailing a part from the palm up to the soft brown skin at her inner wrist.

  “Please,” She pleaded, tugging her hand, but she didn’t know what she was pleading for. A part of her wanted him to stop, but there was another part—the part that believed in happily ever after, that wanted him to continue his kisses up her arm and her neck. He paused, observing her flushed face for a moment and then released her hand, the spot where his tongue touched still tingling.

  They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, Dahlia lost in her own thoughts. She couldn’t understand why she felt so disappointed that she would not see Raphael Lopéz Cavos again.

  ****

  The taxi finally came to a stop outside a small wooden house. The moon hung low in the night sky, the sun having disappeared altogether.

  Rafe looked at the woman sitting beside him wondering how exactly he was going to deal with this situation. He knew the wise thing to do was say good bye and never think about her again, but he couldn’t do that. The need to see her again was overpowering.

  Exiting his side of the vehicle he went around opening her door. They both stood silently, Dahlia’s eyes searching for some unknown object at her feet. His hand came up on its own accord; the back of his fingers tracing the contours of her cheek. At his touch she lifted her eyes to his, her beautiful lips parted and despite his earlier resolution; he lowered his head to lightly brush his mouth against hers.

  “I want to see you again.” The whispered words were out before he could stop them. “Tomorrow, have dinner with me.”

  Hesitance flashed in her eyes, so he spoke before she could refuse. “There is something between us, Preciosa, something you cannot deny. I do not know why you are afraid, but I will show you there is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing will happen—nothing you do not wish to happen. I promise. Just have dinner with me tomorrow. If after that, it is your decision that you do not want to see me again, I will no longer bother you. You have my word.” He reasoned. When she didn’t answer him right away, he was sure she was going to decline his invitation.

  “No, I do not want to have dinner with you.” Rafe’s heart sank at her refusal, but he was in for a rude awakening when she spoke again.

  “I want to take you site seeing. I want to take you to see something spectacular.” Rafe felt his heart miss a beat when her seductive lips curved into a smile. This woman was bewitching. He swore she was a witch, a bruja sent to cast a spell on him.

  “Oh, and what exactly are we going to site see, Princesa?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  “You will have to wait to find out. I will meet you at your hotel at around five. Will that be okay?” He liked this side of her. She no longer looked sad. Her eyes that held so much pain earlier now twinkled with excitement. He was pleased to know that a part of that excitement was because they would see each other again.

  “Five will be fine.”

  “There is one thing though. We will have company, my sister and her husband. Do you mind?” He did, but she didn’t need to know that. He would have preferred spending time with her alone. But if a moment in her company meant enduring a lifetime of her sister and her husband he would take it.

  “Of course I do not mind. I look forward to meeting your sister.” She smiled. Her smile was wreaking havoc on his senses, but he found he enjoyed being rewarded with them.

  “Okay, then. I guess I will see you tomorrow. Remember to dress casual, and you should walk with a jacket because it may get cold.”

  Where the hell was she taking him?

  He bent his head to steal one more kiss before he said goodnight. She met him halfway pressing her lips to his. His hand came up to cup her cheek as he suckled on her mouth. Her soft lips were willing beneath his, encouraging Rafe to kiss her more intimately—to bury himself in sweetness, but he was aware of where they were and of the driver in the car. When he finally pulled away, it was difficult getting his breathing under control. This woman was unintentionally driving him loco.

  “Good night, Princesa.”

  “Good night, Raphael.”

  She turned away from him and hurried through the gate. Rafe waited until she climbed the few stairs; when she reached the porch, she turned to wave at him with a tantalizing smile on her face. With one final backward glance she disappeared into the house.

  ****

  In the car he rested his head against the backrest of the seat as the car started on its way, the sound of Calypso music playing softly. Rafe closed his eyes, an image of Dahlia quickly formed behind his lids. She was nothing like the women he was used to. The small wooden house she lived in, though well maintained, indicated she was not wealthy. Her earlier attire also proved that she was of lower class, but to him none of it was a problem. Money was not an issue. He had enough for them both.

  Astounded at the direction his thoughts had taken, he shook his head hoping to regain his sanity. There can be nothing between the two of you, Rafe. You are cut from two different cloths. You are a man of wealth and social standing. You are the heir to a multibillion dollar company. You two come from different walks of life, different cultures. No good can come from this. In desperation, he tried to reason with himself, but his devious heart would not allow it; his need to be with her again prevailed over common sense. It was frustrating trying to wrap his head around these new emotions. Rafe wasn’t sure why, for the first time, there was a battle between his heart and his brain, but one thing he was certain off, was that seeing Dahlia Moore again was necessary.

  ****

  Dahlia lay awake on her bed well into the early hours of the morning. Her impending adventure
with the handsome Raphael Lopéz Cavos was her only thought. She smiled when she thought of her arrival home. Natasha had been waiting for her, accosting her as she entered the door.

  “Who is he?” Her sister beamed excitement avid in her voice.

  Dahlia had looked at her feigning confusion. “Who?”

  “Oh, don’t play dumb, Dahlia. I saw you…kissing him outside. Tell me all about it. What’s his name? Where did you meet him?” Dahlia’s older sister bombarded her with questions, and she fought to hide her amusement.

  She sat next to Natasha on the couch, her heart fluttering wildly. “His name is Raphael Lopéz Cavos and he’s on vacation. I met him today. He’s handsome and so romantic. Oh Natasha, when he kissed me I felt as if I was floating.”

  Her sister observed her, an impish grin on her face. “When are you going to see him again?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited him with us tomorrow. Do you think Roger will mind?” She asked nervously. She’d invited Raphael to join them, but she hadn’t considered that her sister and her husband would not appreciate a stranger intruding on their outing.

  “Of course not, Dahlia, I want to meet this man that can make you smile like this. You know this is the first time since Mama that I’ve seen you so happy.” Natasha pointed out, a ghost of a smile hung on her lips.

  Dahlia had not thought about it before, but her sister was right. Ever since her mother had succumbed to ovarian cancer four months ago, Dahlia had been plagued by a cloud of sadness. Her only escape from reality was her books.

  “I feel happy, Natasha. Today I didn’t feel like a young, inexperienced girl. I felt like a woman that was desired. I never knew it was possible to feel like this after only a few kisses. What is it? Why do I feel this way about a man I hardly know?” Dahlia asked confused, eager for her sister to answer those questions.

  Natasha didn’t disappoint her. Gingerly taking her sister’s hand Natasha said in a comforting voice. “We don’t always understand why things happen, but sometimes God takes charge of our lives, bringing that one special person that you are meant to love forever. I am not saying that this Raphael is your special person, but maybe he is. But loving someone doesn’t guarantee that you will be together forever. Some people come into your life only for a season, but some are here to stay. The only way to know for sure is to love that person unconditionally. If God sees it fit, then he will keep you together.” Her sister ended, placing a gentle kiss on Dahlia’s cheeks.

  “Eat something and then get some rest. We have a busy day ahead.” With a mischievous wink, Natasha left Dahlia to her thoughts.

  Now, hours after their discussion Dahlia thought how one person could cause so much hurt, but it also took only one person to bring happiness back and to her that one person was Raphael. She thought about their kiss at the hotel when he had spoken her name in his thick Spanish accent. He had used Spanish phrases too; all unfamiliar to her, but one in particular stood out, Princesa. What did it mean? It sounded like princess, but she was no princess. And what about all the other words he used? What did they mean? Annoyed at her inability to fully understand the Spanish phrases, she made a mental note to get a Spanish dictionary first thing tomorrow.

  For now she just wanted to think about Raphael and his kisses. She giggled girlishly as her toes curled when she thought of his wet tongue teasing her hand. Would she be awarded more of those tomorrow? Would he want to take her back to the hotel? Would he want to make love to her? Dahlia felt as if someone had uncapped a jar of butterflies in her stomach. She closed her eyes, smiling wickedly as images of Raphael, naked above her floated before her darkened lids. He was whispering sweet nothings into her ear as his hands caressed her body.

  Her eyes flew open as she tried to abandon the images. Even if Raphael chose to make love to her, it wouldn’t mean anything. He would go back home to wherever he came from and she would be left alone. This was her home. She just needed not to fall in love with him. She would take whatever he offered and when it was time for him to leave, she would be an adult and let him go.

  Somewhere deep inside of her, she knew that being with Raphael was the right thing; otherwise she would not feel this way. The butterflies would be gone and the wobbly knees would not have existed. She had been kissed many times before, but nothing had prepared her for Raphael’s kisses. His masculine scent still clung to her hours after, and once again excitement claimed her at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She wondered if God had orchestrated their meeting or if it was pure coincidence. In her heart, Dahlia didn’t believe that something that felt so right could be a coincidence.

  ****

  Chapter 3

  The delicious aroma of fried fish interrupted Dahlia from the most pleasant dream.

  She and Raphael were sitting on the beach, the sun hidden behind the white fluffy clouds. A little distance away on the water’s edge, a little girl ran barefooted. The pea-green dress she wore was a stark contrast to her long, black hair. She was about three or four, and her chubby little feet were covered up to her ankle in the sea water. The little girl turned to them and her dimpled cheeks lit up when she smiled. She took off in an awkward run, her little feet carrying her as fast as they could. Raphael leaned forward in his sitting position and the little girl flung herself into his open arms.

  “¡Papá! Water nice…” She cooed, her gray eyes twinkling with excitement.

  “Yes it is, Arabella, but it is time to go. Your mamá is tired.” He turned to look at Dahlia, his eyes misted. He smiled at her and Dahlia reached out to touch his hand, but came up empty.

  Instead, Dahlia encountered the soft sheets on her bed. “Ugh!” She groaned flopping over onto her belly. Pulling the pillow over her head, she squeezed her eyes tight willing herself back to sleep wishing her dream to continue. She wanted to know what would happen once she touched Raphael. However, sleep refused to return. She muttered, “Blasted fish.” She was delighted in the savory aroma, as her stomach gave a tug of hunger.

  Turning over onto her back she admired the little room that belonged to her since birth. Natasha had kept it the same, and even after Dahlia had been away for almost fourteen years, she still felt like a little girl in here. She recently replaced the twin sized bed with a larger full sized one. Other than that the room remained the same. Pink and purple decorated the small windows; a shaggy pink carpet covered the floor. Both had seen better days. It was time to grow up. As soon as she saved up enough money, she would give this entire room an overhaul. Mama would like that.

  For the first time since her mother passed away Dahlia allowed herself to think about the woman she loved dearly. Naima Moore had been a very delicate woman in size and she had passed that on to her two girls. Her hair fell all the way to her ankle and that was one of the things Dahlia loved most about her. When they were small, Natasha seven and Dahlia only three, they would spend hours playing with their mother’s hair.

  Her mother was East Indian and her father African. Together their off springs had been blessed with the gift of lovely, long, curly hair. Naima had made them both promise never to cut theirs and it was a promise they had kept, even now after her death. Unconsciously, she put a hand to her curls and a brief image of Raphael’s hands in it made her smile. She pushed the thought away. This special time was reserved only for the memory of her mother.

  Their father Samuel Moore passed when she was only five, but she remembered him well. He had been good to them, but when he died her mother didn’t have enough to take care of both her and Natasha. When Samuel’s sister, Barbara had offered to take Natasha to live with her in Boston it was an opportunity they could not re-fuse. But Natasha did not want to go; instead she had allowed Dahlia the blessing. It had torn her little heart into pieces leaving her mother and sister, but even at that age she knew it was best for all of them. Her aunt had been good to her; however, Dahlia missed her family too much to make the most of what had been given to her.

  Dahlia would look forward to her
visits every two years after that, relishing the chance to see her mother and sister. Boston was full of opportunities for a young woman, yet Dahlia longed for the simplicity of home. She was tired of the fast paced life, waking up before the sun came up, working ten hours, then going to night school. Home was where she longed to be.

  Three years ago, on one of her visits, she had learned of her mother’s illness. Dahlia had been heartbroken, crying herself to sleep night after night. Her decision not to return to Boston was met with firm disapproval from her mother. She was to go back to Boston and finish her school—then, and only then, could she return home to stay.

  Nothing was the same after that. Dahlia had sunk in to a pit of depression. Knowing that her mother was going to die, she cherished every moment they spent together. She visited twice a year after that and when she returned five months ago she was devastated to see what her mother had become. The spirited woman that had played with them in the yard, took them fishing in the ponds, and spanked them silly- when they were bad- had withered into nothing. Her bones were more prominent than Dahlia had remembered and pain etched her frail features. Dahlia and Natasha stayed at their mother’s side until she breathed her last breath one month later. Roger, Natasha’s husband, had been the pillar both girls had leaned on.

  Now, four months after, Dahlia could finally think about her mother and though she was still sad, the pain had lessened. She wished her parents were still here to meet Raphael. She was sure her mother would like him; her father on the other hand would think he was only after ‘one thing.’ She chuckled lightly at an image of her father’s frowning face.

  “Daddy, I miss you too.” She whispered into the baron air.

  “Dahlia, it’s after eight, time to get up.” Her sister’s voice interjected into her thoughts.

  “I’m up already. Be out in a couple of minutes.” She called through the closed door.