by Carol Grace
“What about Señor Bentley?” the older woman asked.
“What about him? Are you suggesting he accompany me on my travels? He’s our banker, that’s all,” she said so emphatically that Jacinda took a step backward. “I’m only interested in the money he’s loaning us, and he’s only interested in making sure we make our payments.”
Jacinda bobbed her head. “I know. I know. Did I not hear all about it in the bank yesterday? Payments and interest and credit and notes until my head was spinning.”
Catherine frowned. “I hope you paid attention. Because if we miss one payment, the truck goes back to the bank. We don’t really own it until we make all of our payments.”
“With the little stubs from the little book. I remember,” Jacinda assured her.
Catherine nodded. She had been paying attention. They all had. She felt a pang of guilt for treating Jacinda like a child. For talking down to her just as Josh had done to her. And for talking business when Jacinda wanted to talk weddings. But she had a splitting headache. Farm girls who stayed up late paid a price the next day, but she had no right to take out her anger toward Josh on Jacinda.
She poured two cups of tea from the kettle on the stove and motioned for her old friend to sit down. “Where will they live?” she asked.
Jacinda spooned a dollop of honey into her tea. “Since Juan Carlos works in the mines, Magdalena will continue to live at home until the baby comes. Then they will have to find a home of their own.” She sipped her tea. “We have much to do in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Catherine set her cup down with a thud.
Jacinda nodded. “Clothes to be made. Food to be cooked. You have never seen a village wedding with a piñata and a whole roasted lamb and dancing. Mr. Bentley has never seen such a wedding, either, I suppose.”
“Mr. Bentley? I don’t think Mr. Bentley is interested in weddings,” she said, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.
Jacinda took Catherine’s cup and stared into the leaves at the bottom. “Perhaps not,” she murmured, “but I know Blanca will invite him all the same. Sometimes men surprise you.”
Catherine had to agree with that. Just when you thought men were sweet, sensitive and kind, they turned out to be devious and self-centered.
Jacinda tilted the teacup and grasped Catherine’s arm. “This is truly amazing,” she said breathlessly. “Just as we speak of marriage I see something about it in your tea leaves.”
“Really?” Catherine suppressed a smile. “What is it?”
“A village wedding. But the bride is not Magdalena. The bride is you. In a flowing white gown with a veil. You are smiling and saying, “Thank you, Jacinda.’”
“And who might the groom be?” Catherine asked innocently.
Jacinda shrugged. “I cannot see his face, but he is very rich. He showers you with silver coins.”
“Silver? How delightful,” Catherine enthused. Then deliberately she reached across the table for Jacinda’s cup and studied the leaves at the bottom. “What have we here? What I see in your future is a big white truck with you riding next to me in front with all your friends from the market looking on enviously. It will happen soon, very soon.”
Jacinda met Catherine’s eyes and said no more about Catherine’s wedding. Catherine told her that on Thursday they would surely leave town in their truck. Or rather the bank’s truck. She and the women would all go in together to pick it up. She knew Josh would have to come through. He couldn’t take twenty women home in his car. And he couldn’t invite twenty women to dinner at Restaurante Roberto.
He couldn’t distract twenty women by wearing a leather jacket, either, or showering them with attention. It would be all business. That was the way he wanted it and that was the way it would be. Sign the transfer of sale, get in the truck and come home.
But on Thursday, as they waited in the cool, high-ceilinged lobby of the bank, she didn’t feel quite so calm. She wiped her palms on her shawl and tried not to look anxious. She saw him before he saw her, but not by much. Just enough time to notice he was wearing a gray suit with pinstripes that fit his lanky body without a wrinkle. Just enough to take a deep breath, but not enough time to stop her knees from shaking under her layered skirts.
Josh knew she’d been angry when she got out of his car and coolly wished him a safe trip back to town, but he didn’t expect it to last, and he didn’t expect to be hurt by her cool, distant air as they put their signatures to the loan agreement and the transfer of sale. He was sure now she had no interest in him except for the loan. Since that was what he wanted, he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. He tried to take her aside to talk to her, but the women were always there, separating him from her as if she’d arranged it that way. They thanked him and shook his hand, all of them, except Catherine.
Before he had a chance to speak to her they were in the parking lot, piling into the long bed of the truck with their empty burlap sacks, Jacinda and Doña Blanca next to Catherine in the cab. He told her to drive carefully. He wanted to warn her about taking the curves too fast, but he remembered her telling him not to treat her like a child, and he bit his tongue.
He stood in the lot and watched them drive away, the women squealing with delight. In the rearview mirror he caught her eye, and just for a split second she flashed a triumphant smile that said it all. They had their truck and nothing could stop them now.
He thought of her driving on those mountain roads in the dusk and he broke out in a cold sweat. It was one thing to try out the truck in the parting lot, but the thought of her on the rough two-lane road scared the hell out of him.
The next three days were more hell. He had no way of knowing if they’d arrived home or if they’d make it back to town. On Monday morning at dawn he was standing on a rough cobblestone street keeping company with stray dogs and city police in green uniforms who were clearing the road for the trucks arriving from the valleys below.
Finally they came, swaying from side to side like all the other trucks, laden with crates. He felt a knot of tension dissolve in his chest. Of course they weren’t like all the other peasants. They were in their own truck with their own driver. Leaning over the edge of the wooden slats that held the produce in place, they called to him.
“Señor Bentley. Look, look at us,” they yelled in Spanish.
A smile spread cross his face. He waved to them and they waved back. He watched them unload. They patted the sides of the truck proudly with the palms of their hands when they passed. He picked up a sack of lettuce and fell into step beside Catherine.
“Any problems?” he asked in a carefully casual voice.
“No.” She quickened her pace, but if she thought she’d lose him, she was wrong. “Your truck is in perfect shape, so you can stop worrying.’’
“I’m not worried about the truck. I’m worried about you.” The words came out in spite of himself.
She slanted him a cool glance. “Well, you can stop worrying about me. I’m an excellent driver.”
“I’m sure you are.” He lowered the sack of lettuce behind the stall. She set her sack next to his and put her hands on her hips. Jacinda stepped between Catherine and Josh and began unpacking her peppers as if she was unaware of any tension in the air.
“Señor Bentley,” she said with a wide smile, “my son is getting married on the last day of the month. Blanca has asked me to invite you to the wedding, since it is her daughter who is marrying my son.”
Josh looked puzzled. He caught a few words, but missed most of it. Jacinda tugged at Catherine’s sleeve. “Tell him what I said.”
Catherine repeated the message, then added her own words. “Don’t feel obligated to come. I told her you’re a very busy person.”
Josh looked over her head at Jacinda. “I would like to come,” he said slowly in Spanish. “Very much.”
Jacinda nudged Catherine in the ribs, then danced away to tell the others. Without Jacinda as a buffer they stood looking at each other in
awkward silence. Finally Catherine spoke. “The women are so excited about the wedding. They have a lot of sewing and baking to do. On the other hand, the tomatoes are ripe.”
“Can I help?” he offered.
“Pick tomatoes? I doubt it.”
“When they come into the bank tonight to make their deposit, I’ll give them a pep talk. There’s a lot riding on their success. If it works...”
“You’ll get your promotion.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. The implication of self-interest was unmistakable and hurt him as if she’d stabbed him with a knife. He took her by the shoulders and held her while the women around them froze, watching the scene with wide-eyed fascination.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “I made this loan against my better judgment. But I want it to succeed as much for your sakes as for mine. If it does, they can go on to make a business out of farming, not just subsistence. If they have a business, the men might be able to come home from the mines and work the land with them. Who knows? Maybe they could dam up the river and make a mill.” His blue eyes blazed.
There was complete silence in the stall when he finished talking. Everyone had their eyes on Josh, straining to understand why he was so angry with their beautiful, good-natured Catherine. Only Catherine knew, and her cheeks burned. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“I don’t know what kind of bankers you’ve dealt with in the past, but I think I should be judged on my own merits or faults. I gave you the loan because I believed in you, whether I was right or wrong. It may not be the smartest thing I ever did, but I did it and I’m going to do everything I can to make it work out for you.
“But it isn’t going to work if you’re going to resist every time I try to help you. Yes, I want you to be successful and pay it off. Sure that will make me look good. But it will make the villagers look even better, and then they can go on to bigger things. But to make it work we need each other, you, me and them.” He let her go, but she could feel the pressure of his fingers on her skin after he went up the street, out of the market and back to the bank.
Without speaking she unloaded a crate of melons with trembling fingers. The other women followed her example, and soon they were laughing, arguing and bargaining as they did every day. Jacinda’s eyes were full of questions, but she confined her conversation with Catherine to the number of sheep in the dowry and the color of her dress.
Catherine answered calmly, but underneath she was a torrent of emotions. She was ashamed of herself. She knew that deep down Josh wasn’t only interested in his career. He’d pretended to be, but he wasn’t. He’d even made plans for the farm. Far beyond what she’d ever dreamed of. She wished she didn’t have to see him at the end of the day. She knew she ought to apologize, but she dreaded it.
At dusk they counted their money. They packed their goods in the truck and spread burlap over the crates. The women were excited. It had been a good day. For making money, but not for making friends, Catherine thought. They walked to the bank, the cash tied in cloth sacks deep in their pockets. Josh was waiting for them. She let the women go first. They spread out the money on the counter and counted it in front of him.
They were doing it all without her, and they were proud of themselves. They should be. For the first time there was no driver to pay off at the end of the day. The women were going to a conference room with a big blackboard and a man who spoke Mamara. They each had a deposit slip in hand. It was their second lesson, and this time it was for real. They had real money and they would make a real deposit. Catherine turned to share the moment with Josh, but he wasn’t there.
Maybe he was called away to speak to another client. She thought of going to the receptionist and asking to speak to him, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ready. But she was ready on the next trip. She’d had time to memorize her speech.
“You were right,” she’d say. “There was no reason to drive home in the middle of the night. I was so excited about the truck I wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank you for taking me to dinner and thank you for wanting to help us.”
Then they would shake hands and it would clear the air. Then the potatoes would start growing again and the berries would ripen on schedule and everything would be right with the world. But he wasn’t there. The other man who was handling their account was there and spoke to them. Catherine looked around the lobby from the telephone to the receptionist, but she left without asking for Josh.
When he didn’t appear on the next two market days, Jacinda took time out from wedding talk to broach the subject with Catherine on the way home.
“I have not seen Señor Bentley lately,” she said casually. “Not since the day you and he exchanged sharp words in the stall.”
“Really?” Catherine’s tone was light, but her knuckles were white as her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yes, really,” Jacinda answered firmly. “Have you?”
Catherine wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “I don’t think so”
Jacinda watched her negotiate a steep turn. “You know what we say in Spanish.”
Catherine braced herself for a barrage of wise sayings that Jacinda kept on hand for every occasion. “What’s that?”
“A woman without a man is like a garden without a fence.”
Catherine shifted as she headed down a steep grade. “Who needs a fence? Not me. If ever I find a man, it will be one who doesn’t fence me in. And what about you? You’re not fenced in.”
Jacinda clicked her tongue. “We are discussing your life, not mine. Mine is nearly over. Yours is just beginning. Now I heard that in your country you do not use a matchmaker. You marry for love, and yet so many divorces! My girls are all well married, and now my last son is about to become a husband and a father, all thanks to my help. And I will not rest until I have done the same for you.”
Catherine sighed. “Jacinda, I appreciate what you want to do, but-”
The old woman put her hand on Catherine’s arm. “Do not thank me until your engagement is announced.”
“But I told you-”
“That he was not interested in weddings, but you were wrong. He is coming to the wedding. That is a good sign.”
“I think I told you I was only interested in the money he could lend us,” Catherine said gently.
Jacinda yawned and leaned her head back. “I know. But love is the fruit of marriage. That you are interested in something about him is another good sign. A good beginning.” She closed her eyes to indicate that the conversation was over, and the smile that lingered on her lips showed her satisfaction in having the last word.
Chapter Six
The week before the wedding skies were cloudy, while excitement rose to a crescendo. Catherine was relieved to see that the women didn’t ignore the harvest. They picked tomatoes all day and sewed a quilt for Magdalena in the evenings around the table in Catherine’s kitchen. Profits increased. Every time they went to the bank they watched the numbers in the bank book rise. Josh would have been proud of them if he had been there, but he wasn’t. Señor Duran, their loan officer, said he was on a business trip.
Catherine didn’t ask when he’d be back. She knew Jacinda would be disappointed if he didn’t come to the wedding. But it wasn’t her business. It wasn’t her wedding. Still, she thought about it all week.
Early in the morning on the day of the wedding she stood on the front steps of the small frame village church and looked up at the darkening sky. The church was small, but large enough to hold all the guests and keep them dry if it rained. It was the outdoor reception she was worried about.
The wind lifted the hem of her filmy summer dress, and she held tightly on to the wide brim of her straw hat with the lavender ribbon. The air was heavy with moisture. They needed rain. They prayed for rain, but not until after the wedding.
Inside the church she walked up to the altar to arrange bunches of flowers that she’d picked before dawn that morning. She buried her face in a
bouquet of roses still wet with dew and inhaled their fragrance. From the rear of the church the door creaked and a gust of air blew up the aisle. She whirled around. Holding a yellow rose in one hand, she looked up expectantly.
It took Josh’s eyes a few seconds to focus in the dim light. They hadn’t told him what time to come. He was looking for the bride. He found Catherine. The door slammed shut behind him, and he breathed the air inside, warm and heavy with the scent of roses.
“You’re early,” she said, her voice trembling so slightly he almost didn’t notice.
He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know what time it started. I’ve been out of town and out of touch.”
She lifted a vase onto the altar and began filling it with lilies. “I heard you were away on business.”
He walked partway up the aisle. “Yes. Duran tells me everything went so smoothly you didn’t even miss me.” There was a long silence. Behind the tall stalks of lilies she paused and looked at him. He couldn’t stand the suspense. He had to know. “Did you?”
She came out from behind the flowers and stepped down, her hat framing her face like a Botticelli painting. “Yes, I missed you. I wanted to tell you—” she stopped and took a breath of air “—that I’m sorry I implied you were an opportunist. I’m really grateful for all you’ve done for us.”
He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I told you if I succeeded here I’d come out with a promotion. What else could you think?”
She ran her finger around the petals of the flower in her hand. “You also told me you went out on a limb for us. If we fail, it will make you look bad.”