No Law Against Love

by Deborah MacGillivray

  “Maryette?” he asked, his brows furrowed as a look of happiness, then confusion crossed his face. “Maryette, are you drunk?”

  Maryette stifled a burp and felt the sudden wave of nausea as she swayed. He caught her shoulders to steady her.

  “Johnathan, why did you not tell me?”

  “I suppose I could ask the same of you.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Maryette’s father shouted as he approached the altar, grabbing Maryette by the arms, pulling her from Johnathan’s hands and shaking her brusquely. “You already know each other? By the saints, you know one other intimately enough to use your Christian names?”

  His tirade instantly brought her to tears and she began sobbing uncontrollably.

  He pushed her away in loathing. “Daughter, you are a disgrace! I cannot believe how you have dishonored your mother and I before this entire congregation.”

  “I cannot marry this woman, Master Browning,” the astute minister barked as he slammed his bible shut in disgust and turned away from Maryette and Johnathan and faced her furious father. “As anyone with any morals knows, not only has she sullied the sanctity of the church, but it is against the law for me to do so in her condition.”

  “But I love him!” Maryette sobbed aloud, reaching out and imploring to the minister. “This has been a terrible mistake. You must marry us! Give me a moment and I shall sober. Please!”

  Johnathan pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly as the congregation looked on and gasped audibly.

  “’Tis quite all right, Sweeting,” he chuckled in spite of himself. “To know you will be my wife once you have sobered is well worth the wait.”

  ~~~

  The journey to their newly built manor near Philadelphia was a long one, but an amazing experience for Maryette Westbrook. She beamed joyously as she sat beside her dashing husband and the look he gave her as he edged his horse forward made her smile.

  “I’m sorry for the scandal I caused on our wedding day, Jon,” she offered, clutching his well-muscled arm as she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “’Tis I who should apologize for my behavior, Maryette. If only I had known who you were, it could have been avoided, but I am glad you consented to marry me in the end.”

  “Consented? How could I not?” she asked, smiling up at him with such love in her heart she was brought to tears. “You were so gallant and endearing the day we met.”

  “I probably should have admitted this sooner, but I couldn’t. As much as I hate to confess it, Sweeting, I had the same reluctance as you to the marriage. Had you not shown up in the state you had, the minister would have soon found I was just as inebriated as you—and for the same reasons.”

  Maryette looked up at him, stunned, sniffing back her tears as a grin spread across her lips. “You hadn’t!”

  “I had. The thought of leg-shackling myself to a homely farm girl didn’t seem very appealing after meeting you,” he said with a chuckle. “I suppose we should both thank our stars our worst nightmares became a wonderful dream after all.”

  He leaned down and kissed her deeply as they pulled onto the long driveway that wound its way to their new home. Turning serious, he brushed his thumb lazily over her lips. “I vow, my dearest, in view of what happened at the church, I believe neither of us should ever again drink another drop—”

  Smiling, Maryette cut in before he could finish, “A long as we both shall live.”

  Be sure to check out Victoria Oliveri’s website

  www.victoriaoliveri.com

  A Lover’s Serenade –Almost

  Rekha Ambardar

  • Kalamazoo, Michigan - It’s against the law to

  serenade your girlfriend

  She sat on a high mahogany stool, framed in the pink adobe archway that led onto the balcony with golden sunset radiating behind it like a gigantic halo. She’d have been pretty if she weren’t so plump, and if her sleek, glistening hair hadn’t been pulled back in a severe knot. He thought her probably in her mid-twenties.

  The moment she caught his eye, Garrod Tyler edged away from his Kane Products colleagues and turned his ear toward the woman, trying to hear what she was saying. She spoke in Mexican, and his Mexican was sketchy. He hadn’t wanted to come all the way to Monterrey, Mexico when Kane’s Corn Products had sent him here from Kalamazoo.

  “I’m dyslexic,” he’d told them. “I don’t know Mexican and never will.”

  They told him they’d give him a test to determine how dyslexic he was, but he finally relented, saying, “No, no need for that. I’ll go.”

  So, here he was in Monterrey, homesick, and at a business party.

  “Who’s that?” he asked Juan, one of Kane’s sales associates, nodding toward the woman on the stool.

  Juan turned to look in the direction Garrod indicated. “That’s Inez Lujan. She wants a job at Kane Products. She just got a degree from an American college. She was thinking of applying for your job, but by the time she decided, they’d already hired you.”

  Garrod’s interest peaked. “You know her well?”

  Juan nodded. “We were in school together as children, and kept in touch now and then. As you can see, all the attendees here aren’t from the company. Some are friends of friends and others are here because they heard of the party and just wanted to come have a good time.”

  “Hope she wasn’t too disappointed when I was hired,” Garrod said, watching the movements her mouth made as she talked rapidly to a man and a woman standing nearby.

  “She did say maybe you wouldn’t like it here and might go back to the States. I’ll introduce you to her and then she won’t be such a formidable competitor. Then you can tell me what you think of her.” Juan threw him a wink and a grin as they moved to where she sat.

  She stopped talking to her companions as they approached. Garrod was meeting her to stop any idea she might still harbor of angling for his job. One thought stuck in his mind, though – she knew Mexican and he didn’t. But he could learn, couldn’t he? For the sake of his job? There was no going back now, not after Jessica had broken off with him.

  “Inez, meet our new sales associate, Garrod Tyler. He’s new in Monterrey and could use an introduction to our fair city,” Juan said. “Would you consider taking him on a short tour? I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t know how much you enjoy showing people our local sights.”

  “What’s in it for me?” A slow, lazy smile careened across her face. “A job?” Her English was good, but heavily accented.

  Juan shrugged. “Who knows? If something opens up, I’ll let you know.” He turned and left them together.

  “So, you are intimidated by our city?” Inez watched as Garrod pulled a wickerwork chair near her and sat down.

  “Intimidated, no. It’s just different,” Garrod said. “Juan said you just got a degree from the U.S. Did you like it there?”

  “Yes,” she said, but sounded unconvincing. “I missed my mother and extended family. How about you? How do you like it here?”

  “Okay so far. But the food’s a little too spicy. I’ll get used to that in time, though.”

  Inez laughed. “And I carry salsa picante in my purse when I go out to eat.”

  Garrod grinned. “That’s different.”

  Somebody came by holding a tray of glasses with punch. Garrod helped himself to one, wondering if it was spiked. He turned to her. “Like one?”

  She shook her head. “I had mine.”

  “Juan tells me you’re looking for a job at Kane’s, “Garrod said.

  “Anywhere. I need a job.”

  He glanced at the fashionable leather calf-length skirt and gold jewelry she wore. She didn’t appear destitute. “Take it easy. The first thing to getting a job or a loan is to look like you don’t need it.”

  He looked up as his boss, Manuel Munoz, strode over. “Hope you’ve met everyone here, Garrod. We want you to feel at home.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m doing okay. Inez might even be my tour
guide in Monterrey,” Garrod said.

  “Hello, Inez.” Manuel smiled at her as if he knew her. She might have been to these parties before, and if so, she’d be working at Kane’s Monterrey branch before too long—if that was how the hiring was done around here.

  “Well, enjoy the party,” Manuel said and disappeared to greet a group of people just coming in.

  Garrod’s gaze strayed to the picturesque opulence of the hall, with its polished red floor tiles, pink adobe archways and large splashy oil paintings. It had the illusion of space.

  “So, will you show me around Monterrey next weekend? I don’t have a car yet, so it’ll have to be the bus or hitchhiking.”

  “We won’t have to do that. I’ll show you Barrio Antiquo by horse drawn carriage. It’s a delightful experience, and I think you’ll enjoy it. Monterrey has soccer and bull fights, if you like that sort of thing.”

  “One of these days I want to participate in bull running.” Garrod turned to see her reaction.

  “Are you loco? Why?”

  “The excitement.”

  Garrod had decided it was time he took an interest in the fabric of life in Mexico. If anything could pull him out of his lassitude, something like bull running would. Talk of a brusque introduction to Mexico and its attractions. Maybe it would be just what he needed.

  By ten o’clock the party dwindled to a straggling few and he got up and said his goodbyes. As he walked out to the portico and went down the stone steps, short footsteps hurried behind him. He turned and saw Inez.

  “How did you get here?” she queried, a tote bag slung across her shoulder.

  “I walked. It’s just around the corner from my apartment.”

  “I’ll drop you.” She motioned toward a chili pepper red Jeep by the crowded curb, and he got in on the passenger’s side.

  She started the Jeep and turned sharply onto the road. An irate cab driver shouted and pumped a fist at her. It didn’t seem to affect her. “Mexican stock car racing drivers learn by driving through our traffic.”

  “I’m finding that out.” He leaned inward automatically as vehicles came dangerously close to them and then veered away in a split second.

  “This Saturday, how about I pick you up and show you Barrio Antiqua. You’ll like it.”

  “Barrio Antiqua? What does it have?”

  “Many cultural attractions. There’s even - how you say – wild night life there,” Inez said with a laugh.

  “That would be great.” He pointed to a cream colored apartment building that shone in a mellow glow in the mix of moonlight and city lights. “That’s where I live.”

  She dropped him at the curb and swerved off into the inky darkness. Watching as she disappeared around the corner, he silently bet it was all just a strange dream.

  For the rest of the week, Garrod was lost in his work at the office making calls to local clients. Now and again the thought that on Saturday Inez would show him Barrio Antiqua pushed itself into his mind as he thumbed through the contact list on his cell phone. At least now when he called folks at home, he could honestly tell them he was seeing the place and pretend he was enjoying it.

  For lunch, he bought an enchilada from one of the outdoor stands and took it to the Plaza where a fountain played on the cobblestones encircling it. Kids played in the water from the spray. As his gaze strayed to the vibrant colors and noise around him, another thought clubbed him. He wasn’t attracted to Inez, possibly because he wasn’t over Jessica yet. How did you get over the only girl you ever loved since high school and were all set to marry when she threw you over just because he’d been laid off from a job?

  “Garrod!” A voice called from behind. Turning around, he saw Juan waving as he got out of his car and walked over to him. “You could have come to The Cantina with us for lunch.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just enjoying the scenery and the enchilada.”

  “Here all by yourself? What you need is a girlfriend,” Juan said grinning. “My plan failed, my friend.”

  “Your plan?”

  “Introducing you to Inez. I invited her to the party to introduce you to her.”

  “You mean she wasn’t really looking for a job?”

  “She may be since she has friends at Kane’s, but for now she’s lined up a job at Phizz Soft Drinks.”

  “Sorry your little plan didn’t work, buddy.” Garrod chuckled conspiratorially. “But…we are supposed to go to Barrio Antiqua on Saturday.” He raised his forefinger to make the point.

  “That’s a good start.” Juan checked his watch. “See you at the office.” He sprinted back toward his car and was gone.

  A twinge of annoyance prodded him. Now everyone was worried about him – his dislike of the place and his loneliness were clearly showing. Monterrey was beautiful, so were the people, but his heart wasn’t here. He missed Jessica, like a captive used to his captor. Go figure.

  On his way home later that evening, he saw posters about the weekend of Sanmiguelada – the running of the bulls – which was this coming Friday. He hadn’t missed the signs – visitors pouring in from all parts of Mexico to participate.

  He stared at the poster on the wall outside the office building. Hundreds of bulls stampeded behind runners who wore blue jeans, white shirts and red bandanas tied around the neck. What a way to kill yourself.

  Yet the more he saw the posters each day, the more they intrigued him. The picture haunted his soul and wouldn’t let him be. It filled him with a desire to be one of the runners, too. Then he made his decision. He would run with the bulls. He wanted to prove to himself he could do it. Butterflies kicked in his stomach at the thought. He’d do it. It would be a story to tell his grandkids someday—if he ever got married.

  After work on Friday, he took the bus to San Miguelada de Allende. By the time he reached it, the bars, restaurants, and cantinas were ringing with activity. The aroma of corn tortillas, onions, and chili peppers sifted through the sun-baked air, making him ravenously hungry. He stopped at a small stall and bought two beef tacos smothered in onions and tomato ketchup and wolfed them down, then chugged down a can of pop.

  The event would begin Saturday morning. Part of him knew he should call Inez and cancel their date, but he didn’t want to scare her by telling her why. Would she think him a fool for wanting to do this?

  In an effort to quell his guilty conscience for not calling Inez, he stepped into a nearby bar.

  “Good thing you came today, my friend. Tomorrow, there’ll be a ban on alcoholic sales. Being chased by a bull and being drunk to boot is a bad combination, amigo,” the bartender told him, scrutinizing him. “I sell drinks. I should know. Are you here to watch the bull running?”

  “No,” Garrod said. “I’m running with the bulls.”

  The man shook his head. “Be careful.” He walked away as if washing his hands of Garrod’s foolishness.

  Garrod checked into a box-sized, red-tiled motel for the night.

  ~~~

  At nine o’ clock the next morning, he arrived at el Jardin, San Miguel’s central plaza, which began to fill with people. The streets around the Jardin were blocked off with barricades, inside of which a dozen or so bulls would be let loose.

  He saw some onlookers perched on the balconies in restaurants - for a fee of $150, he overheard someone say. Such madness.

  He tried not to think of his own craziness. Why was he doing this? He was doing it on a dare – by himself to himself. He’d lost Jessica and had been laid off from his job, only to be shipped off to Mexico. He had to win at something! Surely he could take part in bull running and survive. He was up to it. He’d run track in high school and had worked out every other day back in the States. He was in good shape, much better than many of the runners he saw nearby.

  Men in cowboy hats, and even a few women, piled into the plaza. He suspected the women would leave as soon as the bulls were let loose. Some of them, he’d been told, would just stay to taunt the bulls and make them madder than ever, and the
n would escape to safety.

  The day grew hotter and the sun blazed down. Finally, at noon, the bulls that were trucked in from the ranches were let loose through the barricades. Garrod was ahead of the crowd, at the front of the mass of runners. If the bull stampeded over him, they’d have to get through the others behind him first.

  A horrendous noise resounded through the square as the bulls started charging to the taunts of the bloodthirsty crowd—and Garrod ran for all he was worth. He ran, his heart pounding, as the sounds of the bull’s hooves grew closer, ever closer. He thought only that he wanted to survive this, not end his life gored by a bull, a loco Gringo annihilated by one of the massive beasts. What was he doing running with the bulls anyway?

  He ran as he’d never run before. He could almost feel the hot breath of the raging animal behind him. He shifted to the left, away from the bull’s path, and felt a brief respite, even as sweat dripped into his eyes, making it difficult for him to see. He ran on, and as he did, he felt his energy being quickly sapped in the sweltering heat. To his relief, he realized the bull wasn’t on his back, although another quickly gained speed behind him.

  Garrod sprinted as fast as he could to stay ahead of many of the runners. Faster, faster he ran, rapidly out of breath. How long could he keep at it? He dashed on ahead, just barely able to reach out of the enclosure. He spotted a small space in the crowd of runners, glided through it and out of the barricade, and climbed up a small tree outside a cantina. He coughed and caught his breath, panting, hot and sweaty. He’d only just escaped. But the thrill of running was not to be believed.

  Back at the motel, he saw the angry red bruises and scrapes, and remembered he’d fallen and called out to Heaven when he heard the snort of the rampaging bull behind him.

  Despite the approaching night, Garrod took the last bus back and at midnight he stumbled into his apartment, sank onto the bed, and slept the sleep of the dead.

  He awoke to a loud knocking on the front door. He glanced at the bedside clock. Eight in the morning. Who’d be knocking on a Sunday? He dragged himself out of bed.