Steps to the Altar

by Earlene Fowler

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  He set the glass down, reached over, and took my hand. My first instinct was to snatch it away, but his anguished expression kept me from it.

  He covered my hand with both of his. It made me feel warm and protected. Something I hadn’t felt in the last week and a half. Something I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel again.

  “I think we should let these poor people rest in peace,” he said, “even though I cannot come close to understanding why two people would throw their lives away so someone else can be buried in dirt that is the same as anywhere else. See, ranch girl, I do have a heart even if I am a cop and a Texan.”

  “I’m still trying to decide what’s worse,” I said, laughing in relief. Maple’s secret would be safe.

  He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it gently.

  “Hey,” Gabe’s baritone boomed from behind me. “Would you mind taking your lips off my wife’s hand?”

  I jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice and instinctively pulled my hand back. Hud held it tight a second before letting go.

  With slow deliberation, he looked up at Gabe, a lazy smile on his face. “With a great and sorrowful reluctance, Chief Ortiz. With a great and sorrowful reluctance.”

  Then he stood up, touched two fingers to his forehead in salute, and sauntered right past Gabe, big as you please. The shocked expression on Gabe’s face was worth every irritating thing Hud had ever done or said to me.

  “What was that all about?” Gabe demanded. “Isn’t he that sheriff’s detective you dealt with last September with the Norton homicide? What was he doing kissing your hand here where everyone can see? What in the—”

  I held up my hand for him to stop. “For someone who has been living in a glass mansion this last week and a half, you’re not in any position to throw even one pebble. Not one single pebble. See you tomorrow.” I breezed past him and didn’t look back.

  In spite of all the turmoil between me and Gabe, I was sure I would sleep deeply that night, probably because I was just so exhausted. And maybe because I’d found a bit of peace about Maple and Garvey. Though I wasn’t sure where my own marriage was heading, I was glad that my belief in the person I thought Maple to be and the love they’d shared had not been a product of my imagination. I couldn’t help wondering how different it would be now with all the drugs and therapies they have for depression, if maybe he’d have ended up living a long and happy life. Maybe they’d have had children and grandchildren and the house would never have turned into a historical landmark but had remained a real home with birthday parties and Christmas celebrations and anniversaries.

  On the drive back to the new house, I forced myself to think about the possibilities. Maybe Gabe would leave me. Maybe he would go with his first love, Del Hernandez. But he’d always remember me as the woman in his life who didn’t beg him to stay. If he stayed, it would be his choice. And if he didn’t, I would survive as surely as I’d survived Jack’s death. I loved him. I wanted him. Although the thought of never again running my hands down his warm back, counting his ribs with my fingers, feeling his hardness inside me, his lips on the back of my neck, my breasts, the inside of my wrist, was almost too painful to bear, I knew I would survive. I’d experienced love twice in my lifetime. For that, I would always be grateful.

  24

  GABE

  GABE STOOD IN the bar and watched Benni walk away from him. Seeing another man look at her with such naked longing ripped at his stomach like a bullet through flesh. That man—what was his name, something Hudson—was in love with her as surely as Gabe was his father’s son.

  “And what did you expect, mijo,” he could imagine his father saying. “Do not think that a good woman is left alone for too long. There are too few of them, and the smart men, they know it. You have always been too greedy, Gabe. How many times do I tell you? Quien todo lo quiere todo lo pierde.”

  His father’s words blared through his brain like a siren. He who wants everything will lose everything.

  Did Benni realize how this man, Hudson, felt about her? Had she fallen in love with him? Had Gabe screwed up the only relationship in his life that had ever brought him peace? His mind burned with turmoil. He wished he could reach inside his brain and scoop out with his bare hands the sections that had brought about all of this.

  In minutes he was out at his car, cursing under his breath at its sluggish carburetor. It was time he got rid of his Corvette, maybe give it to Sam. Maybe it was time to buy a new car to go along with his new life.

  Whatever new life he had left.

  At Del’s hotel, she answered the door on his first knock, her face lighting up when she saw him.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said, opening the door wider.

  “Go home,” he said. “Don’t come back. Don’t ever call me again.”

  Her coffee-colored eyes darted around him, as if she expected to see someone behind him prompting his words.

  His heart beat faster. Is that what she thought? Did she think he was that easy to manipulate? Is that the appearance he gave to her? To everyone else? Shame and anger heated the back of his neck.

  “She talked you into going back to her,” she said, spitting out the words. “She jerked your chain and you responded. What a good boy you are. What did she do, call your mama? Did your mama tell you to go back to your smug little wife? And here you are, doing just what you’re told. What a good little Mexican boy you turned out to be.”

  He had never been tempted to hit a woman until now. His hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat itched with the desire. But he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the type of man he was, that he’d ever been.

  In that moment, he was overcome with shame for the part he’d played in this game. For how he’d used Del to make himself feel better, feel an illusion of excitement and youth, for just a split second in time. After this, he would call Father Mark. It was time. Time to let all of this go. Time for reconciliation. God would forgive, Mark had assured him of that. He could only hope his wife would show the same mercy.

  “I’m sorry, Del,” he said, his voice kinder this time. “I should have never hurt you like this. Go home to your family. Have a good life. Find someone to love.”

  Her voice cracked with anger. “You’re a fool, Gabriel Ortiz. Do you have any idea what you’ve lost? Do you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid I do.”

  25

  BENNI

  THE WEDDING WAS . . . well, I just don’t have the words for it. Gorgeous, perfect, the wedding of Elvia’s childhood dreams. Santa Celine Mission was filled with the scent of roses and lilies and lavender. I cried when I walked down the aisle ahead of Elvia and saw my cousin’s beaming face. I cried even harder when Elvia floated down the aisle gripping her father’s arm as if it were the only oak tree standing in a hurricane.

  When they repeated their vows after Father Mark, I glanced over at Gabe. He looked so impossibly handsome in his tuxedo. The tears that flowed from me at that moment had nothing to do with the wedding and everything to do with the passion I still felt for this man, the desire I had for him both physically and emotionally. It would not be easy to let him go. Though Jack had been my first love, the love of my youth, Gabe was definitely the love I had wanted to be my last. Both were special. Both had changed my life irrevocably. I would never be the same woman I was before either of them loved me. And I did not regret for one moment giving either of them my heart.

  I touched Maple’s locket that, at the last minute, I’d exchanged Gabe’s necklace for. Somehow, I knew she’d understand how I felt.

  When Elvia and Emory were introduced as husband and wife, I suspected every tissue in the audience was soaked. Señora Aragon was the only one not crying. Her face had a smile that, as Daddy would say, reached clear around to the back of her head. I could already hear her voice nagging at Elvia about having a bebé.

  It was most certainly a day filled with tears, both happy and sad, though
I doubt anyone could tell the difference in me. At least, I hoped they couldn’t. Gabe and I gave all the appearances of being a happily married couple. It wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be. I just remembered the good times we shared and pretended it was then instead of now.

  At one point in the reception, located at a local hotel, we caught each other’s eyes and he came over to me.

  “We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.

  “Not now,” I said curtly. I’d managed to maintain a mask of marital harmony this long and I wasn’t about to get into an argument with him during the last moments of Emory and Elvia’s wedding celebration.

  “When?” he asked, his blue-gray eyes dark with emotion.

  “I don’t know”

  “I told her to leave.”

  I stared at him, not certain how his words made me feel. Relieved? Victorious? Angry? Did he really think it was that simple? He had to know that damage had been done to our relationship, possibly irreparable damage. And I wasn’t sure whether I was ready to dissect it all yet. I shrugged and walked away.

  A half hour later, Father Mark caught me alone at the punch bowl.

  “You know,” he said, sipping a glass of pale gold punch. “I am not betraying a confidence when I tell you that man would die for you.” I guessed by his compassionate expression that he knew about me and Gabe.

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. Was I ready to forgive Gabe? Truly? And was I willing to accept the part of this that was my fault? That was even a harder question. “I know.”

  “Love is not so easily found these days that we can toss it away without a fight,” he said, his voice edged with a sadness that made me wonder about his own past.

  “Thank you, Father,” I said, not willing to discuss it right now. I was still too confused. But I was glad for one thing. That Gabe wasn’t alone. That he had someone to confide in. “Thank you for being there for him.”

  “Despite his flaws, Benni, he is a good man.”

  “Yes, Father, he is,” I agreed. “He is a very good man.”

  After all the toasts had been toasted and the last piece of cake eaten, we finally saw the newlywed couple off in their shiny black Lincoln Navigator, decorated with a psychedelic rainbow of tissue flowers compliments of Elvia’s seventeen nieces and nephews. They were heading off to Aspen for a three-week honeymoon in a mountain top chalet loaned to Emory by a friend. Her dream honeymoon to the Caribbean was not to be since my cousin still had not overcome his fear of flying. By the look on Elvia’s face, a chalet in Aspen would be just fine.

  “Go, be fruitful and multiply,” I told her as I helped her change into her pale blue cashmere going-away suit.

  She rolled her eyes. “You and Mama. She’s already making the signs.” Elvia moved her arms as if she were rocking a baby.

  “And this surprises you?” I asked, laughing.

  Right before Emory stepped into the decorated car, I hugged my cousin hard. “You’d better take good care of her. She’s the best friend I’ve got.” Before he could protest, I added, “Best girlfriend.”

  He kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, “People can live happily ever after. You always told me that and now I believe it.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “You will. You’ll live happily ever after.”

  It was almost 6 P.M. by the time I drove back to the new house and had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. The rain that had been threatening to dampen Elvia and Emory’s day finally broke out of the black clouds in an angry torrent.

  Exhaustion was not the word for what I was feeling. It was more like I was completely depleted of feeling. I’d put Maple’s box of possessions along with her diary in the back of the closet under the stairs. Her story would go with me throughout my life, a testament to one person’s true love for another.

  I was just opening the refrigerator to get some milk to make myself hot chocolate when the doorbell rang. Its full, pleasant chime echoed through the still empty house. It was a chime I could have grown to love.

  Gabe stood in the doorway, still dressed in his tuxedo, water dripping from his hair and trench coat. With all that had happened, his striking looks could still take my breath away. He would never know what it felt like to be just an average person, a person no one ever looked twice at walking down the street. He possessed the privilege that came with physical beauty. And yet, he was, as Father Mark asserted, a good man. A good man whom I happened to love.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  I didn’t open the door wider. “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  I didn’t answer. What could I say to that?

  “Querida, please,” he said. “Lo siento. I am so sorry. I want you. I love you. Please, let me come home.”

  I gripped the doorknob, suddenly angry at how easy he thought it would be. “How do I know that’s what you really feel? That you won’t change your mind tomorrow when some other woman wanders in from your past? How do I know for sure?” I asked, knowing as I said it that there was no simple answer to my questions. No guarantees for anything in this world.

  His face twisted in pain. “Escucha a mi corazon,” he said, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. “Listen to my heart.”

  I pulled my hand back and hesitated, deciding. It was moments like this, I knew, that changed lives forever. Inhaling deeply, I did the only thing I knew was possible for me. I stepped back and opened the door wider. A sound like a sob caught in his chest and he stepped through the doorway, stumbling over the unfamiliar threshold, falling toward me. And with every bit of strength left in my tired arms, I caught him.

  26

  GABE

  SHE HAD FORGIVEN him. Though his first wish would always be that this last week and a half would vanish from time, that Del had never come back, that his past had never intruded into this tentative and fragile life he had built, Benni’s forgiveness was the second wish and he was grateful it was answered.

  That evening after he’d showed up at her door—their door, she would later correct him—and she took him back, as they drank the hot chocolate she’d made, she told him the story she’d been given by the ex-priest who lived in Idyllwild. After he’d heard about Maple’s sacrifice, he pulled Benni to him and held her until his arms stopped trembling.

  “What a lucky man,” he’d said.

  “She was lucky too,” she answered, her pale face without a trace of artifice. “Loving someone that much. That’s a blessing too.”

  “Will you come with me to the Mission?” he asked later. “I want to light a candle,” he said. “For us. For thanks.”

  “Light one for Maple,” she said, “And for Garvey.”

  As they walked downtown through the rain to Mission Santa Celine, down the dark, silent streets of San Celina, he grasped her hand tighter, leaning close to catch a scent of her hair, the sweet and smoky green apple smell of it, a smell he would crave to his dying breath.

  Inside the Mission Church, it was cold and empty. The spring rains had driven even the most faithful home to their warm fireplaces. The high ceilings caused their footsteps to echo and fly through the rafters like darting sparrows. She sat down on the second pew, sliding over far enough for him to join her when he was finished.

  He knelt with one knee in front of the altar, crossed himself, and kissed his thumbnail, his heart pounding hard in his chest, feeling like he’d run down the aisle toward the sad, tortured face of the slain Christ.

  “Forgive me,” he murmured, staying on his knee a moment before rising. He turned to the row of candles at the side of the altar and slipped some bills into the box. He lit a candle first for himself and Benni, in gratitude for her open heart, for deliverance from his own demons. Then a candle each for Maple and Garvey and their son.

  “Descanse en Paz,” he said, his words a small breath of sound in the old church. “Rest in peace.”

  Then he joined his wife in the pew and they sat for a long time gazing at the painted a
ltar, at the flickering candles, the heat of each other’s hands their one warmth.

  She had forgiven him. This he knew, though there were times for many months afterward when she glanced at him with a tentative expression. Then, like a hummingbird, it would be gone. He asked Father Mark about it one time, about the ability for one person to forgive another. If forgiveness depended on fickle hearts like his own, God help them all.

  “Only God is capable of all-encompassing forgiveness,” Father Mark told him over fettuccine Alfredo. “What we humans do, to badly mangle what the apostle Paul said, is like looking through a glass darkly. We forgive, then take it back over and over. But eventually, if our hearts are truly humble, God grants us a very close facsimile.”

  He took a sip of Chardonnay and smiled at Gabe. “Sanctification, the working out of our being more like God who created us, takes us our whole lives, Gabriel. Benni loves you, my friend. How or why people love is something even that wise old homeboy Solomon never could figure out. Just accept the miracle and be grateful.”

  Later that night, after he and Benni had come back from the Mission to their new house, they made love. She came to him openly, without hesitation. And though their moving together started gently, tentatively, toward the end, he lost himself in her, in a desperate and fearless passion that left them both breathless and filled, tears wetting their cheeks.

  Afterward he curled around her, encircling her with his body. As her breathing slowed, her compact body twitching every so often as she fell toward sleep, he forced himself to stay awake, savoring this moment, trying to make it last a fraction longer. Once she gave a great start, awakened herself, then turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with fear, not knowing him for a moment. Or perhaps knowing him and still being afraid.

  “Querida,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her further. “It’s only a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”