The Forever Tree

by Rosanne Bittner

  Will grinned rather sheepishly. “I had every intention of leaving it all alone, but as the day of her marriage to Hugo drew closer, I couldn’t stand it. I don’t even know if she really wants to marry me. I’ve told her she’s free to do what she wants now. I just couldn’t let that lecher get his hands on her. She’s too sweet and innocent.” He shook his head. “Before I left Maine to come here, I never would have dreamed of doing anything so crazy. It must be something about the air out here. It seems like a man loses himself to another world here, like nothing in his past is real anymore. In my wildest imagination, before I came here I never could have pictured myself getting into something as dramatic as a duel over a Spanish woman.”

  “Or as gallant,” Noel added.

  Will waved him off. “Stupid, maybe, but not gallant. I just felt sorry for her.”

  “You love her?”

  Will met his eyes. “I guess maybe I do.”

  Noel rested his elbows on his knees. “Some women can cause a man to do some pretty strange things, especially when they look like the senorita. I can see how she’d be easy to love. She’s not just beautiful, she’s amazingly unspoiled, considering how she was raised, and she’s spirited too. I think she might make a very good wife.”

  “You see it, too, then?”

  Noel nodded. “I see it, and I guess I don’t blame you. I just wish you’d told me what you were up to when you left.”

  Will reached over and picked up his pipe from an ashtray on a stand beside the bed. “Get me a light from over there by the fireplace, will you?” As he watched Noel cross the room, he thought again what a wonderfully sprawling, beautiful home this was, with big, airy rooms, wide hallways, slate floors. Every room had a fireplace and double glass doors that opened to gardens full of roses. He figured the great room was at least thirty feet square, and it was made more magnificent by a cathedral ceiling that was supported by huge pine beams. Plants decorated every corner, and the windows were nearly always open, letting in the sounds of birds and the smell of roses. “I’ll have to build a home like this for Santana if I marry her. Maybe I’ll build something even bigger and more beautiful, farther back on her father’s land, where she’d be closer to the mill.”

  Noel lit a long match and cupped a hand around it to keep it lit as he carried it back to Will. Will puffed the pipe to get it burning, then closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the rich tobacco. “There wasn’t time to tell you what I had in mind,” he said in response to Noel’s earlier statement. “The messenger came and told me Hugo was here, and I had to get back fast before he could take Santana off to San Francisco again. You were up at the falling site, so I just left a few instructions with Derek and took off. I’m sorry about all that, and I’m very grateful for your taking over and keeping things going. I know it’s a wild, rough lot of men we’ve got working up there.”

  “We’re making it, but it would be best if you came back as soon as you can. What about this Hugo Bolivar? Do you think you’re rid of him for good? He strikes me as someone who won’t accept defeat lightly. He’s a damn powerful man, you know.”

  Will puffed thoughtfully on the pipe before answering. “He’d be a damn fool and an even worse bastard than I figure him to be if he gives me any more trouble. He owes his life to me. After he shot me in the back, I had every right to plant my hatchet between his eyes, but I didn’t do it. I just hope that doesn’t prove to be the worst mistake of my life.”

  He exchanged a look of understanding with Noel, both men wary of what a man like Hugo might try. “I hope so, too, my friend,” Noel said. “For now I’m just glad you’re alive. So, when’s the wedding?”

  Will grinned again. “I don’t know yet if there’ll even be one. I haven’t talked to Santana since this whole thing took place, although she was there when it happened. I wanted her to take a few days to think about everything. I don’t want her to feel obligated to marry me, or to look at me as some kind of hero. I want her to make a clear decision. I’m getting out of this bed this evening, and I’ve asked Dominic to allow me a private talk with her out in one of the gardens. Soon as I’m well enough, I’ll come back to the mill and let you know what I’m going to do.”

  “And if she decides not to marry you, you’ll be as mean as a bear for the want of her.”

  Will took the pipe from his lips and studied it. “Could be. I didn’t think it would matter that much, but I find myself hoping more and more that she’ll take the chance. She’s beautiful, gracious, loving…I see a lot of strength in her, Noel, and she loves the trees like I do. She finds my work exciting, wants to learn all about it. She’s easy to talk to and—”

  “You don’t need to convince me, Will. I hope you get what you want. Like I said, I just came to make sure you’re going to be all right.”

  Will sat up straighter, flexing his left arm a little. “Sore as hell, but otherwise all right. My biggest problem has been weakness from loss of blood, but it’s been two days and I’m feeling a lot better.”

  “The news is already spreading, you know. Most of the men at camp know about it, and I imagine if Hugo had some of his men there, word will get around San Francisco when he gets back. His reputation will suffer because of this, and that’s going to make him an angry man with revenge on his mind. You watch yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of Bolivar. If he does something to get back at me for this, I won’t spare his life the next time.”

  Noel read the hatred in Will’s eyes and knew he meant what he said. He put a hand on Will’s arm. “You take care of yourself. I’ll keep things running. Don’t get up and around sooner than you should.”

  Will nodded. “You’re a good man, Noel. Someday my brother will come and help me expand, but I promise you’ll always have a top job with us. He’ll be busy handling the shipping and finding new customers, so I’ll always need a good man on the site. How soon will that house you’re building for your family be finished?”

  “Pretty quick. I’m anxious to get them moved in, tired of only seeing Bernice when I come here. She’s eager for the move, even though she’ll be living in a pretty remote area with few women for company. She’s used to that. All she cares about is being closer to me. I’m glad to have found a solid job where I know I can stay put for a while. I’ll never forgive myself for dragging Bernice out here in the first place, but we’re here now, and maybe we can finally settle in one place, thanks to you.”

  “Well, thanks for coming. I’ll be fine.”

  Noel rose. “That’s all I need to know.” He put out his hand and Will shook it. “I’ll see you back at camp in a few days, then. Good luck with Santana. I hope there will be a wedding.”

  “Thanks.” Will felt a surge of aching desire at the thought of it. Now that he had done what he had done, he was more sure than ever that Santana was the woman he wanted for a wife, the woman he wanted in his bed every night. He was a citizen of California now. Santana seemed to represent everything that was rich and beautiful about this land that so enchanted him, and he was even ready to give up his own religion and study Catholicism, just because it was what she would want. He nodded to Noel as the man left, but his thoughts were not on him or the mill. They were on a beautiful young woman with a curvaceous body that made a man ache. He would take up her religion, her customs, learn her language more thoroughly, build her whatever kind of home she wanted, wherever she wanted it. Whatever Santana Maria Chavez Lopez wanted, she would get, just as long as she would consent to be his wife.

  Will walked out the front doors of the Alcala home and into the garden area. Trellises of roses graced both sides in two nearly solid walls of flowers, leading to the brick wall that braced yet another set of thick wooden double-doors that led outside the house. The garden formed an outdoor entranceway to the front of the house, a private area where one could sit outside and enjoy the air without actually leaving the house. A statue of the Mother Mary was at the center of the garden area, in the middle of a huge marble birdbath, and pott
ed plants sat everywhere, an array of varieties. The whole setting was peaceful and comforting.

  On one of the several benches he saw Santana waiting; on another bench against the opposite wall sat her tutor, Estella Joaquin, who smiled and nodded to him as he approached. He suddenly felt as nervous as a schoolboy at his first dance, and he realized he was more worried about this meeting with Santana than he had been about the duel with Hugo. As he came closer he realized she had worn what must have been one of her most magnificent dresses, a cascade of yellow lace over yellow satin. Her hair was pulled into a mass of curls on top of her head, with little yellow roses twisted into the curls, and she wore drop earrings that looked as though they contained real diamonds. She was staring down at her lap and twisting a linen handkerchief in her hands, which were covered by yellow lace gloves.

  “Santana?”

  She started at the sound of his voice, then rose. The puffy short sleeves of her dress revealed the milky brown skin of her arms, and its ruffled bodice beautifully outlined her full bosom. She reminded him of candy, and he wanted to taste her.

  “My father must have explained why I was not at supper,” she said softly.

  “He did. He said you wanted to wait and see me when you had an answer for me.” He glanced at Estella, then back at Santana. “He also said that now that we…well…now that I have asked you to be my wife, our meetings must be properly chaperoned.”

  “Si.” She looked at him with concern. “You will be all right?”

  “I will be. I’m leaving for the mill in a couple of days.”

  Her eyes teared. “I wish to apologize for what Hugo did. At first I thought he had killed you, and I wanted to take a gun and shoot him myself. Then you showed him up as the coward he really is. I am glad, more glad that I do not have to marry him.”

  He studied her eyes and was touched by the gratefulness he saw in them. “Nor do you have to marry me, Santana.” The entire portico smelled of roses, and the air held the hush of twilight. Will felt lost in the beauty of it, and in the beauty of Santana Lopez.

  “And what do you want, Will Lassater? Tell me truly.”

  He couldn’t keep his gaze from sweeping over her, noting how perfectly formed she was. Her outer beauty was surpassed only by her inner beauty. A man couldn’t do much better in choosing a wife than to have Santana to come home to every day. “I want you for my wife,” he said. “You’re beautiful, enchanting, gracious, intelligent, and generous. Perhaps it is too soon to say that I love you, but I know that I would love you very deeply in time. I honor you, respect you, and I would never abuse you or be unfaithful to you. I cannot think of a better woman to be a mother to my children, and I promise you that if you marry me, I will never force myself on you. I will let you decide when you are ready to be a wife. I will be the best husband I can be, and someday I am going to be one of the wealthiest men in California. You will live in as grand a style as any man in this state could offer.”

  Santana smiled softly. Will looked wonderful, standing there in his simple cotton pants and checkered shirt. He had come so quickly to challenge Hugo that he had brought little with him in the way of extra clothing, but she liked him this way, rugged, simple, so handsome with his thick sandy hair and those blue eyes that made her heart flutter.

  “I in turn cannot think of any man who could make a better husband,” she said. “You are handsome, successful, and you are a man of great honor. You are brave and strong, and with you I would feel safe and protected. And I, too, would find you easy to love. Perhaps we already love each other, but for the moment what we feel is enough to be husband and wife. Because of what you did, one thing I know that you are and always will be is my very good friend, who was willing to sacrifice his life for me when he hardly knew me, only to keep me from…” Her eyes teared again, and she dabbed at them with her handkerchief. “I cannot thank you enough for getting me away from Hugo in a way that saved my father’s honor.” She met his eyes again. “But you should know that is not the reason I would marry you. It is for all the other things that you are, and because I want no other woman to own you. I want you for myself.”

  Their eyes held, and Will reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You will marry me, then?”

  “Si. The first Saturday after my eighteenth birthday in November, if that is all right with you.”

  He smiled. “That’s fine with me. I’ll hire some men to start building a home for us, toward the northwest corner of La Estancia de Alcala, so you won’t be far from your family, but also closer to the logging site. You tell me what kind of home you want. Money is no object.”

  “Just as long as there are many gardens as there are here. I would like it Spanish style, like my father’s house. I do not want something big and cold like Hugo’s home.”

  Will nodded. “One level then, stucco, something with a nice view.” This was all so formal, he thought. He wanted to grab her close, taste her mouth, feel himself inside of her. Suddenly he burned with the want of her, and he realized the next two months were going to seem like an eternity. At least he knew he had plenty to keep him busy. “I don’t think I could finish a house by the time we marry. You may have to live here for a while longer afterward.”

  “I understand.” Santana could not look away from him. For the first time in her life she wanted a man to touch her in private places, wanted to feel her nakedness pressed against his. She knew what was expected of a wife in bed, for she had made Louisa tell her, and she was not afraid—except that she feared she might not please him. “Until we have our own home, we will use my father’s guest house for privacy after we marry. Noel will have moved his family to their new home by then.”

  “You’re sure, then?”

  “I am sure.” She blinked back more tears, tears of joy for the wonderful change that had come into her life. “Te amo, carino mio.”

  “Te amo, mi querida,” he answered. So, already they could say I love you, Will mused. Perhaps only a tentative love now, but a love that he knew would grow into something wonderful and binding. “Shall we go and tell your father of our decision?”

  “Si.” She offered her arm, and Will took it, glancing over at Estella. “We’re going inside so that I can formally ask for Santana’s hand in marriage.”

  Estella smiled with pleasure. “I am glad for both of you.”

  Will led Santana toward the front doors, which stood open. She felt numb, exhilarated, afraid, excited, anxious. Every emotion she could name was rushing through her, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was officially rid of Hugo Bolivar! She was going to marry the handsome gringo from that faraway place called Maine, a man who could cut down the mighty redwoods with his powerful arms…arms that would hold her in the night and make sure that Hugo Bolivar never came near her again.

  It was a grand fiesta, with more than three hundred people attending. Some had come from from as far away as San Francisco to see the beautiful Santana Maria Chavez Lopez marry the Americano who had fought a duel to win her hand. The wedding ceremony was conducted by Father Lorenzo in the little chapel at La Estancia de Alcala, which was only big enough for family members and closest friends. Others stood outside, including Noel and his family, Derek, and several men from the mills, which Will had closed for one week. When it was announced that Santana and Will were man and wife, everyone cheered. Musicians hired out of Santa Rosa played guitars and trumpets, performing both Spanish love songs and faster-paced music, to which many danced.

  Will hardly had time to think about his wedding night. The celebrating, drinking, dancing, games, gift giving, and eating lasted well into the night. The women took Santana to her own room in the wee hours of the morning to sleep, while Will himself drank so much that he passed out. When he awoke in his room in the main house the next morning, he heard laughing and more music. He had been told about wild Mexican celebrations that lasted for days, and now he understood it wasn’t an exaggeration. By the time he cleaned up and wen
t outside, blindfolded children were beating at a pinata, their parents shouting directions and cheering them on. A huge table was spread with breakfast food—scrambled eggs, pork, corn bread, rice, potato pancakes, tortillas, chicken, pastries, coffee. Some people were lined up to eat, and he noticed Santana was standing with several other women, helping to serve guests!

  He smoothed his still-damp hair. He did not wear the fancy black silk suit made for his wedding by a seamstress Dominic had hired. He wore only a white shirt and black cotton pants. He noticed Santana was dressed in white again, but this time the dress was of simple cotton, not her lace wedding dress. He would never forget how she had looked the day before, in the most beautiful gown he had ever seen, cascading lace ruffles that led to a train several feet long.

  He felt like a fool this morning. Yesterday he had married the most beautiful woman in California, but he had gotten so caught up in the celebrating that they had not even slept together last night, although he suspected that was how it was supposed to be. Women had whisked his wife away before he could carry her off himself, and considering the condition he’d been in by then, it was probably a good thing.

  He hurried over to her side, putting a hand to her waist and pulling her away from the table, while others laughed and made teasing remarks about the groom finally being awake and ready to make her his wife. He held her close, ignoring their remarks.

  “Santana, my beautiful esposa, to whom I pledged my life yesterday. Please forgive me. Your father and brothers and the other men—”

  She put her fingers to his lips. “They kept you from me and got you so full of wine that we could not be together. That was deliberate, carino mio. Did you not understand that?” She smiled. “It is better the first night to stay away from each other, to relax and settle down from the excitement of the ceremony and the celebrating. Today we have all day to just be together, to greet everyone, to relax and take our time. Eat some breakfast with me, my love. We will walk and talk, and we will make plans for our home and our future. Later tonight we will go together to the guest house. We will be left alone then.”