by J. L. Jarvis
“Poor Ana.”
“I know. With a baby on the way.”
Eduardo glanced sharply, then feigned interest in food as the women talked on.
The other shook her head, a sad frown on her face. “When?”
“July? Maybe August?”
“And what about you? You’re due for another, don’t you think?”
The other one laughed as they returned to the kitchen.
Eduardo set the plate down and went back to the house. People milled about in the house and the porch. Children ran outside, playing with no worries about life or death.
Eduardo found Ana and took hold of her arm. “May I speak with you?” He made excuses to a couple with whom she was talking and led her outside. They walked for a long time together.
“Thank you. I didn’t realize how tired it made me to smile until I got away.”
Eduardo looked straight ahead as he led her along, his boots pounding the dirt. They stopped under the shade of a live oak. He was direct, almost harsh. “When did you plan to tell me?”
“Pardon me?”
“Is it true?”
Ana stared back, stunned by his manner. “Eduardo, I—”
“Are you having a baby?”
“Not today.”
“How can you make fun?”
“Fun? I don’t know how I’ll get through today, so don’t ask me to think of a baby.”
Eduardo looked away. “Carlos was my friend.”
“And you were his. He loved you dearly.”
“Don’t you think he would want—”
“What? To have his best friend treat me like this?”
“I’ve upset you.”
“Yes, you’ve upset me,” she snapped.
Eduardo reached out to her, then withdrew his hands in uneasy regret. He shifted his weight and looked down at his hands.
Ana said, “I am pregnant. I’m sick to my stomach all day. I’ve just buried my husband—part of my soul. I don’t want to think, and I wish I couldn’t feel. Don’t make me think of the future when today is too long to live through.”
Eduardo straightened. His face was blank. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all been a shock.” He took her hands in his. “Just know that if you need help, you just have to ask me.”
Ana’s eyes clouded with tears. “Please help me?”
He put his arms about her and held her for a moment, then quickly released her.
“I was going to tell you,” said Ana.
“It was none of my business.”
“Of course it’s your business. You’re our friend.”
Our friend. “I will always be that.”
“Oh, Eduardo, I would follow him now if I could.” Ana leaned her head back against the tree bark and closed her eyes. Tears fell from closed eyes and broke free. “I made it through the whole day without crying.”
He pulled out his bandana and blotted the tears from her face.
Ana held onto his hand and pressed her cheek to it. Her eyes closed.
“You’re not alone,” said Eduardo.
“But that’s how he left me.”
“Not by choice.”
“I didn’t need any combs for my hair.” Bitterness weighed on her chest.
Her pain made him feel helpless. Awkwardly, he stepped closer. “I’m here, and I will be here.”
“I’m so scared!” She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. He held her and cradled her head on his shoulder as she sobbed.
“Oh, sweet Ana.”
She lifted her face and his lips brushed her cheek. Their breath mingled. It was too soft to know who began it. Lips touched and they kissed. Eduardo pulled back. Ana gasped, and they carefully distanced themselves.
“What kind of woman—?” she asked herself.
But he answered. “A lonely woman, and a lonelier man.”
“I love him. I miss him.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“He will never forgive what I’ve done on this day.” Ana walked quickly back to the house.
He could not disagree, or make a move to stop her.
A few women remained to clean up. “Will you be all right?” Lupe asked.
Ana nodded.
Lupe touched Ana’s cheek. “Get some sleep—or at least get some rest. I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”
Ana nodded.
Lupe looked at Eduardo as he walked through the door. “And what will you do? Have you some place to stay?”
He tilted his head. “On the porch.”
Lupe looked doubtful, but thought of the men who’d killed Carlos. Anyone who could do that to Carlos might come back for Ana. “Perhaps it is best for someone to be here.” Not wanting to frighten Ana, she added, “To look after her.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ana told her.
Lupe brought him a blanket and pillow.
“You see?” said Eduardo to Ana. “I’m no trouble at all.”
Lupe grinned. They all went to the door. Eduardo went outside first, and the others soon followed. With encouraging hugs and kind words, they all left.
Ana watched them walk back to their homes.
“I’m sorry,” said Eduardo.
“It was a kiss between friends, that’s all.”
Morning came and Eduardo found Ana at the small wooden table inside.
“I can’t leave him,” she said.
“You can’t stay here alone.”
“But I will.”
“You can’t. It’s for ranch workers.”
“Then I’ll work.”
“You’ll work after the baby?”
“I’ll ask Lupe to help with the baby.”
“Is that what Carlos would want?”
“He can’t have what he wants now—any more than I can.”
“Let me take care of you and the baby.” He leaned forward to take her hands in his, but she slipped them from reach.
“It’s too soon.”
He could not meet her eyes. “I’m not asking for more than the friendship we have.”
“But you need it.” She looked at him sorrowfully.
“I have come to need very little.” He swallowed and watched her. “You would have your own room.”
“Eduardo…” She shook her head gently.
His face drained of emotion. He looked at the floor and then lifted his eyes toward the door. “It’s too soon to speak of such things. I see now. I wanted to help, but it’s worse now.”
“No,” she whispered and reached toward him.
His chair scraped the floor as he pushed back from the table.
He looked down at her with such sorrow. “I should leave.”
“No, please.” Ana stood up. A hushed confession came forth. “I’m afraid.”
Eduardo saw the fear and the need in her eyes, but it was not for him. His struggle for words brought new lines to his face. “All I can do now is hurt you.” He glanced toward the door, poised to leave.
Ana said, “I loved you before Carlos.” Her voice was silk to his soul. “I will always love you.”
But her tone shaded the meaning of words he had yearned for. She gave love like an apology.
He walked to the door. Her voice was so small. “Please don’t.”
“And I will always love you,” he told her.
He felt, more than heard, her step closer. She slipped her hand into his. “I need your friendship.”
“If I stay, we will lose it.”
He released her hand gently and walked out to the porch. As he picked up his saddlebags, he called out to a boy who was playing nearby. “Can you go tell them get my horse ready?” With half a grin, he tossed a coin to the child, who rushed off to earn his pay.
Ana followed him out. She looked fragile and lost and he longed to sweep her into his arms and away from her sorrow.
“Goodbye, Ana.”
He rode until the land on both sides was a blur. Yet the memory of her figure, bereft, in the doorway persisted
, distinct and unfading. He found her in pain, and he wounded her more. All she asked for was friendship. Her heart was wide open with grief, and she trusted him so. He deserved neither trust nor her friendship. His compañero was dead. He honored his memory by leaving. The love was too strong, and the man was too weak.
For a long while he rode, hearing only cicadas and hoof beats, and his own tormenting thoughts. The lights of San Antonio welcomed him now. He had friends there who would take him in. He would work. He would write. He would bury his mind and his heart for as long as it took to be able to endure Ana’s touch without yearning.
There was so much ahead, so much to do, now that Huerta was in control. His actions would resonate beyond Mexico. The whole world must be told what had happened. The cry of Land and Liberty would once more be heard.
He stopped by a stream to water his horse, and they took him by surprise. Two men came upon him as he scooped water into his hands. Their guns were drawn.
“Texas Rangers,” they said, pistols pointed.
Eduardo was too smart to resist. He had good enough aim in battle, but he was no cowboy. He stood no chance of drawing his pistol, and his rifle was well out of reach in his saddle. He raised his arms as they told him, and turned around slowly. The two men loomed like faint shadows against the dim light from the city.
One man tied his hands, and pushed him up in the saddle. He was under arrest, they told him. They would not state the charges. One man tethered Eduardo’s horse to his saddle horn and they were on their way.
Eduardo resigned himself to another arrest. He could only guess at what prompted this one. Had he been followed? Had one of the ranch hands reported him? It could have been any number of people. At this point, which one mattered little. He had spoken out enough against the U.S. Government, President Wilson in particular, that it did not surprise him. He was not hurt, and this was not the first time. He began to relax and resign himself to another routine arrest and detention in jail. But instead of continuing toward nearby San Antonio, they turned southward.
He protested, but a rifle barrel put an end to it quickly.
“If I was you I’d shut up,” said the ranger. “Look around. You see anybody out here to complain if we have to shoot one more greaser on the run from the law?”
He did not speak again. He rode on and thought as he looked toward the South. Some things were the same on both sides of the border.
Chapter 24
Ana slept. For a week she took naps, which she blamed on the baby inside her. When she woke, she would do the most basic of duties. Some of the women stopped by and cajoled her to join them outside in the evenings, but Ana declined. It was Lupe who finally convinced her to go. After that Ana did not resist. She brought sewing, which remained in her lap. But she sat and was able to hold back the tears for an hour, then two, and sometimes for an evening, after which she would come home exhausted, collapse on a chair, and sit up through the quietest part of the night. In the gauzy gray haze before morning she drifted and hoped that, in sleep, she would join him. But dreams would not come, only days, and the days hurt her eyes.
A soft knock at the door disturbed one afternoon’s rest. Ana stirred, but settled back and chose to ignore it. But the knocking persisted.
“Yes. I’m coming.” She arose got up to answer the door, but it swung gently open.
“Maestra?”
Nagging guilt moved her to invite her two students inside. She caught sight of her reflection in a small mirror that hung on the wall near the door. Her hand flew to her hair and she tried to tame the wild unbrushed mane. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well.”
“We brought you something.”
With a weary smile, Ana took what they offered, wondering where had they gotten the paper and pencil. Beneath a drawing of a room full of children, they had written, “We miss you. Please be our teacher again.”
Into the doorway stepped Mrs. Royal in a peach colored dress and neat, wheat yellow hair. Ana got up and smoothed her hands down her dress, now aware that her own dress was neither clean nor pressed. She combed fingers through her loose hair.
“Mrs. Royal. Please come in. I’ll make tea.” She walked to the stove and stopped. “Oh. The fire’s gone out. Just a moment.”
“No, thank you,” said the ranch owner’s wife as she set a gentle hand on Ana’s arm to stop her.
Ana looked up, her eyes glassy with tears. “I—I’m—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been—” She shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
Ana found comfort in the woman’s kind manner. She asked Ana how she was, and listened intently. Then the thought came to her that such a visit must have a purpose.
“We were so sorry about Carlos.”
“Thank you,” said Ana.
“I’ve been wondering how you were getting on.”
“I am better each day.”
Mrs. Royal glanced about the small room. The bed was made. A few dishes lay in the sink. Clothes sat piled in a corner. “We wanted to give you some time. It’s been three weeks, and I know you may not be quite ready, but—”
“No, I understand,” said Ana. “Please forgive me for being so slow. Of course I’ll begin right away. I can pack and be gone by Friday.” Where would she go? To Eduardo? Of course, he would help her.
“Oh no, you misunderstand me,” said Mrs. Royal. “I’m here because I need your help.”
“My help? I don’t know…” Ana looked away, embarrassed by the state of her grief.
“I’ve been after Mr. Royal to open a school here on the ranch. Since the tutor left, I’ve been teaching the children myself, but they need more than lessons. They need other children.”
“But the other children on the ranch—”
“Need schooling, just as my children do.”
“Yes, they all do,” said Ana, stunned.
“Well, Mr. Royal has finally agreed. I don’t know what got into him. I suppose, since they’re mine—” She saw Ana’s confusion. “Oh, the young ones are mine. It’s a second marriage for us both.”
Mrs. Royal took a breath and went on. “So we’re going to open a school on the ranch. He has put me in charge. I used to teach, you see, and I’ve got some ideas. But listen to me going on. My point is: I’ve seen you with a few of the children.”
Ana’s opened wider.
“I’ve heard you teaching in Spanish and English.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” In an instant Ana was back in her childhood classroom, having just spoken in Spanish.
Mrs. Royal smiled. “One day I caught my two little hooligans peeking in through your window. Well, you can imagine what I thought. I know boys will be boys, but there are limits. So I walked over to take them each by the ear, when I heard you teaching and took a peek myself. Oh, I know it was rude, and I’m sorry! But I have to tell you, when I looked at those children—and my boys! They used to hate school! But you made it look fun!”
Ana was not sure how to react.
“Would you stay on to teach at our school?”
She was too moved to speak.
“We’ll pay you what your husband was making.”
Wonder mixed with joy too quickly for Ana. She fought the tears as they filled her eyes.
“Oh, my dear, I’ve upset you!”
“Oh, no! I just wasn’t expecting this.”
“But you’ll do it? Now, you’ll stay here, of course. You can start as soon as you wish. How is Monday?”
“Well, yes!”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Mrs. Royal got up and walked to the door.
“Monday?” said Ana.
“If that’s not too soon.”
“No, I—it’s fine, but…” Ana put her hand on her pregnant belly and smiled helplessly at her new employer.
“Oh, that. Don’t worry. I haven’t taught in years, but I think I could manage for a little while when the time comes.”
“You would do that for me?
”
“I would do that for the children, and that includes yours. So it’s settled?”
“Yes.” Ana felt herself smile for the first time in weeks.
They got up and walked to the door. Mrs. Royal put her hand on the door, but she paused and looked out through the screen. The silence grew awkward. Ana opened her mouth to speak, if only to fill the void.
Mrs. Royal spoke in a voice soft and straightforward. “When my first husband died, in a way my boys lost their mother for a while.” She looked at Ana with wise eyes. “But children live on. And you will, too.”
By morning, a cold wind had blown in from the north. At Carlos’s grave marker, Ana sat clutching a shawl about her as wisps of hair tore loose and lashed at her face. She leaned her cheek on the heavy wood cross.
“I hear your voice as though it’s inside me—so deep, and I feel you so close.”
Ana put her hand over the baby inside her. “There’s too much to carry.” She wilted over the rounded mound of earth that covered his body and stayed beneath a sky of green-gray until cool drops hit her face and mingled with tears. She whispered something, touched the marker, and stood. The wind blew her skirt and tossed about bits of grass. Ana walked through the drizzle in no hurry. A few head of cattle huddled under a tree.
She was not far from home when a form on the porch caught her eye. A gaunt figure draped in limp rags leaned on the porch rail and watched her.
“Eduardo?”
He stepped toward her and faltered. Ana ran and took him in her arms and helped him up the steps.
He woke up in bed, propped up with pillows that smelled like fresh air. Ana sat down beside him. “Drink some of this.” With trembling hands he took the tea Ana offered. He sipped some.
“You have to drink more.”
He shook his head and gave back the glass before falling asleep for the rest of the morning. Ana kept close watch over him. Sun scorched skin peeled in patches and marred his fine features. His lips were swollen and cracked. “You are not suited to such a harsh life,” whispered Ana. For all of his passion for causes—or because of it—he felt things more deeply, and it showed on his face. Now the gentleman’s face, with its eyes tinged with melancholy, looked weathered and weary. She swept the curls from his forehead and smoothed salve on his skin with a touch that could not be tender enough.