by Anna Burke
“Mark my words Bernadette. If you agree to marry Guillermo you put him in a very bad position and yourself, too. At least you cannot say that I did not warn you. Do you want to be a wife who makes your husband choose between you and his family?”
I had not realized that my father and Carlos had returned and were standing nearby, or that Guillermo was about to step out into that courtyard. I was ashamed of my outburst, but also ashamed of the things that woman had said. How much had they heard?
“You will leave, now, Juanita. We will talk about this later,” Guillermo said, speaking calmly, but firmly. Juanita was a little shocked, perhaps, only in that moment becoming aware that we had an audience. She rose, wobbling as she tried to stand erect. She sniffed indignantly as Carlos reached her side and took her arm to steady her.
“I believe you should apologize, Juanita. You have spoken of matters that do not concern you. Bernadette is also correct that you spoke in a rude manner. Not at all, I might add, in keeping with the spirit of Christmas,” Carlos said sternly. He waited for Juanita to speak. When she did not, Carlos spoke for her. “Since she is now out of words, please accept the apology I make for her. Tomorrow we will take this to Father Manuel, a conversation long overdue.” That got Juanita’s attention.
“How dare you,” she said, speaking to her husband in a vicious tone I had never heard a wife use before. She yanked her arm away and lost her balance, as both Guillermo and Carlos rushed to her aid. She might have fallen otherwise.
“I dare because you have become a mean and bitter woman, Juanita. One who can no longer handle the wine she uses to wash away the anger and envy that eats at the once tender heart of the woman I married.” Juanita’s shoulders slumped as she leaned on her husband.
“Lo siento, Guillermo,” Juanita muttered as she began to leave. “Lo siento, Bernadette,” she said as she passed, tears now filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. What a sheltered and privileged life I had led, not to already know any of the things I learned that night. My father shook hands with Carlos as he and Juanita left the courtyard. Then, he patted Guillermo on the back.
“If it becomes unbearable for you, Guillermo, you may sleep in the room with Paolo, Tomàs, and Pedro. You will always be welcome here as a son.” At that point, I began to cry. “Don’t cry, Bernadette, your Guillermo loves you the way I love your mother. I can see that in his eyes. If he must choose, he will choose you.” I didn’t know then, exactly why I was crying. Partly it was sorrow that Guillermo might be put to such a test.
“Papa that is what I am worried about. I know he will choose me. I just don’t want to believe love asks us to make such choices.”
“We all must make choices, Bernadette, but this is not one I am being asked to make,” Guillermo said, taking my hands into his. “Juanita is a difficult woman and has been for some time. It is for Carlos’ sake that she still has any contact with my family, even though it is her blood that ties her to my family as a cousin. What she speaks is gossip. Maybe something picked up from a family acquaintance or a servant, made up altogether, or from a misunderstanding of what has gone on. I promise you both, that it did not come from a member of my family.” My father nodded in understanding.
“Thank you, Guillermo.” Then, to me he said, “Bernadette, even if he was asked to make such a choice, it’s one made freely and it would be the right one to make.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. “I must go see if everyone is ready to walk to Mass. It is almost time to go.”
“Sì, Papa.” As soon as he had stepped inside, leaving the door ajar, Guillermo picked up where he had left off.
“What is going on in my family is that my parents hope to use my desire to marry you as leverage. Perhaps, in my absence, there has been some discussion about how to bring me to my senses about going to college. My father did not say that to me directly, but he did ask me if I thought it would be possible to live apart from a new bride while I was away at college, or to make a young woman, old enough to marry, put off her wedding year after year.” Guillermo smiled broadly. “I told you, Bernadette, that my father is a thinking man, too. Crafty, even, but he loves me and he believes in love.”
“Then, it’s not true that I am too young, too poor or too simple-minded to sit at a table with your father and his friends?”
“Clearly, my father does not see you as too young, Bernadette. He is also a man without pretense—as down to earth as your father. There are others in my mother’s family like Juanita, I am sorry to say. That is the reason why those members of the family do not visit often. They think of us as rustic bumpkins who live out in the wilds with our cattle, rather than in the city where they live. My mother has spoken her mind to Juanita and others just as you did tonight. Mother has a little of El Pinto in her too, Bernadette. That’s why I am so sure she will love you as much as I do.” I started to speak, but he stopped me, placing a finger over my lips.
“Please, let me finish. There is nothing simple about you and your mind is a fine one. You are able to grasp whatever you want to grasp, and as easily as you have captured my heart. You have learned to read and write English in a much shorter time than it took me. So can you see how this is all nonsense?”
“Sì, I suppose so. But what will I do while you are in school in California?”
“You will go to the United States with me, of course. Men are allowed to have their wives with them while they go to college. It is not a seminary or a monastery, Bernadette. I would not presume to set a date for our wedding without having our families meet and discuss it. I cannot imagine a more perfect Christmas than this one has been unless we were also husband and wife, can you?”
“No, but maybe also a muzzle for Juanita,” I added. Guillermo burst out laughing.
“When you meet my mother you can suggest it to her. She might agree to send one along with Juanita’s invitation to our wedding! It would be a good lesson for Juanita about who is behaving like an animal in the wild.” We both laughed at the idea so hard, we were nearly in tears.
“Querida, your father is right that it’s late. We’ll set this all aside, for now, and enjoy the coming of Christmas. By next year, when we are married, all of this will be forgotten. Tomorrow I will have a word with Carlos. He will need to be reassured that his wife has not, once again, poisoned the well with people he cares about.” I nodded in my head, in agreement, and was about to wish him good luck with that when he swept me up into his arms and kissed me. This time I was more prepared and returned the kiss. When we let go, we both smoothed down our hair just as my family members came rushing from the house. Theresa handed me my shoes since I was still wearing my slippers.
“It would not be good to show up at Mass in your slippers. People might say you come from a family too poor even to put shoes on your feet.”
“Ha! But our El Pinto does not even need shoes to stir the ground beneath her feet,” Guillermo said. I laughed as I put my shoes on.
“At least I have not behaved like El Burro,” I said. Everyone laughed. That set my brothers off. They hee-hawed like donkeys, as they headed off to Mass, kicking out behind them as they made that sound.
9 Hasta luego is not goodbye
Bernadette’s story of that first Christmas with Guillermo stirred so many different feelings in me. I sat over an empty bowl, having scarfed down the ice cream quickly. I was so happy at the thought of a family that big, gathered around a table for dinner. I quizzed her about what they had eaten and made her promise to make me champurrado and galletas de navidad and bacalao.
“And how about fixing that rompope, too, Bernadette? That sounds like delicious eggnog.”
“Maybe when you’re older, Jessica. Remember, I was fifteen that night. That’s a drink more for adults, Chica.”
“Yes, it sounds like not even grownups handle that so well. I’m sorry that Juanita was so mean, Bernadette. I just don’t understand it.”
“That kind of meanness is difficult for me to understand, too. Some people sink in
to shadows, relish the darkness even, as a place to find a reason to hurt others. Maybe their own sorrows take them there, or perhaps envy or hatred of happiness and gratitude—things they cannot feel and want to crush in others.”
I shook my head solemnly. “I suppose Juanita’s meanness is why it wasn’t a perfect Christmas yet.”
I felt relief, knowing that there was at least one more Christmas to come for Bernadette and Guillermo, and, as hard as it was to believe, an even better one. I also began to feel dread at the idea of losing Guillermo. In my nine-year-old way, I think I fell in love with him a little too, that day. How wonderful could it be to have a Guillermo in your life? How tragic to lose him?
“Sì, Jessica, and we weren’t husband and wife, yet. Despite the unkind words from Juanita, I was more earnest than ever to marry Guillermo. Of course, that required that I meet Guillermo’s family. Even though he had done everything he could to reassure me, I was nervous to meet them. May seemed like such a long way off, too. May, also meant that Guillermo would have left San Felipe, so I was torn. I wanted May to hurry up and I wanted it to stay away.”
“Yes, Bernadette, that’s kind of how I feel right now. I want to hurry up and hear more of your love story, but I don’t want it to end either. Especially now that Guillermo’s, uh, uh, not still around anymore.”
“Oh, but he is still around, Jessica. That’s why this is a story that’s sad, but with a happy ending after all.” I was completely bewildered and must have looked that way.
“I’ll explain more when we get to that part, but let me tell you about Guillermo’s family, next, okay?” With that she hopped down from the bar stool and took our dishes around to the other side of the kitchen island and loaded them into one of the dishwashers.
“Okay,” I said.
“You know, Jessica, you’re not old enough for rompope, but how about a cup of coffee—decaf, like I’m having, of course?”
“Really?” I asked. “I’ve never had coffee before.” So as she started her story again, she made us coffee. Mine, more like a latte, actually, with sugar and a lot of milk. I still felt quite grown up, sipping coffee from a mug while listening to Bernadette. To this day I am, among other things, a coffee aficionado—oh, okay, I’m a coffee snob. I like to say coffee became a habit during law school in Palo Alto, with a Peet’s coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. In reality, I think coffee has always brought me back to that moment when I sat with Bernadette. It was my first time ever chatting, woman to woman, about matters of the heart.
****
The end of fishing season came too soon. I was dreading the fact that Guillermo would be leaving. He was headed back to his room in that boarding house in Mexicali. He had matters of his own that needed to be put in order before he could travel again. Then, he would be returning to his family to make sure everything was ready for our visit.
The months that followed that first Christmas with Guillermo flew by. The men were working hard at their fishing. My mother, sisters and I took on extra projects to bring in money for our trip. We also wanted to look our best so we went through all our clothes, mending and embellishing them to improve their appearance. We made a list of new items we needed. Even in May, it would be much cooler in the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountains than in San Felipe.
We did not want to meet Guillermo’s family empty-handed, so we sewed and embroidered gifts for his mother, father, grandma, and others on a list, that seemed to go on and on. I was gripped by my sense of duty to Guillermo and my family. I would do all that I could to create a good impression. My fingers had never moved as quickly and easily to cut, sew and embroider shirts and skirts, comforters, shawls, ponchos, and blankets. Moments from those months still come back to me in little gusts as vivid as the warm breezes that whip around in the Sonoran desert along the Sea of Cortez. Often, what I see is the flash of a needle moving almost on its own through yards of colorful fabric. I catch glimpses of my mother or sisters working nearby, their needles flashing, too, as the brightly colored thread danced.
Our chatter is carried back to me on those gusts of memory, too. My mother and sisters and I were so excited. When Guillermo was able to come for a visit at the end of the day, on a Sunday, or a bad weather day, we made him tell us everything he could about his family and his ranch. We wanted to learn all we could about his family members, starting with their names and ages. But we also asked about their favorite foods and colors, about their daily chores, interests and habits. We questioned him about the breed of cattle they raised, the process of managing the herd and getting the cattle to market. My father and brothers were fascinated by ranching and had a lot of questions about that too. Sometimes Guillermo was caught up short by one question or another.
Many times that spring he said, “Your family is as curious about the world as I am.” Often that statement was followed, or preceded, by an admission that he did not know the answer to a particular question, “but,” he would say, “that would be a great question to ask so and so...” I was careful to note who in his family he suggested we ask about one thing or another, storing away his ideas. I would never lack for conversation, of some kind, when I sat at that enormous, polished wooden dining table.
Guillermo and I also found moments to speak privately and began to dream together, as a couple. My thinking man agreed with me that it was time to have a plan between us. We could not make it known to others out of respect for family traditions. I would have preferred a plan that meant we never had to be apart again, but I knew that was impossible. Instead, we came up with a plan that would move matters along as fast as we could, given the situation we were in.
“Once our families have met, our fathers and I will talk about our marriage.” Guillermo said, with a serious look on his face, “My father will formally announce my intentions to you and your family, and it’s only then that I will propose to you. I hope you will say yes, and accept the ring that I offer.” He smiled an odd little smile, perhaps, a little worried.
“Surely you do not doubt me, Guillermo, do you?”
“No, it’s only that I doubt the moment. I had hoped to present you with a ring in a more private way, but I have seen this before—with my sister, Connie, and with my brother, Roberto. That is the way that it must be. The ring will be more lavish than this one, Querida, but not given to you with any more love than I feel for you now.” With that, my Guillermo presented a ring to me. It’s what they call, today, a promise ring. A simple gold band with a small diamond.
“Will you please, wear this ring, as a symbol of undying love from my grateful heart? You have changed my life forever, Bernadette. Because of you I am a better man, already, and you are my hope to get into heaven, someday.” I was, of course, overwhelmed by emotion; brought once more to speechlessness by this modern man, steeped in tradition. I threw my arms around him and wept; speechlessness and tears of joy seemed to find me often with Guillermo around.
“Of course, Guillermo, but I am the one whose life has been changed forever; by your dreams and your love.” My hands trembled as I took the ring to hold it and read the engraving inside.
“Esto y mi corazòn tambièn...this and my heart, too,” the inscription read.
“Will you place it on my finger, please?” Even my Guillermo, in that moment, was at a loss for words. His tears fell too as he placed the ring on my finger. He crossed himself, and I did too. That was a sacred moment. The one in which I truly believe Guillermo and I were married. There were more rings and ceremonies to follow—the engagement ring, from a family treasure trove of jewelry, and a wedding ring made to match it later on. And that unforgettable Christmas Eve when we pledged our love, publicly, in the Church before God and our families.
The ring he gave me that night is the one I still wear as the symbol of my marriage to Guillermo. We sat, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a few minutes. I don’t know how long, exactly, because time stopped. A mourning dove, roosting under the eaves in the courtyard, cooed
. I heard the sea lapping at the shore, in the distance, echoing the sound of our beating hearts and breaths drawn together as we blended into the night. When I tell you about that one perfect Christmas, as a husband and wife, I mean that in the worldly sense, not in the otherworldly way of true love where souls meet. Eventually, Guillermo began to speak again, almost as if we had not left this world at all.
“After you put on the ring I present to you in front of our families, it will be official. Our engagement can be announced by our parents. That will, no doubt, involve a large fiesta. Family from the city, friends, business associates, and neighbors will all be invited to come and meet you and your family.” I found words, again, too, as though I had not also been lifted so high by love that I caught a glimpse of heaven. I spoke sweetly to my Guillermo, not worried a bit at the prospect of meeting a horde of strangers.
“We have already been sewing party dresses, Guillermo. My fisherman father and brothers will also have new clothes to wear to a party. Like those you and my father wore to my quinceañera.” And so it went for a little longer that night.
We would begin preparing for our wedding as soon as that visit to Chihuahua was over. Guillermo would stay a little longer with his parents, after we left, but by June he would be back in Mexicali and would visit me again in San Felipe. In July he hoped to visit Los Angeles and find lodging that he could use when he started college in the fall.
“Lodging,” he added, “with space enough for a wife, after a Christmas wedding.” We had settled on a Christmas wedding because by then, Guillermo would have finished his first term at school and would have time off. We would also have been engaged for a respectable period of time, and I would have had another birthday. That would make it easier for me to meet certain age restrictions in the U.S. if I wanted to work, drive, or attend school. The men in my family would have a few days off then, too, from the fishing season that would be well underway again. Of course, none of this could happen if our parents objected strongly. We did not let ourselves speak of such a possibility in the time we had left to us as winter passed into spring.