by Anna Burke
“Yes, that is true. But what do you think of this family?”
“I think there is a good reason that Guillermo wants to go all the way to Los Angeles for years and years,” she said as she started to undress. I could not hide my surprise at her remark. Soon I understood. Apparently, Guillermo’s mother had attempted to enlist my mother and Theresa to influence me, too. Her scheme was not to get Guillermo to give up his idea of going to school, but to switch to a college in Chihuahua City or Juarez. A school closer to home meant he could continue to play a more active role in ranch affairs.
“Does everyone in this family have a plan for Guillermo? Do they all see me as leverage?” I threw myself down onto the bed and did a version of El Pinto, flat on my back. My sister snorted and tossed her head. Then, she flopped down on the bed next to me and pawed at it as I had done. We both became giddy, choking with laughter.
The next morning, when I met Grandma Consuelo in the kitchen, she began to show me how to cook a family favorite, mole. We started from scratch, creating a rich chicken stock. As she guided me through the process, she also spoke to me. We had the kitchen in her house to ourselves, as far as I could tell.
“If this family travels to San Felipe, for a Christmas wedding, where will we stay?” I recovered quickly from the shock, perhaps getting used to the way games were played and decisions made on that ranch.
“There are a couple small hotels that could house close family members and friends. Juanita and Carlos have some space, and my family could make room, too. That would be especially nice, perhaps, for the children who have become friends to my brothers and sisters. We could make other arrangements, but a lot depends on how many rooms we would need, altogether. Of course, the hotels are fully booked that time of year so we would have to give them notice early enough to get the rooms we need.”
“Consider it done. I will have Guillermo go into town tomorrow and call them, long distance. I presume they have a telephone at these small hotels?”
“Yes,” I replied startled at how quickly this woman acted. Had some deal been struck already between the family factions?
“Where is the church in relation to the hotel?” I told her, giving her as clear a description as I could of our small town. I realized I was a little homesick, especially at the thought that it was not likely to be my home for much longer.
And so it went for more than two hours. Grandma Consuelo asked questions and I answered them as best I could. This woman, standing next to me, looking up at me, since she was a couple of inches shorter than me, poked and prodded, more plotting than planning a wedding.
“We will have to ask Guillermo about that,” I suggested in response to some of her questions.
As we chopped vegetables, cleaned and plucked pin feathers from the hens for our pot, I listened and learned another family secret that day. Grandma Consuelo cooked up the best mole I had ever tasted. Even better than my own mother’s! In that time together, we also cooked up a Christmas wedding.
We were at that ranch for nearly three weeks more. I tore myself away from Guillermo, at that point, but felt great relief about leaving that ranch. In my heart, I knew I would never return to that place again. I did not know why I had that feeling at the time. Later I wondered if we should have made that clear to everyone right then. Guillermo was still hesitant about abandoning his obligations to the family, and I was afraid to rock the boat. I believe he knew, too, that he would never be a rancher.
That became very clear once Guillermo started college in the fall. He was absolutely captivated by the experience, sending me letters several times a week from Los Angeles. Sometimes he wrote with new details about our wedding, or answered questions I had about some part of our plan. Mostly he described his day-to-day life in that enormous city. He told me about the highways and skyscrapers, the Hollywood sign on a hillside overlooking the place where movies were made. He described the apartment he had found for us, the shop where he drank coffee, and the supermarket where he bought groceries, all places that would become part of my world, too, when we were married. Libraries and books stores were everywhere, too, perfect for this man who loved books so much.
Even more exciting than the city were his classes and the amazing things he was learning. He was working very hard to keep up. Studying in English was challenging, but he felt his courses were going well. I wrote back, shorter letters about ordinary events, writing in English for practice. We were both so busy in those months that we hardly had time to think about how much we missed each other except when we wrote or read those letters. We poured out our hearts to one another, proclaiming our desire to be together again soon.
I had seen him, only briefly, since we left that ranch in Chihuahua. In June, Guillermo returned to Mexicali, and made a quick visit to see me. Then, he was off to Los Angeles to set up his apartment before school started. He made another trip back to San Felipe, after that, a wonderful week spent together, talking about our wedding and enjoying our engagement. After that he returned to Los Angeles for classes.
I did not seem him again until November. Guillermo showed up, in San Felipe, for my sixteenth birthday. Apparently, the celebration of Thanksgiving in the U.S. caused schools and businesses to close. The way his courses were arranged, he had almost a week to spend with us. His first term was nearly over after that, so his return to Los Angeles would be a brief one. Within a month he would be back in San Felipe and would stay until our wedding on Christmas Eve, and for the events that followed. The most wonderful part was that when he returned to Los Angeles, I would be with him.
My father and brothers were hard at work fishing again. Our house was a buzz of activity with all of the tasks to be done for the wedding plus the regular work that needed to be done. Grandma Consuelo had intervened and taken many tasks off our hands. Not only had she booked most of the rooms in the two hotels in town, but she had made arrangements to bring in help to prepare the rooms, and feed the guests while they were there. The cooking team she hired would be preparing and serving the wedding feast so that my family could be celebrants. My mother, sisters, and I would make the mole, however, to be sure that it was up to the standards set by Grandma Consuelo.
Grandma had announcements made up for us that were sent out once we put together a guest list. That list included about two hundred guests from town, and several dozen from out of town, mostly Guillermo’s family and close friends from Chihuahua. That year Christmas Eve was on a Saturday. The celebration would be arranged much like my quinceañera. With Grandma in charge, however, a more elaborate pavilion would be set up, with more seating and a larger dance floor. She had hired musicians to play for the wedding Mass, and others for the reception.
A seamstress had come to the house to fit me for a wedding dress, so that my mother did not have to do that. The dress would be white as is traditional for a bride, but I would carry roses in various shades of red and pink in my bouquet. My mother would sew deep rose-colored dresses for my sisters who would serve as attendants, along with Connie and Guillermo’s two other sisters. Antonia, my youngest sister, and Izzy would be flower girls. Each of the attendants to the bride would be paired with a groomsman, either one of my brothers or one of Guillermo’s. Their clothes would come from a shop in Juarez. Much to my surprise, Grandma had taken measurements for all of the males in our family while they were at the ranch. She had the wedding clothes sent to our house, early in December, so my mother could alter them, if necessary.
My mother was also making our wedding cake. It would be more beautiful even than the cakes she had made for my quinceañera and would have roses in colors to match my bouquet. Snow white doves, made of sugar, would be placed on the cakes, too. Images of doves were on the announcements sent out, and doves would be incorporated into centerpieces and table settings. Others would be hung, as in flight, from the canopy, along with lights. All to honor the appearance of that dove the first time Guillermo and I went to Mass together. Grandma Consuelo was very moved when we told he
r about that incident and insisted that La Paloma be central to our wedding, especially since it would take place at Christmas time. And so it was.
Grandma Consuelo was more than an ally, she was our angel. I did not understand quite how it was possible that we were to be married as we hoped, shortly after I turned sixteen. I was certain that Guillermo’s father would have delayed our marriage if he could. As it turned out, Grandma Consuelo overruled him, using the power of her purse. Theresa told me another secret she had learned from two of Guillermo’s sisters. Most of the assets of the estate were in Grandma Consuelo’s name. Guillermo’s father and brother had tried to get control, on more than one occasion, but had not yet succeeded. Grandma Consuelo had a substantial income of her own, apart from money allocated to her son, Agustìn, to run the ranch. Other money was doled out as allowances to family members, including Guillermo. When I asked Guillermo about it, he confirmed all that my sister said. Grandma Consuelo answered to no one but herself. That is how it came to be that our wedding happened, exactly as we hoped it would.
When the day finally came I was excited and nervous at the same time. I had been to enough weddings in our small town to know what to expect. That is except for the fact that Guillermo’s family members were going to be there and were still unpredictable to me. They had begun arriving several days in advance of our wedding date. Parties had also begun even before our wedding day, and would go on for a week after we were married. These were in addition to, or tied to, feasts and celebrations of the season. For our wedding there would be a Mass for our marriage on Saturday, as well as a vigil at midnight for Christmas.
The town was bursting at the seams from so many visitors. Tourists who found no rooms at the hotels had filled campsites, so that all of the small palapas-covered pavilions on the beach were taken, too. Providers hired by Grandma Consuelo, slept in their cars, delivery trucks, or right out on the beach. They were not the only ones. Some in Guillermo’s family had taken it upon themselves to try to outdo Grandma Consuelo. They had hired their own music, arranged for food to be prepared, including roasting half a cow, one night, and a whole pig on another.
Gifts were given in a competitive way, too. Not just our wedding gifts. Piñatas filled with toys, coins, and candies were hung at fiestas for the children to break. Most of the children in town turned up for those parties for cookies, fruits, nuts or cake. Then, they scrambled for other treats that spilled out on the ground when those piñatas split open.
I put the thought of all of that maneuvering out of my mind as soon as I began to dress for our wedding. My mind filled, instead, with images of Guillermo. Guillermo the first time I met him on the beach. Guillermo walking me to Mass for the first time, dancing with me at my quinceañera, holding me on his horse as we rode up into the mountains so that I could see snow. Guillermo, smiling at me, talking with excitement about his studies, or speaking soberly about the challenges he faced at school, or with his family. I could not believe my good fortune to find such a man, to have him love me, and to have gained the permission of his family, and mine, to marry.
I could feel my feet leaving the ground where they had been planted firmly for months. It was thrilling. When I put on that dress and looked into a long mirror that Grandma Consuelo had sent as an early Christmas present, I could not believe my eyes. The dress was fitted at the waist, with a high collar and long sleeves made of lace. Pearl buttons ran down the front to the waist band. A full skirt flowed from there, with a trail that seemed to go on and on. A long white lace mantilla was fixed on my head with a beautiful comb. I carried the crystal rosary Guillermo had given me, as well as the bouquet of roses. I wore beaded white slippers on my feet, and a white lace shawl draped over my arms.
As the sun set, the church came alive with light. The light of smiles from hundreds of well-wishers, added to the candle light that radiated from every corner. There he was, my Guillermo, waiting for me at the altar in his black bolero jacket and black pants, trimmed in gleaming white. His eyes blazed to match the power of a thousand smiles he wore on his face. My father walked beside me smiling, too, as relieved as I that this wedding was happening. We had talked, several times, about the strange way Guillermo’s family members had behaved. It was as if our wedding was a political contest or another of their business ventures, rather than a uniting of two souls for all eternity.
Music of the angels played as I walked down the aisle, closing the distance between me and Guillermo forever. The words of the priest swirled around us as we spoke promises that we had already made to each other in private, aloud, in front of more people than I could count. The church was so full that they could not seat everyone, nor could the doors be closed with so many standing.
The guests clapped with approval when Guillermo held me in his arms, as his wife, and kissed me. Bells rang out and those in attendance shouted their congratulations as we left the church. We walked in procession from the church to the area set up for our wedding party—almost the identical path taken the year before for my quinceañera. I could not believe how much had happened in only one year.
Chinese lanterns hung in bright colors around the pavilion, as well as strings of lights laced together above our head. Guillermo had asked that the lanterns be added to the décor. A tribute to the years he had lived in that boarding room in China Town, and because I found them so exotic and beautiful. Roses, and those paper doves, were strung everywhere too, interwoven with the lights.
As we entered the area, a band began to play and those already waiting for us began to cheer and clap. When the noise quieted down, and the place had filled up with family and friends from the church, my father formally announced us, using our married names and the cheering began again. We were then seated at a long table, draped in satiny cloth, with ribbons gathered into bunches around roses and tiny doves. On either side of us sat our parents and attendants, talking quietly, as we waited for our guests to take seats at tables arranged on the floor in front of us. The Mariachi band continued to play lively tunes, singing in voices almost as melodious as Guillermo’s had been that first morning on the beach.
Most of the rest of the evening was a blur as we went through the events as they were planned. Nothing that happened was very different from weddings I have attended since. Blessings from the priest were followed by toasts, dining and dancing, and the cutting of the cake. Then more dancing and visiting with the guests. We tried to thank each and every person in attendance, but with no more thanks in our heart than we felt for Grandma Consuelo. She was everywhere that night, making sure the crews she hired did as she asked.
“There are no words, Grandma,” Guillermo had said, engulfing the small woman in his arms and covering her face with kisses. I held onto her too, trying not to break down into tears. She still had one more surprise for us when finally, after the midnight Christmas vigil, we headed to the hotel where we would stay, as husband and wife. The small, plain hotel room had been transformed into a bridal suite. A canopy of fabric was hung from the ceiling above the bed, with garlands of flowers and lace draped around the fabric. Plush linens covered the bed and the room was filled with flowers. The electric lights were off, but candles had been set up to give the room a warm glow. My bags that I would take with me when we left for Los Angeles in a few days were in one corner of the room. At the foot of the bed was a cedar chest. The chest was filled with fine linens and other household items, and the most beautiful night gown I had ever seen.
“That is from me,” Guillermo said, pointing to that lovely gown as he tossed his sombrero onto a nearby dresser. “The rest is more of Grandma’s handiwork, although my mother and sisters made contributions, too.” He pulled me to him and gently shut the top to that cedar chest. “Tomorrow we will inventory every item in that chest, if you would like, dear wife. Tonight is just for us.” What a romantic man he was, my Guillermo. I woke the next morning more in love with him than ever, as impossible as that seemed to me at the time. It was a new kind of joy to have slept i
n his arms for the first time.
The only intrusion into my happiness was a dream of three figures, casting their shadows, as if hovering over us in that hotel room. That trio of witch birds had been at the wedding celebration. More than once I spotted them and moved to welcome them. I wanted to thank them for being our guests. Each time, I was stopped along the way, and when I looked up again they were gone. I did not share that dream with Guillermo, nor did it intrude again on those first few days we lived as husband and wife. When it was finally time to pack up and go, I felt sad to finally say goodbye to my family, but I was not sad to leave those shadows behind in Mexico. I remembered that warning from Connie:
“Here is what I would do, if I were you. I would leave this place, marry Guillermo in your small town, and go to the United States with him. Then, never let him come back here.”
13 life in California
It took us nearly all day to drive from San Felipe to Los Angeles. We had started out early to say our goodbyes to my family. Most of Guillermo’s family had left the day before. His grandmother, in a rented town car with a driver, was the last to leave. Connie and Izzy accompanied her on the trip back to the family ranch. Guillermo hung on tight, until she promised to visit us in Los Angeles. When she finally agreed, a little spark of curiosity had been lit in her eyes, making her look so much like Guillermo. I wondered if it was from her, and not his grandfather, that Guillermo had inherited so much of the dreamer. In her, for sure, was the courage to make such dreams a reality. What a team she and her husband must have been when they were both alive. How amazing that she still ruled the roost at that ranch, after all these years.
When we parted ways with my family, I promised that we would visit as soon as Guillermo’s classes were over for the year. Fishing season would be over by then in San Felipe, so there would be more time for a family visit. My sister, Theresa, pledged to come and check on me even before that. She was eager to see a city as large as Los Angeles, and to learn more about our life in the United State. The little ones, Antonia and Pedro, promised to write me letters, in English, so I could see for sure that they were still practicing. The thought of seeing my family again closed the distance between us, easing the pain in my heart, as we drove away.