by Flora Kidd
'I think I understand now why you like flying this way,' she said, glancing at him. 'It's something like being a bird.'
He flashed a surprised glance in her direction.
'It is, and you're right, that is why I like doing it. But there is something else which I do which comes closer to me being like a bird, and that is free-fall sky-diving.'
'You mean parachuting?'
'It's more than just jumping out of a plane and pulling the rip-cord. For the first few hundred feet you fall free without the help of the 'chute, and while you're falling you can do all sorts of acrobatics. It's like ballet in the sky. And the sensation is indescribable. There is a feeling of freedom you can experience no other way.'
'It must be very dangerous,' she commented.
'Si, it's dangerous, a flirtation with death. You can become so mesmerised by the feeling of freedom that you don't want to pull the rip-cord.'
'Has that happened to you?' she asked.
'Several times.' He laughed a short self-derisory laugh. 'I left pulling the cord until the very last minute, wanting to find out what it would be like if I didn't pull it, but in the end each time I lacked the courage to die.'
Dawn looked away down at the rugged dusty mountainside, seeing that shadow of the little plane black against the sand-coloured rock, and suddenly she was imagining him falling through space, turning over and over like a leaf in the wind until he hit that wall of rock and his splendid body was smashed to pieces.
'Oh no, please God, no!' she gasped, her hand to her mouth as sickness welled within her.
'Que pasa? What's the matter?' His voice was sharp.
'Nothing,' she muttered.
'Again?' he jeered.
'What's that patch of blue I can see in the distance?' she asked, ignoring his reminder of the previous night when she had given the same answer to a query of his.
'It's Lake Chapala, the largest lake in the country. We shall follow it to Guadalajara and fly in close over the Juancatlan Falls. They are Mexico's rivals to Niagara. And after that we'll be landing.'
Beneath the lake looked calm and blue between green hills. There were several villages scattered along its shores and Sebastian named them for her.
'Mostly they are holiday resorts,' he explained. 'Over there is Ajiijic. It's a centre for writers and painters. Many people from the film world come there to relax for a while. Roberto has a house there.'
As they flew over the small town Dawn looked down into it. Judy could be down there in one of those houses she could see half hidden by green foliage. She wished suddenly that she had a parachute and could jump out, float down into the town and begin her search. Then the houses had gone and looking ahead she could see water falling in a wide shining cascade over rock. Horseshoe-shaped, the great falls sent up a mist of white spume which glittered in the sunlight. Right over the twinkling effervescence Sebastian flew the plane before adjusting his headset and talking into the small microphone to the control tower at the airport, asking permission to land.
A few minutes later Guadalajara appeared, slanting towers of sun-glittered concrete and glass thrusting up from among the flat roofs of older buildings, all clustered together in a nest of green vegetation at the centre of a web of roadways.
The plane began to descend towards a crossroads of runways on a flat green field where other larger planes moved or were stationary, looking like great moths feeding on leaves. Dawn felt the nerves in her stomach twinge. But it wasn't fear of landing which caused the feeling. She was suffering from last-minute nerves. In a very short time she would be in that strange city, surrounded by strangers and being married to a stranger.
She couldn't go through with it. She turned to Sebastian to tell him, but he wasn't aware of her. He was too busy landing the plane. The wheel hit the runway and the plane taxied along with its engine clattering fussily. One hand to her mouth, Dawn stared out, hardly seeing the glitter of sunlight on other planes and vehicles, on the glass and concrete of the terminal buildings.
'Think of Judy,' she warned herself. 'Without his help you're not going to be able to find her. The price of his help is marriage, God knows why. If you don't marry him he'll do nothing. Nothing. If you tell him you can't marry him he'll just walk away from you, leave you to cope on your own, and you couldn't bear that, you know you couldn't because you… '
'Bueno. We are here.' Sebastian's voice was lazily mocking as it cut across her thoughts and she realised the plane had stopped, was parked close to other similar small planes and the engine had been switched off. 'You are glad, perhaps, to be on the ground, safe and sound,' Sebastian went on with a touch of bitterness. 'Twice you have turned white and held your hand to your mouth as if to keep back sickness, once while we were over the mountains and once when we were landing. You didn't like the flying?'
The eagle glance of those golden eyes was too sharp, noticed too much. But she let him go on thinking she had been frightened of flying in the small plane because it wouldn't do for him to know the real reason for her nervousness. It wouldn't do for him to know she couldn't bear the thought of him hurtling through the air to his death or of him walking away from her, leaving her to fend for herself in this strange land. If she told him the truth he would want to know why she felt that way, and she couldn't tell him, not now, not yet, perhaps not ever.
So she shook her head slowly and negatively, not looking at him, and there was a brief tense silence.
'That is a pity,' he said in a low voice, then added sharply, 'But you will not try to stop me from flying?'
She looked at him then, quickly, in surprise. His face was taut and his eyes were cold and clear, almost cruel in the way he stared at her.
'Stop you? How could I stop you from doing something you want to do? she exclaimed.
'In about forty-five minutes now you will be my wife and will have the right to try,' he said, and gave a short mirthless laugh. 'We shall both have lost some freedom, an aspect of our new relationship which I confess hadn't occurred to me before.' He gave her another hard stare. 'You still want to go through with it?'
She studied his face. He was having misgivings again and giving her a chance to refuse. Barely ten minutes ago she had turned to him to tell him she couldn't go through with it and then had found a reason why she wanted to marry him.
'I want to find my sister,' she said flatly, her gaze never wavering from his, and again there was a short tense silence. Then his mouth curved sardonically and his eyelids drooped over his eyes, hiding their gleam.
'But of course,' he drawled. 'How could I forget? Then let us go.'
There was a long cream limousine with a uniformed chauffeur waiting outside the terminal building to take them to the city centre. They sat one each side of the long wide back seat and Sebastian pointed out places of interest to her and talked generally in a cool aloof way about the city where he had grown up and had attended school and university.
'Conocer a Guadalajara es amaria—to know Guadalajara is to love her,' he said. And looking out at the shaded plazas., green parks., glittering fountains, elegant statues and sparkling buildings, Dawn could believe the statement.
The limousine passed along one end of the Plaza de Armas under the shadow of the Byzantine towers and domes of the Cathedral. People were strolling about the square under the shade of scattered trees or were sitting on benches in front of neat flower beds ablaze with the deep orange of marigolds, the scarlet of zinnias and the crimson and violet spikes of gladioli.
Leaving the square, the limousine drove down a wide tree-lined street of colonial buildings and stopped in front of one of them. Sebastian gave some instructions to the chauffeur, got out of the car and held the door for Dawn. With a hand under her elbow he urged her towards the flight of steps which led up to the doorway of the building set under a triangular portico supported by long Doric pillars.
Almost at once, it seemed, a mariachi band started to play, trumpets blaring, guitars twanging and violins chirping. Glancing behind her, Dawn
saw the players strolling by along the sidewalk, their silver-studded trousers and jackets winking in the sunlight, their voices raised in joyful rhythmical wedding music.
Even in the cool high-ceilinged room where she agreed to be Sebastian's wife and take him as her husband she could hear the beat of the music, and she was glad, for more than anything else it helped her to accept the brief obligatory civil ceremony as real.
Yet everything happened so smoothly that she had the oddest feeling that this strange marriage of hers had been planned for some time, as if Sebastian hadn't decided only the day before to marry a young woman he hardly knew. The feeling persisted and increased, making her silent and thoughtful as the limousine took them away down beautiful tree-lined boulevards.
'So it is done,' murmured Sebastian, shifting along the seat and taking her hand in his.
'Is… is this car yours?' she asked nervously.
'No, it belongs to a relative of mine,' he replied, and raised her hand to his lips. 'Tell me, Seňora Suarez, how do you like your new name?'
'It will take some time to get used to it,' she replied breathlessly, withdrawing her hand from his and looking out of the window. 'Where are we going now?'
'To the house where my father's first wife lives,' he replied.
'She's still alive?' she gasped, turning to him.
'Si, she is still alive,' he answered, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he smiled tolerantly at her youthful surprise. 'But she is very frail now and not likely to live much longer. I want her to meet you, to show her that I have followed her advice and have at last got married. Why are you looking so amazed?'
'I… I… didn't think you… or rather that she would have anything to do with you since you are the son of… of… '
'Of the woman who broke up her marriage to my father?' he supplied dryly for her. 'But you see I am also his son and she loved him very much, and when my mother died Teresa became my mother, took me under her wing and looked after me. She is in fact the person I call Mother.' He slanted her a cold glance. 'You will be polite to her, chiquita,' he added sternly, 'for I care for her very much.'
'But won't she be surprised that you've married someone you've just met?' she exclaimed.
'I was hoping you would ask that,' he replied easily. 'She and her daughter, Raquel, my half-sister who lives with her, will believe I have known you longer than I have. I travel often to the States. They will believe I met you there.' He slid an arm behind her and she felt his fingers caress the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. 'You will follow my lead in this, please, querida?' he asked softly. 'To please an old lady?'
'Yes, but…' She got no further, for he bent quickly and kissed her and for a while all questions and suspicions were stifled by the sensual pleasure she found in that close embrace.
They kissed for a long time, not stirring away from each other until the car stopped. Moving as if in a trance, Dawn stepped out of the car into the quietness of the courtyard where an old acacia tree grew, the delicate tassels of its leaves fretting the white walls of the old house with quivering fingers of shadow.
A door swung open and a woman stepped into the courtyard. She was about fifty years of age, short and rather plump. Her thick hair was plentifully streaked with grey and her long oval face held a hint of sadness. From under heavy drooping lids her dark eyes lit up briefly with pleasure as she moved towards Sebastian to embrace him. She hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. But that gleam had gone when she turned to look at Dawn and considered her curiously. Then the woman spoke quickly, almost passionately in Spanish, gesturing towards Dawn with strangely graceful hands for one so short and squat.
'This is my half-sister, Raquel Suarez,' Sebastian said to Dawn with a smile. 'She thinks your colouring is unusual and she would like to paint your portrait.'
'My portrait?' exclaimed Dawn.
'Si, si.' Raquel was nodding and her wide broad-lipped mouth almost smiled. 'Forgive me,' she said in heavily accented English. 'I do not greet you properly. You are most welcome here, little-half-sister-in-law.' She moved forward and kissed Dawn on both cheeks. 'You'll let me paint your portrait?' she asked. 'I am a very good artist. You will find my work all over Mexico.' She swung back to Sebastian and gestured appealingly. 'You'll let her stay here with me while it is done?' she demanded.
'Perhaps,' he replied with his taunting smile. 'It will depend on what you can tell me about Roberto.'
'Roberto!' exclaimed Raquel, and went off into another spate of Spanish as they all walked towards the door of the house. Sebastian slanted a derisive glance at Dawn.
'As you can guess, there's no love lost between her and her brother,' he murmured. 'But be patient. In a while she'll get round to telling us where he is, because he writes and phones her all the time to make sure she knows what he's doing. She's his best publicity agent and tells everyone else what he is doing.'
After the light open airiness of the unusual house on the coast which had been built for Polly Moore, the old Colonial house where Teresa Suarez lived seemed very dark and formal with its cream walls, heavy dark furniture and red velvet curtains. Also the rooms had doors, big strong doors which gave the whole place a secretive atmosphere. Nothing was done openly here; whatever was done was done privately behind closed doors. From the hallway a wide staircase swept up to the upper floor and at the foot of the stairs Sebastian stopped and said:
'Raquel will look after you for a few minutes. I'm going to see Mother to prepare her to meet you. She isn't feeling too well this morning. You understand?'
Across the small space which separated them his eyes demanded her co-operation. As in the car when he had asked her to follow his lead Dawn felt a stirring of rebellion. It seemed there was much more to being married to him than she had ever anticipated. He expected her to obey him without question, and her freedom-loving spirit was objecting already to being taken for granted. Then she felt a hand on her arm. Raquel said:
'Come and see my studio.'
And so the spurt of rebellion was quelled and turning she went with Raquel along a passage and into a high wide room, full of odd pieces of furniture, easels and canvases. Big windows let in clear northern light and gave a view of a harsh bold landscape of sunlit mountains beyond the limits of the city. Almost before she had realised it Dawn was sitting on the edge of a chair upholstered in dark red velvet, her gaze steady on a corner of the room at which Raquel had told her to look, and Raquel was seated on a high stool and was sketching rapidly on a sketching pad.
'You are very pretty in a wild shy way and there is innocence in the lift of your chin and the slender bones of your throat. I can see your attraction for Sebastian and I know why he has married you. You will suit his purpose very well.'
'Purpose? What purpose?' exclaimed Dawn, turning her head sharply to look at the artist.
'Ah no, querida, do not look at me. Eyes on the corner, please,' said Raquel sharply.
'But you said… '
'I spoke carelessly, I often do,' replied Raquel. 'I meant only that since it is necessary for Sebastian to have a wife it is best that he should marry an unknown, innocent girl like you, quietly without publicity.'
Dawn, keeping her eyes steady in that corner, licked her suddenly dry lips.
'Why is it necessary for Sebastian to get married?' she asked stiffly.
'He has not told you?' said Raquel. 'Ah, then it isn't for me to say.' She made a few more strokes on her sketching pad, then said, 'A warning to you. My mother is very religious. To her way of thinking all marriages are made in heaven. She won't accept that you and Sebastian are really married until there is a church ceremony, even though the only ceremony recognised by the state is the civil one. Sebastian has told you about her, perhaps?'
'Only a little,' answered Dawn, uncomfortably wishing he had told her more.
'She refused to give Papa a divorce at first,' Raquel went on slowly. 'Only when she heard that Sebastian was going to be born did she agree, because she couldn't b
ear the thought of him being illegitimate just because she was too stubborn to give up her married status. I remember at the time she spent many hours in prayer, asking for guidance.' Raquel's voice shook a little. 'She loved Papa very much even though he didn't return her love, and she loves Sebastian because he is, of all Papa's children, the most like him.'
'Not in every way, I hope,' said pawn, thinking that if Sebastian was like his father the time would come when he would want to end their marriage because he had found someone younger and prettier that he preferred to live with. Then she wondered why she should be worried on that count. Her strange marriage wasn't based on love but on mutual physical desire and had been brought about by blackmail, so why expect it to last?
'No, not in every way,' said Raquel. 'In looks very much so, except for the eyes. But like Papa he is bold, determined to have his own way, ambitious and clever. But then…' Raquel broke off and Dawn managed to send a sidelong glance in her direction. The artist was frowning a little and had paused in her sketching. 'I think,' she went on, 'there is a depth of compassion in Sebastian which Papa didn't have, an empathy for people less fortunate than himself, which is why he is more popular and successful as a politician than Papa ever was.'
Dawn showed her bewilderment. She couldn't help it, and yet, mindful of Sebastian's warning that Raquel probably believed he had known his new wife longer than he had, she didn't like to say she'd had no idea Sebastian was involved in politics.
'But I thought—I had the impression that Sebastian's father was in business of some sort,' she said.
'That is true. He was in many businesses. He had a genius for making money. He was in many things, producing cotton, vegetable oils, growing wheat and financing films. He was a millionaire by the time he was thirty-five. At forty-five he decided to take an interest in the government of this state. He had everything going for him, then he met and fell in love with Polly Moore when he was on a visit to Hollywood.' The bitterness in Raquel's voice when she spoke the name of Sebastian's mother made Dawn venture another sidelong glance in her direction.