Marriage in Mexico

by Flora Kidd

  The journey back took little more than an hour. From the airport she phoned the hotel in Durango to let Judy know she had arrived and then took a taxi into the town.

  Both Judy and Roberto were in the hotel foyer. Judy came forward to kiss her, but Roberto didn't offer to embrace her, just looked at her with dark angry eyes and said:

  'First let me say I am glad you have enough feeling for Sebastian to turn around and come back. Second I have to tell you it is believed he has severe concussion. He hasn't recovered consciousness yet.'

  His hostility after the warmth and kindness shown to her by perfect strangers was like a blast of icy wind. It braced her and she put her shoulders back and lifted her chin at him.

  'Can I go and see him?' she asked.

  'Of course. I'll take you to the hospital in my car.'

  'How did it happen?' was her next question as they all turned and went out of the hotel into the courtyard.

  'A matter of poor communications at the airport. There was something on the runway when he was taking off and he swerved to avoid it and the plane tipped over.' Roberto shrugged. 'I am told it could have been worse. The gas tank could have blown up and he could have been burnt to death. As it is,' he waggled one hand from side to side in a dramatic gesture, 'it is touch and go.' He opened the back door of his car and indicated to her that she should get into the back seat. 'So get in the car, pronto,' he ordered, 'for who knows, we may be too late. He may have passed on.'

  The dark melancholy expression on his face, his Mexican acceptance of death chilled her and she was glad of Judy's comforting hand as they sat side by side in the car as it wove through the cobbled streets of the old Colonial part of the town, past high white walls with narrow windows covered by iron grilles.

  That feeling she had had on the bus this morning, the feeling of closeness with Sebastian, hadn't been only imagination, then. At that time he had been in trouble on the runway at the airport, had crashed his plane and had been knocked unconscious, and she had felt his spirit touch hers across all those miles and had decided to return to him.

  The hospital was new, bright and clean. Sebastian was in a room by himself in the intensive care ward. Roberto introduced Dawn to the nursing Sister with whom he held a brief conversation in Spanish.

  'She says you can go in to see him,' he said, turning to Dawn. 'He regained consciousness an hour ago and the tests show that he is likely to make a recovery. The concussion is not as severe as they had thought.' He saw the expression of heartfelt relief on her face and his eyes softened. 'But he is very restless, she says. He wants to get up, so he has been put under heavy sedation. She asks you not to stay too long and not to excite him because it is important that he sleeps. Judy and I will wait for you.'

  'Thank you.'

  Dawn pushed open the double doors of the small room and stepped in quietly, memories of the times when she had visited her father in hospital rushing into her mind. There was very little difference really between this room and the room he had been in. The same antiseptic smell, the same high bed covered in stark white, the same bedside locker with water carafe and glass. The only differences were the blinds covering the window to prevent the brilliance of the sunlight from disturbing the patient and the patient himself, black-haired, olive-skinned, a man in his prime.

  Quietly she crept to the bedside. Although his eyes were closed there was a frown line between the shapely dark eyebrows and his mouth was taut as if with pain. Yet there were none of the usual signs of illness in the room. No intravenous drip hung by the bed. No bandage curved about his head. In fact the only sign of damage to him was the thin red line high on his cheekbone where it had been cut by a piece of ice—or had it been glass?—when she had thrown lemonade at him.

  She stared down at the silky blackness of the hair clustering about his frowning forehead, at the thick lashes lying against his cheeks, at the proud curve of nose and the tough angle of jaw, at the lines that laughter had etched beside the corners of the broad-lipped mouth, and felt such a surge of love go through her that she had to turn away in case she touched him.

  Over to the window she went to peep through the slats of the Venetian blind at the distant splash of colour which was the flower beds in the hospital yard. So this was what it was like to be not merely in love with someone but to love him so much you were willing to ignore the differences between you and him, just to be with him.

  'So you've come back.' His voice was a little thick and she turned quickly, went to the bed and sat down on a chair beside it. From under heavy lids the drug-dulled golden eyes surveyed her coolly. And finding her throat too full of tears for speech she could only nod. Sebastian pulled a hand from under the bed-clothes and reached out to touch her cheek with a long forefinger. 'Just making sure you're real,' he explained in a murmur with a mocking quirk to his lips. 'I've been having hellish dreams.'

  'How do you feel?' she asked in a small squeaky voice which was all she could manage to produce right then.

  'Damned stupid,' he muttered. 'After all those years of flying to make a mistake like that!' He added something in Spanish which she didn't understand and closed his eyes again.

  The frown had gone from his forehead and his mouth was relaxed. He was going to sleep fast. She had known from past experience of sitting with her father that it would be like this, the occasional flashes of lucidity followed by long silent periods of apparent sleep. But she couldn't help feeling disappointed because he had said so little and had shown no sign of being glad to see her.

  She sat there for about fifteen minutes hoping he might wake and speak to her again. But he didn't, and then the nursing Sister came in, smiled benignly and with pleasure because her patient was sleeping and indicated that she should leave.

  Dawn spent the rest of the day at the film studio watching the interior scenes being shot. She was glad to have something fascinating to watch, admiring her sister's acting ability and being thrilled to know that the leading man in the film was a well-known star. Having her name associated with his was bound to help Judy's career even though in this, her first leading role, she wouldn't receive star billing.

  In between the shots Judy sat with her and told her the story of the film. Like all the other Westerns Roberto had made the plot was one of revenge and about the hunting down by the laconic hero of the man who had ravished his innocent sister, only to discover that the sister of the villain was the woman he had fallen in love with—the part played by Judy.

  When the filming was over for the day they went back to the hotel and Roberto phoned the hospital for news of Sebastian. Dawn found it irritating having to get the news second hand through Roberto, but there wasn't anything she could do about it because she didn't have enough Spanish to converse with the hospital staff.

  'He is sleeping again, thank God,' Roberto told her, 'and the Sister says she doesn't think there is much point in us going to visit him until tomorrow. She says thanks to his splendid physical condition he is making very good progress and tomorrow we should see a big difference.'

  'So it wasn't touch and go, as you suggested,' said Judy shrewdly. The three of them were sitting in the hotel lounge having pre-dinner drinks, sitting at a round table upon which a candle flickered while all around them the sound of other people talking and laughing rose and fell, waiters moved smoothly and discreetly and the Latin-American music played by a trio of men on guitars, drums and flute provided a sensually romantic background.

  Roberto's dark eyes glinted mockingly as he looked up.

  'Maybe not, but it brought her back didn't it?' he countered. 'Why did you run away, little half-sister-in-law? If you love him, and I think you do, why leave him?'

  'I'd found out why he had to get married,' muttered Dawn defensively.

  'Had to get married? Sebastian had to get married?' exclaimed Roberto. 'Dios, what nonsense is this? Please explain.'

  Dawn looked across at Judy for advice.

  'Go on,' Judy urged. 'Tell him what you told
me about this Micaela woman.'

  'Micaela?' Roberto's voice was sharp. 'You mean Micaela Gonzalez?'

  Dawn nodded, and then somehow it all came out in a rush because she found Roberto, like his sister Raquel, was kind and sympathetic and not at all hostile after all. When she had finished he gazed at her with a sort of tender mockery.

  'And you say Sebastian didn't deny he had been considering getting married for political reasons? But of course he didn't, because that part was very true, he had,' Roberto explained. 'You see, for some time now Armando Gonzalez has been using his wife's preference for Sebastian to ruin Sebastian's career by spreading rumours, making out that they were having a torrid love affair.'

  'But I don't understand. Why would Armando want to do something like that?'

  'In the game of politics as in the game of love all is fair, I guess,' replied Roberto with a shrug. 'Armando and Sebastian are rivals in the Legislature and Armando would very much like to see Sebastian defeated in the next election, then his own road to power would be clearer. So for the past year or so he has been conducting a very subtle mud-slinging campaign. On the face of it he and Sebastian are good friends, but rumour says he is being cuckolded by Sebastian. Thus he gets all the sympathy and Sebastian gets all the mud. Understand now?'

  'I… I… think so.' Dawn felt very bewildered. 'But there must have been something going between Micaela and Sebastian for Armando to have a basis for his rumours, and Micaela told me herself they were in love with each other years ago.'

  'Ah, that woman, she's nothing but a tramp,' said Roberto scornfully, his eyes flashing. 'And she would cause trouble for anyone who turned her down. Now Sebastian isn't a saint by any means, and perhaps he did have a little fling with Micaela years ago and again when she turned up in his life three years ago. But when he realised any association with her was going to ruin his reputation he dropped her like a stone into a puddle, just like that.' Roberto made an expressive movement with one hand. 'But it wasn't enough to stop the spread of rumours, because she followed him about, went wherever he was going, and that was when it was suggested to him that a wife, marriage to a nice innocent young woman, would help. But he didn't like the idea. You know why?' Roberto gave Dawn a quick underbrowed glance.

  'No.'

  'He likes to be free, to come and go as he pleases. But he said he would think about it. And think about it is all he has done for months on end with the rumours getting worse, and when my mother or my sister ask him why he isn't doing anything he shrugs and says he can't find any woman he wants to marry, that all the women he knows are either married already, aren't pretty enough or aren't virgins.' Again Roberto gave Dawn another underbrowed look and the twinkle of mockery was back in his eyes. 'I think now you must have guessed why, when you turned up in his life, he acted fast, perhaps a little too fast. Perhaps he should have explained first, hmm?'

  'Then you're sure he isn't still having an affair with Micaela?' said Judy, leaning forward urgently. 'You see, Roberto, that's what's really sticking Dawn's throat, as it would in mine.'

  'I'm sure Micaela isn't his mistress, nor is she likely to be, and she probably said she was to cause trouble between you and Sebastian, to destroy him marriage to you before it had really started. Who knows, maybe Armando put her up to it? But I can't be sure he doesn't have a mistress or isn't going to have one.' He shrugged and gave Dawn another long look, this time a very serious one. 'That is something you'll have to ask him yourself. And now shall we have dinner?'

  Dawn was glad she was able to share Judy's bedroom that night, because she knew that if she were alone she would be in torment. There was so much to think about, so many questions to be answered yet.

  'Did you tell Sebastian where I'd gone last night?' she asked as soon as the lights were out.

  'No, but he guessed,' Judy replied with a rueful laugh.

  'And when he realised I'd gone what did he do? What did he say?'

  'He shrugged his shoulders, behaved as if you did it all the time and said nothing to me, but after dinner I didn't see him again.'

  'Do you know where he was going when the plane crashed?'

  'Not really. Roberto said he thought Sebastian was going to Guadalajara to some sort of meeting. He was surprised, though, that he was leaving so early in the morning.' There was a short silence, then Judy said diffidently, 'Are you going to stay with him now you've come back?'

  'I want to, oh, I want to,' whispered Dawn into the darkness, 'but I'm not sure he'll want me any more. He wasn't exactly overjoyed when he saw me.'

  'Well, give him a chance, love,' said Judy. 'He's got concussion and isn't feeling too good. Wait until he's got over that crack on the head and he'll be showing you what he really feels about you.'

  But during the next few days Dawn wondered whether she would ever be close to Sebastian again. It was true that he was making a rapid recovery according to the nursing Sister and doctors with whom she could only communicate through Roberto and they were predicting that he would be released from hospital soon and able to go home with her. Whenever she went to see him he was out of bed dressed in a dark green dressing gown sitting in a chair by the window of his room and he talked with her lucidly, but never once personally. Nor did he ever once attempt to greet her with an embrace.

  It was as if an invisible screen had come between them through which she could find no way of penetrating, and after a while she began to wonder if the concussion had caused him to forget how close their relationship had been or had been in process of becoming before Micaela and Armando had interfered.

  Had he forgotten he had once told her he loved her very much? She longed to ask the doctor if it were possible that the concussion had caused some slight amnesia, but couldn't because of her lack of Spanish.

  In the end she confided her worry to Judy.

  'Why don't you ask Roberto to ask the doctor for you?' suggested her sister.

  'I don't like to,' muttered Dawn.

  'Why on earth not?'

  'I don't want him to think there's anything wrong between Sebastian and me. Will you ask him for me?'

  'Okay, anything to help the course of true love along,' sighed Judy.

  And so Roberto duly consulted the doctor and reported back.

  'It seems there is a possibility that Sebastian may be a little forgetful for a while, but gradually, once he is back in his home and among familiar things and people, he'll remember. And since he's made such good progress and you seem to be a dutiful attentive wife the doctor is going to release him tomorrow,' said Roberto. 'I've told Sebastian and he's asked me to make arrangements for you both to fly to Manzanillo where you'll be met by Carlos and taken to la casa chica.' Roberto's mouth twitched humorously. 'And there, little half-sister-in-law, you can have him all to yourself to nurse and cosset for the next two or three weeks.'

  The flight to Manzanillo didn't take very long, but it was an unhappy one for Dawn because she sensed Sebastian's frustration because they weren't returning home in his plane with him at the controls. She knew that already he was in the process of negotiating to buy another plane, because that was one of the few subjects he had discussed with her during her visits to the hospital.

  She was glad, therefore, when the plane touched down and even more glad to see Carlos waiting for them in the arrival lounge of the airport, but she couldn't help feeling hurt when Sebastian chose to sit in the front seat of the car next to his houseman and talk to him exclusively during the drive down the coast, their common language of Spanish shutting her out deliberately, she felt.

  When they arrived at the house she couldn't help comparing their return with the time she and Sebastian had returned from Guadalajara after their marriage. Was it only a week since they had walked with their arms about one another and Sebastian had talked about where they would live and the children they would have? Oh, God, it seemed like another lifetime. Had it happened to two other people?

  As had been predicted by the doctor, Sebastian was tired a
fter the journey and went to his room to rest. Dawn spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to fill in time by reading, by walking on the beach, wondering what wives who had no housework or cooking to do did with their time. What had Polly Moore done when she had lived here? Written in her diary, she supposed.

  Well, she had a husband who had been ill to look after, but how could she do that when he had Carlos to wait on him, when his cold direct glance set her at arm's length, no, further away than that, told her more or less that he didn't care if she was there or not?

  The day dragged to its close. Sebastian didn't come down for dinner but ate in his room. When the house was quiet Dawn trailed disconsolately up the stairs and paused at the archway leading to his room. The bedside lamp was on, its lights shafting across the bed, gleaming on the bare shoulders of the man who lay there, his back turned to her, apparently asleep.

  Memories of that other night she had come to this room to turn off the light caused her throat to ache. They were too much for her, and with a little moan of torment she turned away to go to her own room, to hide in the bathroom and cry in regret for what might have been.

  'Dawn.' He spoke quietly and she turned hesitantly to look back at him. He was sitting up, leaning back against the pillows. 'Did you want something?' he asked.

  I want you. The words stormed through her mind, but she didn't say them. Instead she spoke as quietly as he had, mindful of the doctor's instructions. On no account must he be excited.

  'I'm going to bed now. I just thought I'd look in to see if you're all right.'

  'Don't overdo it, will you?' he said, his mouth curling unpleasantly.

  'Overdo what?' she replied uncertainly.

  'The part of the concerned wife. I know you came back only because Roberto told you I might not live… '

  'I didn't!' she flared suddenly, stepping into the room, going right up to the bed so she could see him more clearly, forgetting that she mustn't answer back and cause him to get excited. 'I was coming back anyway. I was waiting to book a seat in a bus coming back to Durango when I got the message to phone Roberto.'