by Ruth Wind
"I know." She shook her head apologetically. "I break down when I'm in a hurry and buy all the junky supermarket stuff."
"Tsk, tsk," the woman said with a sunny smile. Her skin, clear and wrinkle-free in spite of her age, which was at least fifty by Molly's count, was a testament to her own products. She turned her smile to Alejandro. "You must be the fiancé we're hearing so much about. I'm Katje Micklenburg."
With a courtly gesture, Alejandro bowed slightly over her hand. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Molly said, "It's Jonah I've come to see, actually. We'd like to get married, and my brother is furious, so he's set all the judges against me."
"Ah." She inclined her head. "Now that's a fun kind of visit! Come on up to the house."
As they walked, Alejandro gestured. "Do you mind if I ask questions about your farm?"
"Oh, no! Please, ask away."
"Good."
Molly knew next to nothing about farming or ranching, but the questions he asked all seemed to be intelligent, about various methods of irrigation in the desert, about crops and rainfall, about clay and other soil concerns. Then Katje asked him where he came from, and when he told her, she was off in Spanish, and Alejandro replied cheerfully in the same language. Back and forth, so fast Molly could barely follow a word of it.
It made her feel curiously jealous, or maybe only as if she were the outsider here.
But jealousy indicated possessiveness, and Molly needed to be careful about imagining Alejandro belonged to her in any way. A fake marriage for the sake of a green card had nothing in common with the real thing.
As if he sensed her mood, Alejandro looped a casual arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the conversation. "Molly is learning to speak my language," he said. "But she cannot follow so fast, I am certain."
Alejandro's arm felt comfortable around her shoulders. There was none of that awkward bumping of hips that so often occurred when a man and woman tried to loop arms around each other. In the October afternoon, he smelled of the sun-warmed and dusty New Mexico air, a scent as clean as freshly folded laundry. Against her chest, she could feel the vibration of his voice coming out of his rib cage, low and rich, which somehow made her remember the kiss he'd given her in the car in front of her brother's house. A devastating kind of kiss, outrageously sensual. Kissing him, feeling his hand on her face, tasting his tongue in her mouth, she'd been both amazed and appalled at the sudden tightness of her nipples, at the fierce, loud pulse in her groin.
And that reaction was all the more disturbing because the kiss had been staged. No more real than a screen kiss.
No wonder actors fell in love on the set so often.
In love? The words echoed and Molly scowled. No, she wasn't falling in love. Lust maybe. Too long without a man would do that to a person.
Lust she could survive.
Katje led them up the steps to the cool adobe farmhouse, painted the traditional blue around the windows and doors to keep out evil spirits. Within, all resemblance to a traditional territorial house ended, and it was plain the farm had indeed begun to pay very, very well. Saltillo tiles lined the floors, and rare Spanish colonial weavings alternated with even more rare antique Navajo blankets in gray and red. Alejandro whistled softly. "Only ricos live this way in my country," he whispered.
"Same in this country," Katje said wryly, then called, "Jonah!" A rumbling came from somewhere deep in the house. She sighed. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll bring him back."
She hurried down the hall and out of sight, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. Or, Molly thought with a grin, more likely they called it the "salon." A lighted painting by an artist out of Taos graced the wall above the fireplace, and fresh flowers bloomed on the low tables. The aura of the room was old-style California.
"This makes me think of Zorro," she commented. Alejandro did not answer, and she glanced over her shoulder. He stood by a pair of glass doors that led to an interior courtyard, and on his face was an unmistakable expression of sorrow. "Are you all right?" she asked.
He turned his head. "This is much like my father's house," he said. "The house I grew up in." He gestured to the courtyard and Molly joined him to look out there. A fountain surrounded by banks of vividly blooming geraniums, pink and red, formed the center of a bricked patio. Long wooden benches reclined in the recessed porch running around it on three sides.
"How beautiful," Molly commented. She stepped through the door to the patio, feeling a cool breeze strike her face.
Alejandro followed her out. "We had a glass table, where we ate breakfast. My mother loved that place. She sat there in the morning to write her letters to all her friends and sisters and cousins, all over Mexico. Then in the evening, she put on an old dress and dug in the flowers, or sometimes just cut them to put in vases." He gave her a sad smile. "I like to think God let her have her patio back when she went to heaven, so she could cut all the flowers she wished."
Molly realized that she had not really believed he was the son of a rich man until he told this story. It shamed her. Again. His bearing was that of a man with education and money behind him. His manners were old-world graceful. He let her go through doors first, like a gentleman, and had even paused by her chair until she sat down, now that he was able. "That's a lovely thought," she said. "I don't think I've imagined what sort of world my husband would like to live in for eternity."
"No?" he asked softly, and turned to look into her face, into her eyes.
Molly caught her breath as he snared her, caught it in wonder at the sheer beauty of those eyes of fire and of peace, set amid those angles that should not work but did. She admired the narrow chin and it seemed as if all chins should be shaped this way, that chins had been defined and perfected in this form.
Time ceased in that strange way of some moments, and even as she lived it, Molly knew she would remember it always. The silence of a late October afternoon broken only by the silvery sound of water in the fountain, and the cry of a blue jay overhead. Light made golden by the dust in the air was reflected and deepened by adobe walls, and made his flesh copper, and burnished the crown of his head, revealing the slightest hints of red in his hair.
And she would remember the way he looked at her, looked deep, as if he wanted to know everything that had ever been written on her soul, wanted to explore every hair on her body, wanted to inhale her. It was the purest expression of yearning she had ever seen on anyone's face.
"There you are!"
Katje and Jonah stepped out onto the patio. Alejandro's head jerked up, as if he were torn from a dream, and the moment shattered.
But Molly tucked it away in that special box of perfect moments, and felt as if she'd been given a gift.
Then she realized she ought to have prepared Alejandro for the appearance of Jonah. An eccentric, even by valley standards, he was an aging hippie and looked it with his long, gray-and-sand-colored hair, the round wire-framed glasses, the granny shirt made of flowered calico that tied at his neck. He even wore sandals. No one in the outside world would take him seriously, but in the valley, he commanded respect for one simple reason: every bit of success claimed by the farms was his doing. Behind that hippie-grandpa face was the mind of a marketing genius.
He hugged Molly enthusiastically and nearly did the same to Alejandro, but Molly saw the faint but pointed shift of body language as Alejandro straightened stiffly and held out his hand.
"So you're the one stirring up so much talk in town," Jonah said, looking over his glasses. "The wild one who stole Molly's heart."
Tongue in cheek, Alejandro said, "Yeah, that's me, the desperado."
Molly grinned at him. Over Jonah's head, he winked. "So you folks want to get married, eh? You know when?"
"As soon as possible," Molly said.
"I'm open." Jonah patted his belly, like a Santa Claus of the wedding ceremony. "How's now?"
"You will marry us?" Alejandro said, and Molly heard the surprise.
> "Well, I certainly have the power." Jonah winked. "I'm an ordained minister, son. Believe it or not. Divine Science, which my mother said was no real church at all, but I showed her." He chuckled. "What do you say?"
A leap of anticipation and terror made Molly's hands start to tremble suddenly, and she looked at Alejandro with alarm. "What do you think?"
No doubt seeing her sudden worry, he moved close and gave her a slow, very sexy smile. "The sooner the better, no?" He took her hand, and as if he had eyes for no one in the world but Molly Sheffield, a very ordinary-looking nurse from the wilds of New Mexico, he kissed her hand. "Now is good," he said to Jonah.
The old man grinned. "Man, I do so love to see folks in love. Let me grab my tools and I'll be right back. Katje, why don't you have Vivian make us up a snack to celebrate with after?"
Katje, too, was beaming. "That's a great idea. Do you mind?"
Molly smiled. "Not at all."
* * *
Alejandro loved standing in the courtyard, with the sun on them, and the sharp scent of geraniums in the air. He liked the shy blush on Molly's face as Katje cut some late roses from a protected bush, red and yellow blossoms that smelled of oranges. He bent to smell them in her hand, and lifted his head with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
Again he glimpsed her worry, and he understood it. This was a binding. Even if they did not do it for love, the words would be spoken and they would have to look into each other's eyes as they said them. It was a little frightening to imagine.
When Jonah returned, he wore vestments, purple and gold over a long white robe. His feet were still enclosed in rope sandals, like a monk.
To make these kind people believe in their love, Alejandro imagined that his parents were here, that he was confessing love and commitment to a woman who would stand by him, a woman he would not mind growing old with. Thinking of her land, he imagined it was a dowry, while his hands and knowledge and back were the gifts he brought to trade. To make the land live. He took her small white hand in his and closed his other hand over it, and listened carefully as Jonah said the sacred words, words that had been said in almost the same way in so many languages for so many centuries.
He could not say why he did it. But when Jonah prompted him to repeat the phrases of commitment, he said them first in English, then said them again in Spanish. In some odd way, it touched Molly. He saw her eyes take that quicksilver glow, and she gazed at him soberly.
Then – disaster.
"We brought no rings," Alejandro said, aggrieved. Without missing a beat, Jonah glanced at his wife, and Alejandro saw her nod. Jonah slipped a heavy silver and turquoise ring, set around with stones, from his index finger and gave it to Molly.
When Katje would have taken a ring from the may on her own fingers, Molly stopped her. She took the wedding ring from her right hand and put it in Jonah's palm. "Use this one."
Stricken, Alejandro looked at her fiercely, trying to tell her with his eyes that such a sacrifice was not necessary. She only looked up at him, and gave him a sweet, sure smile.
He gripped her fingers tightly and took the ring from Jonah. He said the words, "With this ring, I thee wed." He lifted the simple gold band to his lips and kissed it, looking into Molly's eyes, then slipped it on her finger.
A single silver tear spilled on her cheek, and when Jonah said, "You may kiss the bride," Alejandro put his hands lightly on her slim shoulders, and pressed his mouth to that tiny creek of sorrow. He tasted salt and imagined that somehow the essence of her was contained in it, and entered him through his mouth.
Then he raised his head. "I am," he said sincerely, "the luckiest man in the world."
* * *
The housekeeper managed a lovely spread in less than twenty minutes, and carried it out to the patio, where the light grew deeper and more golden as afternoon reached for evening. Katje poured the wine into glasses, but Alejandro stopped her from pouring it into his. "No, thank you," he said, smiling.
"Not even a little?"
He shook his head, lifting his shoulders apologetically.
"D'you take the oath, man?" Jonah asked. "I got four friends in AA right now."
He gave Molly a bewildered look. "Alcoholics Anonymous," she explained.
"Oh." He smiled. "No, no. I have never liked it … um, the spinning? Even a little makes me uncomfortable."
Molly wondered if he minded that she drank some, and hesitated, thinking she ought to put down the glass. Then she realized she didn't have to change anything about herself for him. He wasn't really her husband.
And if he were?
Sipping the wine, which was excellent, she listened to the light, cheerful conversation around her and thought about that. About changing for someone else. Had she changed for Tim?
"Molly, would you like some of these pears?" Katje asked. "We're experimenting with Bosc varieties."
Molly accepted the offering. Together with the wine, the tastes were like two notes of harmonizing music. "Yes, those are wonderful. Especially with the wine."
From her right, Alejandro suddenly leaned close. "May I taste?"
"Sure." She reached for another slice of pear, but he laughed, the sound low and wicked.
"No, querida. Like this," he said, and kissed her.
It was a bold kiss, the hungry kiss of a bridegroom. Molly had to give him credit for superior talent in the timing and acting departments, because she was as nonplussed as a new bride by the richness of that luscious mouth, and before she could think coherently enough to stop herself, had opened her mouth in invitation.
One he took. His tongue swirled in, wicked and probing, then quickly retreated, and he was raising his head, those long-lashed eyes dancing as he tasted her taste on his lips. "Mmm. Very nice."
Molly blushed to the roots of her hair, and looked away, trying desperately to recover her equilibrium. Jonah laughed happily, and Katje slapped his arm. But then she took Molly's hand and one of Alejandro's. "We see many couples. But not very many have that light about them the way you two do." She tightened her fingers. "May God bless your union with all things," she said poetically. "And let yours be an example of those who wish to love all their lives."
Molly looked at Alejandro, feeling guilt at the seriousness of the blessing. This was not what they had planned, not at all. In his eyes, she saw the same disturbance, and he gave her a subtle nod.
Soon, they would take their leave and end this mockery.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
They were subdued on the way back to Molly's house, and without speaking, moved to different parts of the house to give each other time to absorb this new status between them.
From the phone in the bedroom, Molly called Lynette, needing to touch base with some kind of normality. "Hey, girl," she said lightly when Lynette answered.
"Molly! I'm so glad you called right now. I can talk for a little since Josh went to the grocery store for me."
Molly's heart plummeted. "I guess that means he's still very angry with me."
"Oh, don't worry, honey. You know how he is. He sees the world in black and white." She giggled. "You fell to the dark side."
Molly chuckled.
"Oh, that sounded bad, didn't it?" Lynette fussed. "I didn't mean it that way, like dark person. I meant like Darth Vader."
"I knew what you meant." She frowned. "You don't have to be politically correct with me, Lynette."
"I know. Or I mean, I think I do." She sighed. "Never mind. Josh is mad right now, but he'll miss you and decide maybe he can overlook your sins."
Sins. Molly wondered if that was Lynette's feeling, too. "Well, he'll have to, because we got married today."
"You did? How—"
"How did I do it when Josh managed to turn all the judges against it? I went to Jonah Micklenburg." The thought of the ceremony, so warm and colorful for all that it had been staged, warmed the hollow places in her. "It was beautiful. I wish you could have been th
ere."
"Moll, are you sure about this? He's very cute, and I liked how nice he was with my kids, but really – what can he offer you?"
"He makes me laugh, Lynette, and he knows all kinds of things I don't know. He can teach me to speak Spanish, and maybe I'll plant my fields, finally. It was what Tim wanted."
"Well, I hope you aren't setting yourself up for heartbreak. I hate to think he's just using you to get a green card."
Molly's temper snapped. "Honestly, Lynette, you act like I'm fifteen, thinking about sleeping with the local bad boy." She shook her head. "Alejandro's not like that. He has … honor."
"Mmm." The word was skeptical.
Stung, Molly simply said, "You'll see."
"I hope so, Molly. I want you to be happy." Urgently she said, "Josh is home. I gotta go."
Molly hung up, frowning. I want you to be happy, Lynette said. But if that were true, wouldn't she be rejoicing? Wouldn't she have stood up for Molly instead of repeating all Josh's words?
Vaguely disturbed, she moved to the bureau and began taking out the things that had belonged to Tim. Some of them would fit Alejandro, and she stacked them in a chair for him to try on, leaving the drawers empty for him to store things as he wished. It was a necessary step – she didn't think for one minute that they'd escape without an official inquiry, and it was best to be ready. His things should be in her bedroom.
But the work was for her hands, so her mind could mull over the disturbing new thoughts that had surfaced today. She thought about her brother, so intent on making her do what he considered in her best interest that he'd get her in trouble rather than let her choose her own way.
She scowled, the stirrings making her very uncomfortable. She'd lived in this town her entire life, and her parents had been here for ten years before that. Except for the brief time she'd spent at nursing school, she'd lived right here for almost thirty years. In Vallejos, she was safe, secure. She knew everyone and they all knew her.
And until now, she'd lived an exemplary life by town standards. Even in her grief, when she'd wanted to scream and cry and become so hysterical someone had to carry her away, she'd behaved with calm dignity, burying her pain where none could see it or be upset by it.