“Seems to me you’re pretty close to making a decision then.”
Madeleine took her friend’s hand. “Forgive me if this is too personal. But have you ever considered Santiago?”
“Santiago? What for?”
“You know very well what for, you minx. I can see it in your rosy cheeks. Tell me you haven’t thought of him that way, and I won’t believe you.”
Josefa’s confusing stomach butterflies fluttered stronger than ever. “Santiago? He’s like family. That would be too loco. Like kissing your brother.”
“Charlotte Schenk didn’t seem to have any objections. In fact I suspect she’s consoling herself for her so-called ‘loss’ of Leo with thoughts of Santiago even as we speak.”
Somewhere deep down Josefa’s chest pinched at the suggestion.
Madeleine was watching her face closely. “Yes! You don’t like the idea of that too much, do you? I see it.”
Josefa had been picking apart a lilac blossom, savoring the sweet fragrance on her fingers, and she now picked up the crumpled bloom and threw it playfully at Madeleine.
“Shut up, you French provocateur. Caleb knows you’re trouble, doesn’t he? Or rather, he’s in trouble?”
The laughter they shared successfully deflected Madeleine’s questions. But it couldn’t erase the picture of Santiago in her mind, his fluid bearing, the aura he had of a slow, deep river occasionally lit by a quicksilver mischievous smile, like the sun on smooth water. A rolling sense of the peace and safety she experienced whenever they were close enveloped her, and then just as quickly vanished again.
“Santiago’s got his new life now,” she said. “I don’t think he’s looking backwards.”
“Josefa, Leo might be part of the reason he moved on. And yes, he does have a new life. Finally having his parentage properly recognized and, I gather, inheriting some of his grandfather’s estate — well, I suspect they’ll have put some missing pieces in place. But you’d be a fool to ignore him.”
25
“Leo!” Josefa’s tone was peremptory. “Where are you going?”
His boots crunched on the gravel path as he tossed a response across his shoulder. “Where do you think? I’m leaving.”
Josefa shivered and drew her shoulder wrap up around her neck, warding off the sharp evening chill. She was standing just outside Francine’s front door. A dozen yards away was a cab, clearly waiting for a new passenger.
“Without saying goodbye to me? Without any explanation? Don’t I deserve better than that?”
Leo’s stride slowed. He’d been heading at a determined clip for the cab. His face when he turned towards her was flushed, but his eyes blazed in defiance.
“Do you think I enjoyed being humiliated like that in there? In front of everyone? I’ve got to get back to town and shore up my reputation before I’m completely destroyed.”
He stamped his feet in protest. “After Schenk’s little display I’ll be lucky to have a job. You can forget about the partnership.”
Josefa stepped right up to him and stared into his eyes. Toe to toe, she felt a frisson of power, instantly gratified to be nearly as tall as he was.
“And where does that leave me? What has this whole exercise been about, Leo? You were the one who came on strong, not the other way round. And so now you’re walking away without a word?”
“Josefa, you’re a beautiful woman, but let’s be honest. It was never going to work—”
“Oh really? And why is that?” Angry heat was flushing through her, carrying away with it any feelings of rejection or loss. How dare this cocksure cur discount me.
The defiance in his eyes faded, replaced by a dull, defeated glaze. “Josefa, let’s face it. When I was at the top, I could afford to take on damaged goods.” His eyes slid to the ground, unable to meet hers. “Especially with the settlement you brought with you, it was worth the risk. But now — well, I can’t afford any questions about my social status. I’m going to have to do a lot of repairing to regain my place in le monde. I can’t afford to make a controversial marriage. Not now.”
He darted her a quick hangdog look. “Sorry.” He flashed a longing grimace towards the cab. “When your brother hears about what went on in there, he won’t agree to the match anyway.”
“I’m of age, so I don’t need his consent. But it was always about the endowment, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged. “You can’t do much without it.”
“There are things that count for more, Leo. Like being true to those you make an undertaking to. Like being a good father.”
She, too, gazed down the drive to where the cab driver patiently waited, lamp in hand.
“I should thank you.” She didn’t take her eyes off the cab driver, who was shuffling his feet restlessly. “You’ve helped me see what really counts, at least as far as I’m concerned. I guess we’ve both had a lucky escape.”
26
She had just one regret about not marrying Leo, Josefa admitted, as she curled her stockinged feet under her and snuggled into the fur rug on Benecio’s couch. And that was missing out on having Benecio as her mother-in-law. The woman was pure gold.
She leaned forward to catch the heat from pine logs roaring in the stone-faced fireplace and stared into the dancing flame, mesmerized by the sparks flying up the chimney. The pine-smoke smell reminded her of Christmas. Doña Valentina was a wonderful mother, but she didn’t have the gift for nurturing that her cousin did. Benecio’s home was one place in the world where Josefa felt unconditional acceptance. Undeserved love. She wondered once again how Leo could have grown into such a dissatisfied man under such tender care.
“Here we are my dear. A hot chocolate to brighten the spirit.” Benecio’s comfortable, maternal form bustled into the sitting room with a tray carrying two steaming cups in hand.
It had been ten days since Josefa’s public humiliation by Alfred Schenk, and she had been secluded at home at Rancho Del Oro until today.
Her waistline was still expanding, and she felt increasingly self-conscious about being seen in public. However, even more than her expanding middle, her cheeks flamed at her recollection of that scene at Francine’s. She’d maintained a bold face when she parted with Leo. She didn’t want the man any longer, she was certain of that. She wasn’t sure she ever had wanted him, if she was honest with herself.
But it still stung to have learned about his divided attentions along with half the family, in such a public way. His dalliance with Charlotte Schenk — if it could even be called that — occurred before he took up with her, that seemed clear. But Alfred Schenk’s shaming of him as a suitor for his daughter couldn’t help but reflect on her. Was she the one left with the Schenk reject? And from what he said, it sounded as if Leo’s financial problems were even worse than Santiago had been able to discover.
“You’re not still brooding over Leo, are you dear?”
Benecio sank into the armchair to Josefa’s left and passed her a warmed cup. Josefa’s fingers curved around it, savoring the luxurious aroma of dark chocolate.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She’d accepted Benecio’s invitation to come and stay for a few days without a second thought. She was bored at home, especially now she couldn’t readily go riding and Santiago wasn’t around to annoy. She told herself that more than anyone, Benecio understood what she was going through.
“I don’t know what there is to talk about really, Benecio. I guess Mr. Schenk’s little scene made it impossible to proceed, but even if that hadn’t have happened, I’m not sure we’d have got to the altar.” The hot chocolate warmed the back of her throat and slid down in a soothing velvety trickle. “Mmm this is good,” she said, sending an appreciative smile Benecio’s way. “You do spoil me.”
“You deserve spoiling.” The older woman gave a little laugh. “So it sounds like you were having second thoughts about Leo? Even before Mr. Schenk spoke, I mean.”
“It was what you said, really, about not repeating
Santiago’s story. The importance of giving my child a father who would accept him and love him or her. When I thought about it, I realized Leo was not that man. It sounds like he is more like his own father.”
She scrunched up her face in an apologetic grimace. “And I decided you were right. I didn’t want that. Mr. Schenk just made it easier for me to slip off the hook.”
Benecio nodded approvingly. “You’re a wise young woman, Josefa. Everything will work out for you. It might be a little rocky in the middle, but you’ll be fine in the end.”
A light tap on the door jamb caused them both to turn to the entryway. Santiago stood with his arm raised, his trademark hair scooped off his face and into a ponytail secured at the base of his neck. Whenever she saw him, Josefa thought of creative fire. He had a vitality, an individuality, that was unlike anyone else. He should be a flamenco guitarist or Botticelli angel. When God made him, he broke the mold.
Benecio beamed like a lighthouse on full power. “Why, Santiago, come in! Join us for un chocolate. Josefa’s just been keeping an old lady company.”
He hung back, but Benecio gestured him forward impatiently. “Come on, boy. I’ve hardly seen you since you started with Antal. We want to hear all about it. How’s it going?”
He stepped forward and hugged his aunt warmly, acknowledged Josefa with the briefest nod, and proceeded to regale Benecio with stories of his new job.
Their talk was warm and informal, the interaction so naturally affectionate that Josefa nestled into her warm perch on the comfy sofa with the snuggly rug, and relaxed into watching Benecio and Santiago together. She got a momentary glimpse of how easy it would have been for Leo to feel left out. She even felt a momentary pang of sympathy as she thought of the small boy desperately seeking his mother’s attention.
Finally they ran out of talk, and all three stared into the fire in companionable silence for a few moments. “It’s good to hear things are going so well, Santiago. It sounds like it’s working out very happily here,” Josefa said.
Santiago inclined his head toward her, the ease he’d shown with Benecio replaced by an awkward stiffness.
“It is, Josefa. Very well. Thank you.”
Benecio insisted that Santiago stay for supper, though it seemed to Josefa he was reluctant about being there. The conversation over their meal — a delicious sweetcorn soup accompanied with quesadillas, cheese-filled tortillas — relied heavily on Benecio’s cheerful interjections.
With the meal over, Josefa was waiting for the perfect moment to politely excuse herself when Benecio beat her to it. With a mischievous glint the matron stood, masked a theatrical yawn with one hand and announced it was time for la dama de la casa to sleep.
“You youngsters can chat on. I’m calling it a day.”
“Actually I’m pretty tired too,” Josefa said, jumping to her feet. “I’m ready to turn in.”
“No, no, finish the coffee. There’s enough left for another cup each.” Benecio blew them each a kiss and backed out before Josefa could protest further.
“Que pasa? What’s she playing at?” Josefa hunched forward on the edge of the sofa, elbows on knees, hand cupping her chin. She locked eyes with Santiago across the distance of the sturdy coffee table.
He shrugged. “She gets a bee in her bonnet about some things.”
She dropped her hand from her chin and instead leaned back against the sofa. “Things like what?”
He grinned helplessly, a ghost of the old Santiago appearing. “I don’t know. Things she thinks she knows best about. Most things.” A mischievous grin quirked up his lips.
Josefa gave a soft snickering laugh. “In my experience she probably does know best on most things.”
“How come?” Santiago’s voice was quiet, but inflected up, sounding interested.
“Oh, she just told me some things about your and Leo’s childhoods when I was here last. She gave me a lot to think about.” She gazed into the fire for a moment, lost in her reflections. “I came to the conclusion she was right.”
Santiago shifted his long legs, as if uncomfortable. “So where are you and Leo up to? Got the date confirmed yet?” Two spots of high color on his cheekbones were the only hint the question was anything other than a casual, throwaway inquiry.
“I could ask you much the same thing. How are you getting on with beautiful blonde Charlotte, the ready-made heiress?” As soon as the words were out, she knew they sounded far more green-eyed than she’d intended. She tried to compensate. “Not that it’s any of my business. She gave him a wry smile. “The banns won’t be being read this Sunday or any Sunday after it. I guess I knew the writing was on the wall from what you told us, even before Papa Schenk turned up. I tried to ignore it. But as far as he was concerned, it was all about the loot.”
She suddenly had the urge to talk straight and serious. They knew one another well enough for that, and Santiago could handle it. “And there was the fatherhood thing. Benecio asked me if I thought Leo would make a good father for my little one. And I had to answer in the negative. He wouldn’t.”
Santiago stood, as if suddenly needing to stretch. “Much like someone else we know.”
“Exactly. As your aunt pointed out.”
Santiago stepped around the low table and sat carefully down on the sofa next to her, leaving a safe distance between them. He cocked his head on one side. “That baby of yours. You realize it’s my niece or my nephew?” His eyes raked her face. “You did, didn’t you? Now that I know the truth about my father, Rory and I are half-brothers. Had you given that much thought?”
Josefa shook her head. “Honestly? I hadn’t really. I mean, since you found out about all that we haven’t seen each other. I still feel terrible about that day—”
Santiago waved it away. “Forget about it.”
Josefa continued, “But now you remind me again, of course you’re right. It feels a bit odd, but I suppose that’s because it’s new. It’s strange for me to think of you as Rory’s half-brother. I hadn’t fully taken on the next step. That you are my baby’s uncle . . .” She gazed up at him, aware her face bore a puzzled half-smile. Life kept on getting more complicated.
Santiago reached out and gently took her hand, his eyes serious. “If it’s a father for your child you’re looking for, I’ll do it.”
27
“You’ll what?”
Josefa couldn’t believe her ears. She oscillated between a surging, wild joy and equally fierce indignation. He what? He thinks this is all that’s required?
A flash of uncertainty crossed Santiago’s beautiful face then, like a wisp of cloud chased by the wind, as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. He sat forward, as staunch as ever, a hint of a smile on his gorgeous mouth.
Madeleine’s voice wafted into her mind: “You’d be a fool to ignore him.”
Ignore him? Bah! The man has no idea!
“You said you wanted someone who would be a good father for your child,” Santiago said. “I don’t usually push myself forward, but I could be that person.” He stared at the fire for a few seconds, and when his eyes met hers, they were bright with unshed tears. “I never knew I had a brother until it was too late. Rory was dead before I even knew about him. I don’t know, it just seems like a way I could make it up to him. And help you too, of course.”
Josefa snatched her hands away from his warm grasp. “Santiago, you’re loco!”
He shrank back, frowning. “What? What did I say?”
“Oh, Santiago!” Josefa was laughing now. She couldn’t help herself. “Yes, I said being a father was important, sure. But it isn’t the only thing. And admirable as your feelings of wanting to do something for Rory’s memory might be—” Once again laughter rippled out of her. What was happening to her? For months, her life had been a tragedy, and now, without any warning, it was turning into a comedy. “Let’s just say it’s not the most flattering offer a woman could wish for. Although of course I do appreciate your willingness to bail me out.” She gave h
im a waspish smile. “However, I think I’ll hold out for the full package. You know. The husband, as well as the father bit. Thanks for offering, though.”
She gathered up her full satin skirts, taking a fleeting pleasure in the ripple of the fabric around her as she stood. “Now I think I really will go off to bed. I’m glad you’re happy in your new life, Santiago. I really am. And I’ll be just fine, don’t you worry.” She padded out in her stockinged feet.
Her distinctive vanilla and lavender perfume lingered behind her, underlying the butterscotch tang of the pine fire. Jefferson pine, its fragrance unmistakable. Like Josefa’s.
Santiago inhaled deeply and asked himself what had just happened. She’d said she wanted a man who would be a good father to her child. He didn’t rate himself at much, but that was something he thought he could do pretty well. So why did she treat his offer like a joke?
He ran his forefinger along the familiar calluses on his right hand as he pondered the question. Already they were changing. The familiar mark where the rancho rope cut across his right palm was fading, replaced by pruning-shear indents on finger and thumb. It happened so fast. Everything was changing so fast. Three months ago he wouldn’t have recognized himself today.
Benecio’s lawyer had indicated that his grandfather’s inheritance would be in his hands within the next couple of months. He could expect title to a pretty hacienda on a productive patch of wine country neighboring the Orleans, as well as a tidy bit of capital to help get set up. His dream of becoming a man of means, able to support a family, was racing up on him faster than he’d ever imagined.
He’d hardly dared hope Josefa could be part of that. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t dared hope she’d see him as a husband. So he’d jumped at the alternative.
Let’s just say it’s not the most flattering offer a woman could wish for.
He cringed inside and felt the flush of red heat up his neck. What a bufflehead! He’d just insulted a proud señorita. A beautiful, proud señorita. And the only woman he’d ever loved.
Hope Redeemed--A Spanish Novella Page 8