Beverly Byrne (38 page)

She
savored the memory for a few moments, then set it aside. "Did Tommy tell
you what he intended to do with these?" she asked.

Luke
shook his head. "No, but I can guess. They weren't mentioned in his will.
He didn't consider them his. He meant to give them you."

"I
think perhaps he did," Amy said slowly. "It would have meant telling
me about the whole thing, the sale of the mines and the house, and what he'd
done with the money. But I think he planned to do it. And he meant to give me
the seeds of the flame tree at the same time. That's why he saved them."

Amy
did not talk to Luke again that day. When she came downstairs the following
morning it was after nine. The two men had already breakfasted.

"The
padre says his prayers," Maria told her. "The other one I do not understand."

Maria
found Brother James's English too rich with brogue to be comprehensible.
Besides, she didn't approve of him. He spent his time drawing pictures in an
oversized book. To Maria that somehow smacked of witchcraft. Amy placated the
woman by having a cup of coffee in the kitchen, though she refused anything to
eat. Finally she went to look for Luke.

He
was slowly pacing the length of the patio. He held an open leather-bound
breviary with colored ribbon markers, and he was muttering softly to himself in
Latin. Amy waited until he looked up and noticed her.

"I'm
sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later. "

"No,
don't go away. I was saying my office. I just finished." He closed the
book and made the sign of the cross. Then they sat together under the gum tree.

"Where's
Brother James?" Amy asked.

"He
went out to make more sketches of the local flora. He's a remarkable botanist
and a fine artist. That's one of the reasons Father Prior selected him as my
companion."

She
had spent many hours thinking of Luke, and the incredible fact of his presence.
"Were you sorry to have to come here?" she asked.

He
didn't look at her. "Not sorry. Frightened, maybe. Things were pretty bad
between you and Tommy, weren't they?"

"As
bad as they could be." She took a deep breath. "I want you to know
the truth. The day they brought him home, after he'd been wounded, I was
getting ready to leave him. If they had come an hour later, I would already
have gone."

"I'm
not surprised," Luke said. "Tommy wrote me a little bit about it.
Then, when I got here, it was obvious you weren't grieving in the ordinary
sense."

"I
had done all my grieving for Tommy a long time before," she said quietly.

"He'd
changed that much?"

"Yes.
I suppose we both had."

He
turned to her. His smile was as sad and as devastatingly beautiful as it had
always been. "You've grown up, little Amy, but if you're changed, it's for
the better."

"Not
really," she said. "A lot of our trouble was my fault. "

"No,"
Luke said. "It was mine. I've never forgiven myself for going to see you
that day in New York. Or for the things I said."

She
rose and walked a few steps away. A branch of the eucalyptus hung by her head
and its gray green softness brushed her cheek. She could no longer postpone the
question most in her mind. "If I had agreed," she said. "If  I
had said I'd leave Tommy and go away with you, would you have gone through with
it?"

His
reply was so low that she had to strain to hear. "Yes, God help me, I
would have." He gripped the breviary and his knuckles were white. "It
would have been a choice I regretted the rest of my life. I don't think I'm
much of a priest, but it's what I was born to be."

She
nodded. "Thank you for being honest. I needed to know." There was no
reason to tell him that Tommy had found out about the clandestine visit, or
that it put the seal of doom on their marriage. She had decided earlier to keep
that secret. Nothing Luke said had changed her mind.

They
were silent for a while. Finally Luke spoke. "We'll be leaving tomorrow.
Unless you need me for anything more."

"No."
she smiled gently. "I don't need you anymore."

She
felt a deep longing to be by herself, and she turned and left the patio. Luke
let her go without a word.

Amy
wandered the house, but it seemed suddenly confining and oppressive. She
changed her clothes and went to the corral and saddled Sheba. The gray was
getting old, but she remained Amy's favorite mount.

When
she rode out the gate she saw Brother James sitting beside a cactus. He was
sketching, and he wore a wide sombrero. It made a queer contrast to his black
and white habit. He looked up and waved when she passed him, but Amy didn't
stop

In
a few minutes the ranch buildings were a speck on the horizon behind her. She
was alone and free and at one with the tawny earth and the blazing sky. She
rode hard and fast, confident of her skill and her knowledge of the
countryside. The wind whistled past her face, and the distant mountains filled
her eyes. She did not think. She allowed herself only to feel, and to be
healed.

It
was nearly nightfall when she returned. The two Dominicans were nowhere to be
seen. Maria had left a cold supper for her. She ate it, then went up to bed,
and she did not need Rick's tablets to send her to sleep.

Amy's
bedside clock said 5:00 A.M. when she woke. Dawn was only a promise in the gray
night sky. Suddenly she knew that she could wait no longer. She had intended
going to Santa Fe after Luke and James left, but there was an urgency in her
blood now. She bounded from the bed and showered, and washed her short black
hair. Her hands were trembling when she rifled through her clothes closet, but
it was the quiver of joy and anticipation, not fear.

She
chose a yellow silk dress because it was Rick's favorite color, and because the
rippling pleats of the skirt and the deep ruffle at the neck were intensely
flattering. It wasn't a widow's dress, not a sign of mourning. For Rick's sake,
and the children's she would be discreet in the next few months. But not today.

The
Model-T started without hesitation. Amy covered the distance to town in two and
a half hours. The car would probably never be the same. It was just
eight-thirty when she arrived at Rick's, and there were no patients waiting in
the office. She tried the front door and found it unlocked.

The
smell of fresh-perked coffee filled the house, and there were sounds of
occupancy coming from the kitchen, but the dining room was empty. So was the
sitting room and Rick's small study. She raced up the stairs. Her feet were
encased in patent leather pumps with high thin heels, but they made no sound on
the carpeted floor. Rick's bedroom was at the end of the hall and the door was
ajar. She caught sight of him buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror over
the dresser. Amy pushed the door open wider, and stepped into the room.
"Good morning, my love," she said softly.

He
looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror, then turned and opened his
arms. Amy rushed to them, and when they closed around her, everything in her world
came into harmony.

"I
love you," she said. "Oh, my Don Rico, I love you so much."

She
was laughing and crying, and he could feel her pounding heart and her cheeks
wet with tears. His eyes filled too, and he held her very tight and they swayed
slightly to the rhythm of their happiness. "
Mi amor
, " he
whispered. "
Mi corazon
."