Fool's Journey (25 page)

           
Ana
smiled broadly and marched about the room singing, “Froggies! Froggies!”

           
“Thanks,
Mrs. Ruiz,” Deirdre said when she stood up again. “I’ll have to think of
something to tell her. Knowing Panda, she’ll want to do popular culture study
of tabloid celebrities if I tell her everything.”

           
“Do
you think a friend would do that?” Mrs. Ruiz asked.

           
“She
wouldn’t really. It’s just the way her mind works and her mouth runs. She’s my
friend, but not the most sensitive of creatures.”

           
“How
long have you known her?” Manny asked.

           
“About
six or seven years. We met in graduate school.” She glanced at Mrs. Ruiz. “I
don’t think your aunt likes her very much.”

           
 
“Panda’s not what she seems.” Mrs. Ruiz
shrugged. “Of course, most people aren’t. Do you want some coffee? I think I’ll
make a pot.”

           
Manny
smiled as his aunt disappeared into the kitchen. “She’s that way,” he said.
“Trying to stay out of your business and give you advice at the same time.
Don’t worry. If there were anything really wrong, she’d let you know.”

           
“That’s
good enough. I’ll give Panda a call.”

As Deirdre
dialed the number, she felt reluctance settling over her and realized she hoped
there was no answer. Panda meant reality, and this day had been part of another
life. Panda would be full of questions whether she told her anything or not.

On the fifth
ring, Panda answered the phone.

“How was New
Orleans?”

“Deirdre! It
was incredible! Let me call you back, though —I’m in a towel and I’m dripping
all over the floor.”

“OK, but I’m
not at home, Panda,” she said quickly. “I’ll try you again later.”

“Wait! Are you
OK? Did you find out anything?”

“Don’t worry.
It turned out to be Freemont Willard.”

“That slime
bag!”

“I’ll tell you
more later. Bye.”

Deirdre hung up
the phone before Panda could ask anything else. It was ridiculous. Why should
avoiding Panda prompt such overwhelming relief?

She joined
Manny and his aunt in the kitchen a few moments later. “Can I help with
anything?”

“I’m going to
make a little dinner. It’s been a long day for everyone. Maybe you and Manny
can go out back and see if you can find some herbs and vegetables – I think
there’s still enough light.”

           
Outside,
the smell of autumn rose up in the garden. Manny snapped a few small tomatoes
from their stems and tossed them into a basket. “End of the harvest,” he
commented. “Any day could bring the frost – then it all goes in the compost
heap.”

           
The
rows were still green, despite a few leafy spikes that had faded to brown.
“Doesn’t any of this survive the winter?” she asked.

           
“The
rosemary is sturdy, loyal. I’ve seen it covered with snow and still come
through in the spring.”

           
Deirdre broke off a silvery green
branch of the plant and crushed the leaves to release the heady scent. It
reminded her of incense. One of Ophelia’s herbs.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. I
pray you, love, remember.

           
“Thanks
for being with me today, Manny. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. You
were so patient.”

           
“It
wasn’t a chore to be with you, Deirdre. I had a great time, too. I only wish…”

The silence
fell between them for a moment. Above, a blackbird flew swiftly against the
deepening sky.

           
“What
do you wish?” she whispered.

           
He
laughed briefly and stared up into the branches overhead. “What do I wish? Only
that everything were different.”

           
A
whole lifetime, and always the same wish!
If
only
. A rush of regret brought the tears pricking at her eyes again. They
had been waiting all day to be shed, and now it seemed they would flow.

           
Manny
touched her shoulder and pointed through the bare branches. “See in the
sky—there’s Venus. The evening star. Make your wish.”

           
Above
the horizon the star shone bright, competing with the fading sunset. Make a
wish? Or make a wish come true? Everything seemed possible, even an antidote
for tears.

           
She
took a deep breath and wished. A bird sang out, but no angry fate swooped down
to punish her for her temerity. She looked at Manny. His eyes caressed her own,
warm and unwavering. Before fear and reason could intrude, she wrapped her arms
around Manny’s neck and kissed him.

“Now,” she
whispered, “everything’s different.”

Manny folded
Deirdre into his embrace, still disbelieving. She trembled in his arms a
little, but seemed to grow calmer as he held her.

“Say more about
your wish,” she whispered.

           
“My
wish?” he asked, forgetting for a moment the stray conversation that had led
them down this path.

           
“Yes.
You said you wished that everything were different.”

           
“Well,”
he smiled, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Not everything. You, for
instance.”

           
She
pulled away a fraction. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

           
“Look
at today,“ he said. “All the happiness you brought. Those kids have never had a
day like today. I’ve never had a day like today.”

           
“Money
made today possible,” she whispered. "It was nothing to do with me."

           
“Damn
it, Deirdre!” He gripped her by the shoulders and looked into her face. “To
hell with the money. It wasn’t money – it was your goodness.”

           
“You
don’t know me at all. I’m not good.”

           
Frustrated,
he dropped his hands and stepped away. “You may have heard that from the time
you were a kid, but consider the source. Did your father ever say anything else
you respected?”

           
She
shook her head. “It’s not what he said—it’s what he did. He took everything
from me, everything. I don’t even know if I have a soul, Manny.”

He put his arms
around her again and simply held her. For him, this was heaven enough, but he
wanted to free her too. He wracked his brain for something to say or do to help
her, but nothing came to mind.

“Then tell me
what’s in your heart, Deirdre. How can I help you?”

She looked
away. “I want you to make love to me.”

From the
kitchen window, Rosa had seen the pair fall into the embrace she had known was
coming. A mist of stars formed around their heads from the moment they walked
toward the door.

She went to the telephone and dialed a
number, then said a few words in Spanish. She hung up, untied the strings of
her apron, and called to the children,
“
¡
Ana!
¡
Marco!
Vamos a las películas.”

           
Movies! In a
heartbeat they appeared, their eyes sparkling.
“¡Las películas! ¿Cuál?”

           
She picked up the
newspaper and opened to the movie section, as the children hopped up and down
exclaiming and pointing to various entries. She ignored their clamoring for
movies far too old for them, and scanned for Disney releases or animal stories.
They had seen enough reality in their short lives to keep them safe from the
dangers of too much fantasy.

When Manny and
Deirdre came back into the house, eyes studiously trained on the basket of
vegetables they brought with them, she was already buttoning up the children’s
coats.

“What’s up?”
Manny asked.

“I just talked
to Carlito,” she said. “He invited us to go to a movie with him. You and
Deirdre can come along too, if you want. It’s a movie about a dog that goes to
school.”

He glanced
quickly at Deirdre. “I think we might want to pass, but thanks for asking.”

“We have to
run,” she told them, shooing the children towards the door. “We’ll get dinner
on the way.”

Deirdre opened
her purse and handed a bill to each of the children. “Popcorn money,” she said,
smiling.

“Looks more like tuition,” Mrs. Ruiz
commented dryly. “Ana! Marco!
¿Qué dice usted?
”

“
Gracias,”
they whispered, eyes wide, holding the money as if it would fly away if they
blinked.

From outside
came the honk of a car’s horn.

“We got to go,”
she said, pushing the children from the room. “See you later.”

XXXI.

Deirdre hadn’t
been able to read the look in Manny's eyes when he had taken her hand and had
led her to the bedroom. She’d only stolen a fleeting glance, afraid to look at
him too closely or for too long, for fear she’d see hesitation or reluctance.

           
He
shut the door, but didn’t say anything, just came up behind her and slipped his
arms around her waist. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck before
his lips even touched. With the kiss came the sizzle of electricity—and then
the fear.

Her old fear of
being caught, of being bad, was with her again. She felt the tears form in her
eyes. How could she be such a coward?

“You’re
shaking, Deirdre,” Manny said. He turned her around to face him as two huge
tears overflowed and ran down her face.

She wiped them
away quickly and tried to smile. “I feel so stupid.”

“Deirdre,
Deirdre . . .” He shook his head at her. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

He led her to
the bed where she had slept so peacefully the night before. They sat there
together, backs against the bedstead. Deirdre pulled up her knees and hugged
them to her chest.

Manny tugged at
the comforter folded at the foot of the bed and arranged it around their
shoulders. “Better?”

She nodded. “I
don’t really know what to do next, though.”

He wanted
nothing more than to make love to her, but it was too soon. That was clear.
“Don’t worry so much. Making love doesn’t always mean sex, you know.”

“I thought that
was only true in 19
^th
century novels,” she said softy.

“Maybe that
makes us time travelers.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her
toward him. “Deirdre, there are some things I want to tell you.”

Deirdre turned
to face him, her eyes wide, still sparkling from tears. She had stopped
shaking, though, and that was good.

“I think you’re
afraid of many things, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,
Manny, truly.”

He tried to
find the words he wanted:
You are very
dear to me, Deirdre. I’m very fond of you. I carry you in my heart.
True,
but not true enough.

“I love you,
Deirdre.”

He felt her
relax against him and release a ragged sigh. Relief flooded him, and he knew
that these were the right words, the words that had been lodged in his throat
all day, making him crazy.

“I had a crush
on you before I ever met you. You were my ideal. I read your poetry. When my
aunt talked about you, I had to hold myself back from quizzing her. Guys don’t
like to let on when they’re stuck on someone, you know. Then I met you,
Deirdre. You’re all I want. You’re all I think of.”

“Here I was,
afraid you’d think I was using you for sex.”

He laughed.
“You don’t know very much about men, do you? I’ll try not to fit the
stereotype.”

As he held her,
he waited for her to say more. He hadn’t expected that she would blurt out a
similar confession of love, but he wanted to know something of what she was
thinking. Silence hung in the air between them until she said, “I need to go
outside again, I want to pick some more rosemary.”

           
He released her regretfully and
followed her through the house. He kept his distance, standing in the kitchen
doorway watching, as she stepped into the garden and made her way carefully
through the dry, cold grass. It was very dark now. The shuddering of dry leaves
rattled in the night.

Deirdre found
the rosemary bush by scent. Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the light and she
was able to make out its shape and pale color against the rest of the night.
She wanted to gather enough branches to make herself a pillow and sleep in its
scent, the green needles pricking softly at her head and cheeks. Or build a
bonfire and throw the branches on one by one.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
Today proved that anything could happen, so perhaps
memories could be burned away. But would the ashes catch the wind and come
right back to her?