Golden Roses (2 page)

She gave herself a mental shake. Perhaps she was too quick in forming an opinion of her stepbrother. Other than school, there had been little opportunity to be around people, and learning how to judge character would take time. Besides, she reminded herself sternly, she was a stranger in a foreign country, and would do well to keep silent and learn. Smiling to herself, she realized this was probably the way a prisoner felt on being freed after long years in jail, wanting desperately to catch up on everything. It was going to take extreme self-discipline to restrain her impulses.

Ahead, a glow of lights broke through a ring of trees standing like sentinels around the hill of the Alezparito house. Even in the faint light, Amber could tell that the house was large, even grandiose.

Valdis sat beside her in rigid silence, and after a few moments she could contain herself no longer. “Oh, do speed up the horses,” she cried, giving his rein hand a brief shake. She did not see his reproachful look. “Everyone seems to be awake. My father will be waiting. Oh, I wish he had come to meet me!” She bit her lip as tears sprang to her eyes.

Valdis made no effort to move faster, and Amber felt a sudden wave of agitation but kept quiet. There was something strange, something almost formidable about him.

Valdis moved the carriage up the circular drive, coming to a stop before huge wrought iron gates that were framed by glowing lanterns. An old man stepped forward to grasp the horses’ harnesses. Amber smiled at him, but he looked at her with…what? Pity? He shook his head and turned away. What was wrong with these people? First Valdis and his imposing, intimidating manner and now this gloomy old man.

Valdis got out of the carriage, then turned to hold out his arms to Amber. She allowed him to help her down, wondering momentarily if it was really necessary for his hands to cup her exactly under her bosom and squeeze. But there was no time to dwell on what was probably nothing anyway. The reunion she had waited for all these years was at hand.

Lifting her long skirt, she brushed past Valdis and began running up the white marble steps. At the top was a wide terrace flanked by vases of beautiful gardenias, but Amber saw only the large, double oak doors.

Just as she reached the doors, they were flung open. Amber stumbled, gasping in surprise at the girl standing there regarding her distantly. She wore a blue silk gown, which dipped low to reveal very little. She had tiny breasts and almost no cleavage. A black lace shawl was draped about her shoulders, and her hair, as sleek and black as Valdis’s, hung loose and flowing. But her eyes were hypnotic. They changed from mellow brown to almost red as they swept over Amber, insolently studying her.

As she stood there gaping, Amber felt Valdis squeeze her arm. “This is Maretta,” he said coolly as he pulled her inside the house. “Your stepsister.”

“Hello,” Amber said softly, nodding and smiling timidly as those angry eyes continued to blaze at her. “I’m glad to meet you, really, but…I was so anxious to see my father.”

“So, this is little Amber. All grown up.” Maretta’s lips curled into the hint of a sneer. Tossing her hair, she added tartly, “Well, I am sure you enjoyed the ride from Suevlo, my brother.”

Amber reminded herself that these were foreigners. Later, she would make every effort to understand them.

She pleaded to Valdis, “Take me to my father. Please. I don’t want to wait until morning.”

Maretta said coldly, “It might be wise if you waited until tomorrow, Amber, and rested tonight from your long journey.”

“No! I want to see him
tonight
.” She shook her head, looking up at Valdis and recoiling from his stony expression. Did he not understand her desperate need? “I know he won’t mind being awakened.”

Valdis and Maretta looked at each other, and Maretta murmured, “Perhaps you should tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Amber turned to Valdis and clenched her hands tightly together to keep from clutching him. “Please. There is something you aren’t telling me. Is he sick? Then take me to him, please.”

Valdis continued to look down at her with those cold, narrowed eyes until, suddenly, Amber saw a door opening to her left. She turned to see a soft glow of candles and people seated around the room. A man stepped out and closed the door behind him, his eyes flicking curiously over Amber as he asked Valdis, “Is this the daughter?”

“
Sí
. I have just brought her from the train,” Valdis responded with a punctuating sigh. He made introductions. Amber did not quite get the man’s long, Spanish name.

“Take her to the señora,” the man suggested gently, his kind eyes on Amber. “She said earlier she would prefer to tell the young lady herself.”

Valdis took Amber’s arm and led her to the wide, curving staircase. “Come, Amber. I am sure my mother is expecting you.”

Amber hastened to keep up with him, her anxiety becoming unbearable. Why was everyone acting so strangely? Behind her, she heard Maretta saying, “
Sí
, she will be awake. The whole house is awake, and most of the valley is in the parlor.”

“What is she talking about?” Amber demanded sharply. “What is going on here? Why won’t anyone tell me anything? And where is my father? Why wasn’t he here waiting for me?”

Valdis gave her an amused look. “You will soon have all your answers, señorita. My, but you are beautiful, especially when your blue eyes shine.”

Amber had had enough. “Will you tell me what is going on?” she cried, jerking her arm from his grasp. “And stop holding on to me. I can walk by myself.”

For an instant, she was sorry. If she had seen arrogance in his eyes before, it was nothing compared to the look of rage he gave her then.

“I endeavor to treat you like a lady, my little sister,” he said tightly, “but perhaps you are one of those women who prefers rough treatment? Soon, we shall find out.” There was a tight smile, and then he turned away.

Valdis continued up the stairs. At the landing, he led her down a wide hallway lined with ornate silver lanterns. Statues lined the walls. The floor was covered by a rich beige rug into which were woven designs of birds in every color imaginable. It was truly a beautiful house.

Valdis moved quickly down the hall, eyes straight ahead, chin slightly tilted, his face set. When they stopped at a door at the end of the hall, he knocked softly. Without waiting, he turned the thick black handle and pushed open the door, gesturing impatiently for Amber to follow him.

She found herself standing in a dimly lit entrance foyer and realized that her father and stepmother’s quarters took up the whole width of the massive house at that end. A lace curtain hanging in thick folds obscured whatever lay on the other side of the foyer.

Valdis swept the curtain aside and Amber followed him into the room, stunned by the lavish furnishings. The furniture was of a dark, heavy wood, ornately carved. There was a large desk against a wall, opposite the stone fireplace. In the middle of another wall, flanked by long, arched windows, was an enormous bed with a canopy of pink and red velvet fringed by gold satin.

Amber’s eyes went to the tiny woman who lay there. She seemed lost in the huge bed with its puffy, lacy pillows. She raised her head to stare at Amber, wide-eyed.

Moving forward on tiptoe—for the moment seemed to command reverence—Amber whispered, “Are you my stepmother?”

“
Sí
, this is your stepmother.” Valdis sighed impatiently. “We tried to persuade Amber to retire for the night, but she insisted on seeing her father. There was nothing to do but bring her to you.”

“As you should have.” Allegra Alezparito sat up, gathering a delicate crocheted bed jacket of soft pink over her shoulders. She beckoned to Amber. “Come here, my child. Sit down beside me. We must talk.”

“I am going to bed,” Valdis called over his shoulder as he left the room. “If everyone in this house and the entire valley wants to sit up all night, it is their privilege.”

The slam of the door told Amber that she and her stepmother were alone. She still had not made a move toward the bed and glanced around the large room, asking nervously, “Where is my father? Does he not sleep in here? Is he somewhere else?” Her eyes filled with tears as she stared beseechingly at the woman. “Please, won’t you tell me what is going on? I am so tired, and the way everyone is behaving is so frightening—”

“Come.” The older woman gestured again. “Come and sit down.”

Amber obeyed, dismayed to see that tears were slipping down her stepmother’s cheeks.

Amber sat down on the edge of the bed, and Allegra wrapped a cool hand around hers and squeezed softly. “It is terrible to have to tell you this, my child, when you were expecting a joyful reunion. Your father had been so looking forward to seeing you. It was all he talked about for the longest time.”

Amber shook her head wildly from side to side. Understanding was a cold snake wrapping itself around her heart. “You…you talk as though…” Her voice caught and she sobbed, “Dead! My father is dead!”

When Allegra did not reply, Amber knew the anguish of truth.

“No!” she screamed, leaping to her feet. “He can’t be dead. A cruel, cruel joke!” She backed away from the bed in horror, staring down at her stepmother as she continued to shake her head.

Allegra whispered, all in a rush, “
Sí
, it is true, Amber. He died two days ago. His heart, the doctor thinks. He is to be buried tomorrow. Please sit down. We must talk. We can comfort each other.”

For Amber, something snapped. “He’s downstairs, isn’t he?” she screamed, backing away. “Down there. In that room with the candles and all those people. That’s where my father is, isn’t he?”

She turned and fled, oblivious to Allegra’s pleas. She ran down the hall, down the stairs, stumbling, brushing by servants in the foyer, and flung herself against the parlor door. It swung open, and the man who had stepped out of the room before appeared once again. He stepped aside, stunned by her hysterical rush into the room.

The others seated around the parlor rose to their feet, gasping as Amber came to a standstill at the side of the casket. The mahogany casket sat on a bier, flanked at each end by burning white tapers. She looked through her tears at the ghastly white body inside, the head on a satin pillow. Her hands began to twitch wildly and her throat convulsed with gulping sobs. Her whole being wrenched with spasms of grief deeper than anything she had felt in her nineteen years.

She took a step forward and forced her trembling hand to touch the cold fingers clasped on his chest. She recoiled at the touch, but forced herself to reach out again.

Her father’s eyes were closed, and she felt her knees buckle. She clutched the edge of the coffin for support, aware only of a determination not to give way. She had to be strong. Had to be. Now she was all alone. Perhaps, she thought wildly, perhaps she had always been alone.

She leaned forward to press her lips against his. It was as though she had kissed a marble statue.

It was her hello to her father…and her goodbye.

Chapter Two

Amber lay on her side, staring into the shadows. Someone, she could not remember who, had told her this was her room. Hers? Nothing in this house was hers.

Absently, she studied the petite carved cherrywood desk and the large, ornate walnut cabinet where someone had hung her clothes. Her empty trunk sat in one corner next to a three-paneled dressing screen with a peacock embroidered on it. Thick draperies of wine velvet blocked the light at the double glass doors. She supposed there was a balcony beyond the doors. But she cared not at all. What mattered? She was suspended in a huge cobweb, and could move neither forward nor backward. She lacked the will even to try.

It had been Valdis who dragged her from her father’s coffin that night, lifting her in his arms despite her sobbing protests. He had brought her here. Valdis had shown no emotion, no compassion that night or during the funeral the next day.

How long ago had that been? She had only fuzzy recollections of a young Mexican girl bringing trays of food and urging her to eat. Amber hadn’t eaten, but she slept almost continually, glad for the reprieve.

But now she was awake—wide awake—and no matter how hard she tried, sleep was not going to take her away again.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the white lace canopy. A satin comforter covered her, and she shoved it away, impatient at the sight of the gown she had been wearing for no telling how long. She could not even remember changing from the dress she had worn to the funeral.

The funeral. A lump rose in her throat as she remembered how she had stared down in horror at the raw, gaping hole in the ground—that terrible gate to eternity. Her eyes had moved to the wooden casket which contained not only her father, but the dreams of what might have been between them, and her future. All of these were lowered into the eager earth.

The sound of the door opening startled her, and she sank back on the pillows, clutching the comforter to her neck. She watched silently as a young girl crossed the room, carrying a tray, and set it down on the table beside the bed.

“Ah, you are awake! Good.” The girl hurried to open the draperies, and Amber blinked at the sunshine spilling into the room.

“How do you feel? You have slept so long and eaten nothing. You must be very weak.”

Amber looked up into the round, dark eyes in the pretty Mexican face. It was, she realized gratefully, a sign of caring. With a shy smile, she answered, “Yes, I do feel weak…and very hungry But how long have I slept? And who are you?”