Rainbows and Rapture (49 page)

She couldn’t decide what his mood was. Did his question mean he
wasn’t
in a rage? “I—I didn’t never think on that. Reckon I’d have runned like Satan’s breath was burnin’ the hairs on my neck.”

For one long moment, Santiago felt nothing but his astonishment. And then, gradually, his shock gave way to amusement. He felt his chest rumble with laughter. In the next instant, it exploded from him. He laughed harder than he could remember ever laughing.

As he laughed, he thought about what a different man he’d become. His time with Russia had reminded him of so many things. All the things Lupita had instilled in him when he was little. Forgiveness. Caring and kindness. Compassion. The courage to forget wrongs. The things that were once so important to him just didn’t matter anymore.

Only Russia mattered.

“Santiago?” she said in a small, timid voice. “You was laughin’. Y’ain’t mad?”

“Would it do me any good to be mad?”

She thought about that for a moment. “Might make you feel better if you was to hit me once or twice. Wanna do that?”

He’d cut off both his arms before ever striking her. He shook his head.

“I really am sorry, Santiago.”

“I know.”

“Y’didn’t never tell me why y’wanted to find the ring man. Who is he, anyway?”

“No one, Russia. He’s not important anymore.”

He gazed down at her for a very long time, loath to say the things he knew he had to say. It almost killed him to think about them. He could only imagine how it would feel to actually say them.

He drew himself up to his full height. “You seem well, Russia,” he began slowly. “Well enough…to ride.”

When he paused, she realized this was the opportunity to tell him what she was going to do. Pain crept through her heart. “I am. Ready to ride.”

He had no reason to ask where she was so ready to ride to. He already knew. Sorrow clawed into him. His body rigid with it, he walked to the cradle and placed Manuel on the soft blankets. “It’s late. I’ll stay with the baby. You go to sleep. We leave at dawn.”

“Dawn.” The word escaped her on a ragged whisper.

“For Whispering Oaks. You—You still want to go, don’t you?” Every nerve in his body tensed as he waited for her answer. His last shred of hope in the world was that maybe she’d changed her mind.

Russia yearned to tell him no. No, that she didn’t want to go to Whispering Oaks. That she wanted to stay with him.

But a woman’s voice came to her.
Santiago, he needs to find love. He needs a woman to love him. A good woman who will give him all that he deserves to have.

Lupita’s words. Words she herself already knew. A good woman. A decent lady. A princess.

“Russia?” Santiago pressed.

She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. Instead, she lifted her chin and made herself smile at him. “Well, o’ course I wanna go to Whisperin’ Oaks. How far away is it?”

His sole hope withered away. Somehow, with some fortitude he didn’t realize he possessed, he managed to return her smile. “If we hurry…we’ll make good time. We should get there within a few days. If we hurry.”

She clasped her hands together behind her back, wringing them. “Yeah. We’ll hurry.”

“Whispering Oaks,” he muttered.

“Yeah, Whisperin’ Oaks.”

“Nice town. Ben— Ben Clayton… He’s nice, too. Whispering Oaks and Ben.”

She continued wringing her hands. “Yeah, ole Ben…I reckon he’ll be glad to see me, won’t he?”

Santiago couldn’t answer.

“Santiago, do y’think you’ll stay in Whisperin’ Oaks fer a while after we git there?”

“Me?” He pushed his fingers through his hair and shuffled his feet on the floor. “I— No.”

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. “Where… After Whisperin’ Oaks…where will y’go?”

“Somewhere,” he answered lamely. “I’ll come back here to Misericordia, of course. To see Lupita. Her women friends will be taking care of her and the children for a while, but I’ll come back to make sure she has everything she needs. And then I’ll—I’ll…”

“Go out and try to find your princess?” she prompted quietly, hopefully. “It’s what you should do, y’know. You could go to some place far away, Santiago. A place where nobody knows you. Where them terrible stories about you ain’t never hit.”

“China, maybe.”

She smiled, trying very hard to be brave. “You ain’t gotta go that far. What about East? One o’ them eastern cities like Philadorfa.”

“Philadelphia.”

“Whatever,” she whispered.

Grief curled through him. God, he would miss her. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep standing there pretending to be unaffected.

He folded his arms across his chest, across his broken heart. “Yes, I suppose I could go there. East. Maybe I will.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. He’d go out and find his princess. Some prim and proper virgin who’d be everything he always wanted. She’d pray every night that he met with success. “Manuel’s asleep,” she commented, glancing down at the cradle. “Guess I’ll go to bed now, too.”

He nodded.

So did she.

He watched her turn and walk out of the room.
I love you, Russia Valentine,
he told her silently.

She stopped at the threshold and looked over her shoulder. He was still standing by the cradle. As if guarding over little Manuel. As if Manuel were his son.

She told him with her heart what she could never tell him with her lips.

I love you, Santiago Zamora
.

* * *

It was still dark when Santiago urged Quetzalcoatl out of the stable the next morning. Silently, Russia followed on her mare.

They left Misericordia slowly. It took many long minutes to reach the edge of town. There Santiago stopped altogether. He stared at the ground to his left. A small lamp attached to the side of a wooden post shed its yellow light on a huddled form. The form of a woman.

She wore rags. Her feet were bare. Her black hair hung in lifeless strings around her frail body.

Santiago gazed down at her when she held up her hands to him. Her fingers looked like dead sticks, gnarled and brittle. She was ill. He couldn’t know what disease preyed upon her broken body, but whatever it was, he had no doubt it would kill her. Moved to pity, he dropped a small pouch of gold onto her lap.

A tear slipped down her sunken cheek. She looked up at him again.

He saw gratitude in her cloudy eyes, but not a hint of recognition. She didn’t know him. But then, he mused, she’d never really known him.

Pressing his palm against Quetzalcoatl, he urged the stallion forward, leaving the memories behind forever.

“Who was that?” Russia asked, also casting a look of tender pity at the sickened hag.

Santiago kept his eyes straight ahead. “A girl I used to know.” With that, he put his stallion into a canter, Russia following closely behind.

Graciela watched them leave.

* * *

Whispering Oaks.

From her hotel-room window, Russia looked out over the peaceful town. The journey from Misericordia had taken only two days. True to his word, Santiago had hurried. He’d hurried so hard, there’d barely been enough time to sleep, much less talk.

“It’s nice here,” she whispered to Nehemiah, who sat on the sill rubbing his face against her shoulder. “Whisperin’ Oaks—nice. Real…nice.”

Tears welled; she felt them trickle down her cheeks. Nehemiah licked them away. “Ben—he’s nice, too,” she continued shakily.

Her heart skipped several beats. “He’s leavin’, boy. Santiago. Goin’ on, jist like he should. Ain’t it grand? Grand that he’s gonna find him his
happily
-ever-after? And me? Well, Ben—he proposed again the second he finded out I was back.”

She closed her eyes, contemplating the meeting she’d had with Ben earlier in the day. She’d come right out and told him about the sexual assault she’d suffered and how it had left her unable to bear children. She’d thought for sure he’d change his mind about wanting to marry her.

He hadn’t.

Sighing, she stroked Nehemiah’s ears. “I done a lot o’ thinkin’ while we was travelin’ to Whisperin’ Oaks, boy. I ain’t never gotta be one o’ them soiled doves again. Don’t gotta keep runnin’ like before. Whisperin’ Oaks I ain’t got nowheres else to go. Ain’t got no family a’tall no place.

“And Ben—I cain’t hardly believe he still wants to marry me. A girl like me shouldn’t oughta let a gentleman like him slip through her fingers, huh? I’d—I’d be plumb nelly stupid not to take hold o’ all these dreams come true. Red velvet coach, poetry, clean nails and all… And didn’t you always hear me say I wanted to settle down in some peaceful town? Didn’t you always listen to me when I commenced tellin’ you about all them things I wanted outta life one day? The day fer gittin’ ’em— The day come, boy, and I’m gittin’ ever’thing I— Jist—jist like I always wanted. Yeah, good ole Ben. I’ll be good right back to him. I’ll do ever’thing I can to make him happy. We’ll have us a fine life. A real fine one, me and…Ben. It’s what— It’s— It’s what I always wanted!”

Her shoulders heaved; sobs racked her body. She laid her head upon her arms, weeping for the love she’d found, the love she’d lost, the love she’d never have again.

Only a sharp knock at the door finally stopped her tears. She splashed cool water on her face, then smoothed her hair. Her motions wooden, she opened the door.

There stood Ben.

Behind him stood Santiago.

They’d brought up her belongings, and she watched as they placed them on the floor.

Ben held out his arms. She walked into them. Her eyes locked with Santiago’s.

Two men.

She loved one. She would marry the other.

* * *

Ben could barely wait for the wedding. He took care of all the plans quickly and efficiently, making sure Russia was by his side as he did so. The ceremony would be held on Saturday, four days away. The entire town of Whispering Oaks looked forward to the romantic event.

From a distance, Santiago observed Ben’s activities. The man was meticulous about each tiny detail, working feverishly with the minister, the church organist, and the women who were to create the flower arrangements and the wedding cake.

But there was one thing Ben had overlooked. One very important thing.

Santiago took care of it. It was the last favor he would ever do for Russia, and he was determined that it be done perfectly.

He almost drove the seamstress and her assistants insane, insisting they work day and night. He might as well have moved into the dressmaker’s shop, for he rarely left it during the time it took the women to complete his order.

The finished product was sheer perfection. The time had come to give it to Russia.

The time had come for him to leave.

He found her in her room. He’d hoped he would, for he couldn’t stand the thought of having to say good-bye to her while she was wrapped in Ben’s embrace.

His parting gift to her draped over his arms, he walked further into her room and stopped a few feet away from her bed, on which she was sitting. “I didn’t know…what color,” he stammered. “I assumed you’d want—well, a white one.”

Russia saw that he held a dress. “White,” she repeated. Her mouth went dry; her heart sank. She knew in her soul this was the last time she’d ever see him.

Santiago looked down at the lily-white satin gown. It appeared so vivid next to his coal-black shirt. “It has lace on it. I picked it out myself, Russia. You like lace. You have it…on your underwear.”

She thought about all the intimate things he knew about her. Things Ben didn’t know. Tears tried to come. She refused to let them.

“Pearls, too,” Santiago continued. “The seamstress and her assistants have worked around the clock to finish it, Russia. Do you like it?”

She heard the deep hope in his voice. He wanted desperately for her to love the dress. Dear God, she couldn’t believe she was going to thank the man she loved for buying her a dress in which she would wed Ben. “Santiago, it’s real purty.”

“And a veil, Russia,” he said softly. “It has a veil, too. A long one. It’ll hang down behind you. The dress—it looks like something straight out of a fairy tale. You’ll look like…a princess…won’t you?”

Anguish paralyzed her. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even nod.

Santiago swallowed and strode toward her. Carefully, he laid the gown down beside her. “Russia, I’m—”

“I know,” she told him, valiant in her efforts to conceal her grief. “I know, Santiago. You’re—you’re leavin’.”

He took a deep breath and turned toward the window, unable to look at her. “Yes. I—I came to tell you…good-bye.”

At that moment, her heart broke. She could feel the pieces separating, tearing apart. They’d never come together again. Not ever. She’d known this moment would arrive, but she was unprepared for the devastating torment it brought.

Her gaze fell to her lap; she saw her hands shaking. Only her love for Santiago kept her from throwing herself into his arms. Only her love gave her the courage to accept their final parting.

Slowly, she rose and walked to the dresser, taking a burlap sack from the top of it. She caressed it for a moment, then returned to Santiago. “I wanted to give you a little somethin’. Some little gift. Ain’t much, but I hope— Well, I hope you’ll like it.”

He accepted the bag, but couldn’t make himself open it. His feelings were too raw right now. “I have something for you, too.” He removed a large leather pouch from his belt and dropped it on the bed. It landed on her gown and opened.

Gold spilled all over the white satin.

Russia’s eyes widened. “I ain’t takin’ that.”

“You will.”

“Won’t.”

“Will.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why—”

“Let’s just say God’s mama is paying you back.”

She realized then that he knew she’d given her gold to the church in Rosario. Was there anything at all about her that this magnificent man didn’t know?

“I have to go now, Russia,” he murmured almost inaudibly.

She tangled her hair in her fingers. “I don’t know what to do. What to say. I ain’t—I ain’t never said good-bye to nobody.”