Swept Away (17 page)

“Doris!” Adolfo cried. “Carmelita!” he called to his wife. A very beautiful, very full and round Latina woman came up behind him. She wore a colorful apron and held a dish towel in her hands.

Adolfo grabbed Jennifer and gave her a welcoming hug, muttering something very approving in Spanish as he looked at her in the dress and pronounced her
muy bueno.
Then he introduced her to Carmel who, likewise, had very positive things to say in Spanish—Jennifer nodded, wishing she had some idea what they were. Then followed a long line of people whom Adolfo presented. Maria, Andreas, Stefano, Juan, Eduardo, Lydia, Jesus, Jose, Madeira, Theresa, and on and on he went until Jennifer was long past remembering anyone but Carmel. To further confuse things, his introductions were half in English and half in Spanish.

She saw that in addition to the keg and a cooler filled with soft drinks, there seemed to be a bar set up near the house where electricity for the blender was available. A large bowl of limes sat atop the bar, and leaning against it was, surprisingly, Buzz, and beside him, Gloria. He nodded toward Jennifer and lifted a glass.

“Adolfo, who's minding the diner?”

“It's closed. Señor Buzz put up a sign.
Ido de pesca.
Gone fishing.” He grinned. “Buzz would not miss a celebration at the Garcia homestead.”

Still more people lined up behind Adolfo, and one by one he introduced them. His brother, his nephew, his neighbor, his old friend, his wife's sister, a friend from their country, which she learned did not mean Mexico but rather a region of Mexico. Another neighbor, a son-in-law, and a wee tot whom he lifted into his sturdy arms as he said, “Juanito, the newest bambino. My grandson.”

Caught off guard by the beauty of the little boy, Jennifer forgot her nerves for a second and put out a hand, a finger, which Juanito happily grabbed. “Oh, Adolfo, he's precious. How old is he?”

“
Dos.
Two and then some. But he thinks he's as big as all the others and chases them from morning till night. Oh, Señorita Doris, when Alex told me he was going to bring you, it made me so happy. I am proud to have you in my home, with my family.”

“He told you—? But Alex made it seem as though you expected me.”

“
Sí,
I expected you if Alex could find a way to persuade you. And now you can see the flowers and plants that Carmel tends. She has the gift of the thumb
verde.
”

Someone was at her side, passing her a drink in a plastic cup. She turned to see it was Alex, not looking in any way remorseful. “Maybe you'd better have one of these,” he said.

“
El perdón,
you are in good hands,” Adolfo said, leaving them to play host to what Jennifer feared were hundreds of people.

She took a sip of the margarita. It was delicious, and strong. “You tricked me,” she said to Alex.

“Well, let's just hope I tricked you into having some fun.”

“You shouldn't have done that. It just pays to be honest.”

“You wouldn't have come if I'd been completely honest. Besides, I only stretched the truth a little bit. You heard him—he wanted you here very much.” Alex gestured to the gathering. “And as you can see, you couldn't be safer. If you're going to enjoy only a few outings, this is one to take in.”

“Hmm. Well, now I probably won't trust you again,” she sagely advised him. But rather than being chagrined by that, he laughed outright. And loudly enough to turn a couple of heads.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Hell, Doris, you don't trust me, anyway, so who cares? Huh?” He clinked her plastic glass with his and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood just the same.”

A few more people from the gathering approached them, and to her surprise and extreme pleasure, Alex continued with the introductions. “This is Jesus, who works with Adolfo's son, Manuel, and Rosa is his wife. Here is Selena, who lives down the street and is always here for the holidays, unless she goes home to her country in Mexico, and this is Roberto, who lives on the other side over there—he helped Adolfo and his sons build the gazebo and barbecue.” This went on and on until a woman—clearly not Latina—approached. “Hey!” Alex said, pulling her in for a hug. “I wondered if you'd make it. You bring John?”

“He's in the house getting the piñata ready for later. Stuffing it.” She looked at Jennifer, stuck out her hand and said, “Hi, I'm Paula. I work with Alex.”

“Hello,” she said. She took another bolstering sip and was finally grateful to Alex for having produced the drink.

“Here's how it works, Doris,” Alex was saying. “Last year I brought Paula and her fiancé, John, and now Adolfo would feel someone from his family was missing if they weren't here. You have to die or leave the country to get out of it.”

“Who'd want to get out of it?” Paula said. “Believe me, you are never going to eat better in your life. They have
carne asada
on the grill, barbecue chicken, tacos, quesadillas, and when you taste the corn you're going to faint. They cook the corn on the cob in the husks smothered in mayonnaise, cheese and chili. To
die
for. Nice to meet you—I'm going to get a beer.”

When Paula left, Jennifer asked, “She works with you how?”

“She's my partner. Excellent cop. Good person. John is a firefighter. Cops and the FD seem to hang together. They marry one another a lot.”

“She's awfully small to be a police officer.”

“Dynamite comes in a small wrapper, too. Not to worry.”

Jennifer took another drink and said, “Um, Alex? I've been gardening and riding the bike back and forth to the nursery all afternoon. I didn't exactly eat anything. And this drink is
muy
potent.”

“Doris. You're bilingual,” he laughed.

“I'm going to be before long the way Adolfo mixes up his Spanish and English at the diner. I'm also going to be drunk.”

“Never fear, Alex is here. Rosa! Could we have a little something to take the bite out of this margarita?”

“
Sí, amigo. Ven aquí.
We have chips and salsa and guacamole here. Beans and tortillas coming up with
salada.
And we do have lemonade and Pepsi for the weak.”

“Hah! We can hold our own! We just need a taco bed for the tequila!”

* * *

As the sun slowly lowered in the sky and the lanterns and lights came up, Alex was tempted to hover near Jennifer, but the men kept drawing him away. He managed to make sure her plate and glass were always replenished, but he wasn't able to stay at her side. Still, he couldn't draw his eyes away from her.

Over the course of the next couple of hours he watched as she held a variety of babies and small children. She visited with Rose, then Paula, then Gloria. As Alex watched, a very elderly Hispanic woman sat beside her and he could see Jennifer draw her eyebrows together as she concentrated on understanding her. Carmel and Adolfo, though constantly busy, kept close watch. Young men paused before her and made her laugh, young women brought her food to taste. They made a big deal over this darling young woman in the sundress and called her Alejandro's
la amiga.
Alex's girlfriend.

“It's nice to see you here with someone under seventy,” Paula said into his ear. He looked at his partner with a small smile but said nothing. “She's not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Well... The picture...”

“Shh,” he warned.

“No one heard,” she said. “I'm surprised you heard,” she added.

The music grew louder and the laughter reverberated throughout the neighborhood. A group of strong young men rousted everyone from the picnic tables and moved them to the edges of the yard so that the piñata could be hung. Dancing began in earnest on the cement of the carport. As Paula stood beside Alex, watching, Adolfo and Carmel swirled onto the cement driveway and, to the shouts of their family and friends, danced their celebratory dance. Others began to join them. Rose appeared in the arms of one of Adolfo's neighbors, a man young enough to be her grandson, and although he was a talented dancer, she was clearly his equal. Gloria and Buzz twirled around clumsily but happily. Someone grabbed Jennifer's hand and tried to pull her from the picnic table. She shook her head and resisted, but was no match for the Latino's insistence. They stood at the edge of the dance floor while he tried to explain to her what he was going to do and she listened carefully, nodding. Then they began to dance, stilted at first, then burst into the
maringá.
Though she was slow at first, there was no question she knew what she was doing. As the music changed, and so did the dance, it became apparent that Jennifer could salsa with the best of them.

Alex watched in both fascination and appreciation as her dress swirled around her thighs. As the young Mexican man twirled her expertly, she threw her head back and laughed. Alex could tell it was happening to her again—she had forgotten to be wary, and the joy that was natural to her was sneaking out. It made him grin like a kid. Hands plunged into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels.

“Alex!” Paula shouted. He turned sharply to look at her. “For God's sake, what planet are you on?”

“What?” he asked.

“I've been talking and elbowing you! You haven't heard a word, have you?”

Well, what the hell did she expect when Jennifer was doing the
maringá
with the handsome young Latino? “Sorry,” he said. “What did you say?”

“I said, after the piñata, John and I will drop Rose at her house. You can stay on with the beautiful
Doris,
” she said, sarcasm drawing out the name.

“Thanks,” Alex said.

The dance ended and shouts and applause filled the air. Adolfo rushed to Jennifer, clapping and exclaiming,
“¡Mi Dios! ¡Qué talento!”

Alex grabbed another bottle of beer. Paula was helping John and some others string up the piñata while the kids were swarming the backyard, anxious to crack it open. Meanwhile, Jennifer was being passed from hand to hand in the dance. Even Buzz turned her around a couple of times. Alex thought he should get his chance before she was exhausted, but she was so much fun to watch and he was having such pleasure doing so. Every now and then she would catch his eye, smile and wave just as she was spun off by yet another new partner.

When the music changed again, Alex put his beer down on a picnic table and went to claim her. “You've been holding out. You're a dancer,” he said.

“Not really,” she protested, her cheeks flushed. “I admit I love to dance, but I'm a good follower, that's all.”

“Oh-ho, I doubt that,” he laughed.

As if by magic, the next song was a slower pace and he pulled her into his arms. If either of them had looked closer, they would have seen their host instructing the guitarists to slow it down.

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, leaning against him gratefully. “I'm nearly worn out. I don't think I could jig around this carport one more time.”

“Good,” he said.

She curved against him and proved she was, actually, a very good follower. But he didn't plan on going far or fancy, he just wanted to hold her. And on the excuse of exhaustion, she lay her head against his shoulder and sighed. Her shoulder, tanned and freckled and glistening with the perspiration of dance, was right there at his lips; her arm circled his shoulders with comfortable possessiveness. His hand on her waist pulled her tighter, and as the music played, he felt himself moving her from the middle of the dance floor to the edge, farther from the crowd.

Jennifer felt at home, safe in his arms. She lay her head down, pulled him tighter and prayed he wouldn't release her. Around them was the noise of partyers yelling, laughing, singing, clapping—but they began to seem farther and farther away. She had the vague sense of being alone with him and blamed exhaustion and the alcohol, then she blessed them both, for the stirring within her felt real and very welcome, and she didn't want to fight it.

The music changed and changed again, but they continued to rock back and forth in a slow sway as if they were alone. His lips touched her shoulder and she brushed hers against his cheek. She found he had moved them into a corner of the carport and under the canopy of a drooping California pepper tree. It was there that he stopped moving his feet, pulled back slightly, lifted her chin with his index finger and moved his mouth over hers.

The thrill of his kiss shot through her and her arms went around his neck, her fingers digging into his hair to keep him close. She opened her lips under his and welcomed him; she moved her body against him so that he would have absolutely no doubt she wanted him. And want him she did, in a way so primal and natural, she was shocked by it.

The loud crack of the piñata bat suddenly rent the air, followed by screams and laughter as penny candy scattered, being chased by little ones. The noise broke apart a delicious kiss and they turned their heads to look, but Alex used a gentle hand to direct her eyes back to his. “Let's get out of here,” he said.

“Rose,” she whispered.

“Rose is taken care of. Paula and John. They may have left already. Come with me?”

She nodded.

* * *

Jennifer laid her head back against the cool leather of Alex's front seat. She closed her eyes while he drove; he placed a hand on her knee.

Think about it, she told herself. A waitress and dog-sitter falls in love with the nice man next door. A handsome, tender, strong, honest man. After a life so disjointed and fraught with worry, could I just this once luck out and stumble upon a stable and trustworthy man who cares for me? She saw a picture of it in her mind—a small Boulder City house, a couple of puppies, a garden, bicycles. She wouldn't change a thing. After beachfront condos, private jets and Jaguars, could she be happy like that? Only for fifty or sixty years.