When the Heavens Fall (29 page)

“That can't be!”

“But it is. It's called the Song of Solomon and it is in the Bible. You can read it yourself.”

“I've never read the Bible. I never thought such a thing would be in it.”

“Well, señorita, as a matter of fact, it's about the only part of the Bible I know well enough to speak of. I thought like you the first time I read it. I couldn't believe such a passage was in the Bible.”

“I've never even seen a Bible. The priests tell us what it says.”

Suddenly Brandon laughed. “I bet they don't talk about this poem too often, but it's a beautiful love story. They love each other so much that he says, ‘O, prince's daughter, the joints of your thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor. Thy belly is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory, thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon. How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights.'”

“That—that can't be in the Bible!”

“Well, my uncle is a preacher, and he has studied the Bible a lot. He says that it's probably a true story about Solomon and his lover, but it's also a story of Christ and the church. Jesus is the bridegroom and we are the bride, and we are to love each other. We are to love Christ as a woman loves her husband.” He smiled. “My Uncle Quentin said someday I would quote those verses for some reason other than seducing women.”

“Is that what you're doing?” she said, lifting a hand to her breast. “Seducing me?”

“God help me, I don't intend to do that. Not that you aren't quite beautiful and tempting. No, today I think I spoke those verses to you because you should know there is something so wonderful within the Scriptures. My uncle would be happy I told them to you.”

Dolores suddenly stood up, and when he joined her, he saw that she had tears in her eyes. “Don't be sad,” he said in confusion. “It's a beautiful poem. It tells how God loves his people and how we're supposed to love him, but it's also about a man and a woman. Someday, Señorita Dolores, you'll find a man who can make you laugh and cry.”

She looked up at him, and faint color stained her cheeks. For a moment they stood like that, something whirling rashly between them, swaying both of them in violent compulsions that neither of them really understood. He sensed her vulnerability
and suddenly he realized there was more to this woman than he had thought. She was still, waiting, staring up at him, beckoning, so sweet. .…He put his arms around her and felt her lips come up to meet his, quick and eager. It was like falling into layer after layer of softness. There was never any completion to the kiss. Never the full giving of those things in him and never the whole receiving from her. Never enough. She caught her breath, and he knew that she had felt the power of their connection as much as he. He held her loosely, stirred by the fragrance rising from her hair, and it was then that he knew that this was a woman that he could truly love. How cruel! She would hate him once she knew his goal had always been to steal her away, not win her heart.

Dolores stepped back and stared at him. Her cheeks were flushed and she was angry. “How dare you take such a liberty!”

“Dolores,” he said in surprise. “Forgive me for offending you.” His heart beat quickly. Had he destroyed everything? She seemed truly furious.

“I'm angry with myself for being so easy.” She turned and walked away quickly to her horse, mounted, and rode away at a fast clip. Brandon stood looking after her.
I can't steal her, but I might make her fall in love with me. She's the kind of woman who would run away to England with a man she loves.

Shame came on him as he thought of how he would have to use deceit, but his mind responded with justification. She was not happy here. She'd have a good home with the Fairfaxes, everything she wanted. And she could find a man to love truly before she married. He went to his horse and slowly led the animal along the river, thinking, thinking.

Why had her kiss so shaken him?

Morning clouds had gathered and poured a cooling rain over the terrain, then had passed away in the late afternoon. The sun had come out, and as Dolores sat looking out the window, she was conscious once more of the beauty of the countryside during the month of April. The grass as the sun struck it looked like diamonds flickering and glittering. But as her seventeen-year-old maid Juanita brushed her hair, she was aware that she was unhappy. There was something in her, a discontent, for which she could not account.

Juanita was chattering on about her usual subject, a young man named Antonio.

“Are you two engaged to be married, Juanita?”

“Oh, not yet, but I'm sure we will be soon.”

“Is he acceptable to your family? A proper young man?”

“Well, they are a little disappointed that I don't aim to marry higher, but I love Antonio.”

Juanita was a pretty little thing with dark eyes and thick, dark hair. Her eyes glowed as she began to speak of her suitor.

“He is so handsome, lady! Very handsome indeed.”

“Does he ever kiss you?”

“Oh, yes. Many times.”

“That would not be permitted for a woman of my station.”

“Well, there is some advantage in being only a poor girl. We don't have to have a duenna watching us like a hawk.”

“That must make Antonio very happy.”

“Oh, he's very persistent.” Juanita flushed and said, “He is sometimes impertinent, señorita.”

“Oh, he does more than kiss you?”

“Well, he tries.”

“I trust you have discouraged such behavior.” Dolores saw the confusion in the girl's face and asked, “I suppose he wants to make love to you.”

Juanita looked even more flustered. “Yes. He says we're going to be married anyway so we can love each other—in every way.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I don't know. When he puts his arms around me and holds me and kisses me, I feel so helpless, and I—” She broke off and looked down at the floor. “I must confess. I would like for him to make love to me.” The girl looked up and said, “Is that wrong?”

“You know it is wrong, Juanita.”

“Have—have you ever felt like that about a man, señorita?”

The simple question stirred something within Dolores. She had felt the same stirring when Brandon held her. She could not admit this to a servant, however. “You must be very careful. Men are selfish, Juanita. They will take what a woman has, then walk away and leave her after they've had their way.”

“Oh, Antonio would never do that.”

“He's a man, and men are greedy. A woman has to guard herself.”

Juanita blinked and then blurted out. “Were you ever in love as I am?”

“No,” Dolores snapped, “and we don't need to be talking like this. I just warn you that you need to be careful with Antonio.”

Juanita had no chance to respond, for the door opened and Dolores saw that her father was there, accompanied by Don Pedro Varga.

“Ah, we need to speak to you, my daughter. I have good news.”

“Yes, Father?” Dolores stood up and waited with some trepidation. What was welcome news to her father might not be good news to her.

“It is the best of news. I rejoice that my good friend Don Pedro Varga,” he said, sliding an arm around the man's shoulders, “has asked for your hand in marriage. Is that not wonderful?”

It took everything in her not to scream and run away. She straightened, smoothed her bodice, and said, “Don Pedro, you do me great honor with your offer.”

Vargas stepped forward. He was a small man, not as tall as Dolores herself. His voice was that of an old man. “It will be my honor, señorita. I will do my best to make you happy.” When Don Pedro reached forward for her hand, Dolores gave it, and when he kissed it, she had to suppress a shudder. His lips were dry. She had a moment's dreadful thought of what it would be like to have such a man for a husband. She knew little enough about the intimate side of marriage, but the idea of this man touching her and kissing her was abhorrent to her.

She managed to carry on a conversation until her father said, “I wanted to give you the good news. Come, Don Pedro, we will draw up the papers for the marriage.”

As soon as the two men left the room, Dolores walked to the window and stared out but could not see anything. Emotions raged through her. She had tried to let her father know that she was not interested in Don Pedro Varga, but Jaspar Mendoza was accustomed to having his own way, certainly with his own daughter. She put her hands on the window and leaned out. She could think of nothing but the need to keep this thing from happening. A sharp fear filled her heart. She saw herself married to this old man. He would die one day, but until then he would be her master and would use her as he saw fit.

She paced the floor, her mind going from one solution to another,
all of them impossible. She came back to the window and, looking down, she saw Brandon Winslow speaking to Bernado, one of the grooms. Desperate, she knew she had to get out of the house. She swept out of the room, and her mother called to her as she passed. “Where are you going, Dolores?”

“Oh, I'm going to—to confession.”

“Yes. That will be good.”

“And afterward I'm going to spend the night with Damita.”

“She's a good girl. You come back early tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Leaving the house, she walked until she saw Brandon. His eyes lit up when he saw her. It made her feel good to know that despite her great trouble this man seemed to care for her.

“Good morning, señorita. You out for a walk?”

“I am going to church to confession.”

“Perhaps I can escort you.”

“That would be very nice.”

The church was only a short distance away. They stopped beside a fountain, and Dolores said, “I love this fountain. It's beautiful, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. I've not seen a finer one.”

Dolores looked up at the church ahead of them. “Are you a Catholic, Englishman?”

“I'm afraid I'm not either Catholic or Protestant, Señorita Dolores.”

“You never go to confession?”

Brandon smiled. He had a charming smile. His teeth were white and quite even. “I do go to confession in a way.”

“But if you're not a Catholic who is your priest?”

“Jesus is my priest—or he will be one day. At least, that's what my uncle tells me.”

“What does it mean, to have Jesus as your priest?”

“My father's favorite book in the Bible is called Hebrews, and he made me memorize much of it as a child. It says that
when Jesus came to earth he fulfilled the law, and all the religion of the Jews, so there was no need to sacrifice lambs anymore, because Jesus, the Bible says, was the Lamb of God. When he died, he was the true Lamb of God. And he also said that Jesus is our high priest. Let's see if I can quote it.” He paused for a moment and tried to think. “It says something like, ‘Seeing then that we have a high priest which has passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us come boldly to the throne of grace that we may attain mercy and grace to help in times of need.'”

“That's very beautiful, but is it true?”

“It's true if the Bible is true. At least, my family says so. Now, you understand my uncle tells me these things. He says that one day I'll be able to go to Jesus with my sins, but not until I find God.”

“Do you think you ever will?”

“I don't know, señorita. I certainly need to. I have good parents and a good uncle, and I have seen true believers. But I don't have that spirit within me. I don't know God even though I've seen him in others.”

They walked on until she reached the church. Dolores said, “I must go to confession.”

“I'll wait here. Perhaps we could walk some more.”

That pleased her greatly. She went to confession and made a quick enough business of it.

When she came out, it was growing dark. Brandon came to join her. “Let me escort you home.”

“I'm not going home. I'm going to my friend Damita.”

“Well, let me take you there.”

“Very well. You may walk with me.”

When they passed the fountain, it was growing darker. Dolores's attention was caught by a movement over to her left. She saw a young man and a young woman embracing. Glancing at Brandon's face, she saw that he was smiling.

“They must be in love, kissing like that,” he said.

“My maid was asking about love. She has a young suitor named Antonio. He urges her to—well, to let him love her before they're married. She asked me what to do.”

“What did you tell her, Señorita Dolores?”

“I told her it would be wrong. Don't you think so?”