Fierce Love (30 page)

The twins were with Marina, all three dressed in black. The girls’ mascara had run with their tears and made black trails down their pale cheeks. Their mother’s makeup was absolute perfection, however, and serene, she appeared to be attending an afternoon tea rather than an occasion as sad as this. Vida sat at a round table with Enrique and Maria Luisa. He turned a bored gaze on them, while his mother and sister grieved openly with abundant tears. Dr. Moreno sat with an elderly gentleman, who nodded at the physician’s every word.

Carmen stood at the bar, talking with a woman in a deep purple suit and feathered hat. Cirilda was on the far side of the room. Maggie wasn’t sure if their entry had gone unnoticed or if her grandmother and aunt simply didn’t care.

She gestured for her companions to come close. “I’m going to take Grandmother through the door closest to the bar. This should take me only a few minutes, but if I’m not back in ten, please come looking for me.”

“I’ll go with you now,” Rafael offered.

She touched his arm lightly. “Thank you, but no. I’ll do this on my own.”

She walked up to Carmen, who appeared startled to see her, as did her friend in purple. She took a firm hold of her grandmother’s upper arm. “Forgive us, we need a moment in private.” She urged her grandmother toward the exit, and while Carmen huffed with indignation, she kept up with Maggie’s longer stride.

Once they’d entered the hallway to the restrooms, Maggie released her. She then spoke in the beautiful Spanish she taught in her classroom. “You’ve been cold and rude to me since the moment I arrived in your home, but what you did to Santos this morning is unforgiveable. He’s devoted himself to the Aragon family in ways you don’t even approach. By insulting him as you have today, you’ve made a powerful enemy. Miguel loved his sons and daughters, and he’d be deeply ashamed of the way you’ve treated us. I won’t accept an apology and neither will Santos.

“We’re going ahead with the funeral planned for eleven, and I suggest if you attend, you pray for your own rotten soul rather than weep for Miguel.” She threw in a few immensely derogatory terms and left her grandmother staring at her bug-eyed in the hall. Rafael and Santos were waiting for her on the other side of the door. “That felt so good.”

Santos saluted her with a glass of orange juice. “You were only gone four minutes.”

“It was enough time. If she dares to come back in, don’t speak to her. I told her you’d never forgive her for this morning, and even if you will, make her wait.”

“I’ll make a point of it. You’ve no idea who these people are, do you?”

Ana entered the ballroom with Fox, adding two to the count. “Only the ones I met at the beach house. Should I assume the men I don’t recognize are all famous matadors?”

Rafael nodded. “Most of them are, but none were as good as your father. Who’s the man with Cirilda?”

Santos spoke softly. “That’s her second husband, Alfonso Rivera. I liked him. He’s a pediatrician, and the fact they didn’t produce any little ones might have caused their problems.”

Rafael turned his back to Cirilda. “How can he have imagined she’d tolerate a baby spitting up on her?”

Maggie wondered about that too, but her aunt was regarding Alfonso with a rapt gaze. He smiled widely, apparently appreciating her attention. Her aunt’s private life didn’t interest her, however.

Santos also quickly dismissed the couple. “Come, let me introduce you to Father’s friends.”

She took Rafael’s hand and brought him along with her. The first man regarded her with a befuddled stare, and the second looked equally perplexed. Understanding their confusion, she pulled Santos aside. “Apparently my father never mentioned he’d had a daughter with an American wife. There’s no point in introducing me to anyone else when they’ll be as embarrassed as I am.”

“This is your first opportunity to meet them, and there’s no reason for anyone to be embarrassed,” Santos argued. “You want to meet everyone, don’t you, Rafael?”

“Do you mind?” he asked her.

Maggie checked her watch. They were so close to the basilica there was no reason to leave an hour early, but she couldn’t face another blank stare. “No, you’re the one who ought to meet everyone. I’d rather have something to eat with Ana and Fox.” She walked away before either man could object.

Ana and Fox were moving along the buffet, and she stepped in behind them. Ana held only a small glass of cranberry juice, while Fox piled his plate high. Maggie took a tiny sweet roll and a cup of tea and followed them to a vacant table.

Ana kept her voice low. “Why are you having the reception prior to the service? Isn’t that a bit odd?”

Fox looked at Maggie, but she didn’t warn him to be still. “The funeral was at seven.”

“What?” Ana asked so loudly everyone in the room turned toward her. She flashed the smile that had made her famous, and after a strained moment, the conversations around them resumed. “Why were you all at the ranch, then?”

Maggie let Fox explain while she sipped her tea. Carmen’s actions went way past insulting, but it hurt worse to discover her father’s close friends hadn’t known about her. If she’d been overlooked in a biography or film, it had to be due to careless research. What Miguel had or hadn’t confided to his friends was a personal matter. Fox had described himself as a leftover kid, and that’s what she was too. She hadn’t realized how badly it hurt.

“Magdalena?” Rafael was at her elbow. A line of men trailed him, all waiting to be introduced. She rose to meet them.

A few spoke English and described how much they had admired her father. Others began hesitantly in Spanish until she responded in their language, and they could express their sorrow more fully. They were all kind, their emotion clearly genuine, and by the time the last man had spoken to her, it was time to go.

She squeezed Rafael’s hand. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t my idea. Once they learned you were here, they all wanted to meet you,” he insisted.

“They’re gentlemen who pretended they wanted to meet me, but thank you anyway.”

“What man wouldn’t want to meet a beautiful woman?” he countered.

“Exactly. Did you read any of my father’s obituaries? Were Santos and I included among his survivors?”

“I’ve been too busy to look through the papers.” He took her hand. “Now, let’s go. I’ll tell you about the basilica on the way.”

She welcomed the distraction. “Does it have an interesting history?”

“It most certainly does. When the apostle James came to what is now Spain, he had little success finding converts. He prayed for help, and angels carried the Virgin Mary from the Holy Land to comfort him. This was her only magical appearance before she was raised to heaven. She descended atop a jasper pillar and gave James, or Santiago, a carved wooden statue of herself, and directed him to build a church where they stood. He built the first chapel, and over time, larger churches were constructed around it.”

They had reached the plaza, and the monstrous, baroque basilica was an amazing sight. In addition to a large central dome, there were ten smaller cupolas and four corner towers topped with colorful tiles reminiscent of circus tents. “So that’s why this is the Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar?”

“Yes. I looked it up while you were going through the picture albums,” he admitted with a shrug. “The pillar and wooden statue carried by the Virgin are on display and draw a constant stream of the faithful.”

They were on the edge of the crowd pressing in toward the wide-open doors of the cathedral. Three mobile news vans were parked on the opposite side of the plaza. Maggie knew Santos was prepared to deal with reporters and television cameras, but she felt completely out of place. There were seventeen hundred students at Catalina Foothills High School, and while she’d seen them all gathered for pep rallies and football games, there were many more people waiting here to enter the basilica. She sent Rafael a frantic glance, but he misread the cause of her concern.

He pressed close. “I’m not Catholic either, but they won’t ask for a password. Like most Gypsies, my grandmother held a different view of virtue than the church holds, and she refused to allow religion to confuse us. Many matadors travel with their own small altars and pray before a bullfight. It would make more sense just to stay out of the ring.”

Maggie laughed but quickly caught herself when the people nearby responded with hostile frowns. Someone recognized Rafael and Santos coming up behind him and shouted their names. The crowd then parted and swept them forward on a wave of helpful hands. It was like swimming through thick seaweed, and Maggie clung to Rafael’s arm to keep from falling. Santos used his crutches to good effect, while Fox and Ana grabbed his coattails and hung on.

The crowd’s final rolling shove landed them at the entrance. Ana pulled a scarf from her purse, and Maggie paused to don the lacy mantilla. Going from the bright morning sunlight to the dimly lit basilica left her feeling dizzy and disoriented. Rafael hugged her shoulders to keep her by his side. Seats had been saved for them in a front pew, and she was relieved they wouldn’t have to stand. She hoped Mrs. Lujan, Refugio and the ranch hands weren’t lost in the crush, but she recognized no one seated near them.

The basilica’s high vaulted ceiling lent the air an ancient chill, while it was too warm in the closely packed pews. Maggie leaned against Rafael. “Do you dream of a crowded funeral?”

He responded with the harshly disapproving glance he’d turn on a naughty child, but she was way past mere misbehavior. The incense-scented air made her nauseous, but she hadn’t eaten enough to become ill. She closed her eyes, which only intensified her discomfort. Too anxious to sit still, she crossed and uncrossed her legs. She might usually be as detached as Craig claimed, but she’d never harbored such a damning secret as she carried today.

Santos had called ahead to confirm the funeral mass he had planned on Monday, but Maggie wished they’d been able to attend the earlier, far more intimate service. She left her hand in Rafael’s and attempted to follow the mass, but her heart was too heavy to be soothed by the soft rumble of spoken prayers or the beautiful organ music. Trapped where she sat, she checked her watch often.

When the mass came to an end, they remained seated while the basilica cleared. As the crowd thinned, Santos stood to stretch. “There’s no way to escape the reporters, but I’ll handle them.”

Maggie rose and took a step to follow her brother, but Rafael held her back. “Do you really think I’d want a funeral crowded with strangers?”

“Isn’t that what all matadors have?”

He took her hand. “Let’s go rather than argue here.”

“How can you argue with the fact Spaniards worship their matadors?”

“That isn’t the issue,” he hissed.

Maggie was uncertain what the issue was. She’d merely made an observation, and he’d objected. It had been a question, not an accusation, but once a matador grew used to fame and adoring crowds, it had to be difficult to walk away. Some stayed in the ring until they died.

When they reached the small area left open at the church steps, there were more than a dozen reporters waving microphones and yelling predictable questions. Santos repeated the lines they’d written yesterday at lunch and refused to say anything more. Dissatisfied, the reporters called to Rafael, who ignored them. Fox was mistaken for one of the crowd. A woman recognized Ana Santillan and asked if she and Santos were engaged.

Used to the inane chatter at fashion shows, she shook her head and held up a bare left hand. Santos took her arm and headed toward the hotel. “Let’s go.”

There were still so many people milling around, they lost track of Fox for a moment, but he caught hold of Rafael’s coattail and made it into the Hotel Tibur. “I hope I never have to go through that again,” he said. “People had no idea who I was and still pawed me.”

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Ana agreed. “Do you suppose anyone is still at the reception?

“Why don’t you go and look?” Santos suggested. When she walked away, he nodded toward the garage. “Want to make a break for it?”

“No,” Maggie stressed. “That would be rude.”

“She has her car here,” Fox reminded her. “She wouldn’t be stranded, and I’d wait for her.”

“A gentleman doesn’t ditch a woman in a hotel,” Maggie insisted.

Fox shrugged. “My school must have forgotten that rule.”

“Well, remember it.” Maggie heard Rafael laugh but didn’t turn to tell him to shut up. She was coming apart in tiny bits, and it just wasn’t worth the energy.

Ana soon returned. “The room’s already been cleared, and a maid is running a vacuum cleaner. Does anyone want to have lunch here before we go?”

“No, thank you,” Santos answered. “We need to get back to the ranch. Fox, you ride with us this time.”

“No, I’d rather stay here and eat with Ana. I’m starving, even if you aren’t.”

Santos opened his mouth to argue, but Maggie stepped in front of him. “I’m sure it’s all right to allow Fox to stay if you don’t mind driving him back to the ranch, Ana.”

“Of course not,” she replied, and Ana and Fox walked toward the restaurant entrance.

“I hope she won’t try to seduce him,” Santos murmured.

“She wouldn’t have to try very hard,” Rafael mused.

“Stop it!” Maggie cried. “That’s not in the least bit funny. Let’s just go.”