Rio Grande Wedding (23 page)

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Authors: Ruth Wind

BOOK: Rio Grande Wedding
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“Yeah, but when Tim died, I didn't even think of that. I didn't think about why Josh wanted me to go on with the farm.” She shook her head. “I feel so selfish, but I was just not thinking all that clearly.” She cut pieces of butter and put them in a bowl to melt in the microwave, then turned. “You were so right about the potential that's out there. I don't have to work the land myself. My brother can do it.”
He still looked a little confused. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and took his socks from his back pocket. Then scowled as he realized the tops didn't match. Molly chuckled. “Check the corner over there. Leo probably stole your sock.”
As if he heard his name, Leo dashed out, grabbed the sock Alejandro had dropped on the floor and picked it up in his teeth. Alejandro laughed and tugged on the sock, taking it away, then dangling it in the air before he tossed it, in a ball, across the room. Leo, tail switching, raced after it, retrieved it and brought it back to Alejandro, who laughed, low in his chest. The half-moon shine of teeth showed, and his eyes crinkled a little and Molly thought he was going to be a very dashing old man. When he looked up, his eyes were dancing with that zest and life she found so appealing. “A cat who fetches. His name should be Spot.”
Everything narrowed to this minute. Finding a courage she didn't know she possessed, she said, “Alejandro?”
Hearing the shift in her tone, he looked up from his game with Leo and sobered.
“Will you stay? Make the land what it should be, work with my brother, show him what you know?”
His head bowed. “I cannot do that, Molly. I do not wish to cause—”
“No, it wouldn't be like that. My brother will be so glad to work the land that he won't care who does it with him. And Josefina could have a solid place here.”
He said nothing, only listened, a stillness in his body. His eyes were deep, his mouth sober.
She met that liquid gaze, and bit her lip. Her heart pounded a little in fear and hope. “Alejandro, can we be practical here?”
His mouth turned down at the corners, as if he had not expected that word, but it was okay. “Sure.”
She took a breath, remembering what he'd said about the women in his village, the ones who would have valued him as a husband. “I value your strong back and your good financial sense. I'm strong, too. And I have land to offer as my dowry.” She managed a little chuckle. “Isn't that how it's done?”
He looked troubled. “Molly—”
She held up a hand. “Let me finish, okay? I don't know if I'll ever be able to offer you more children, but as you said, there are many children who need homes, and I would be willing to bring some of them in if you need that in your life.” She found her hand pressing against her ribs, and noticed that her fingers hurt with the pressure. “I'm a widow and I'm lonely, and I don't want to live alone anymore. We get along well. There is something good when we have sex. It seems to me that there would be worse things for both of us than to just—” her voice croaked a little “—stay married.”
His lids fell, hiding his eyes, and Molly thought there was a burn of color on his cheekbones. “Practical, eh?”
“Is that wrong? I don't want you to feel you have to give me some promise of undying love or something.”
“Practical,” he said again, and stood. He wore an odd expression, both fierce and hurt, as he crossed the room and stopped in front of her. She looked up, sensing she'd done something wrong, but completely bewildered as to what it might be, how she had offended him.
“I am a practical man,” he said. “I see your bargain is a wise one for both of us.” But he shook his head. “But I am not practical in matters of love, Saint Molly.” His eyes burned, molten again, hot as lava, and he lifted his hands to her hair, letting it trail through his fingers. “My heart is bound to magic. My soul needs wonder.” He grasped her head in his hands and lifted her face to his kiss. A slow, knee-buckling kiss.
He lifted his head again, and there was a sad smile on his mouth. “You see, Saint Molly, I am not a man who loves lightly. There is too much passion in me, I think, and so I don't let it out.” He shook his head, brushed his thumb over her mouth. “I cannot be the man you wish. That practical one. I wish I could.”
Her heart swelled, and before he could move away, she captured his wrists with her hands, holding him there. “I believe in magic, Alejandro,” she said softly. “There's a story that the old women tell, of the face that's carved on the heart of a woman. Every woman. It's a story they use to warn young girls to be careful with themselves.” She swallowed, moved her hands to his face and whispered, “When I found you that morning, I saw the face that was carved into my heart.” Holding his gaze, she said, “Everything I've done since then was because of that.”
Alejandro stared down at her for a long, long moment, a rush of something unnamed, unknown till now, moving through his body. It was dizziness and pleasure and passion, and such vast, intense relief that he did the only thing he could: he made a sound and kissed her. Kissed her mouth and her face, her eyes and her neck, his need urgent and carnal. In the cold kitchen, he untied her robe and tugged up her nightgown and kissed her breasts. He cradled her hips and hauled her hard against him. As if his passion kindled hers, they shed as many clothes as they needed, and without moving anywhere, joined together leaning against the sink. Only then, when he was buried in her, her naked breasts against his chest, her mouth open to his, could he speak. He lifted his head and looked into her ghostly eyes, silvery now with passion, and said, “
Te amo
, Molly. I love you.” He closed his eyes, feeling the words too small to express what he felt, and kissed her and hauled her closer,
“Te amo.”
She kissed his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth, touched his forehead, his hair. “I love you, Alejandro.”
And they joined with holy carnality, laughing when they slipped and nearly fell, and slid to the floor to finish, and in spite of the cold floor, in spite of the awkwardness, they swelled together, and both of them were weeping when it was done.
Alejandro rested his forehead in the curve of her neck, and breathed his thanks to the fates. To his sister, to his father, to the fall of the Mexican economy, to Josh for shooting him, to everything that had played whatever tiny part in bringing him here, to this woman. His woman.
His wife.
The sound of a huge engine sounded outside, and they both startled, then skittered apart when a knock came on the door. “Just a minute,” Molly cried out, and dissolved in laughter when she tangled the leg of her sweats inside out. Alejandro shoved his hair out of his face and fastened his jeans. Leaving his shirt unbuttoned for the moment, he helped Molly up, smoothing her gown down, widening his eyes in laughter.
“Knock, knock!” Josh called from the living room. “Special delivery!”
Molly shook her hair out of her face and looked up at Alejandro, as if asking his approval. She had a red mark on her neck, bold and plain, and touched it, shrugging.
“What are we going to tell him?” she whispered to Alejandro. “In here!” she called out.
 
Josh carried his shrouded bundle carefully. She wasn't heavy—in fact she was almost painfully light. But the cold air was a danger to her lungs, and the hospital had fretted over it. He promised to keep her head and face covered and Josefina had promised to follow orders exactly. So now, she curled in his arms, her blanket up over her nose. “You can take it off now, honey,” he said.
“Is this my house?” she whispered urgently, her eyes wide.
“Yep.” He heard a sound of giggles, quickly hushed, and slowed just a bit. “You know what?” he said, stopping entirely.
“What?”
“Maybe we aren't going to have to do any tricks.” He grinned as another throaty, satisfied laugh came from the kitchen, and a sound of scuffling, and the lower laugh of a man. “What do you think?”
Josefina gave him an impish, knowing grin. “Put me down.”
So Josh was trailing behind a strong little girl who strode down his sister's hallway in her bunny slippers, and he had a chance to observe it all. Molly, her hair a mess all over her shoulders, her sweats on inside out, her feet bare and a love bite on her neck the size of Texas. Alejandro, his hair even wilder than Molly's, his shirt buttoned crookedly.
It was the expression they both wore that got him, though. Flushed and beaming. And then—
“Hi, Tio,” Josefina said, and held out her hands. “Here I am.”
If there had been even the slightest of lingering doubts in Josh's mind about Alejandro Sosa, they were erased in that instant. The man, plainly overwhelmed, simply fell to his knees and opened his arms. Tears streamed down his dark face as he hugged the little girl. “Welcome to your new home,
hija,”
he whispered against her hair. “Welcome home.” He turned to Molly, who had crouched beside them, his eyes shining, and kissed her, in front of the world and Josh and his niece.
“Uh, Josh,” Molly said. “There's been a change of plan?”
Josefina reached out a tiny hand and put it on Molly's shoulder. “Don't worry, Molly. He knows you are in love.”
For one moment, Molly stared at him, obviously worried. He crossed the room and hugged her. “I knew last night, kiddo.”
He turned and held out a hand to his brother-in-law. “Congratulations.”
But Alejandro snared him with his free arm and gave him a hug. A little surprised, Josh resisted at first, then realized it felt pretty damned good to be included. To be inside, to have family who cared, and he managed to hug a little in return.
“Thank you, brother,” Alejandro said.
Epilogue
M
olly could scarcely contain her impatience. She had been to the window a dozen times in ten minutes, peering out to the road, and pacing back into the kitchen. The little scruffy dog, a ratty terrier mix, followed her back and forth. Josefina finally took her by the hand and said, “We should maybe wait on the porch, huh?”
Molly laughed. “Yes.”
But as they stepped outside to the brilliant spring day, Molly squealed. “There it is!” She pointed, and even found herself jumping up and down in her excitement. “Look!”
Even Josefina was impressed. Her mouth dropped. “It's so big!”
“Yes it is.”
The crew of construction workers across the way heard the engines and all of them stopped, too, to watch the rare spectacle of a house moving down the road, turrets and all. The windows were boarded carefully, and the road had had to be widened, and even then, it took a whole contingent of cars before and behind to keep the passage free for the huge moving job.
As it lumbered toward the foundation waiting for it, Molly sank onto the steps and covered her mouth.
“Why are you crying, Mama Molly?”
Molly brushed the tears off her face. “I'm happy,” she said. “Did you ever want something so bad and you were just sure you would never get it, and then you did?”
Josefina nodded, very soberly. Her hand moved on her dog's head.
“That's how I feel about that house. I've wanted to live in it since I was just a little bit older than you.”
Josefina looked at it nervously. “I like my room now, though.”
“I know.” She took her hand. “You like the curtains, but I promise I can move them into a new room when we get it done.” She pointed. “You see that round part, with windows all around?”
“That's going to be my room?” Josefina guessed, and looked at Molly with wide eyes. “Like a princess?”
Molly laughed in delight. “Exactly like a princess.”
Alejandro jumped from a truck in order to direct the driver to level ground. He waved his hat wildly at Molly and Josefina, and even over the noise, they could hear his cry, “Whooo—eee!”
“Molly?”
Grinning, she looked down at the little girl. “Yes?”
“I think I'm already the princess. And you're the queen, and Tío is the king.”
Molly laughed, a warmth and richness in her heart. “You know what? I think you're right.”
Josefina sighed. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
“Just fine,” Molly agreed.
Never perfect, but always just fine. Life was full of miracles.
 
 
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5915-7
 
RIO GRANDE WEDDING
 
Copyright © 1999 by Barbara Samuel
 
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editonal office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
 
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
 
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
 
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S A., used under license Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade, Marks Office and in other countries
 
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