A/N: This was written in response to Vee's challenge on my forum, using the second quote listed here. I had originally written something completely different, but it didn't feel right—despite me having worked on it for weeks—and so I worked on this. I wrote this all in a matter of hours, and I like it a lot better. Naturally, this one was the winner. This is a Bernardo/Anita fic detailing how they first met. I'll let you figure out for yourself how the two quotes fit together :)
Finally, this fic is, obviously, for Vee, because it would quite literally not have come into being without her. Love you always, dear.
Disclaimer: I only own the situation, not the characters.
"What happens when you look at Bernardo?"
"It's when I don't look that it happens."
- West Side Story
.
"Women can resist a man's love, a man's face, a man's personal appearance, and a man's money, but they cannot resist a man's tongue when he knows how to talk to them."
- Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White
Anita Palacio sighed as she turned her head to the gleaming stained glass window. They had been kneeling there for what felt like hours, and her legs and neck and shoulders were sore from her reverent position. She was positively dripping with perspiration, her dress and hair and prayer shawl sticking uncomfortably to her body. She loved the Lord, she truly did…but did he have to make it so hot in his house?
She could feel someone's eyes on her (and not just the Virgin Mother up at the altar or the holy infant in her arms) and let her eyes seek out her watcher. He was a man—no, a boy—young (about her age) and handsome. He was so handsome, in fact, that she felt her mouth part slightly as she took in the sight of his sleek black hair, his coffee-colored skin, his dark, dancing eyes. He was smirking, and when he caught her returning his gaze, he winked.
Anita dropped her eyes hurriedly, flustered and pink with shame to be caught looking bored as everyone around her prayed. She could feel his eyes still on her until everyone murmured, "Amen" and looked up as the mass continued. Anita pushed it from her mind and turned her attention to Padre Lopez.
It was hot, it was sultry, and Anita was walking towards town, money for groceries tucked securely in the sash around her waist. She sighed heavily, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder and wiping the perspiration from her forehead. The orange trees lining the road did little to cool her off; the position of the sun kept their shadows from reaching her.
"My God, it's hot," Anita sighed, fanning herself off. "If Hell is hotter than this—which I doubt—I will go to mass every day to stay away from it."
"Have you been out in the sun too long, señorita?"
Anita whirled around to see a mule-drawn cart coming steadily towards her—its driver was the boy who had winked at her yesterday at mass. She felt herself going red—and not just from the sun—and turned back around, walking in as aloof a manner as she could down the road. It was only a matter of seconds before he had drawn up beside her, keeping his cart going at exactly her pace. "Where are you going, señorita?" His voice was smooth and rich, like some delicious, creamy dessert she had had once at a cousin's wedding.
"That is none of your business," she said flatly.
He chuckled. "I am going to the market. Is that where you are headed?"
She pursed her lips before reluctantly saying, "Perhaps."
Another chuckle. "Can I give you a ride there, señorita? It is a long walk."
"I have made it many times," Anita said coolly, trying not to marvel at how easily he kept pace with her.
He took off his straw hat, fanning himself with it. "You are about as stubborn as Abuelita."
"Who?" Anita asked, momentarily caught off guard.
He grinned, triumphant that he had gotten her to take interest in something. "Abuelita. My mule," he explained, nodding towards the mule. "She is a grandmother, you know."
Anita rolled her eyes at his silliness. "I figured, considering her name is Little Grandmother."
The boy chuckled again. "What is your name?"
She stiffened her spine. "That, señor, is none of your business."
"I know that your father is Inigo Palacio," he said at once, smirking as Anita flushed again. He continued, "And I had heard that he had a lovely daughter, but no one has ever told me her name."
"Her name is Señorita Palacio," Anita snapped, quickening her pace. "Now please leave me alone."
"Don't you want to at least know my name?" the boy pressed, urging his mule to keep pace with her again. He smirked as another bit of cleverness struck him. "Or is it enough for you to know Abuelita's name?"
Anita scoffed. "Señor, if you do not leave me alone, I shall tell my father that a man was following me to the market and would not leave me alone, and he and my brothers-in-law and my uncles and my cousins will find you and, and crucify you!"
"I'm Bernardo Nunez," Bernardo Nunez said, as if in place of her fierce threat he had heard a polite invitation for him to give her his name. "Perhaps you have heard of me." At Anita's stony silence, he continued, "Please, Señorita Palacio, let me give you a ride."
"I do not think my husband would like that very much," Anita said, scrambling wildly for an excuse. Why hadn't she used this one before? It was quite effective; she was pleased to notice that that took the smug smile right off his face.
If she had looked closer, she would have seen a stormy expression momentarily cross his handsome face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a would-be careless face. "You are married?"
Anita spoke carefully. "I will be. Soon."
Bernardo smiled once more, straightening up in his seat. "But you are not really married yet. Besides, it is hot out and the road is long; even married women accept kindness from charming strangers once in awhile."
"What will it take to make you go away?" Anita hissed. She raised a hand to stop him as he opened that impertinent mouth of his. "No, never mind; I don't want to hear you talk anymore. Goodbye, Señor Nunez; I hope I never see you again." And with that, she marched into the grove, disappearing into the orange trees. She heard him laughing as she went and felt a distinct twinge of annoyance. "Presumptuous little—"
A nearby rustling cut her off, and she stopped in her tracks, gasping, as a man climbed down an orange tree, holding a knife out towards her. "Give me your money, señorita, and I will let you go."
Anita shook her head fiercely, eyes widening as she backed up. "I have no money…please leave me alone!"
The man, however, would have none of this, for he promptly advanced on her, still wielding the blunt knife. "I know you have some," he growled. "What else would a girl be doing alone on the road to town?"
Anita, heart racing, did the only thing she could think of; she screamed, "Bernardo!"
The effect was almost instantaneous; within seconds, she heard Bernardo storming into the grove. His face was hard and his eyes had a steely expression that sent a shiver down Anita's spine despite the humid air. He held a gun in his hand, aimed steadily at the man. "Go away," he spat, cocking the gun. "Now."
The man with the knife needed no encouragement; he stumbled backwards before tromping away as fast as his legs could carry him. Bernardo turned to Anita. "Are you all right?" At her nod, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. They spilled out onto the road, and she allowed him to help her up into the cart. He climbed up with ease and snapped the reins. "You should not have left the road," he admonished her, his eyes still flashing. "Especially alone and unarmed."
Anita clenched her teeth but said nothing, turning to watch the orange trees. She knew it had been stupid, but didn't he realize she had only done it to get away from him?
Bernardo glanced at her and sighed; he knew that he had severely wounded her pride by berating her as he would a child. He reached into the sack behind him and pulled out a papaya. "Here," he said, offering it to her in what he hoped she realized was a reconciliatory manner.
"I do not need your pity," she said stiffly. "I am not a child who can be won over."
"Take it anyway, you look thirsty," he said in exasperation.
She hesitated before taking it from him, biting into it carefully. Some of the juice ran down her arm and she licked it off, eyes closing for a brief moment as she noticed how ripe the fruit was. She snapped her eyes open, though, not wanting him to see that she enjoyed the papaya.
Bernardo, changing tactics, leaned back in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant. "You know, I believe you owe me your name for saving your life back there."
Anita raised her eyebrows challengingly. "You are very full of yourself, Señor Nunez. My reputation will already be ruined when we come into town and everyone sees me riding with you without an escort. Word will get to Señor Juarez, you know—he is the man I am supposed to marry."
Bernardo shook his head. "You are as stubborn as my younger sister—well, one of them—Maria."
"How many sisters do you have?" Anita asked, unwillingly curious.
Bernardo smiled wryly. "Four. All younger. And you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Anita smiled, licking her lips after some juice had spilled onto them. "Two half-sisters from my mother's first marriage—they are both older than me and married with children." She was quiet for a moment, taking another bite. "I had a younger sister, once, but she died, years ago.
"I'm sorry," Bernardo said quietly, truly meaning it.
"Please don't be," Anita said softly, looking away. After a long silence, she cleared her throat. "And it's Anita."
Bernardo looked at her in surprise. "What?"
She kept looking at the darkening horizon over the distant mountains, pretending it was far more interesting than the boy beside her. "My name. It's Anita. You've already ruined my reputation, and so you might as well know my name." She could practically feel Bernardo beaming.
"Anita. That is a very lovely name." He paused before saying airily, "I should have guessed it."
Anita snorted, unwillingly amused as she took another bite of her papaya. Already the man with the knife had left her mind. A rumble sounded overhead, and suddenly the sky (which had been growing steadily darker) filled with warm rain. Anita gasped in delight, setting down her papaya. "Bernardo, pull over! Please!"
Bernardo could not refuse her, not when she said it in that childishly excited voice that reminded him so much of Maria. He obligingly pulled the reins, causing Abuelita to gratefully come to a halt. Anita clambered down from the cart before it had fully stopped and ran into the middle of the road, her arms out wide as she spun in a circle. Laughing, she broke into a mambo, switching her skirts in delight and kicking her feet, sending dirt flying. She came to a halt as the rain—which was always erratic here—let up, breathless and pleasantly flushed. She beamed at Bernardo as he held out a hand to help her back in.
"You like the rain, I take it," he said with a bemused smile, urging Abuelita on again.
"I love it," Anita gushed, wringing out her damp hair. "Aí, but this hair! I wish I could just…cut it all off!"
"Why don't you?" Bernardo asked, amused.
Anita, instead of looking indignant as she would have earlier, laughed. "My mother would kill me! Besides, nice girls don't cut their hair as short as I want mine."
"You are the queerest girl I have ever met," Bernardo said, not sounding at all as if this was a bad thing.
"And?" Anita prompted, holding her head up proudly and challengingly.
"I would like to see more of you from now on," Bernardo said evenly, his voice finally taking on a serious tone.
Anita raised a not-displeased eyebrow. "You mean more of these scandalous rides to the market?"
"That, and more," Bernardo said, taking her hand and kissing it in that smooth, charming way of his. He smirked against her hand which, he noticed, smelled like papayas. "That is, if you don't hate me anymore."
"I do not hate you!" Anita protested, feeling her neck grow warm as she pulled her hand back. "I just…you were annoying me because you kept trying to charm me!"
"It worked, didn't it?" Bernardo seemed to say rather than ask, smirking.
Anita shoved him lightly. "Stop it!"
Bernardo laughed as she smoothed out her skirt, smiling. And if everyone in San Juan saw her riding into town sitting beside Bernardo Nunez without an escort, and if word got around to Señor Juarez, well…maybe that wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all.