Chapter 3: Budding
The hacienda was quiet that afternoon. Don Alejandro and Colonel Sheraton had ridden out to the Rancho Flores to look over the property. Earlier in the day Don Alejandro had finished the monthly update of his account books. As was his custom, he asked his son to double check the entries. So the early afternoon found Diego settled at a table on the sunny patio with a stack of papers, his father's ledger, and a jug of Rosa's sangria. He was almost finished with his task when a sudden cry of "Ow!" startled him. Investigating, he headed to the garden at the side of the house and found Maggie Emerson standing next to a large rose bush, holding the back of her left hand to her mouth.
"Señori— I mean, Señora, is anything wrong?" Inwardly he chided himself: Why can I never remember that this young woman is a widow?
"Oh, Don Diego! I'm sorry, if I disturbed you. I didn't know anyone else was out here. I was reaching for a rose when I caught my hand on a thorn." She suddenly added, "Cresencia assured me that Don Alejandro wouldn't mind if I picked a few blooms for my room."
"My father would not mind at all," he replied, pulling a clean handkerchief from under his banda."
Seeing it she exclaimed, "No, I wouldn't want to soil your kerchief! It's just a scratch."
"Con permiso," he said, taking the wounded hand and pressing the linen to back of it." He now looked at the offending bush. It was a large shrub, growing two-thirds of the way up the garden wall, and well spread out. "I see you have found our Abuela rose."
"Abuela?"
"You would say 'grandmother'. The story is that when my father's mother came to this country she brought with her four small cuttings from her garden in Spain. This was the only one to survive the trip. She planted it here and tended it, and it flourished. But when she died this rose fell into decline. It began to wither and no one could make it bloom. Then my father married my mother and brought her here to the hacienda. Once my mother began to tend the rose, it bloomed again and it blooms still."
"Even though your mother is gone?" she asked.
"Yes, no one quite knows why. Perhaps because my father still loves both of them and holds their memory in his heart."
"Well, whoever tends it now is a good gardener. Your father should be pleased because this rose looks very happy."
Suddenly Diego realized he was still holding her hand. He removed his kerchief and let go of her fingers, happy to see that the bleeding had stopped. "I think you will live," he smiled. "But perhaps I can be of some assistance. If you will show me which blooms you want I'd be happy to cut them for you."
"That is very kind of you," she replied, handing him the shears. She turned back to the bush and pointed to a full bloom just above her head. He pulled the stem down slightly and brought up the shears. "Wait! Not there. Cut lower, just above the sprig with five leaves. That way you'll get another rose."
"You know something of roses?"
"My mother grew roses back home. I often helped her with them. Although I don't think any of those eastern roses would be able to survive here. Your climate is too different."
"Perhaps one might, if it were hardy enough and had the proper care and tending," he said gently. He held out the rose and as she took it he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a deep shade of sea-green. "How many more would you like?"
"Just three. I wouldn't want you father accusing me of emptying his garden."
He cut three more blooms for her, and when she had added them to her basket he returned the shears. They stood together for a moment, in silence. "But where are my manners!" Diego exclaimed. "Please join me for some refreshment," and he gestured back toward where he had been working.
She hesitated momentarily, then responded, "Yes, I would like that."
As they approached the worktable Diego called out, "Arturo!"
Don Alejandro's steward appeared immediately in the sala's doorway. "Patròn?"
"A glass for Señora Emerson, por favor."
The servant disappeared into the house. Diego pulled out a chair for Maggie and then sat down himself. Moments later a small man with curling hair above and behind his ears and a high, balding forehead appeared carrying a tray with a glass and another jug. Maggie recognized him as one of the servants who had waited at dinner the previous evening. He set the glass in front of her and filled it with fresh sangria.
"Thank you," said Maggie, looking up at him. But the man had no reaction to her words.
"Ah, I must explain," said Diego. "This is my manservant, Bernardo. He can neither hear nor speak. If you wish to thank him, just nod."
She looked up at him a second time and nodded. This time Bernardo smiled and returned the gesture. "But how do you tell him what you want or what to do?" she asked.
"Bernardo has become very good at anticipating my needs, and we have many signs to let him know what to do." Diego waved his hand and Bernardo withdrew. "I hope you have been comfortable these past few days."
"I have been very comfortable. And I thank you for your concern. But please, don't let me interrupt what you were doing."
"I am simply double-checking my father's monthly accounts. I can easily finish this later." Diego began gathering up the papers and the ledger. Then he paused. "I hope you are beginning to feel rested after your long journey. If there is anything further we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask."
"I really am feeling very much better. I don't believe how much I've slept since Papa and I arrived. Now I'm beginning to wonder what to do with myself during the day."
"I believe I heard your father mention that you are fond of riding. Perhaps we can ride out together sometime and I can show you around our land. There is much beauty here in our part of California. If, that is, you are feeling strong enough."
"Yes, I would love to go riding. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after?"
"And speaking of your father," said Diego, looking up at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. It sounds like our fathers have returned."
Indeed he was correct. Don Alejandro and Colonel Sheraton were now dismounting and handing over their horses to a servant. They entered the patio still carrying on their conversation.
"That pasture would easily support two hundred cattle," Don Alejandro was saying. "And with the olive orchard and the vineyard you would be able to live quite comfortably on what you would realize. True, it is a smaller rancho, but still a fine one and it is a shame to let the land lie idle."
"Well Papa," said Maggie, "what did you think?"
The two men approached the table. "The house will need a good cleaning and some work as it's been empty for over a year," began the colonel. "The outbuildings, too, need slight repair. The land looks promising. If you're feeling up to it we can go over there tomorrow and you can look over the house. After all, you're the housekeeper of the family. And then you and I will need to talk. I must admit, Maggie, I'm tempted."
"Very well, we'll go tomorrow," she agreed.
"If perhaps I might accompany you?" asked Diego.
"Certainly Diego!" replied the colonel. "An extra pair of eyes is always helpful."
"Gracias, Colonel. I look forward to assisting you."
Maggie stood and picked up her basket of roses. "Now I must go and put these in wa — Oh."
As if by magic Bernardo had appeared at her side holding a vase filled with water.
"Thank you!" she said, taking the vase and remembering to nod at him.
"You see," said Diego, "I told you he is very good at anticipating one's needs!"
No one else saw the wink that passed between Bernardo and his patròn.
