Chapter XI

Sunset

"I am Zorro."

"What Zorro?"

"Zorro, the outlaw." he clarified: "The one with the mask and the black horse?"

"Yes, I know that Zorro."

"Well: I am him."

Josefina wouldn't blink. She was staring at him but also at the words he had just said, as if they lacked any meaning and she had to assign them one that escaped her reach.

"I know this is unexpected, to say the least. I wish I had told you before and, at the same time, I wish you didn't have to carry with this. But if we're going to get married, you must know."

Diego. This man she loved and had shared so much with, and the legend of Zorro, side by side right before her mind's eye. A crowd of recollections, vague or more defined, visited her in an instant: Zorro rescuing a caballero accused of treason, Zorro escaping the lancers at the town's plaza, Zorro defeating that Capitán at fencing, Zorro saving California from being conquered by that evil, Eagle man; Zorro achieving the impossible, chased by the army, acclaimed by the people and thought to be almost supernatural.

Diego.

It was him.

"You…" more than a word, it sounded like an exhalation: "You are not serious."

"I am. Everything I have told you today is the truth, including this."

"You… cannot… be serious, Diego! Do you know how dangerous that is?"
"I do."

"You don't… you… they could capture you, you could get hurt, have you ever… Jesus... that one time…?"
"The strained ankle. It wasn't just walking down the stairs."

"God…"

"Are you alright? Do you want some water?"

"No… no, Diego, it's just that it's so dangerous! Something could happen to you!"

"It won't, I promise."

"You can't just promise that, you don't know-"

"I promise I'll keep doing my best to stay out of harm's way and to keep you safe. You both."

She couldn't think anymore, just surrendered to his embrace, sunk her face against his shoulder.

"Dios mío… I'm trying to wrap my head around it... but... I… there's nothing that would make me not want to marry you."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?"

She heard him chuckle and say: "Would tomorrow be good, then?"

"To… morrow?!" she laughed and started tearing up: "Tomorrow's good."

A kiss and then another one, until Horacio reminded her he hadn't yet had a proper lunch.

(...)

"Hola!" Jimena dropped the knitted shawl and the basket on the table and went straight to carry her kid: "How's my baby? Give me a kiss."

"Hello" Josefina greeted and continued taking care of dinner.

"Did you miss me? Because I missed you."

Horacio giggled and said something in his very own language. Jimena went on, this time talking to her cousin:

"Anything new?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"Should there be?"

"No, I was just wondering."

With the corner of her eye, Josefina saw her frown and whisper something under her breath; something in the lines of that bastard!

"Oh, maybe except for... Diego coming here and proposing."

"..."

"..."

"Are you joking?"

She revealed the ring in her left hand.

Horacio had no choice but to jump as well in his mom's arms, as she yelled and ran to hug Josefina.

Before, when there was no hope, she had daydreamed about it countless times. When she was cleaning the hacienda's patio, doing the laundry, or waitressing an important dinner, and she would see him there at the head of the large table or at the side of it, talking so eloquently and being so kind, she would imagine that that was their engagement party or wedding reception. She'd mentally transport herself to the seat that señorita or that señor occupied, right besides Diego, and pictured him holding her hand, kissing her knuckles, acknowledging her as his fiancée or wife, right there in front of everybody. Even don Alejandro smiled and made a toast, up there in her fantasies, which were soon interrupted when there was more stew to bring from the kitchen. None of that was even close to how the following 24 hours felt. There was no church crowded with the townspeople, but a quiet one where the orange sunset light made it through the window only for the six of them: the priest, Bernardo, Jimena, Horacio, Diego and herself. There wasn't a long, pompous gown, but her cousin's plain wedding dress, which they spent a large chunk of the previous night adjusting so it would fit. And it did, perfectly, perfect like everything else, she was almost scared something bad and out of the blue would happen, things can't be this good, but as it turns out, sometimes they get to be.

(...)

The same old valise that had accompanied her during that trip that now seemed so distant and strange, Diego placed it on the dresser next to the wardrobe. Josefina headed to the window next to the bed and drew the curtains just an inch: outside, there was the town's main square, where only three or four lamps illuminated the way for a lancer in his nightwatch.

How did you get here?

I have no idea.

Is it even real?

Turn around and let's see.

She did and there he was, coming nearer, still beyond her most far fetched dreams.

"Do you like it?"

She nodded: "I still can't believe we're here."

The kiss made it feel real. Now even more.

"May I…?"

"What?"

"May I see it?"

She knew what he meant right then. And of course he may, he could, he should, she had been wishing to share this with him for so long. So she started to take off the dress, no reserves, he helped her with some buttons on the back that were hard to reach, and after a couple more maneuvers, he sat down and could stare at her bare stomach.

"It does show" he said at last.

"Sí, right?" she ran her fingers through his hair; she loved to do that.

"It's… incredible."

His hands felt warm on her skin, none of this she would have imagined. Not his kiss, or sitting on his lap, or the scent of white lilies that rested in a vase on the nightstand.

(...)

Far, far away, in another town though it could have very well been in another world, there was a simple, small room in the back of an hacienda house. With eyes still closed, Josefina recognized the feeling: being in his arms, so utterly safe, letting time just go by. This could be back then: maybe she'd open her eyes and find the shelf with the rosary and the candle, her narrow bed where the both of them barely fit, and him, about to say good night and leave.

So she dared to open her eyes and saw his hand, his arm that wrapped her, the inn room where she had checked in as his wife. Now, this was safe.

"Buenos días, señora De la Vega."

"That's… me. And buenos días… señor… don Diego… Zorro?"

"That is me."

"I won't say it out loud again, don't worry."

"I'm not. I couldn't possibly be right now."

"There's something that… does worry me. A little. You know what."

"I sent him a letter yesterday, it should arrive before we do."

"Hmm…"

"He will understand, but we need to be patient."

"I wouldn't want you two to quarrel because of me."

"Do you know why I'm not worried? Because I know that once he gets to talk to you more and gets to know you, he will see I was right in marrying you."

"That sounds nice. I hope it can be true."

It was probably around mid morning, ten or maybe later. She didn't ask what time it was, though. It didn't matter.

"I was thinking... I always liked you, ever since you came back from Spain; you were unreachable, of course. But you: when did you first… realize I was there? Was it the night you kissed me? I don't think I had ever asked you this."

"No, it was before that. I do remember: I entered the library and you were there, climbed onto a stool, dusting the top shelves. Well, you had the duster in one hand and a book in the other and you were reading, whispering every word. And I stood there for a while and saw you, stared at you; the way your hair fell on the pages, almost grazing them. I left, you never realized I was there. But I think that was the day I first got my eye on you."

She could keep listening to that story for hours, over and over again.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"I am a bit hungry."

"I'll go downstairs and ask them to bring some. We should be ready at 1 o'clock, by the way."

"What for?"

"I made you an appointment with a seamstress. You're going to need clothes with more room, aren't you?"

That was a sweet way to put it; the truth is that the few clothes she had brought along were all old and worn out.

She saw him get dressed, give her a kiss before leaving. This time, however, he would come back soon.

(...)

Saying goodbye to Jimena and Horacio had been the only downside, the hard pill to swallow. It was a farewell with a promise: she would visit Los Angeles soon, in six or eight months at most, to meet her nephew or niece and spend a season with them at the hacienda. Diego assured he would send a stagecoach to pick them up. The last thing Josefina saw of them before their own coach departed, was Horacio waving goodbye with his tiny hand.

The trip was another new revelation, not because anything extraordinary happened, but because just being there with him was already extraordinary on its own. They stopped by in a couple of towns to spend the night at the local inn and each morning, she had to do that whole process of reminding herself this was real; that the warmth of his presence next to her in bed would now be the norm, not the exception.

Twelve days later, they were pulling over in front of the main patio's gates of the De la Vega hacienda.

"Maybe I should wait in here?" she ventured, as Diego got off the coach and Bernardo went to take care of the luggage.

"Wait for what?"

"For you... to talk to him and…"

"Josefina" he approached her: "You're my wife. We don't have to hide anymore, never again. So you're coming in with me."

She looked at the hand that he offered. On the other side of the wall, there was the house, Cresencia, Jacinta, the vaqueros, don Alejandro… her father in law! They were family now, how paradoxical; he would have other adjectives for it, that was for sure.

With a deep breath, she took his hand and descended from the coach.

There was no one around, only Bernardo opening up the door for them, and it reminded her of her previous life, of so many scenes just like this one, except she was on the other side of the world.

When they stepped into the house, her hand on his arm, she had serious doubts she could really make it.

"Buenas…! tardes, señor" Jacinta greeted them. It looked like she had just seen an eight legged, green dog.

"Buenas tardes. Is my father home?"

"In the, in the, in the library."

"Gracias."

"You're not going to make me go in there" she said, once Bernardo got rid of Jacinta, heading to the kitchen with her.

"That's alright. You take a seat and I'll go talk to him."

"Are you not even a bit nervous?"

He looked into her eyes and kissed her hands: "We'll be fine."

Diego left her in the living room and headed to the room next to it, like he had done so many times before. And like many other times, he found his father at the desk, though this time, there were no books open in front of him or no documents; only one piece of paper: the letter he had sent.

"Buenas tardes, father."

Don Alejandro didn't look at him for some unending moments. Until he did:

"Please tell me a trace of sense got into your brain at the last minute and you didn't marry that woman."

(...)

Note: all right! There it is. I hope you don't think I hate don Alejandro because I actually love him XD But I'm using his strict side for this story.

Another thing: the part where she shows him her belly, I hope it wasn't too weird. I just wanted to make it like a very intimate moment between the two of them.

Aaaand thanks for reading!