Chapter XII
Sunrise
After Diego disappeared behind the library's door, Josefina felt like an out of place lamp, there in the middle of the living room. That's it: she would have wanted to turn into a chair or a vase and become camouflaged with the background, hide inside the piano, jump into one of the framed landscapes on the walls.
Quit the nonsense. You're not a child anymore, you're an adult.
Adults can get scared.
Just think of Diego. Think that he loves you, that you're together...
… and everything will be alright.
She took a seat right on the border of a chair, all straight up. The arguing voices of father and son were soon noticeable, though she couldn't make out the words.
Maybe I can still get inside the cupboard…
Someone came along with a tray, a glass of juice and a friendly face.
"Gracias, Bernardo."
This man, silent but more diligent and loyal than anyone, who had been one of the witnesses to her wedding, always seemed to anticipate what people needed.
Would you have anticipated all of this a year ago?
Never. But I would go for it a million times again without hesitation.
(...)
"Please tell me a trace of sense got into your brain at the last minute and you didn't marry that woman."
Diego hadn't been too optimistic about this encounter. It had to be done, nonetheless:
"I did marry her, father."
Don Alejandro studied his son for a while. Then, stood up: "I would have never expected this kind of behavior from you: getting married in secret, as if you were a fugitive or a criminal, as if you had no family!"
"It wasn't intended to be a secret, I wanted to bring Josefina back and I didn't want to do it without us being married."
"Congratulations, then."
It really hurt, the bitterness in the word.
"Father, many times you have told me that you confide in my criteria, do you remember that? When it comes to business or politics, you have always considered my point of view, even if you don't agree. Could you please try to trust my judgement in this? She is the right woman for me, I assure you that-"
"A woman who lacks decency cannot be the right woman for you."
"Please don't say that."
"You're delusional."
Perhaps it was time to take another approach:
"There's something I haven't told you yet."
"And what would that be?"
"She's pregnant."
The older man scoffed: "Of course she is. Is that why you married her?"
"No. Not just because of that, I love her, I have told you this before. Think about it: it will be your grandchild."
"My grandchild? How can you even be certain it's your child?"
Diego had to make an effort and gather all of the equanimity on Earth not to explode:
"I will not have that conversation with you."
"Neither will I. Good thing I'm leaving."
"To Peru? Already?"
"I was supposed to set out next Wednesday but I believe tomorrow morning is as good as any other day. Could I possibly entrust you with the hacienda's matters or is it too much to ask?"
"You know you can."
There wasn't much more to say, not for now.
When don Alejandro emerged from the library, Josefina sprang out of the chair and almost dropped the glass and its content.
"Buenas tardes" he said.
"Buenas tardes, don Alejandro."
She hadn't finished speaking when he was already on his way.
It was a relief to see Diego right after:
"That went well."
"What did he say?"
"Shall we go to the bedroom?"
"Your bedroom?"
"Our bedroom."
It was mostly indescribable, to walk about these halls and patios and stairs attached to his arm.
"So? What did he say?"
"He's not pleased, I think a big part of it is that we did it without letting him know in advance, without having a proper wedding."
"Oh, God… maybe we should have waited, Diego. Maybe we should have come here and talked to him first and at least invited him, Jesus Christ. I think he could be right, do you think he's right?"
"I think the best thing that has happened to me is marrying you. And I wouldn't change it for the world."
"Me neither but we should also be able to recognize that we have done things in an unconventional way and that's one of the reasons why he's angry. Maybe he has the right to be angry."
He opened up the door for her. There was the room she had cleaned so many times, the furniture she had polished, the shelves she had dusted. The luggage was on the floor next to the wardrobe.
She saw him breathe in deeply before answering: "You're right, he does. But, had we waited to come here and ask him to join us at the wedding, like you're saying: I don't think he would have gone. So we made the right choice."
"Gracias."
"What for?"
"For telling me things even if they're harsh to hear. You don't have to sweeten the pill for me, you know?"
"I just don't want you to worry" he placed a hand on her belly, which in the last couple of weeks had gotten a tad more evident.
"I can take it."
"I know."
"More if I'm with you."
How odd to get suddenly scared, even for a second, of getting caught kissing in his… in their room. It was the force of habit. But fear not: she could easily get used to this.
(...)
Cresencia, Jacinta and María, a girl that had come to replace Josefina after she'd left; Bernardo, Benito the caporal and Juan, who also helped around the house, delivered messages and ran errands whenever necessary; they were all assembled in the kitchen around the youngest of the patrones. Ernesto, Benito's right hand, was the last one to arrive:
"Excuse me for being late, don Diego."
"Not a problem. I have gathered you all today because I believe you should be officially informed of the news."
The cuckoo clock on the wall was ticking. A broth boiled on the stove, somewhere in the back.
"I'm sure you remember Josefina; she used to work here with you until not too long ago. She is my wife now, therefore, the lady of the house. I expect she will be treated accordingly. Any questions?"
He looked directly at Josefina's former colleagues, who obviously could not give credit to their own eyes and ears. The oldest one of them spoke at last:
"No, señor."
"Very good. And gracias. Benito, you wanted to talk to me."
"Sí, señor, it's about the new cattle that arrives next week."
The small crowd dispersed. The broth was almost ready.
(...)
Diego's writing desk was quite wide: you could comfortably place books and papers on a side, inkwells, quills and pounce pots on the other, a lamp at the front if necessary, and still have plenty of room to lay the elbows comfortably on the dark wood as you wrote. Before leaving that morning to tend to the hacienda's businesses, he said they should get one for her as well, install it somewhere in the house. She didn't think it would be the best of ideas to welcome don Alejandro, whenever it was that he would return, with a redecorated home. No, she would use the one in their room, or the library, in the meantime.
She had only written the date and Dear Jimena when there was a knock on the door.
"Buenas tardes, señora. Here is your lunch."
"Gracias, Cresencia." There was no need to push anything aside: the tray fit perfectly on the surface as well. "Should I normally go downstairs instead?"
"As you wish, señora. If you want to take it here in your bedroom, or in the dining room, the library: it's up to you."
"I think I'll go downstairs next time, but thank you. Ah-"
"I will do it, don't you worry. One spoonful or two, señora?"
"One, please." The sugar dissolved into the tea and twirled along with the clanking of the metal against the porcelain: "It's strange that you call me señora."
"It is what it is."
"Yes but it's new for me."
"For me too." Josefina wanted to say something else, though she had no clue what; anything that could traverse even if a little the invisible barrier that was now between her and the lady that she had once gotten to consider a friend, almost an aunt, someone who was kind but severe at the same time; someone she had spent hours with, doing the laundry, dicing potatoes, laughing and chattering the hours away, along with Jacinta.
Maybe they just needed some time, too.
"Do you need anything else, señora?"
"No, that's fine, gracias."
"I'll come back for the dishes in half an hour."
The rice she used to prepare was never as good as Cresencia's.
(...)
Note: I wrote a note for this chap but then I felt that it was giving too much away, though you can probably imagine anyway XD
Ahh! The part in which Bernardo brings Josefina a glass of juice and sort of comforts her a bit, I got inspired by Anita Cabrillo's episodes, when she's all sad and he starts to do funny things to make her smile.
Thanks for reading!