Chapter VII
The house
"You're right. It is me." His face was finally so close to hers, his voice occupied the entirety of the space around. A kiss… she'd read the most diverse descriptions in novels that were more or less melodramatic. It was now obvious that those were nothing but letters printed in paper, only pale attempts of the real thing. This… Diego's lips on hers, his breathing, his arms embracing her… this was… everything. "I won't hide it from you anymore."
Words were out of reach. But she tried:
"What you do… is dangerous, God, there's a reward for you, dead or alive."
"I still have to do it."
"I know, I know you have to, I know it's part of who you are but… it's still scary to think something might happen to you."
"Listen." It was now him who cupper her face in his hands: "Nothing bad's going to happen to me. Do you believe me?" She nodded. She had to believe it. He then went on: "When I arrived, you were sad or worried about something. What was it?"
She'd even forgotten about that.
"Nothing, it doesn't matter."
"Anything that concerns you, matters to me. Besides, I think we can tell each other anything at this point, can't we?"
Coming from an unmasked Zorro…
"Well, yes."
She told him about uncle Pedro's reprimand.
"I see. I think he has a good point. We'll have to take care of that soon."
"How are-" Suddenly, a fit of cough in the other bedroom, attempts to call her name without managing to put the word together. "Looks like he heard us."
"Is he all right?"
"Yes, that usually happens at night, I have to go and…"
"Of course." He put the mask on, back into its rightful place. He was Zorro again.
"So long, señorita. I hope to see you again soon."
"So long…"
Another kiss, this one for the road.
"I'm on my way, uncle Pedro!"
(…)
The following morning, another normal day started at the tavern. There was wine to serve, dishes to do, a couple of new guests at the inn to show their rooms to, another room to dust, to change the sheets and tidy up. And no one knew, no one could even phantom it: that the girl in a blue skirt and white blouse that went from here to there invisibly, had been kissed by the man she loved the previous night, mere hours ago, so few, that she could pretty much still feel him in front of her. Maybe her friend, the widowed lady, would have noticed and come up with one of her remarks; but she'd left town a couple days before. So it was only herself and her secret. And what a secret. Diego was in fact Zorro, it seemed so obvious now. Who else would concern himself about those who needed it the most and actually get involved in assisting them, risking his own life? Who else would defy authority, jump around roofs, fence his way around and be so brave? It all made sense now, ever since she saw him for the very first time over five years ago at her aunt and uncle's shop: he wasn't a regular man. It was impossible not to fall in love with him.
She didn't see him during the whole day. However, the tavern's patronage would talk and talk about how that very day, el Zorro had saved two young vaqueros from the gallows. There was a persecution over the mountains too, where he helped them escape and, as if that wasn't enough, he also proved they were innocent of the crime held against them. Josefina heard all of these stories without saying a word, trying to fit into her mind the idea that that Zorro they talked about, Diego de la Vega and the man that kissed her at her window the previous night, were no other but one and, yes, the same.
On Friday around noon, her heart almost pops out of her mouth when she saw him coming into the tavern alongside Sergeant García.
"Good afternoon, señorita."
"Good afternoon, señores. Wine?"
"Oh! Sí, sí! Thank you very much. Don Diego, it's so fortunate we met today, I wanted to tell you about…"
She left them talking there, happy to see him even for a moment and even like this.
"Josefina." Don Theo came behind the bar as well, took a glass and started drying it, just like she was doing. He told her in a low voice: "I'll take care of table one, if you don't mind. It's more appropriate."
A dry glass was lined up next to the other ones. She took a new one and kept on drying.
"And what exactly do you mean by that?"
"I don't mean a thing. Only that I don't appreciate it when people gossip about my employees. Please take all of that stuff to the storeroom."
She was so angry she could hardly breathe, as she organized the trays back there.
(…)
It wasn't her imagination: don Theo had made her work harder than ever that day, and she knew well why. But she didn't complain a single time, did everything she had to do and even managed to finish her shift relatively early. Too bad Diego left without her realizing when. Either way, she was again struggling to hold back a smile, at the thought of the previous night's kisses, when she was opening the door to her home. The sight that greeted her was unusual: her uncle in one of the discolored and termite eaten away armchairs.
"Tío! How do you feel? Did you eat the soup that I-"
Well paint me green and call me a pickle!, as aunt Cari used to say.
At the other armchair and standing up at seeing her come in, there was Diego.
"Good afternoon, señorita. May I help you with that?" He took from her the basket of leftover vegetables don Theo always allowed her to bring home at the end of the day: "Is it alright on that table?"
"…"
It was don Pedro the one to reply: "Yes, don Diego, it's fine, thank you."
Josefina didn't know where to look at, where to place her hands or what to do at all. It was the most unexpected, unusual scene: a De la Vega, with his made in Spain suit (which, must be said, looked so good on him), who was about two meters tall and gallant from the wave in his hair to the well-polished boots, in the narrow and murky living room of the most ordinary little house in the most rustic side of town.
And nevertheless, it made sense.
"I was just telling your uncle that it's getting late and I wouldn't want to bother him anymore, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to you. Time to go, then. So long, señorita" he placed a kiss on her right hand.
"Bye" she managed to articulate.
"Don Pedro, thank you very much, it's been a pleasure to meet you after such a long time."
"The pleasure is mine, don Diego. Goodbye." Don Pedro stood up and the both of them shook hands. The old man had a better aspect this day, though an air of disbelief, like he couldn't believe his own eyes and ears.
"Thank you again."
Another nod and Diego walked out the same door Josefina had just walked in through.
"Well. I'm going to bed."
"Tío! What was that? What did Diego- don Diego tell you?"
"Ah, we talked for a long time."
"…"
"…"
"About what?!"
"Men's business."
"But what-"
"Quit on the snooping and go mind your own business, would you? I'm going to sleep." And with that, he headed to his bedroom, dragging his feet.
(…)
There were two keys that wouldn't go back up after being played; it was necessary to take a second to lift them back into place, but even so, the Mission's old piano was better than nothing. Josefina didn't remember many pieces and didn't have any scores either. Only an auditory and tactile memory that allowed her to recall most of this sonata. As she played it, she felt she was walking into a new and marvelous place, whether it was a magical forest or some fairy tale castle, that didn't matter; these notes could transport you anywhere you wanted.
He'd show up at any moment, she knew that; maybe he was around already and could listen to her play. Each note was a call for him, an extension of her own voice that had been calling him in silence for ages.
Her fingers stopped. Those two keys needed to get fixed one way or the other.
"That's incredibly beautiful, Josefina."
"The sonata is. But this is all I know, I can't remember the last part."
He came to sit on the bench by her side. The brief touch of his arm against hers gave her a shiver: "I didn't know you played the piano. Looks like every day I discover another surprise of you."
"Me? I, have surprises?"
It was undreamed-of: the two of them together, in the secluded niche that a piano creates against wall, which had always seemed so lonely to her, joking around about a shared secret.
"Pleasant surprises: yes, always."
"For example" she went on: "It was quite the surprise to get home the other day and find you in the living room with my uncle."
"I told you we had to take care of it and, you see, it's taken care of."
"Ah. So you take care of everything?"
"I do what I can. And what I can't do, I try. May I ask you something? Would you play that again?"
"May I confess something to you? I used to feel… embarrassed about people hearing me play. Which might be absurd because an instrument will always be heard by others."
"Well, we can leave it for another day then."
"No. That was before or with other people. For you, I can play."
The piece she'd played so many times before seemed entirely new. Feeling Diego's stare on her hands, on her bare arms, being so close to him that her elbow bumped against him whenever she went for the higher notes, sent her to another type of dimension.
He was listening to her, looking at her, he wanted to kiss her again, she knew it.
The last part of the sonata came back to mind out of the blue and she could play it for the first time in years.
(…)
The night watchman who announced midnight had walked by out there few minutes ago. It should be about 12:10 now. 12:15 was the appointed time. Josefina was at the window, ready to go, with her other shawl, the dark one, covering her head and an almost tangible mixture of excitement, agitation, nervousness and whatever other synonyms of these exist. She didn't think something like this was included in the permission conceded by uncle Pedro.
Who cares? Here I go either way.
Truth be told, both voices had already converged into one some time ago.
A trotting came from very far away; then, closer and closer with each second, as her heart pounded inside her chest at the same rhythm. Finally, it halted at her window: el Zorro, wrapped in black, on his steed of the same color; Diego on his horse, same way she saw him at the shop a million years ago.
"Good evening, señorita. Are you going my way?"
With a leap she wouldn't have believed herself capable of, she emerged from the window:
"I might be."
He helped her up and in a jiffy, they were gone.
And they were flying. Not literally, of course, but that's for sure how she felt. It was a complete and joyful surrender, knowing she wasn't in control of anything, that he was the one leading the horse all the while surrounding her with his arms and that this way, she'd never been safer in her life.
"Are you doing fine there?"
"Yes, where are we going?"
"That's another surprise."
Through paths and arid hills, Tornado didn't hesitate once, until they halted at last. Diego got off and helped her do the same.
"Here we are."
It was a full moon night and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. They were on a cliff and down there, the deep gorge and steep walls went on perhaps for miles. A river flowed somewhere at the bottom and far away, there stood the dark mountains. It was a colossal and rocky sight, like a glimpse into an unknown planet. And there were about fifty thousand stars, way more than those visible from the town, or those anyone cared to look up at.
"I come here sometimes, especially when there are too many lancers swarming down the roads and Zorro can't go back home just yet. I don't think anyone else knows this place, maybe the Indians got here at some point but no one else."
"It's amazing, look how many stars. And look, over there… there's… no one else. In the world, actually. We're the only ones."
"We are the only ones" he agreed.
She turned towards him: "I wanted to ask you, why did you trust me? To tell me… this."
He took the mask off. There was the face she loved.
"Josefina…" He brushed her cheek lightly, the dark hair that escaped from the shawl and framed her face: "Some things you just know. I could give you a number of explanations or come up with a dozen reasons. But I know I don't need them. Because I feel it."
The distance between them was minimal now, so much, that she could almost smell his skin, or die right then and there in front of him.
"Diego…" She loved saying his name out loud. And she also loved his lips on hers again.
For sure there was nothing else, no mountains, no stars, only this kiss, in the entirety of the universe.
"I love you, Josefina."
Her eyes filled with tears. There was no reason to hold them back.
"I've always loved you."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"I'm glad to hear that, because I wanted to ask you something."
Something.
Something like what?
Something like seeing him getting down on one knee.
Something in his hand, out of nowhere, a little box.
Something… he removes one glove and throws it aside and there's something shining inside the wooden box.
Something his eyes are telling her, they always say it all.
Something like what?
Like this.
(…)
Note: All righty! Here it is. I wanted to say that, after writing this, I wondered if the moonlight would be enough to allow the view of the canyon/cliff place; ha! Let's imagine it is. Also, the part about Diego being "about two meters tall" I took it literally from a comment on a Youtube video, of a person from Argentina who says that, in the 80's, he stumbled upon Guy Williams on a street of Buenos Aires. One more thing: I don't know if it's too soon for proposals, what do you think? Well things worked out differently back then, right? Also, I remember the episode with Magdalena; she and Diego met when they were kids but they hadn't seen each other in years. Then she comes back, they meet again and that very evening, don Alejandro asked Diego if they should announce the engagement already. So, I guess it was normal then XD Anyway! Thanks for reading and please drop me a review, thanks again.
