Chapter XII
The altar
"I still can't decide what surprised me the most: learning you were Zorro, or that you wanted to get married."
Don Alejandro came into his son's bedroom right when Bernardo was helping him put on the Spanish jacket.
"Trust me, father, I was the surprised one, when I met Josefina."
A tailor made suit. Only the tie was left.
He recalled the very particular game Diego used to have when he was a little boy; it was called let us fight for justice. It mainly consisted on jumping from armchair to armchair, tree to tree or balcony to balcony, wielding a wooden sword against who knows how many imaginary enemies.
They weren't imaginary anymore. And neither was he a boy.
And he also remembered…
"The day I married your mother I considered myself the most fortunate man in the world." The tie was good to go. Father and son were face to face: "I see in your eyes you feel the same way. And if there's one advice I can give you, my son, is to never let a day go by without remembering that."
"Even though I have no memories of my mother being alive, I know I have the best example in the two of you. Thank you."
One of those hugs with pats on the back.
"Well, I'm not going to get all sentimental in this old age. Let's get going."
(…)
Josefina's stare was fixed on the bouquet she held on her lap; she detailed each white petal, each center of yellow dots, each one of the daisies' green stems. Doña Graciela had offered her one of Dutch tulips, but she preferred to pick up her own flowers and make her own bride's bouquet with a little help from Anita, who was sitting by her side, in the coach's inner part. At the front there was don Theo and a vaquero from the ranch they'd sent to drive them.
With a whistle and a flick of the reins, off they went.
(…)
The few and handpicked guests received Diego at the entrance of the Mision's church. The Torres's and their daughter, Elena. Anita's father, Sergeant García, Ricardo del Campo with his parents and fiancée. Don Alfredo and his wife, and Pepe, in a suit that seemed to be a bit oversized for him. That was it, but it was more than enough: true friends.
"You're still on time to run away, eh?" Ricardo greeted him. His girlfriend smacked him in the shoulder with a fan.
"Let's take no notice of that comment" she said: "Everything is beautiful, Diego."
"Thank you, Leonor. And thanks for the well timed advice, my good friend."
Minutes later, everyone stepped in.
(…)
It was hot inside the swaying coach. Every now and then, Anita tapped Josefina's forehead with a handkerchief; she almost didn't register that. Through a gap, she was seeing trees and houses pass by. Every little thing was so real, it was almost unreal.
"Are you nervous?"
"No, not nervous… well… yes. I'm… I think I'm going to faint."
"No! Don't faint in here, please. Would you like some nuts?" She'd smuggled some in an inner pocket of her dress.
"No, the last thing I want to do right now is eat."
"Just take a deep breath" her friend advised, and after chewing some almonds: "Besides, calm down, there's the other thing later on."
"What other thing?"
"The other thing! What doña Graciela explained us, the wedding night and-"
"Shhhhh!"
"They can't hear us!" Don Theo and the other man were on the outer side, chatting: "You know what she said, the first time-"
"ANITA!"
What little road was left, they spent it laughing.
(…)
"It feels like it was yesterday… no, this very morning, when you came along and asked me for permission to meet Josefina here."
Padre Felipe had his cassock for special days and a little booklet in between his hands.
"I don't know if I ever thanked you for that, father, and in any case, I'd like to do it again: thank you for helping us get to this day."
"I'm glad I wasn't wrong about you."
The people were waiting at the benches. Diego, next to the altar.
(…)
Don Theo offered his hand for her to get off the coach. Anita straightened out the veil. Josefina wasn't hot anymore, she felt herself float (seized to the ground only by her former boss's arm) over the path of white petals and flowers that went through the Mision's central patio and reached the gates of the little church, a chapel pretty much. The town's church was bigger and nicer looking, but it made more sense to be here. To step so close to the fountain where they met that time, to reminiscence how she was making her way there and when the bells chimed announcing the appointed time, she hid behind a tree like a mouse.
They took one, the two steps of the entrance.
"You know Pedro was a good friend of mine" don Theo told her: "and even if I wish it were him who could be here, it's an honor for me to walk you down the aisle."
Josefina only nodded several times, lips pursed. If she tried to say a word, she knew she'd burst into crying.
(…)
Breathe.
Look at him. He's right there, waiting for you.
There are people.
Well I don't see anyone, I only see him, I see his smile, I'd see it a mile away.
Of course you see him, he's taller than everybody else here.
I see his eyes looking at me. Look at the way he looks at me.
Why are you narrating everything?
I'm not narrating everything, I'm not even thinking, I'm just perceiving. Look at him.
Don't cry.
It's alright to cry. If you want to cry, cry.
I don't want to, but I don't know how to-
We smile at each other. We laugh. Cry, laugh, do whatever you want, but look at him.
I am looking at him.
I love him. I feel like I'm dying of how much I love him.
He loves you too.
Yes, I always told you.
Not always.
We're here.
What should I do now?
I don't know. You just… look at him.
(…)
They shook hands, don Theo and Diego. Then, he took hers and kissed it, looking at her in the eye (just like that time, the first time).
"You're beautiful" he pronounced without a sound: "I love you."
"I love you" she said in silence as well: "No matter what."
"No matter what."
"Dearly beloved, we have come together in the house of the Lord to join Josefina and Diego in holy matrimony, a sacrament which…"
Something happened to her all of a sudden. The nervousness and excitement she was feeling, not butterflies but a troop of horses galloping in her chest, transfigured into a sort of joyful calm. It was unexpected, but she was aware of the change. The two tears that had poured out, one at each side, dried up on her cheeks.
"Josefina and Diego, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"
"I have", they both replied.
"Are you sure? I saw a couple of tears there."
Ah, padre Felipe! You even helped us out, come on.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Very well."
The priest asked a few other things. Josefina wanted to record in her mind every word, every image, every invisible speck of dust suspended in thin air. There was no better way than living it.
"I, Diego, take you, Josefina, for my lawful wife…"
She was listening to him.
A million times she dreamed it.
"I, Josefina, take you, Diego, for my lawful husband and I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life, until death do us part."
All the days and more.
"…and bring to fulfillment his blessings with you. This matrimony between you I confirm in the name of the Father-"
An infinite instant…
"-the Son-"
…before, now and forever…
"-and the Holy Ghost, amen."
…no matter what.
"What God has joined, let no one put asunder. Amen. What I'm about to say now it's technically not a part of the rite but, oh well. You may kiss your wife."
The kisses at the window, at the cliff, the furtive ones at the library, they all combined together into this one kiss.
Only one thing left.
Anita gave Pepe a little nudge, who stepped forward with the rings.
"Josefina, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."
"Diego, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."
An excited serenity, it could be called, when seeing the hands of the both of them, hers on his.
No matter what.
(…)
They invited Bernardo to sit at the table with them. Today, he was more friend than servant. He refused at first but (and since the guests were around) Diego insisted with a bunch of signs and gestures that really had no purpose, as he could hear things even better than most people. When Josefina showed him the seat reserved for him, he had no choice but to take it, right next to Sergeant García by the way, who had already tucked the napkin into his collar like a bib, even before the baskets with garlic and parsley bread arrived (he ate three all by himself. Hampers, that is). On the other hand and as soon as he could, Pepe got rid of that borrowed jacket that was so uncomfortable and occupied himself with asking for sweets from the maids that distributed the drinks. Ricardo wouldn't give back her fan to Leonor, with which he'd already been attacked several times (each of them well deserved), all the while don Campillo and don Torres debated about whether the wine from Los Angeles or from Monterrey was the best; don Theo settled the argument by announcing the best wine could be found at his tavern and surrounded by good friends.
The smell of roast calf was in the air already, but before, a toast:
"I would like to thank you all for being here. Perhaps we're not bonded by blood, but each one of you is like family. I would also like to say…" El Zorro in don Diego costume, the Diego people knew, was eloquent, always had a reply for everything. However, that doesn't mean he was very used to talk about feelings in public. But today was another story. There was no costume at all, not in front of her, and that's what mattered: "…that the best thing that has happened to me in this life was, one day and by chance, meeting Josefina, my now wife. That sounds good, my wife." Pepe was the only one not paying attention, busy as he was with the wooden toy Bernardo had lent him: "And the best decision I've ever made was knocking on her uncle's door, talking to him and ask for his niece's hand. As you all know, don Pedro is not with us physically anymore. But wherever he is, I'd like to say to him, with all of you as witnesses, that I will always love, respect and care for his niece. To don Pedro."
Her uncle used to love apple wine, maybe it was a coincidence that they were toasting precisely with it.
The food arrived, there was no room left on the table (in fact two long tables that had been put together underneath the table cloth) for any more trays, platters, plates and glasses. The brief solemnity that had been installed in the room with the toast, was soon enough replaced by new conversations, opinions and laughter.
"Thanks for that" Josefina told him in a low voice.
"What did we say about saying thank you?"
"You said that, I didn't."
One of those smiles that mesmerized her: "That is my wife."
More food kept appearing until no one could fit another bite. Except for the Sergeant. Even Pepe gave him the last pieces of cake he had managed to hoard.
(…)
Everyone left after dinner, even don Alejandro, who had a business meeting first thing the next morning and had to travel during the night. Fortunately. Even the help was nowhere to be seen, the dishes and left over food would be picked up the following day.
The north wing of the house, connected to the main part by a staircase, would be for them once they'd get back from Spain, but for today… she'd never seen this hall, let alone walk down it and more than let alone, entered his bedroom.
It gave her a void in the stomach to see the three half full trunks for their trip, the desk with its large chair and writing supplies: paper, quill, inkwell; a small mirror on the wall and a picture frame of a landscape she didn't recognize, maybe from Spain; a coat stand, a bulky closet, the arabesques rug, the bed with a canopy of thick curtains. Diego was in all of it, in each thing, it was like discovering something more about him. It might sound silly because they were only objects, but they were part of his life. They'd been there when he wrote a letter, when he read, played the guitar or prepared his Zorro plans. And now she was there as well.
What should she do now? Start a conversation, laugh nervously? This last one was easy to do, but she kept herself from it. Doña Graciela's advices and explanations popped up in droves in her mind, with Anita's laughter as a background, but she decided to throw all of that stuff away, at least for the moment. She loved him; she was his wife now, in the eyes of men and of God, what the hell did she have to overthink or worry.
"Does it bother you?" What did he mean? "That."
Ah, the veil still hanging from her head. In fact, yes. They had secured it from her hair with three metallic hairpins, and at this hour of the day, they were already stabbing her in the scalp. She'd tried to lose them up several times, with no success.
"A little."
"Can I help?"
She nodded. Diego placed himself behind her and had a look:
"Hairdressing isn't one of my strong points but I'll give it a try."
She felt his hands close to her neck, close to her ears, so gently.
One by one, the hairpins and veil were out.
"Better?"
"Better."
She turned around and looked at him.
He looked at the ceiling:
"Look."
"What?"
Just the ceiling.
"They're so clear from here." She kept on scrutinizing the tiles: "There must be about a million, don't you think?"
"A million what?"
"Stars. Don't you want to lie down and look at them?"
Ah, the nervous laughter made its appearance after all. But actually, not so nervous.
"Yes."
He picked her up by the waist and helped her up, since the bed was a tad high.
More (only slightly) nervous laughter. Not even after gobbling down all of the tavern's wine at once, would she have ever imagined she'd be lying down on Diego de la Vega's bed.
It was very cozy.
He went to lie on the other side.
Then took her hand, fingers interlocked.
"Can you see it? The Great Bear also known as the Great Piano. The piano's legs, the soundboard, it's all clearly there."
"And that's… Cassiopeia:" she pointed up: "One, two, three, four, five. Like an M."
They stared at them for a little while, at the stars.
Then at each other.
"Do you know how much I love you?"
She knew, but it doesn't hurt to hear it forever:
"And I love you."
He leaned in closer and kissed her.
This time, there was no reason to stop.
(…)
Josefina emerged from the living room's cupboard. She closed the fake door that held the shelves with the bronze cup and the silver cow, and then the outer, regular door. She checked it several times, opening and closing it again, to make sure everything was in order.
The living room was deserted. Everything had been cleaned up and organized after the previous night's celebration. The kitchen had to be that way, to the left, so she headed there, walking slowly and staring at every little thing around.
An Asian vase, a Swiss clock, a crystal statuette; it was like a museum, not that she'd ever been to one. At the bottom of the hall, a door. It had to be there.
Bernardo had arrived during lunch, first of all excusing himself, then informing Diego of something he'd been waiting for weeks: the children of a rancher were on their way to the town in a stagecoach, with the particularity that this man had be threatened: either he paid a certain amount to some alleged bandits, or his family would pay the consequences. Diego didn't know and neither was he interested in the vaccine being paid or not: he'd make sure the boys made it safely.
Josefina heard all of this at the table, not as a guest anymore but certainly with a heart on edge. One thing was going on a stroll around the hills with Zorro and hear about his feats from the patrons; a whole different story was seeing the man she loved with a mask and the foil onto the belt, kissing her goodbye before getting on Tornado and promising he'd be back by dinner time, before taking off through the cave, whose existence by the way she had just learnt of this day.
That's why knowing that the next day they'd leave for a few months was a relieve: going away, not worrying about it for a while at least. Of course she supported him in what he did, she always would, but… would she feel this way every time, with that constant fear in the middle of her chest, that wouldn't go away until he'd come back?
The kitchen was bigger than her whole former home. She rummaged through some baskets and cupboards; no, not there.
"Señora! What are you doing around here?"
Señora. They called her señora now! Well she was: señora De la Vega.
Wow.
"Cresencia, I wanted to make some tea but I can't find the-"
"Señora, for anything you need, you just have to tell me or tell Bernardo, Jacinta or one of the others, and we'll get it for you. Would you like chamomile, mint, hibiscus, green, red, black or white tea?"
"Eh… mint would be good, thank you."
"Sugar or honey?"
"Honey, thanks."
"Milk?"
"No, it's fine, thank you."
"Would you like some crackers?"
"Sure, thanks."
"Where to?"
"Sorry?"
"Should I take it to your bedroom, the living room…?"
"Ah… the library please. And thank you."
Plenty of features to be considered for a cup of tea.
(…)
The cup was already empty. She was on the third page of a book about the museums of Spain. She should be on the twentieth at least, but it was hard to focus. On one side, she couldn't stop thinking about the previous day… and night, in waking up next to him that morning… and on the other diametrically opposed side, it worried her that… she was being ridiculous, for sure: everyone knew Zorro had never been defeated, he always evaded bandits and soldiers alike. That was her Diego. Nothing bad could happen to him. Nothing. Zorro was immortal.
As soon as Bernardo stormed in and she saw his terrified face, she knew it.
"What happened?"
He was making a hundred signs at the same time. She could only discern the Z drawn up in the air and his right hand closing on his left wrist, over and over again.
"Bernardo, write on this, will you? What-"
"Señora!" One of don Alejandro's most trusted vaqueros rushed into the library: "I'm so sorry to come in like this but… but…"
"But what? Please speak."
The man nervously clutched the hat in his hands:
"It's, people are saying they captured Zorro and that… well… it seems that… I know it's impossible, but they're saying it's don Diego."
(…)
Notes:
- Doña Graciela offered Josefina a bouquet of Dutch tulips. Was that possible back then, with no refrigeration? Who knows! Maybe it was, or maybe they could bring the seeds and plant them in the New World (I always worry about this kind of details).
- I don't know if the wedding part was too long, the part about the rite and all of that. But I wanted to make them say those things. The afternoon I wrote that scene I was almost crying, in fact I did tear up a bit, like people do in weddings.
- I don't know if it's realistic for a priest to crack a couple of jokes in a wedding in the 1820's. But well, this is fanfiction.
- I liked the idea of Bernardo being a guest at the celebration and not a servant. Again, I don't know if it's realistic, but I liked it.
- Thanks for reading!
