This is another one-shot in the doubts Victoria has. Maybe I am going to use it in another story. Maybe I just needed to get it out of my head and post it because it is cute.
Petals
Indecisively, Victoria Escalante walked through the mission garden. She had permitted herself a short break on this warm day. This morning, like so many others, he had come into the tavern. He had ordered his cup of coffee and exchanged some meaningless chats with acquaintances.
Victoria didn't know what to do and had her doubts. Years ago she had liked the caballero very much and then…,
The first time Victoria had laid eyes on a tall man dressed entirely in black, she had known he was the one. She had fallen head over heels, immediately, overwhelmingly and hopelessly in love with the man when she saw the mischievous grin on his face that time he had freed her and don Alejandro out of prison.
But then why, if she loved Zorro, why couldn't she get that other man out of her head?
Yes, he was handsome, kind, charming and had almost everything a woman could wish. Except he lacked some bravery, She didn't mind. His main downfall was he was no Zorro.
Victoria saw him come into the tavern daily and was ashamed to admit that she always looked forward to the moment when he would wander nonchalantly into her establishment and greet her with a smile. On the rare days when he did not come by, she was less reasonable and continuously wondered when she would see him again.
Victoria walked a little further and passed some flowers. She picked one and started pulling off the delicate petals one by one, as she had done so often when she was a young girl. Of course, what she was doing didn't make any sense. Zorro, a petal, whirled down. Diego, Zorro, Diego.
Every time she mumbled a name in her mind, she pulled one of the delicate pale pink flower leave loose. Zorro, Diego, Zorro...,
The one-man was her true love. So the other was not. But then what was he to her? A close friend, a brother. No, he was more to her.
Diego, Zorro, Diego, Zorro…, Twenty or more petals adorned the middle of the flower. There were too many to see what the outcome of this childish game was going to be.
Diego, Zorro, Diego, Zorro...
Victoria reached the last petal, and somewhere deep inside, she felt a stab of ..., what precisely? Sadness? But why?
The last petal on the flower was for Zorro. Shouldn't she be delighted about that?
The only acceptable solution she could think of was that Diego was always there. He came to the pueblo almost every day, and that he felt safe.
With Diego, you knew what you got and didn't need to worry about what his next step was to be. Everyone could predict easily what the don was to do, including the disappearing into thin air by the first sign of trouble. He had no secrets or surprises. He was an open book, so to say.
Zorro was the opposite, full of secrets and much more inconsistent. You never knew where or when he would show up, what his next step was going to be. Nor did she know when she would see him again or for how long. And how much longer she had to wait before he revealed his identity.
Yes, that had to be it! Victoria thought as she let what was left of the flower slip from her hand and watched it twirl gradually down to the ground.
Victoria shook off the strange feeling that something intangible was wrong in this reasoning. Zorro was her true love, and that would never change, Not easily anyway.
.
.