Diego stood quietly for a moment watching Victoria work. She was the most beautiful woman in the pueblo. If he were to admit the truth, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Even all the celebrated beauties of Europe paled next to her in his opinion.
She started when she saw him standing next to the entranceway. She put her hand next to her chest and shook her head. "You scared me, Diego."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any alarm. It's just that--watching you work is like seeing a piece of art come to life."
She put the bottle of wine in her hand down on the table. She looked uncomfortable about his words. He reached over and gently grasped her arm. "I know your heart belongs to Zorro, Victoria, but allow me a moment of regret."
She smiled weakly at him. "I never thought you looked at me that way, Don Diego."
He laughed. "I looked at you that way before I left for University. I just knew you were too young--I was too young. You had just taken over this tavern, so I knew you wouldn't leave and--"
He watched her slowly walk over to gather some vegetables. She dropped them onto the table and walked over for a knife. Still smiling, he reached for the knife. "Let me peel and chop these for you."
"I can do
it--"
"I know you can, Victoria, but let me help you. Surely, I've offered to help before now." He wished she did not look so uncomfortable with him. He wished he knew what he felt for this woman. He was in love with her, but the man he was today, or the man he should be, or the man he was . . . Diego sighed. His life was too confusing, even for him.
She finally relaxed and smiled at him. "Yes, you've offered to help, but never in the chopping."
"Really?" He sliced the blade through the vegetable in his hand, turning the whole into pieces. "I'm surprised. I have enough experience in kitchens."
Victoria's laughter was spontaneous and loud. "You? You have experience in a kitchen?"
He tried to look offended. "Yes, I'll have you know that I worked three years in the kitchen at school."
"But why? I mean--" Tossing the knife up in the air, He twirled and caught it. "Diego! Have you gone loco? You could have been hurt!"
Shocked and touched by her concern, he laughed. "Not by doing that. It's one of the reasons Sir Edmund insisted that I work in the kitchen. He wanted me to learn control of a knife."
She watched how quickly he diced her onions. "I think you have me beat on speed."
Looking up at her, he smiled. "Thank you. Nice to know that I still have some of my old talent with vegetables--and with knifes."
"You often toss knifes?" Her voice sounded strained, but at least she did not seem to be worried about his feelings right now.
"All the time," he answered, tossing the onion pieces into a bowl. After he quickly cleaned the blade, he began on the apples. "It's not that dangerous--as long as you know what you are doing."
"Not that dangerous? Diego, it is throwing knives in the air."
"True, but jumping horses through rings of fire was much more foolish on my part," he teased.
Victoria sounded like she was choking. "You jumped horses through rings of fire?"
"Yes," he answered, stopping his chopping for a minute. "And if you are going to repeat everything I say, we are going to have a very tedious conversation."
"I'm sorry."
Diego sighed. "Don't be. It's me. I think I would really like to meet your Diego."
"What do you mean?"
"I would love to ask him some questions. I think the first one would be: Where did you come from?"
She snorted, gathering the apple chunks into another bowl. "The same place you did."
Laughing himself, Diego shook his head. "You all have refused to discuss that man with me, but I'm beginning think he is nothing like I am. The alcalde looked as if he had swallowed a very large bird when I told him that I thought his school tax was a horrible, and mostly likely unjust, tax. Yet, I'm a de la Vega, and I'm not sure I've met one member of my family that knows how to hold his tongue."
She smacked the bowl down on the table. "You told the alcalde--"
"Yes, Idid! Victoria, you act like my throwing a knife in the air is something you would never think of 'Diego' doing, and yet I've juggled eight knifes at one time!"
"Eight?"
"Yes, eight! My father tells me I've fallen off his old mare, and yet I was considered one of the most accomplished horsemen in my group of friends," he said, pointing the knife in the air. "There were some very accomplished horsemen in that group!"
Diego crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "Then, I would ask him why we--he--me was not married, yet. I'm not opposed to marriage, Victoria. Have I even courted anyone since I've been home?"
She shook her head, looking down at her toes. "Not that I know of, Diego."
"That makes no sense to me. Mother and Father had a wonderful marriage. I've always wanted to be married, and yet I'm thirty years old and still a bachelor. I should have a houseful of children running about the hacienda by now. Surely, Zefíra didn't turn me against marriage that much."
"Zefíra? Her?"
It was Diego's turn to be surprised. "You've met her."
Victoria turned away from him, picking up the bowl and walking across the room to set it down next to the fire. "Yes, I have. She was here with her husband."
Diego snorted. "I don't suppose she mentioned why she left me standing at the altar, did she?"
"Altar?" She gasped, turning so quickly that she almost knocked the bowl over with her skirt. "You were going to marry her?"
Diego laughed at Victoria's horror. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. We had a lot in common, and I thought I was in love with her. Maybe I was in love with her, but I think I recovered very fast from her loss."
"W-what do you mean?"
He became bashful. He looked down at the few vegetables he had left to chop. Taking a deep breath, he picked the knife back up and began chopping. He shrugged. "I just think I did," was all he would say on the subject.
ZZZZZZ
Victoria knocked on the door of the de la Vega hacienda. She told herself that she was foolish to be here so late after sunset, but there she stood anyway. Don Alejandro answered the door. It was one of the small things that made her love the de la Vega family so much. Whereas many of the other caballeros hired servants to handle every menial task, such as opening doors, the de la Vega men did most of them themselves. A person could spend an entire afternoon in the de la Vega hacienda and never see one servant.
Don Alejandro looked as haggard as she felt. "Come in, Victoria. Diego's already gone to bed. Today exhausted him more than he wanted to admit."
She nodded, playing with her shawl. Her old friend escorted her into the library. It was easy for her to see that Don Alejandro had been deep in thought before she arrived. The chair was turned towards the nicely burning fire and on the table was a half-drunk glass of wine. "Can I get you something to drink, Victoria?" he asked her. Today had exhausted him more than he was willing to admit, too.
She shook her head and dragged the other chair around to the front of the fire. She sat down in it, feeling at home in this hacienda. It surprised her when she realized how much she considered this place her home away from home. Oh, she had always felt like a welcome friend, but over the years, since Diego's return from Spain, she had been invited over at least once a week for dinner. She has spent hours here listening to Diego play the piano, reading a book of poems, or just talking with the de la Vega men. Since she had little free time from the tavern, it was remarkable that she had spent so much time here. The de la Vegas were her family now.
However, she did not look at Diego as a brother. She would never admit it to anyone, but she felt that if there had been no Zorro, she would have married Diego. Oh, many of the people in the pueblo would laugh at the idea of someone with her fiery nature marrying such a quiet man, but it was his quietness that appealed to her. He accepted her just as she was. Not once had he ever indicated that he thought she would be better marrying someone to help her run the tavern. He had never told her, or even hinted, that he thought she should keep her mouth shut about political matters. Diego enjoyed her just as she was, and it was a wonderfully intoxicating quality.
If she could somehow magically mix in the wonderful courage of Zorro with the stability of her best friend Diego, she could create the perfect man. As much as she loved him, she did wish she could depend on Zorro like she did Diego. True, he never put a blade to a soldier's throat, and he had never been one to protest against the alcaldes, but he did help everyone in ways that Zorro had never been able to do. His willingness to listen to people, to love them for who they were, were parts of Diego that she never wanted to be without in her life. If she could mix them both, she would have . . . she would have . . . the man that was in her kitchen earlier.
"He's not the same man, Victoria." Don Alejandro's voice startled her from her thoughts.
Her hand clenched, wrinkling the fabric of her red skirt. "I know, Don Alejandro."
"Today, I watched a stranger walk around in my son's body. He spoke up when he disagreed. His riding was remarkable." Don Alejandro chuckled. "Honestly, I think he's even better than I was at that age."
"You should have seen how well he handles a knife," Victoria said sadly. As much as she loved her friend, she liked this new version of him in many ways. If only he could get his memory back, be the man he was before he hit his head, as well as the man he was afterwards.
Don Alejandro finished his wine in one gulp. "All the ladies that came into your tavern today left with a smile on their face. I never knew he was so skilled at flattery."
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "It was strange. He seemed so comfortable with it in some ways and so shy in others."
Don Alejandro frowned. "Really? I didn't noticed. He told me that it was easy to complement a lady, as long as you do not have romantic feelings for her. He reminded me what Padre Figueroa always use to say about looking for the good in every person. Then, he told me about a discussion he had with a monk at a mission once, about how a few kind words always makes the world a better place."
Victoria moved about her chair, struggling to get comfortable in a chair that was usually soft and inviting to her. "Diego's always be a kind person, Don Alejandro. I've heard him compliment many people. Mendoza can tell you about how people always feel better after talking with him."
Putting down his glass, Don Alejandro leaned back in his chair. "I know, Victoria, but today he was more--outgoing. He was not as shy about it. He didn't seem like himself to me until we returned home. He sat in that chair there and listened to me discuss the problems I'm having with the ranch. He was not restless or bored. He was--Diego."
Victoria smiled as she remembered the light supper she had served her friend earlier. "Oh, I don't know, Don Alejandro. He very much seemed like Diego when he bought that poor family some food. They left feeling like they had done him a favor by eating with him."
"He does have a wonderful ability to make people feel comfortable," he agreed.
She started to relax. "Yes, he does. When I was asking about the knife, he told me that Sir Edmund had him work in the kitchens at school."
"What?"
She shrugged. It seemed very odd to her, too, to have such a wealthy man work in such a menial task, but Diego had not been offended by the work. He seemed to enjoy it earlier, working in her kitchen. "He felt Diego would get better control of knives, or at least that's what Diego told me. Later, though, he mentioned that Sir Edmund also wanted him to learn how to get along better with people."
"Diego has always gotten along with people. He was always making a new friend when ever I let him go to the pueblo," Don Alejandro sputtered.
She smiled, remembering the little rascal that used to race around the plaza. He always did have a few new friends by the time he left. "True, Don Alejandro, but Sir Edmund wanted him to work with people who did not automatically trust him because his name was 'de la Vega'. I think Sir Edmund had a point, and so did Diego. He said he learned more in that kitchen about how to get along with people than he ever had anywhere else. Everyone in Los Angeles did trust him because he's your son, and you're name does carry weight through all of California."
Don Alejandro's face showed signs of remembered grief and joy. "Yes, my old friend was always wise beyond his years. It's why I wanted Diego to study with him. When Edmund arrived here in Los Angeles, I knew that he meant a lot to Diego, but I never realized until now just how much my son had learned from him."
Victoria finally asked the question that forced her to go out into the black night. "Diego told me earlier that the last thing he remembers is getting off the boat in San Pedro. Then, waking up here in bed with his head hurting. What changed him so much? I mean, why did not we ever met this man when he came home?"
Don Alejandro was quiet for a few minutes. The fire crackled as it slowly began to die. "I don't know, Victoria. I don't know, and I've been asking myself that question all day."
ZZZZZZZ
"Good morning, Father! Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Don Alejandro turned and grinned at his son. He had only begun working on the accounts, but he wore a smile when he closed his ledgers. "You're up early."
Diego laughed and sat down in the chair across from him. It was a beautiful day, which was why Don Alejandro had decided to work out in the garden. Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, his son said with a grin, "I've always been an early riser, Father. You know that. Remember how Mother used to tease you, when I was just a toddler, about it being all your fault that I wouldn't sleep any later than five o'clock?"
"I had forgotten actually." His hand began opening and shutting the corner of his ledger.
Diego rolled his eyes and took a sip of his juice. "Let me guess. The Diego I was before I hit my head never got out of bed before eight o'clock." Noticing the look on his face, his son shook his head. "Oh, no! I refuse to believe it was any later. Even at the University, when I had stayed out almost all night at a ball, I never slept later than eight o'clock."
"Actually, you usually do get up around eight. Only, it's not unheard of for you to get up at ten o'clock."
Diego almost spit out his juice. Gulping the rest of it down, he said, "Ten o'clock! I would feel like the day had already past me by if I got up that late."
"I would, too," Don Alejandro, agreed, looking surprised to find out his son shared that trait.
Diego finished his drink, looking out across the land. It was all going to be his one day. Did the man he had become after school love this land as passionately as he did? He had to admit he felt greatly disappointed in himself. He had not lived up to any of his own expectations. What had caused him to change so much? While no one seemed to want to talk about how he was now, their responses gave plenty of indications.
"Let's fence, Father," he said. He felt a little weak, but he was not sure it that was an indication of his head wound or age. Diego needed to do something, though, or he might go loco.
"Fence? As with swords?" His father managed to ask without even closing his mouth once.
"Oh, please, don't tell me that I gave up sword play! Anytime I had a problem, Sir Edmund and I would go out into the courtyard and fence. I loved it; I always wanted to thank you, when I returned home, for the lessons." Diego's shoulders slumped. "I used to think that when I returned home, you and I would continue the practice here in the garden. I imagined you would be thrilled with the skills I had learned."
"You are a master," Don Alejandro said, carefully enunciating each word. It almost sounded like a question to Diego's ears.
He nodded in that nonchalant way people have of answering questions that really aren't questions. "I would be out there every day, with Sir Edmund, learning something new, and I would think of you. Remember how you used to say that you wanted to be a champion swordsman with both hands?"
"Like you are." His father's voice was wispy, making him sound like he had been strangled. Diego looked towards him with a frown, but decided to ignore the little voice of warning in his mind when he noticed Don Alejandro casually drinking from his glass of orange juice.
Nodding, he answered, "Yes. I have to admit I never expected to enjoy learning the sword so much."
"I'm sure you didn't," his father said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"By the way, do you know where I keep Sir Edmund's sword?"
Don Alejandro grinned at him. He asked, almost standing up from his chair, "Do you mean his knife?"
Diego hated to disappoint him. "No, I mean his sword--the championship one that he gave me for beating him in the courtyard."
"Beating him in the courtyard."
Father and son looked at one another for almost a minute, neither one of them revealing their thoughts on their faces or in their eyes. Finally, Diego said, "You did know that I was one of Sir Edmund's best students."
Don Alejandro's smile was sad. "Oh, Edmund came for a visit a couple of years after you came back home. He had some problems with paying the traveler's tax--he thought it was ludicrous--and you stepped in to stop him from fighting the lancers. He quickly told me that you two could have easily taken all the entire garrison."
Diego laughed. "I don't doubt that it's true, but it would not be the smartest thing to do."
Don Alejandro looked out over the garden for a moment, lost deep in thought. "I don't think you would have a problem with this garrison, even by yourself, Diego."
"They don't seem to be well-trained," he agreed. "However, do you really see me becoming an outlaw? That's what I'd be if I attacked them." He laughed at the amusing image floating across his mind's eye. He could well imagine his father's horror.
"True, you would be," Don Alejandro agreed. He began to gather his paper and books. "I need to run into the pueblo." Diego noticed that his father was not even looking at him. "I have some things that need to be taken care of right now. If you need me, just send someone with a message to the tavern."
He sat there, stunned by the sudden departure. Don Alejandro's footsteps stopped. "Diego, when you mention Edmund's sword, do you mean the one made out of Toledo steel? The one with the beautiful silver--"
"Yes, that's it!" Smiling, Diego turned in his chair. "Do you know where I keep it?"
Don Alejandro slowly shook his head. "No, Diego, I have no idea where you keep that sword, but don't worry. I know it's around here somewhere."
He watched as the man he admired most shuffled his way back into the hacienda, his shoulders drooped in defeat. He turned, hitting his fist against the table. He let his head fall onto his hands, and wondered again about the man he had become. Diego de la Vega was home, but it was the home of a stranger who happened to wear his skin.