Chapter Four
Rosarita was spinning, flying...
Her hands were tight in Diego's and he just kept turning. She could see his face, beaming at her, and then darkness descended on the dreamworld. A black horse appeared, and his rider was the most beautiful woman Rosarita had ever seen.
When Rosarita woke, she was scared of how accurate her dream had been, for it portrayed the two things she worried about most.
The whole atmosphere of the day was different. It was very hot, and very quiet. Dulce was confined to the nursery as punishment, and Diego and Alejandro had had some business to do, and now occupied Papa's library.
Rosarita sat in the shade and wilted. She didn't expect anything of the day, and as it passed into afternoon, she gave it up for lost.
It was a carriage that changed her mind. She stood to see who it was, then went to the gate to greet the guest.
"Rosarita!" Milana cried, leaning from the carriage. "Join me, please!"
Rosarita nodded eagerly. "Of course, Milana. Just let me tell someone."
When she returned to the carriage, Milana was waiting impatiently, and had the man start as soon as Rosarita jumped in.
"I've missed you," Milana said. "I've missed talking to you. I always loved your bluntness."
"Gracias," Rosarita laughed.
"What I really want is your opinions on Anna Maria, of course, and the offer of amnesty."
"Amnesty for Anna Maria? What on earth do you mean? She isn't an outlaw."
Milana's laughter was contagious, and soon both were giggling. "No, no. Zorro!"
Rosarita remained puzzled. "What about him?"
Milana's laughter ceased abruptly. "You've heard nothing?"
"No, not until Diego arrived a few days ago and he has said nothing about Zorro."
He's not a subject Rosarita and I agree on, so maybe it is best not to mention him.
Rosarita's hands clenched without her realizing it. He'd been concealing things all along! And she thought they'd gotten so far...
"Wait, Diego is visiting you? How strange. The de la Vegas gave the impression they were going straight to Los Angeles. Ricardo is on the warpath, trying to find Diego."
As intriguing as that was, Rosarita ignored her last line. "Yes, the whole family. But please start at the beginning. What about Zorro and Anna Maria?"
Milana was now the puzzled one. "Diego hasn't told you a thing?"
"Gossip was never his forte," Rosarita sighed.
"All right, I'll begin!" Milana said. "Why, it started when Diego arrived in Monterey. No, when the soldiers came after him, bearing the pesos from Los Angeles. Uncle Gregorio went out to meet them, and Zorro rescued them all; soldiers and my uncle!"
"Zorro?"
"And then they departed, Uncle Gregorio and Anna Maria. Oh, it is such a fantastic tale. The soldier riding with them, to guard them, he was an imposter! They had only ridden until sundown when Zorro appeared, and vanquished him. And, oh, it's too romantic. He kissed Anna Maria!"
Rosarita felt like something very hard, cold and sharp had suddenly been plunged into her stomach. "On the hand?"
"No, silly. A real kiss!" Milana sighed. "There was a Don Romero also accompanying them. They all went back to Monterey, Uncle Gregorio was kidnapped and Zorro had to convince Anna Maria to not pay the ransom. She tells me he was in her room! Then the next day, there was showdown with the kidnappers. I'm not sure what happened there, but Don Romero ended up dead, and Zorro kissed Anna Maria again! Then he rode away on his big, white horse—"
"White?" Rosarita asked, startled. "But Zorro has a black horse!"
"Maybe in Los Angeles," Milana said slyly. "But not in Monterey. Anna Maria went with Uncle Gregorio to the coast, and she saw him off. But she decided to stay in California after all, came back and stayed with me. This is where it gets really good. She met Don Ricardo del Amo—do you know him?—and it turned into a love triangle. No, quadrangle?" Milana looked puzzled. "It must have been a quadrangle. All three men, Ricardo, Diego and Zorro, were in love with my cousin! Zorro gave Anna Maria a ride on his white horse, Ricardo was almost hanged and then dueled Zorro, and just a few days ago...
Ricardo convinced the governor to give amnesty to Zorro, if he appeared in the pueblo at the Angelus hour."
"Did he?"
"Si, but no. He arrived after it ended and swept Anna Maria away." Milana slumped. "She won't tell me what he said. That's why I had to talk to you. You met him. What do you think he would have said?"
There was a lump, steadily increasing in size, in the back of Rosarita's throat. Milana was waiting expectantly. "Come on, what would he have said?"
"That California needed him too much," Rosarita finally whispered. "The Zorro I knew had no attachment to one person. He was the protector of all California."
Milana left soon after, not staying to greet the other members of the Cortez family. It was only after that Rosarita realized she'd failed to ask why Ricardo was on the warpath after Diego, for Diego had given the impression that Ricardo had left before him.
But then, why on earth would she still trust Diego? Rosarita wondered. Why on earth, after all he'd hidden.
No, this was too much.
Too, too much.
Dinner was to be a cold meal, and something that Rosarita wasn't sure she would attend. As the time of the Angelus hour drew near, she felt increasingly sick at heart, and didn't want to see Diego.
No, no no no no.
She remained in her room, lying on the bed, not risking anything, until a tap sounded and Amelia entered.
"It is dinner time," Amelia said. "What are you doing still up here? And why have you closed the curtains?"
"I don't feel well," Rosarita said, and her voice was choked. She hoped that aided the impression of illness. "I have a stomach ache and my throat hurts." And both are true.
"Do you think it is serious?" Amelia asked, hurrying forward, and Rosarita rolled over to face the wall.
"No, I just ate something bad, I suppose," Rosarita said. "Please. Just tell Mama I will not be able to come down."
"All right," Amelia sighed. "But I don't like this."
Only after she left did Rosarita let herself cry. Tears she'd been holding in for hours just spilled out, until her pillow was a soggy mess and her throat hurt even more.
She heard footsteps creeping in, and felt a small hand on her back.
"Hermana?" Dulce whispered. "What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Rosarita choked out.
Dulce tried to get closer, to embrace her sister, but Rosarita shook her off.
She heard soft footsteps leaving her room, but couldn't bring herself to care.
Evening drifted into night. Rosarita had no thought of sleep, and through her open window the conversation from the dining room occasionally drifted up. They were speaking of business, of friends, of churches.
No one mentioned her name, and the conversation never halted because she wasn't there.
The ache in her heart increased. What made her think she could ever be a part of the de la Vega family? They had never needed her; she'd just needed them and thought the feeling mutual.
Lying there, Rosarita wondered about Anna Maria, and what it was about her that caused four men to fall in love with her. Romero, Diego, Ricardo, Zorro.
Or three.
Was Romero just pretending? Milana had seemed to think he was, later in the conversation.
What is it? Her hair, her eyes? Her skin, her figure... Her clothes? Manners? What does she have that sets her apart from everyone else in California?
Her hand went up to her mouth and she started biting her nails, a habit she'd been forced to outgrow years ago. Now she couldn't stop herself, and before she knew it, all her nails were short and torn, and her fingers ached where she'd gone too far.
She jumped from the bed and ran to the door, then turned back. What am I even doing? Mooning over a man? There was a time I thought marriage intolerable, even if it would be to Diego. Now I know it won't be, and further, I don't want to marry. Why should I? What benefits would come to me that I don't already have? Position, wealth, children...
The answer came to her so sharply, obviously that she crumpled to the floor and just sat there, silent tears pouring down her face. Love. I want Diego to love me. I always have.
At midnight, Rosarita remained awake, sweltering from the heat of her feelings. She had changed into her thinnest nightgown, and still felt feverish as she tossed and turned, got up and paced to the door, and then returned to bed, afraid.
Why did it have to be Anna Maria, such a good friend? Why did Milana have to come today to tell her? Why couldn't she have waited until Diego was gone?
Because if Diego was gone, Rosarita's heart would already be broken.
With shaking limbs, she crept from the bed and to her wardrobe. She took a wrapper out and tied it around her.
She wasn't going anywhere with trying to sleep. Instead, she left her room.
The hallway outside her room overlooked the back garden. Rosarita crept down the stairs, shivering a bit when the wood ended, and her feet touched cold marble.
Above her, the moon shone coldly. Inside her, her heart throbbed.
She continued on, ignoring the beautiful sight her father's rosebushes made in the moonlight, and went straight inside to the sala, then redirected her steps to the kitchen.
Once there, she carefully and quietly poured herself a glass of steaming water, from the kettle that always remained hovering over the fire. Into that, she stirred tea, a random blend that was nowhere near Moneta's English tea, and half-heartedly sipped at it.
It was horrible, and her throat refused to let her swallow anyway. She spat it back out into the cup, then poured the cup out into the scrap bucket.
She almost ran from the kitchen, back to the garden, and then she decided something. Her next action was opening the gate, not going up the stairs.
Her bare feet touched the dirt road, cool in the night. She seemed to become a child again, used to running outside at night to catchluciérnagas. She remembered going out at night, clutching her father's hand, as they hunted for various things. Once, they'd ridden for a doctor together.
As a young child, she remembered being glued to her father's side, and riding with him sometimes all day as he went about their smaller rancho in Los Angeles.
When she'd discovered Diego, she'd stopped being quite so close to her father, as her days had been spent playing games.
And after Diego, once in Monterey, she'd grown close to her mother as she became a young woman. And then there was Dulce.
Rosarita walked on into the night, her feet taking her to the ocean and ignoring all sensibilities. She was going to the ocean, and nothing was going to stop her.
She remembered the words of Moneta, said about Don Francisco's daughter, Magdalena.
She seemed to simply be following Diego's lead.
Rosarita realized she was doing the same thing, and Diego had led her on a merry chase. A chase that ended in heartbreak.
Rosarita walked on and on, the length of the journey reminding her of the reason they usually rode to the beach, but the walk was all worth it; the pain was all worth it when the beach came in sight. When she saw the moon, resting over the water. Two moons, for it was reflected.
When she saw that moon again, and it brought back memories of 'that' night, she sat down and cried.
She realized, suddenly, that she'd been sleeping and darted up. It was hours later; the moon was gone and the sun was just peeping over the edge of the sky.
Rosarita felt something stir in her, Diego was momentarily forgotten, and instead, she ran into the waves.
The water soaked her, soothed her.
She felt restored, and was able to reason.
Diego had never made a promise to her beyond that if there was no one else, they'd marry when they grew up. As much as it hurt her to think of him with Anna Maria, it was his choice and definitely not a deliberate betrayal.
Though she'd spent most of the night on the beach, and even now she was caked with sand and salty water, she felt more in tune with herself, Diego, and the world than she'd ever been before.
A/N: A pattern that I have noticed in my writing is a need for my (Zorro) heroines to have self-discovery, self-reliance. Journeys where they had to cast off, in private, social restrictions and could become their own woman, something they all had to learn before the story ended. Yes, Zorro entered into that, and so did Diego. But primarily, Far Longer, To Madness, and all of the stories in my Rosarita collection, have been the women's journeys into finding (as cliched as it sounds) themselves.