La Luna de Miel Chapter Thirteen: For Better or Worse
Mano had arranged for the hotel carriage to retrieve them from El Lago at 11, and it was waiting outside as they left the restaurant. Carmen faltered as she stepped up into the carriage, but Mano steadied her. She brushed aside his concern and blamed her lack of balance on too much fine wine, but he was not reassured. This was not like her, he thought, still to be dizzy. She must be ill. Our hotel will have a doctor in residence or at least one who could be called on short notice. He would inquire of the manager. For now, he contented himself with pulling her close, his lips brushing against her forehead, which also seemed warm.
Finding themselves once more in the grand lobby, waiting for the manager to retrieve the key to their room, Mano noticed the same two bearded men now talking over a cup of coffee at a distant table. He had no chance to overhear their latest conversation, but he recalled what had alarmed him earlier. They had been speaking about the governor's residence in Hermosillo, how often the guards changed, something about side entrances...and other things about the house itself that Mano could not quite catch. His French was rusty and the men spoke in low voices.
"Manolo, please may we go upstairs now?" Carmen's voice was strained and her eyes dull, unfocused. "I feel faint."
"Of course, mi vida, at once." He gestured for the manager to take Carmen's other arm, and while the man did so, Mano whispered his concern and the need for a doctor. The man nodded and assisted them up the long staircase to their room, returning downstairs to send for medical help.
Once they were alone inside their rooms, Mano unfastened Carmen's gown and corset himself, helping her into her nightgown and robe and easing her into bed. She looked wan and tired. Within minutes, a knock sounded at the door. Mano opened it to find the manager and a stranger carrying a leather case.
"El doctor, Señor Montoya."
"Gracias. Buenas noches, doctor. Puedes ayudar a la señora," and he pointed to the bedroom behind him.
"Please let me know if you need something else, Señor Montoya," the manager said, nodding as he let himself out while Mano turned to follow the doctor.
The doctor moved to Carmen's side, removing instruments from his bag. Mano stood apart as he watched the physician use a stethoscope to listen to Carmen's heart. "Now, a deep breath, señora," the doctor instructed as he listened to her chest.
Mano watched as the man took her temperature, nodding for him to move closer. "Señor, a moment please. Por favor, take this light and shine it here," the doctor commanded, indicating where Mano should stand and hold an oil lamp to illumine Carmen's face, enabling the physician to check her ears with some sort of glass. "Keep the light here, Señor Montoya. Señora, por favor, say ahhhh," the doctor next directed, using a tongue depressor and peering into Carmen's throat. She complied. He asked her to cough as he replaced the stethoscope against her chest. She did. "Again." She coughed once more. "Gracias." He nodded for Mano to replace the light on the table.
"Permiso," the doctor said next, as he used his hands to poke and prod her abdomen and feel around her neck at the jawline. He unscrewed a bottle, poured some elixir into a metal cup, and instructed Carmen to drink. At last, examination concluded, the doctor covered his patient with a sheet and gestured for Mano to leave. "I shall speak to you in a moment, Señor, after I have had a word with your wife."
"What is it doctor? What is wrong with her?" Mano asked, his teeth on edge when the physician joined him in the sitting room moments later.
"Nothing to worry about Señor Montoya, nothing to alarm you. She has caught a cold, or encountered some bad air I suspect, and her system is fighting it off. Nothing more. No blood letting, no potions, I assure you she will be fine very soon. She just needs to rest, drink plenty of hot tea and eat sparingly for a day or two, and her health will be quite restored."
Mano slumped into the nearest chair and sighed. He had not realized he had been holding his breath as the doctor spoke until he exhaled.
"What a relief. Thank you doctor…eh?"
"Hernandez. Doctor Hernandez. I live close by and the manager knows how to reach me in case you become worried or Señora Montoya seems worse. But I do not think it is likely. She is suffering just a slight chill. Time and rest will do the trick. I have given her a dose of laudanum to help her sleep."
They shook hands and Mano pressed 50 pesos into the doctor's palm, squeezing it shut when the man started to protest. "You do not know how relieved I am, Dr. Hernandez. We shall call you if we need you." Visions of Mercedes, the fiancée who had died in his arms, had flashed into his mind earlier, despite his best efforts to banish them. Silly, he knew, but when one has endured the loss of a loved one, one overreacts.
"Gracias, Señor Montoya," the doctor bowed and left.
Mano took a deep breath and shook his head. He crept inside the bedroom to avoid waking Carmen, only to be stopped in his tracks by her voice. "I am not dead, Manolito, and perfectly able to hear you slinking about." She opened her eyes to a slit and sought his face.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hand between both of his. "Mi amor, how are you feeling?"
"I am tired and my bones ache, but otherwise I am fine."
His hand brushed her hair away from her forehead. She still feels warm, he thought."You have a fever, just a slight one, I'm sure. You must stay in bed for a day or two and drink hot tea, doctor's orders." He forced a pleasant smile, but her reply showed him that he had been less than convincing in his attempt to appear nonchalant.
"Manolo, " Carmen spoke in a stern voice. She sounds like Victoria, he thought. No wait, she sounds like her mother. His eyes widened. "You are acting like an old woman," she continued. "I am not dying! I am also not Mercedes. You are to understand that if the doctor says I have..."
"a chill," he supplied.
"Then that is all that is wrong with me. A chill. It is not life threatening, merely inconvenient."
"Yes, mi vida, whatever you say." his smile was warmer and more sincere this time. Her face relaxed and she allowed herself to sink into the pillows. "I will sleep on the couch, beloved, so that you can rest more quietly tonight," he suggested.
"You will do no such thing, Señor Montoya!" again the voice of Doña Dolores escaped from Carmen's mouth. "You will sleep beside me. We are man and wife and I will not have the hotel staff gossiping at our expense on our first night here. Do you understand?"
"Oh ho, do I have a choice?" What was this, the voice of his father from his lips? "Ay yi yi. All right, Señora Montoya. All right." He chuckled and nodded, leaning down to offer his bride a reassuring kiss on the lips, a kiss that turned rather more lengthy than he had intended. At last he extricated himself to prepare for bed.
"This is what Padre Sanchez meant by for better or worse, Manolito," she continued the lecture as he washed and changed into pajamas and robe. "This is worse. We shall also enjoy better. We have already enjoyed better, mi vida. I do not intend to die for a very long time. In fact, I suspect you will be the first to go."
"Oh you do, do you? I?"
"Without question. You are older. In the meantime, we are not going to live as if we are afraid to die, Manolito," she proclaimed. Chihuahua, I have never been accused of that before, he thought.
"Well, chiquita, all I can say is I hope you are right. I never want to lose you," he replied as he joined her in bed, giving her a light kiss on the cheek and scooting over to allow her room. I still cannot believe this woman is completely my own, he thought. Manolo, you do not deserve her. He felt her hand reach for his and he rolled onto his back to clasp it, bringing her fingers to his lips as they fell asleep side by side.
VKS & MJRod claim the creation of Carmen Navarro, although we took her first name from a David Dortort script proposal. We also are the creators of the Vargas clan , Rancho Navarro and its people including Delgado, and all of the characters in and around Hermosillo. We would have nothing to create were it not for our favorite western, "The High Chaparral," to which we pay tribute.