Chapter 34

Settled on the porch of the tavern, sipping a glass of barley water, Luz was deeply lost in thought.

The good news of that morning was that the doctor had declared her fit enough to resume a minimum of activity, even though he frowned a little at seeing her already back in town the very day after she regained consciousness.

But the cut on her thigh was clean, neat and on the path of healing. The doctor could only approve of the use of the cane, and his only reservations concerned the state of her left shoulder, still very painful though she tried to minimise it. He wasn't too happy either to see her roam the streets while tiredness still lay in wait for her, but she made him the same promise as to Don Alejandro: she would spend the afternoon in bed, and would try to sleep until supper.

Squinting at some nothingness before her eyes, Luz intensified her thoughts: she now had a decision to make that would affect her life for the coming few years. She had probably not to decide right away, but should do so in the coming weeks.

The padre was a pleasant and kind man, open-minded and, icing on the cake, he seemed to have an interest in some of the natural sciences – she had seen on one of his bookshelves several volumes of Buffon's Histoire Naturelle.

The mission, although small, was well run and organised. But the increasing number of children attending the mission school made the task difficult for the padre.

The pueblo itself was small, but as she had told her hosts just the day before, she found its people welcoming. And by far, the friendliest and most accommodating of those she had met so far was Don Alejandro, a most charming host who welcomed her under his roof as if she was some relative to him, while he absolutely didn't have to, while he didn't know her and expected nothing from her.

Kindness itself, she thought. Selflessness itself.

His son too had taken good care of her, although she sensed in him much more reserve than in his father. A question of temperament, surely. Besides Don Alejandro had pointed it out himself: Don Diego liked his privacy and keeping to himself a few hours a day, which she could absolutely understand: after all, she too was a bit like that herself. And even more since she was alone and had come to live in the colonies.

Yes, privacy and quiet were good, not feeling observed, gauged, judged, forced to play an act and make small talk, keeping a bit to oneself and to one's passions a few hours a day felt good. The tricky part of it, the sword of Damocles that constantly hung over her and surely over Señor de la Vega too, was not to shut oneself away into it. Passions were often poor counsellors in relationships to others.

But Don Diego had been very civil and helpful, even sociable, ever since she met him the day before. Which was admittedly a bit short to judge a character, but she had already been able to judge his erudition and was delighted to have found here someone with whom she could talk and discuss topics that truly interested her and made her look strange – at best – or eccentric in the eyes of the people she has met and socialised with since she set foot in California. Or in the Americas in general. In brief, since she left her usual circle of acquaintances in Barcelona.

More than ever, she knew that this incursion in the Americas would be just an interlude, an intermission, and that she would go back to the homeland one day, that she'd return to Barcelona in a few years. But not right now. She wasn't ready yet.

The war back there had ended the year before, certainly, but immediate post-war times were always filled with settlings of scores of all kinds, revenges or personal interests taking advantage of the general movement to get satisfied with complete impunity. She didn't want this atmosphere any more than she wanted the one which had led her to leave Barcelona.

And she had then left Ciudad de Mexico that was still quiet but around which throbbed several hotbeds of an insurgency turning into an independentist yet conservative revolution, to live in a more peaceful California. Still peaceful, but until when?

For the moment, and even though the intellectual and cultural life here had nothing in common with those of the big cities she had known, lived and grown up in, she didn't intend to leave right then.

And getting back to her immediate considerations, the pueblo de Los Angeles seemed welcoming, and taking part – even moderately so – in developing its inhabitants' spirit of openness and intellectual curiosity could be interesting. Even if it meant first and foremost going back to the most basic knowledge, and spreading it...

Yes, Los Angeles seemed a pleasant place, and its people seemed charming and hospitable. Particularly the de la Vegas. As well as this very obliging corporal and this sergeant who had just led her to the stables when, departing slightly from the promise she made to Don Alejandro, she had taken a detour through the cuartel between the mission and the tavern, because she wanted to check on her horse again.

Only señorita Escalante left her still a little puzzled. She didn't know what to expect from her. To Luz, she seemed a bit temperamental, sometimes charming and pleasant, sometimes cold and aloof, as if she didn't know herself how to behave toward Luz. Oh well, the latter reflected, señorita Escalante had a changing mood, like everyone else, depending on her level of tiredness and her workload, that was all!

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So, this woman was already back in her establishment, Victoria thought bringing señorita Alacen her glass. She was apparently waiting for Don Diego who she was to meet here, according to what she told Victoria. She had accompanied him to the pueblo, or was it the other way round? Anyway, they apparently came together, and just the two of them. Without either Don Alejandro or Felipe, or any other servant to accompany them.

Just the day before, the two of them didn't even know each other, and now they seemed to be as thick as thieves! Apparently they were like joined at the hip. Well, now that's what's called a sudden feeling!

But she was maybe getting a bit ahead of herself by calling it feeling. After all Don Diego was a very courteous man who was duty-bound to take care of his father's guests. How far would he take this sense of duty, that was the question. Where did this duty end, and where did the pleasure begin, that was another question worming insidiously its way in Victoria's spirit...

Not that it was any of her business, nor even of her concerns from a purely personal point of view, but well, she liked Don Diego and this man was sometimes too kind, not wary enough... a bit naive, in a word. And certainly even more so toward women.

Because to be honest, let's face it, Don Diego had a priori only little experience of dating, flirtation and games of seduction, and he certainly wasn't wary enough of those that a woman could deploy toward him.

It was probably all because of his broken heart, in the aftermath of his star-crossed love affair with Zafira when he was still in Spain, and his being left at the altar due to events beyond their control and their desire to marry each other...

Or perhaps his secret obsession for a mysterious local woman whose heart was already taken was to blame for his lack of experience in romantic relationships... How sad, Victoria reflected, but since he was so sure that she – whoever she was – would never love him back, then he really should kiss this hopeless one-sided love goodbye – figuratively, of course – and move on with his life: he couldn't spend the rest of his life sighing for a woman who apparently didn't deserve him, since she hardly noticed his existence and his personal qualities!

Yes, he'd much better move forward to give himself a chance to be happy even so... and perhaps, precisely, had he lately made this very decision? Hence the current situation, now that he had crossed paths with someone who was a bit like him.

On the one hand, Victoria didn't want to see him unhappy, wasting his life pining for an unattainable woman. But on the other hand, she was concerned that a maybe not very scrupulous woman could one day take advantage of this kind man, too kind, too malleable, too... ingenuous, so to speak. Victoria therefore felt duty-bound to protect him, against the world and perhaps even against himself; she truly did, even though his usual apathy had the knack of getting on her nerves and gave her an almost irrepressible urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a rag doll until he shows some reaction.

God, this man could be annoying, sometimes! But he was her friend, and one always had to watch one's friends' back. Even against their will. So she made herself the promise to keep an eye on this señorita Alacen, apparently charming and well-mannered – and educated, on top of that! – but who, without Victoria being able to put her finger on why, awoke in her a very slight sense of alarm as soon as she was with Don Diego.

Yes, Victoria thought inwardly, in addition to being a gentle and kind man, Diego de la Vega was mainly – and even above all – a rich man, or at least he would be one day, as late as possible! In the meanwhile, he was a rich heir promising a pleasant and idle life to any gold digger who'd succeed in getting her hooks into him, as well as a prestigious name and a network of powerful connections and acquaintances to anyone who was trying to climb the social ladder.

Don Diego was really fair game, a prized prey at husband hunting, and as long as he had shown no interest in the women around him there was no need to worry for him. But if now the situation changed... if he no longer persisted in his self-imposed bachelorhood...

Yes, since he was certainly unable to keep an eye open for himself, someone would have to do it for him. Unbeknownst to him, and perhaps even against him. But it was for his own good. Strictly out of sheer friendship...