Broken Promises (11 page)

"You're kidding. Whatever for?"

"Maybe just to get a taste of your world."

"It's really pretty boring," Monique said. "There's nothing to do around here."

Tess laughed. "All teenagers think that wherever they are is the most boring place on the face of the earth. I know I did," she said, gathering her hair to the back of her head to braid.

Monique pursed her lips. "You weren't stuck in a place like
Navarre
."

"You're right," Tess said, making her way down the braid. "I was stuck in a logging camp."

"You
gotta
be kidding."

"No. In fact,
Navarre
was the kind of place I dreamed of going."

Dreamed of going with Zak, she wanted to say. She'd dreamed it since she was fourteen and first met Zak, and the dream continued until, three years later, when she was certain it would become a reality...

After completing the long braid that hung down her back, Tess sat on the side of the bed and laced up the dancing shoes, then thanked Monique for the use of her room and left. When she stepped into the living room, she found Zak and Pio alone. Zak wore the garb of a shepherd--a wide beret, homespun white shirt with a multi-colored sash, and baggy blue pants stuffed into high black boots. And Pio stood beside him, a miniature of his father.

"Will I do?" Tess asked.

Zak grinned and jiggled Pio's shoulder. "What do you think?"
 

Pio glared at Tess, and spat the words in Basque, "
Mama was prettier
." Backing toward the door, he turned, ran from the house and climbed into the truck.

"What was that all about?" Tess asked.

"He just misses his mother," Zak replied. "It's his first festival without her."

"And he obviously resented seeing me dressed the way his mother would have been," Tess said, and tried not to sound bitter.

"It will take time, but he'll adjust," Zak said. Before Tess could clarify if Zak meant that Pio would adjust to her being part of a Basque family in the form of his father's wife, or adjust to his mother's death, Zak said, "Marie already left. She'll be working one of the concession booths and wants us to come by, and I said we would." He scanned her closely then, and said, "Incidentally, you look beautiful... the way I always imagined you'd look."

"At least maybe I'll blend in with the crowd," Tess said, and hoped it would be so.

"Honey, you'll never blend in with any crowd," Zak said, "and that's meant to be a compliment."

Tess couldn't help smiling, and from the heat rushing up her face, she knew she was also blushing. Zak was the only man who ever made that happen. He was the only man who made a lot of things happen.

Zak peered down at her and said, "The look on your face right now... it reminds me of the way you looked after you won the pole climbing contest when you were fourteen."

"You couldn't possibly remember back then," Tess said. "What kind of look was it?"

"You were blushing then too." Zak winked at her, then opened the front door for them to leave. When they stepped outside, clouds had started to gather, threatening to block the sun, and by the time they found a place to park, the town was cloaked in gray. It was an
unseasonally
cold, blustery day, but in spite of the impending weather, people began forming into long chains for the snake dance. although Tess wore a sweater over her costume, Pio flatly refused to wear a jacket, so Zak let him have his way. Tess made a mental note to talk to Zak about being more assertive with Pio, but that would come another time.

"Look there," Pio said, pointing to the papier-mâché effigies of bulls being carried by shepherds dressed much as he. At once, the crowd began to join hands.

Zak reached for Pio. "Hold on tight," he said, while grabbing his hand and sandwiching the boy between him and Tess.

The snake took form, winding through the streets toward the town square, zigzagging through switchbacks of people, a kaleidoscope of faces and forms whirling by, first in one direction, then the other, the string of people twisting and winding like a serpent, then uncoiling in the town square where papier-mâché bulls exploded in a crescent of brilliant fireworks. Then the snake broke apart and everyone funneled towards the concession stands.

They found Marie standing behind a counter heaped with paper plates, napkins and plastic forks. Her
piperade
omelet bubbled on a griddle, and the aroma of bacon, tomatoes and spices rose with the steam curling from the eggs as they cooked. Pio looked expectantly at Marie, who lifted a wedge of omelet from the griddle, slipped it onto a plate, and said, "Here you are, Pio," while handing it to him. After Zak and Tess had finished their
piperade
, and were ready to go, Marie said to Zak, "Why don't you leave Pio with me so you can take Tess to the
Palombiere
."

Tess looked at her, curious.

"Place of Doves," Marie translated.

"The pub," Zak clarified. He glanced at Pio, who was looking up expectedly, and said, "If you're sure he won't be too much trouble."

"No trouble," Marie said. "He's my little helper." She rumpled Pio's hair, and Pio's smile broadened. "So it's settled. And I'll drop him off at your parents house later. Now go on."

At the
Palombiere
, a group of men stood huddled at the entrance under a wooden sign that displayed a white dove. As Zak and Tess approached, heads turned toward Zak. "Hey, Zak... de Neuville...
Yo
, Zak," voices called out, greeting Zak, who nodded to his friends as he nudged Tess through the door into the quaint old pub. They wove past scarred wooden tables and slid onto a long bench. Zak turned to acknowledge someone who clapped him on the shoulder, then waved to another who called to him across the room.

"You're a popular figure around here," Tess said, feeling like an outsider.

"I grew up in
Navarre
," Zak replied, "and so did most everyone here."

Tess sensed a deep camaraderie among the people. She also felt a vast cultural separation from them, even more so because she was dressed as one of them, yet she didn't understand their language, or identify with the kind of traditions that dictated who married whom, which seemed out of another century. She also felt eyes on her, like she were being assessed...

The low quiver of a drum accompanied by the faint sound of a flute, brought conversations to a halt. Zak leaned toward her, and said, "They're building up to the
Zamalzain
,
the dance of good against evil. It's a difficult dance. In order to do it right, the dancer has to start learning it when he's very young." He nudged her and pointed. "Look over there."

Across the room, a dancer dressed in rags and wearing a grotesque mask staggered onto the floor as if drunk. Moving with exaggerated motions, he shuffled his feet to the rising sounds of the flute and the insistent rhythm of the drum. Then someone set a glass of wine in front of the dancer and stepped back.

"He represents evil," Zak said. "When he dances, watch the wine glass. If it spills, evil's defeated and good wins out. Now the crowd will pick someone to represent good."

As Zak spoke, someone called out," Come on, de Neuville." He looked around and waved a negative hand. Someone tugged on his arm, and the crowd began to clap and shout in unison, "De Neuville, de Neuville, de Neuville." Several men dragged Zak from the bench, then one of them set a wine glass on the floor in front of him.

Zak nodded in resignation, then turned toward the masked dancer. His legs moving in time to the music of the flute, his upper body rigid, Zak faced the dancer across the filled wine glasses. He brushed the rim of the glass with his foot before executing a series of intricate steps around it, then backed away. The masked dancer approached his own glass, his feet moving above and around it, then backed off.
 
Zak again approached, this time executing steps so fast and close and intricate that his glass wobbled, yet remained standing.

As Tess watched, she realized how deeply Zak was ingrained with Basque culture. She saw it in the proud way he held his head as he performed the complex steps, and she sensed it in his regard for the traditions, and his resolve to hold onto their unique language, and his strong alliance to family...

Voices rose as the dance worked up to the climax. Then Zak suddenly leaped into the air, alighting on the rim of his glass, and as quickly, soared away. The glass rocked precariously, but didn't spill. The dancer of evil took his turn, landing firmly on the rim of his glass, but when he leaped away, the glass rocked and tumbled onto its side, spilling the wine.

The room reverberated with cheers and shouts. And Zak bowed to the crowd, flopped down on the bench beside Tess, and drank a long draft of beer. Then he mopped his brow with a wet towel that was passed down to him, and said to Tess, "That used to be easier. I think I'll teach Pio and let him take over from here." He turned to her and smiled. "So, how did I do?"

"You were amazing," Tess replied, knowing she'd always hold the scene in her mind, and in her heart. Then she looked at Zak and asked the question that had been hovering in her mind every since they arrived, and she saw how much the people of
Navarre
were a part of his life. "You're a biologist now, but your father sent you to
France
to learn about wine making and I imagine he still expects you to take over the winery some day. So how will you reconcile that?"

"I won't," Zak replied. "Pio's a part of my life now and I want what's best for him, which is growing up in
Navarre
. So as soon as I'm done with the eagle program, I'll be moving here so Pio can attend the Basque school." He looked at her steadily. "It's also where I want to raise a family." He took her hand then, and she didn't try to pull it away. Instead, she waited for him to tell her what was on his mind. She could tell there was more.

Lifting their clasped hands to his lips he kissed her knuckles, then fixed his eyes on hers, and said, "I told you I wanted to try to set things straight about what happened. I think the part I left out was... Although I married Mirande shortly after I got to
France
, it was a rebound marriage for both of us. She never stopped loving the man she'd been engaged to, and I never stopped loving you. We both knew it, and we both accepted it, and we thought we could make a life together in spite of it. When she got homesick and returned to
France
, I could have gone with her, but being together wasn't important to either of us, so I stayed here, and she stayed there. Pio was the only thing holding us together. I also knew, before I married her, that the only way you and I could be together would be if we turned our backs on our families and walked out of their lives. I was ready to do that with mine, but I couldn't let you do it with yours, no matter how much I hated your father at the time, because I knew it would become a wedge between us that would always be there. I guess the time just wasn't right for us. Does this make sense?"

Tess looked down at their clasped hands and nodded. "Yes, it makes sense." She looked at him then and said, "Do you still hate my father for what he did?"

Zak shook his head. "I came to terms with that years ago. If it had been my daughter I would have done the same thing. The only problem I have with your father now is the same problem I have with mine. They're both stubborn as hell. But it's the way they are, and they're not going to change. So then, can we try again?" he asked.

Tess looked beyond him to the group of men in berets at the next table, and the group of old women in head scarves, and the cloaked shepherd standing by the doorway, and said, "I don't know, Zak, this is a pretty close community. If you look around you'll see the way they're looking at me, like I'm a fraud trying to be one of them, and whenever I'd hear Basque spoken when I'm around I'd always wonder if they were talking about me. And your parents, especially your father, have made their position clear."

"Things are changing here," Zak said. "You've seen how Vince is, and Marie's daughter, too. I'll probably be facing the same thing with Pio when he gets into high school, but sending him to the Basque school will help preserve some of the old traditions, even if it's just an appreciation for his heritage. You'd have friends like Marie here. She took to you right away." Looking at her steadily, he said, "Honey, give me another chance."

Tess thought about the years after Zak left, when she'd waited, all the while wondering where he was and why he didn't return for her, then finally marrying a man she didn't love...

...honey give me another chance...

How could she not? She'd never stopped loving him, and she'd never stopped wanting him. She was still a little uncertain, though, about living under the same roof with Jean-Pierre de Neuville, and she wasn't sure she could live in a town where the people never accepted her, but maybe after some time had passed, things would work out.

Drawing in a long breath, she said, "I'll give
us
another chance, but until we can determine if it will really work, this time around it has to be substance and no sex."

The hint of a smile played about Zak's lips. "None at all?"