Three Wishes (9 page)

“He deserved it,” I put in, eager for the family not to blame me. “He scared me.”

“I don’t doubt it. Adalia thought that must be the case. But he didn’t do it on purpose. Javier would never scare a girl on purpose.”

I wasn’t so sure she was right about that. Clearly, she had a sort of hero-worship thing going on with her Big Bro.

“But Frani thinks that that just helped pique his interest,” she yammered on, making it clear that the girls had had quite the gab-fest about me, which came as a surprise. While Estrella was a chatterbox, the older two girls were fairly quiet, especially Adalia. I’d decided she was still grieving, as well as shy. “Just like Frani said, he likes to keep us guessing,” Estrella was saying. “The girls who fall all over him never keep his interest. And every girl in the last year has done everything she could to try and catch his eye. You,” she said, leaning forward excitedly, “are the first to make him stare.”

“You’ve read too many novels, my young friend,” I said, quickly rising and straightening my skirts. I didn’t like how her words made my heart pound. Worse, how I liked hearing them.

“Never,” she grinned happily, her round cheeks betraying two deep dimples. The thought finally got her off the subject of Javier. “I don’t suppose you brought any books with you…”

“I’m afraid not. I only arrived with that dress, and a special treasure, in hand.” I bent to fold my nightshirt on the bed and then placed it in my chest. “Javier said he’s keeping my treasure for me in his safe. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, pouring water from the pitcher into the basin. “In the library.”

“Is it quite secure?” I asked, picturing big old black safes in the spaghetti Westerns my abuela had loved. “Can anyone open it for me, other than him?”

“No,” she said, turning to take a towel from her waistband and offer it to me. “Don’t fret, Señorita Ruiz. It is the best safe in all of Alta California. Papá had it brought to us, special, from the East. Your treasure will be safe.”

“Good, good,” I said, pretending relief. I obediently bent over the makeshift sink and washed my face, then took the small towel from her hands to dry it. Then I used the damp towel to rub over the back of my neck and hands.
I guess sponge-baths are the way to go around here
…

“Can you show me around the rancho after breakfast, Estrella?”

“Of course. But it’s pretty much like every rancho you’ve ever been on. Just bigger and nicer.” She sounded kind of bored, like most kids in their own homes.

“I’ve never been on a rancho before. At least, that I can remember.”

She glanced back at me in confusion, but I didn’t try and explain.

I followed her along the hall and down a tiled staircase that turned at a forty-five-degree angle halfway down, widening and spilling into the front receiving foyer. The walls of the hallway and main rooms of the house were a brick-red rough adobe, with white plaster on the high ceiling between exposed beams that looked hand-cut.
Well, duh, Zara,
I told myself.
Of course they’re hand-cut.
Everything about this part of the world, in this time, was the product of hard manual labor. Only the fabric of our gowns was made somewhere back East or in Mexico, I assumed, and imported by ship.

It was as if I could really
see
it all this morning, whereas last night my head was spinning so much, I could barely take in the basics. In the main sitting room at the bottom of the stairs—the library—there were men talking and laughing, and as we passed, I saw Javier and two young men leaning over what looked like a yellowed map spread across a table, its edges curling.

One looked up at me. He was tall and thin and angular, everything about him elegant, I registered, in a clean, black coat, crisp white shirt, and tie. How did anyone stay that clean here, in this land of dust, without showers and washers?

“Who is that with Javier?” I whispered to Estrella, as we paused a moment.

“Oh, that is his friend, Rafael Vasquez, the youngest son on Rancho Vasquez, near Santa Barbara. He’s always up here, trading on behalf of his family.” She gave me an impish grin. “He’s taken notice of you, too.”

“I don’t need any more notice,” I grumbled as Javier straightened and followed Rafael’s gaze to give me a piercing, searching, curious look that made my pulse immediately pick up speed. I hurriedly pushed Estrella onward. We moved down the hall, and I checked out the tall, substantial doors of each room, carved in simple but pleasing patterns, but my head was frustratingly back on Javier.

He’s just another obstacle in your path, Zara,
I told myself sternly.

I was used to Obstacles in my own neighborhood looking my way, trying to flirt with me at school. Or in the restaurant, after I played my guitar or served them a particularly delicious meal. More handsome Obstacles at the beach, when I went swimming. But I’d never had time for any of them. They were just boys. And I was a girl with a dream. Of college. Of studying science and the weather. Of finding my way toward a full, adventurous life. To love. A family of my own. I’d seen more than enough teen girls, saddled with a baby, the result of being with boys they thought they loved…boys who disappeared as soon as it Got Serious. No, I was waiting for love, the man who would help me accomplish my dreams, not become an Obstacle, keeping me from them.

It would take
true
love,
forever
love, before any guy was getting anywhere close to my heart.

And this place? It was temporary. No
forever
for me here.

I just had to find my way home.

CHAPTER 6

I noted a music room, a small chapel and a closed door on our way to the dining hall. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace at the far end, chasing away the morning’s chill. As much as I wanted to go to it, it was clear we were to wait by our chairs for the men to join us for breakfast. Doña Elena stood across from me in another immaculate black dress—how long would she and Adalia wear mourning gowns?—and Estrella and Mateo on either side of her. I hadn’t really talked to fifteen-year-old Mateo yet; he seemed very quiet and subdued, but he gave me a brief, shy smile along with a gentle “Buenos días.” Adalia and her baby sat at the head of the table, where she had more room to feed him. Francesca and Jacinto flanked me, leaving the end of the table for Javier and his visitors, I assumed.

“Did you sleep well, Señorita Ruiz?” Doña Elena asked, as servants brought in heaps of scrambled eggs and piles of fresh tortillas and stood waiting for everyone to be seated. The men entered the dining room then, as if they’d smelled the food. Álvaro, the little, chubby baby, squawked angrily, as if smelling it too. Adalia bent to shush him, but I saw the flash of her smile.

“I slept well,” I returned. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Gentlemen, you know my family,” Javier said, “but allow me to introduce our guest, Señorita Ruiz. She will be staying with us for a while as she recuperates from an injury.”

Rafael Vasquez edged over to me and took my uninjured hand in his, bowing to give it a quick kiss. “Please tell me it shall be a
long
while, Javier,” he said, never releasing my hand or gaze.

“Oh, I quite doubt it,” I returned, forcing a demure smile. “I must be on my way at the earliest opportunity.” The other man, named Patricio Casales, gave me a happy nod and waited his turn to take my hand. While Rafael was all smooth movement, like a star dancer, Patricio was like an exuberant puppy.

“What is your rush, dear woman?” Patricio asked, helping me scoot my chair farther in as Javier and Rafael took their seats. “This is one of the finest ranchos in all of Alta California. You would be hard-pressed to find better accommodations.”

“Unless, of course, you chose to sojourn on Rancho Vasquez,” interjected Rafael, nodding my way as a maid poured steaming coffee into his cup. “An invitation that I hope you shall accept, my lady, if your host proves…difficult.”

Javier’s eyes shifted toward him for a second. Did I read irritation in his expression? But he only sat back as the maid moved on to fill his cup and then Patricio’s. Javier glanced my way then, casually lifting his cup. “By all means, you should visit Rancho Vasquez and witness for yourself the second-best rancho in Alta California.”

Rafael smiled good-naturedly over the jibe. After all, he’d baited his host, but it didn’t take a weather expert to feel the cooling mist move in among the men.

“Forgive them, Señorita,” Patricio said. “It is rare for us to have a female guest at any of the ranchos, and such a beautiful guest tends to make my friends…contentious.”

I gave him a grateful smile. He was round-faced and yet strong, with the shadow of a beard clinging to his curved cheeks. But I liked his tone, his demeanor, utterly lacking in the competition that the other two seemed all tied up in. He was pure, friendly gentility.

The men began to speak of the ships that had just left and who was due in the following week. The rest of us dived into our breakfast, which included fresh oranges. I’d glimpsed a vineyard on the way in, but there were also orchards? I lifted a segment on my fork and leaned toward Francesca. “There is an orchard on Rancho Ventura?”

“Indeed,” she said primly. “We raise apples and oranges. Even some tangerines. The ship captains pay a pretty penny for them, when Mamá allows them to leave our storerooms.”

Doña Elena let a small, proud smile tickle her lips and stabbed a juicy bite, leaning down the table to hand it to her gleeful grandson, who immediately stuffed it into his mouth. “They are good for the bones, as well as the blood.”

“The sailors want them to avoid scurvy, of course,” Jacinto said earnestly.
“Scurvy makes them so ill they can barely walk!”

“I’ll show you the orchards when we go out later this morning,” Estrella said to me excitedly, her cheeks dimpling.

Javier shifted in his seat down the table. “You intend to go out today?”

“Is that not allowed?” I said. I thought his tone odd. “Estrella offered to give me a tour of the rancho.”

“Why wander about?” he asked, sipping from his cup. “I thought you didn’t intend to tarry long.”

“Yes, well,” I said, “as long as I’m here…I’d love to see what your family has built.”

He visibly took this in and seemed oddly miffed. Because he thought me nosy? Or still considered me some sort of potential spy—for who, exactly? Or because he regretted he wouldn’t be my escort? I had no idea. I really couldn’t figure him out. I just seemed to agitate him at every turn.

“I can go with you,” Francesca offered.

“You must see to your chores first,” Doña Elena said to her daughters. “Then you may go.”

“I’ll help,” I said. “We’ll be twice as fast together.”

But Estrella frowned. She shook her head. “Oh no, Señorita Ruiz. It’s improper for a woman of your age, and a guest of this house, to do such a thing.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but with one look at Francesca and Doña Elena—so similar in their prim, grand countenance—I took a bite of egg instead. As I chewed, my mind whirled. So I was supposed to just sit around and look pretty? It’d be impossible. All my life, I had worked from sunup to sundown. In the restaurant. At school. Back at the restaurant after school. At the county shelter, feeding the homeless, cleaning, cooking. In Abuela’s apartment. My only break had been my early morning runs or late night swims. The prospect of having nothing to occupy my time but thoughts of home…

No. I’d have to find something to do. Maybe our tour today would give me some ideas.

The men talked among themselves, occasionally drawing in each of the children or Adalia or Doña Elena into the discussion but clearly avoiding me. It was as if none of them knew what to ask me for openers, which was fine by me. It left me clear to just observe the connections between them all, here an intimacy, there a friction. It was like watching the hundred-plus families that had come to eat at my abuela’s restaurant, ignoring me as I served beyond a few curious glances. When we were done eating, we all waited. It was only when Doña Elena set down her fork that Javier said, “Mamá?”

She waved at him in dismissal, and all three young men rose at once. I liked his deference toward his mother. Asking to be excused, in his own way. It made me feel like he couldn’t be all bad, despite the way he unnerved me.

Servants came and cleared our plates, and eventually the rest of us rose and followed the men out. Only Patricio looked my way as he exited, casting me a playful two-fingered salute. Estrella and Francesca walked out with me, and I glimpsed the young men leaving through the front door. Apparently, they were free to do as they wished, and they had plans. Adalia, who seemed to be kind of depressed, carried the fussy Álvaro up the stairs, apparently to change his diaper or put him down for a nap.

“Here,” Estrella said, taking my arm. Francesca followed behind us. “You can wait in here for us to be done with our chores.” She led me into a sprawling library, with the embers of a morning fire dying in the hearth and a strong shaft of sunlight streaming through the open window. On one side of the room a towering bookcase held hundreds of leather-bound volumes. Beside it stood a wide desk and two chairs. Several melting candles were at its center, under glass hurricanes. And the safe had to be behind the massive oil painting behind it…I stepped toward it as if called, knowing my golden lamp was inside.