Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (16 page)

CHAPTER THREE

MARTA DANCED AROUND HER SMALL QUARTERS HUMMING 
a tune she'd heard on Señora Rodriguez's phonograph earlier that day. Normally, giving up her free evening to work was an annoyance she didn't like to give into, but tonight was different. Two months had passed since Marta had last seen Antonio. She flitted around now, excited at the prospect of seeing him again. 
Tonight
. Yes, tonight their lives would be changed forever.

The late afternoon sun sent rays of light through her window, making the hut feel less dim. Pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus hung on the walls. She turned away from Christ on the cross hanging over her bed and her stomach sank. The guilt stung her, knowing that she was living a life of sin by continuing a sexual relationship with Antonio outside of marriage vows. But she knew in her heart that their love was far deeper than simply lying together. They loved each other deeply. And how could God frown on that? He would forgive her. 
Especially now
. She crossed herself.

She looked around the room she'd shared with her roommate Josefina for the last two years, since she was fifteen. It was worn with time, but they had done their best to fix it up, putting down bright colored rugs and drapes they'd sewn for the windows. The servant quarters sat below one of the cliffs on the north side of the estate. The village was not large and the Rodriguez vacation villa stood out on top of the hill overlooking the coastline. There were some smaller huts close to the beach and a restaurant that serviced the area where many of the workers from the estate would get together in the evenings for camaraderie. There was only one way in and one way out of the area, and it was by boat.

The villagers would take pongas in to Costa Careyes for supplies on a daily basis. The trip down the coast lasted about forty-five minutes. If Señor Rodriguez or his wife wanted to return to their main home in the city, they were taken by luxury yacht. They stayed in their vacation home usually about half of the month, but lately Señora had been staying the entire month to help take care of her dying father-in-law, who preferred the vacation home.

Marta cared deeply for Señora Rodriguez because the woman was compassionate and because she took an interest in both her and Josefina as human beings rather than simply servants.

Marta would miss La Señora when she left, but the knowledge of coming to visit her on Antonio's arm filled her, knowing that they would talk like old friends — knowing that no longer would she be on the level of a servant and that there would no longer be a need to hide their friendship from Señor Rodriguez. And like Señora Rodriguez, Marta knew she would be able to wear the finest jewels, along with the best clothes. She would have the best, like her 
friend
, Señora Rodriguez, and she would soon be able to call her Cynthia.

Marta went over to her dresser and mirror, to pick up the silver brush Antonio had brought to her on his last visit. He was always so gracious and giving. The soft bristles moving through her long hair, reminded her of Antonio's graceful fingers running through it. Oh how she loved that, and she loved the fact that within a few hours she would be telling her lover the exciting news. She knew his eyes would shine brightly with pride and pleasure. Hopefully the baby would look like him, a son — a boy would mean everything to him. A son to solidify their love.

Oh! And how shocked her parents would be when they learned that their daughter, the one who had fled their home in shame and fear, was married to a great man like Antonio Espinoza. Certainly they'd want to be a part of her life then. But they did not have the right anymore. She had a new family, one she was creating, and one she would love with a fierceness and the protection her parents had denied her. She would soon prove to them and the rest of the world that she was destined to be far more than a lowly servant.

The middle child of three, Marta had always felt like the odd one. The other two were boys, which automatically made them worth more in the eyes of her family and her culture. Her parents never paid much attention to her, unless they were taking the time to tell her how stupid and useless she was.

She recalled with vividness the day she'd left home — her 
quincieñera
, her fifteenth birthday. It was tradition and although her parents didn't have much use for her, they did like parties. And she knew that, if anything, it would be a good excuse for them to visit with family and friends to drink large quantities of beer and wine. Marta had known that it wouldn't be a fancy party like those who had wealth and prestige. Yet she looked forward to it, like most girls in Mexico did. It symbolized the crossing over from a child into womanhood.

But when the time came and there was no party, no celebration of her most special birthday, Marta tearfully questioned her grandmother, who had no choice but to tell her the truth.

“Oh Mija, I knew one day you would need to be told, and now it happens that it is on the day that should be most special in your life.” The older woman reached her gnarled hands out and stroked the ends of Marta's hair.

Marta shrank back, not liking the sadness in her grandmother's voice. She had been the one person to love her throughout her life, never bullying or belittling.

“I told your mother I thought it was wrong to ignore this day, no matter the circumstance of your conception.”

“I don't understand.”

“Sit down closer to me.” Her grandmother patted the side of her creaking old bed. Marta did as she was told. Her grandmother sighed, the lines around her eyes deepening and her lips tightened. “Your Papa is not truly your father.” Marta felt her mouth drop open, not totally understanding the words she was hearing. But soon the picture became clear. “Your mother suffered a great tragedy at the hands of an enemy of your papa's when he took her dignity away. You were born nine months later.”

Her grandmother went on to explain, but to Marta it was a jumble of words. She understood dignity and enemies and the significance of nine months. Her grandmother went on to say something about her papa being a good Catholic and vowing to raise Marta as his own. It was so apparent now why the ambivalence and, at times, anger was harshly directed at her from her parents. She was evil in their eyes. Created from evil.

“I must go,” she heard herself say to her grandmother. “Now that I know this, I cannot stay here. They will see that you have told me and they will treat me even more harshly.”

The old woman nodded and handed her a small amount of money, likely all that she had. Kissing her grandmother on her weathered cheek, she thanked her for the gift of both the money and the truth and gathered her few belongings. She then left the only home she'd known.

She discovered through a friend that the Rodriguez family was hiring servants at that time, and so she made her way to the great rancho and hacienda where she pleaded for the job and was hired to work at the villa on the coast. She was taken out by ponga and had been on the small stretch of beach for two and a half years now.

Antonio entered her life a year ago when he came to the villa to meet with Señor Rodriguez on business. He took her aside one night and told her how beautiful she was. Smitten with him from that moment on, he soon consumed her every waking thought.

Now, as she donned her pressed uniform, the one reserved for parties, Marta heard the engines of Señor Rodriguez's yacht approaching. She knew that Antonio was on the boat. The thrill of the coming evening with Antonio caused her to fumble with the buttons on her blouse. Tonight in her lover's arms, she planned to tell him the wonderful news. News that she'd been keeping locked tightly inside for an entire month, except for telling her roommate and friend Josefina.

Josefina came out of the bathroom, pulling her hair back.

“Today is the day, Josefina. I will see Antonio tonight and tell him about the baby. Soon I will leave this place and we will be married.” She twirled around.

“You are a hopeless romantic,” Josefina said.

“Hopeless or not, I am carrying Antonio Espinoza's child,” she replied.

A pounding at the door interrupted the two friends. Marta ran to it, hoping it would be Antonio. Maybe he had been thinking of her and needed to see her before the party. Could it be that he knew of her circumstances? That his intuition told him of her need and the child growing inside her?

To Marta's dismay it was only their boss, Lupe. “Come. The guests are arriving and Señor Rodriguez wants us out front,” she ordered, hands planted on her hips, not a smile to be found on her aged face.

Tonight's fiesta was a special one. Señor Rodriguez was hosting a celebration in honor of his wife, having recently found out that she too, was with child.

Marta bounced out of the room and kissed Lupe on the cheek, which the old woman wiped away at once. “What has gotten into you?” she asked.

“Let me say that this is the happiest day of my life.”

“You are an odd girl. This wouldn't have anything to do with Señor Espinoza, would it?” Lupe's face darkened.

Marta wondered momentarily why the scowl, but dismissed it and giggled when Josefina interrupted, “Why, of course not. Where would you get an idea like that?"

The two younger women grabbed hands and breezed past Lupe, heading to the courtyard garden.

The garden was filled with flowers the color of passion fruit as servants busied themselves placing platters of food on the large, elegantly decorated tables. A waterfall in the center of the adobe tiles sprayed out crystalline drops of cascading water.

As the guests arrived, Marta served hors d'oeuvres. At one point in the early evening, while searching for Antonio, she caught a glimpse of one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen.

The woman evidenced a grace that no other woman possessed at the party. She wore a flowing chiffon dress that matched her light green eyes. The dress covered what Marta knew a dress would soon be covering on her — an expanding midriff. She couldn't help smiling at the sight of this woman with child. Even in the woman's late pregnant state, she was dazzling. Her honey streaked hair glistened in the last rays of the afternoon sun. She looked like the women Marta had seen in the fashion magazines Señora Rodriguez looked at from the United States and Spain.

Turning to pick up a tray of drinks, she spotted Antonio. Her heart surged. Maybe she should approach him right there and tell him she was carrying his child, but it would be wiser to wait until they were alone. The least she could do was serve him a drink.

Walking toward him with a tray full of drinks, including his favorite drink of tequila and orange juice, she witnessed a small child run up to him. He stooped down, and the little girl threw her arms around his neck. Behind the girl stood the woman she'd been admiring, her hands resting on her widening waistline. The woman leaned over and patted the child on the shoulder while whispering something in her ear. The girl kissed the woman on the cheek, and then went off chasing after a group of children. The scene mesmerized Marta, but something inside her began to ache right in the center of her chest. After the little girl ran off, Antonio pulled the woman in close to him and kissed her, long and hard, exactly in the way that he had kissed Marta on so many nights.

Marta dropped the tray of drinks. They crashed onto the tile floor. She felt the gaze of partygoers upon her. A silence fell as she bent down, struggling to clean up the glass. 
Please don't look at me. No, please do not see me. God, save me from this moment.

As if he'd read her mind, Antonio's eyes locked onto Marta's. She tried to divert her attention back to the mess. Biting back the tears was pure torture. As soon as her mind fully processed what she'd seen, the lump in her throat swelled, constricting her every breath.

Lupe jolted her with a cruel reminder of her actual station in life. “Clean up this mess, you ignorant girl.”

Unable to control her emotions any longer, Marta fled the party, her vision distorted by confusion and tears. When she reached her room, the tears rushed forth. 
My God, he is married. Married. He has a child, maybe more than one.
 How? Why? Their love was a lie. It had never been real for him. Nausea overtook her, reminding her of the child growing within
 her
 womb. 
A bastard child.
 She would never tell Antonio of the baby. Her child deserved far better than a father who spouted deceit as naturally as if he were the devil himself.

Lying on her bed and staring at the painting of 
The Last Supper
, Marta knew this was the harsh truth. It was not a bad dream. It was an unfortunate reality, and all of it constructed by a man she'd planned to dedicate her life to. How could he have looked at her the way he had? How could he have held her in his arms? Made love to her? Told her that they would be together soon? Lies. Nothing but lies.

The pleasant thoughts that had danced in her head only hours before dissolved when she looked into his eyes at the fiesta. The truth painfully revealed there. He could no longer hide behind his lies.

She'd forget him. She had to. Antonio Espinoza would mean nothing. Forget his face, eyes, words, touch, all of it. A life grew inside her and she realized she had to find a new way to live for herself, and 
her
child. One in which this man would not exist for either of them. Regardless of everything else, she would love the child for what she knew it to be — a blessing from God. Decisions had to be made. Where to go? Where would she begin this new life? How would she get there? How would she provide for herself and her baby? Clearly, she could not stay here.