Cinderella in Overalls (12 page)

“Anywhere?” Her eyes sparkled and her lips curved in an enticing smile.

A rush of dizziness engulfed him, and he steadied himself by holding her arms. After weeks of living and working within a four-block radius, he had a desire to expand his horizon. “Anywhere,” he said.

They started down the avenue, past galleries filled with silver, pewter and antiques. They mingled with shoppers, workers and Indians dressed like Catherine and bureaucrats dressed like Josh. The sun was setting on the flatlands that surrounded the city, and a cool wind threatened to send Catherine’s hat flying. In front of the San Francisco Church at the end of the street, he stopped to take it off her head and smooth her hair. He longed to loosen the braid, to feel the masses of dark hair in his hands.

The stone-carved statue of Saint Francis in front of the church smiled benevolently, but they didn’t linger. Catherine took his hand and led him around the corner down an alley lined with small, elegant shops. In front of a store crammed with soft leather goods she paused.

“Have you ever been to a
peña
?” she asked.

He turned her hat on the palm of his hand. “I don’t think so. What is it?”

“An open-air restaurant with typical food and folk music. You’ve been in La Luz for a month and nobody’s taken you to a
peña
?” she asked incredulously.

“Nobody’s taken me anywhere... except to the Rodriguez Market. They told me I could find everything I needed there. They were right.’’ He gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. She folded her arms across her waist. Deliberately she tilted her head and surveyed his suit jacket. Her gaze lingered on his vest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It gets cold at the peña after the sun sets. You need a sweater.”

He opened the door for her to the brightly lighted shop, and they breathed deeply of the warm, earthy smell of leather.

“What about a jacket?”

“You’d buy a leather jacket just like that?”

“I need a leather jacket. I’ve always needed one. I just didn’t know it until now.”

Hearing this, an attentive clerk slipped up behind him and helped him remove his suit coat. His vest came off next. The first jacket he tried on was brown with wide shoulders and tucked in around the waist. It made him look like a World War One flying ace.

Catherine couldn’t stop staring. Where was the conservative banker, the one who ate at the same restaurant every night? She warned herself he was still there, just a breath away, under a layer of leather. But here was a man who was buying himself a jacket so he could go to a new restaurant. Here was a man who was taking a chance on a group of poor women on the strength of his intuition and her recommendation.

In a momentary panic she wondered what she’d started the day she had barged her way into his office. But it had begun before that. On the day he had walked up to her with mangoes in his hand and refused to bargain.

He was watching her face. “What’s wrong? Is it too casual?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t trust her voice. It was the warmth of the shop, the rich smell of leather, not the overwhelming desire to touch the jacket, to slide her hands inside and run her palms over the soft cotton of his button-down shirt across the flat planes of his chest, she told herself. He was waiting for her to answer.

“No, it’s fine, but...” She pulled him aside. “You can’t bargain here. The prices are fixed,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back, his lips brushing her ear. While the clerk wrapped up his suit coat and vest he noticed a rack of leather belts, and examined the workmanship. “Do you think Old Pedro would like one of these?” he asked Catherine.

She ran her fingers over the thick cowhide and looked up inquiringly.

“I saw he carried his tools in his pockets,” Josh said. “There’s a pouch for his tape measure and loops for his tin snips.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, she nodded. “Yes, I think he’d like it.”

He told the clerk to add the belt to his bill. After he paid, they left the shop and headed toward the
Peña Murilla
.

“Is it just a thank-you present?” Catherine asked, her hair loosened by the wind, curling in tendrils around her face. “Or were you thinking of asking him again to take you to the mine?”

He took her arm unconsciously and gripped it tightly. “I know there’s nothing there. But maybe I should try to go, anyway. Does that make sense?”

She nodded and her heart lifted. She didn’t say anything, but maybe the man was coming to grips with his heritage, after all.

Heads turned as they walked, for a second look at the tall man in the brown leather jacket and the beautiful hatless Mamara Indian woman at his side who walked with such easy confidence. Her braid was tossed to one side, her skirts were blown to show her ankles, and the wind had whipped color into her cheeks.

At the end of the street they opened a gate to the Peña Murillo. Under an arbor they sat next to each other at a long table lined with people where the food was served family style. Catherine passed platter after platter of stuffed pastries to the end of the table. She noticed that Josh ate everything that came his way. So far the peña was a success.

He set his fork down. “Did you notice that the people across from us are staring, wondering why someone who looks like you is with someone who looks like me?”

“You’re imagining things. People are here to eat and listen to the music. Besides you look fine.”

He grinned. “You look fine, too. Very fine.”

His blue eyes met her dark, long-lashed eyes, and from somewhere far away the faint sound of a wooden Indian flute came floating through the air. She wanted to turn to watch the musicians approach, but she was trapped in a trance, bound by Josh on one side and the haunting melody on the other.

She had heard this music before, but never had it touched her so deeply with its melancholy sweetness. When the flutist stopped, the spell was broken. Josh put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her close to him.

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” he whispered.

His breath was warm on her lips. The lights were dim. “There’s more,” she promised.

There was a many-stringed cousin to the guitar that sounded more mellow and softer than anything she’d ever heard, and after that a carved-out gourd sent out primitive vibrations through the air, filling her with a sweet sadness. Her fingers gripped Josh’s tightly, and from the pressure she knew he felt as she did.

When it was over, they sat without clapping, still holding hands. In a daze they moved to the exit and stood on the street again, gazing at the moon casting its silver glow on snowcapped Teregape. It took a few minutes for Catherine to return to reality.

Josh spoke first. “You told me it was a restaurant. You didn’t tell me it was an out-of-body experience.”

“It isn’t. I mean, it never was before. Everything was different tonight.” She looked around the empty alley. “We’ve got to go. I have to get home. Can I get my truck now?”

“No.”

“No? You said we’d check back later. You said your secretary was working on it.’’

“She was, but she isn’t anymore. She’s gone home. It’s too late for you to drive home alone on that road.”

The blood rushed to her head. “I told you I’ve driven trucks like that since...”

“Since you were fourteen years old. I know. But not tonight. Tonight I’m driving you home.”

She glared at him. “I suppose I ought to thank you. But I don’t feel much like it.”

He took her firmly by the elbow. “I understand. Naturally you’re disappointed.’’

“You could say that.”

They walked briskly in the direction of the bank. “You’ve gotten along for eighteen months without a truck. You can wait until tomorrow.”

“We don’t come to town until Thursday.”

“Okay, Thursday.”

“I should have waited for the transfer papers. I should never have left the bank without our truck. Is it our truck, or not?”

“Not. The bank holds the papers until the loan is paid off.” He looked at his watch. “That’ll be in about ten years. Until then I have to protect the bank’s interests. I don’t want the truck going off the road in the middle of the night before you’ve even made the first payment.”

They stopped abruptly in front of the bank, and she waited while he went to get his car from the parking lot. She paced back and forth, seething in anger. Her fingers itched to hold the steering wheel of the truck. She’d planned to drive up in front of Jacinda’s house in the morning and watch the children come running from all over the neighborhood. He didn’t trust her to get the truck back in the dark. He didn’t believe she was capable enough. But she was. She’d show him.

Josh drove out of the lot and around the front of the bank to pick her up. He could see by the set of her shoulders how angry she was, but he didn’t care. It was better to endure her resentment than to lie awake all night wondering if she’d made it back to Palomar. He reached across to fasten her seat belt. His arm grazed the tips of her breasts. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. Suddenly he thought of the music and the vibrations from the instruments humming in the night air and the feeling of her hand in his, and he wished he hadn’t spoiled the mood. But he’d had no choice. He could tell by her icy silence that he’d convinced her that his first concern was the truck. Now if only he could convince himself of that.

Where had he gone wrong? When had this ceased to be a business transaction and become a personal matter? Was it the first day at the farm riding behind her on the horse with the warm sun shining on her hair? No, it was before that. It was that day in the market when he stood in front of her and paid too much for the mangoes. Since the first moment he’d seen her she’d had that effect on him. Of undermining his better judgment.

If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have made this risky loan. His dream of finding the silver mine would have remained a dream. His private dream. There was something about her that caused him to do things he had no business doing. What was it? Her earthy sensuality? Her idealism? Her relentless optimism?

He glanced sideways at her profile. The purity of the outline of her cheek touched him somewhere deep within himself and resolutely he turned his attention back to the road ahead. From now on he would keep his dreams to himself, his loans to a minimum and his mind on his work.

An evening like this, of music and vibrations and the nearness of Catherine, was enough to pull him off course, to distract him from his goals. He was here to do a job, to help this country and to help himself rise to the top of his profession. He wouldn’t be led astray as his father was by romantic dreams of riches buried in the ground. There were riches to be had, yes, but they came from years of hard work.

Catherine didn’t sleep on the way home. It hurt to realize how little confidence Josh had in her, both in her ability to drive and her ability to pay back the loan. Well, she’d show him. They’d work so hard they’d pay off the loan in five years. Of course, she wouldn’t be around in five years, but she’d be sure they were well on their way by the time she left. If it was the last thing she did. It just might be.

When they reached her little house, she gave him a curt goodbye and a reminder they’d be in Thursday for the truck. Catherine felt guilty for treating him rudely, but her pride wouldn’t let her relent.

The next day she told the women about the truck. They were excited, but not as excited as they were about Doña Blanca’s daughter’s engagement to Jacinda’s youngest son. The young man had come home from the mines over the weekend with a month’s salary in one hand and a ring in the other. Jacinda was pleased with the dowry and quickly gave her blessing, perhaps partly because the bride was already three months pregnant.