Cinderella in Overalls (14 page)

Maybe he was called away to speak to another client. She thought of going to the receptionist and asking to speak to him, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ready. But she was ready on the next trip. She’d had time to memorize her speech.

“You were right,” she’d say. “There was no reason to drive home in the middle of the night. I was so excited about the truck I wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank you for taking me to dinner and thank you for wanting to help us.”

Then they would shake hands and it would clear the air. Then the potatoes would start growing again and the berries would ripen on schedule and everything would be right with the world. But he wasn’t there. The other man who was handling their account was there and spoke to them. Catherine looked around the lobby from the telephone to the receptionist, but she left without asking for Josh.

When he didn’t appear on the next two market days, Jacinda took time out from wedding talk to broach the subject with Catherine on the way home.

“I have not seen Señor Bentley lately,” she said casually. “Not since the day you and he exchanged sharp words in the stall.”

“Really?” Catherine’s tone was light, but her knuckles were white as her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Yes, really,” Jacinda answered firmly. “Have you?”

Catherine wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “I don’t think so”

Jacinda watched her negotiate a steep turn. “You know what we say in Spanish.”

Catherine braced herself for a barrage of wise sayings that Jacinda kept on hand for every occasion. “What’s that?”

“A woman without a man is like a garden without a fence.”

Catherine shifted as she headed down a steep grade. “Who needs a fence? Not me. If ever I find a man, it will be one who doesn’t fence me in. And what about you? You’re not fenced in.”

Jacinda clicked her tongue. “We are discussing your life, not mine. Mine is nearly over. Yours is just beginning. Now I heard that in your country you do not use a matchmaker. You marry for love, and yet so many divorces! My girls are all well married, and now my last son is about to become a husband and a father, all thanks to my help. And I will not rest until I have done the same for you.”

Catherine sighed. “Jacinda, I appreciate what you want to do, but-”

The old woman put her hand on Catherine’s arm. “Do not thank me until your engagement is announced.”

“But I told you-”

“That he was not interested in weddings, but you were wrong. He is coming to the wedding. That is a good sign.”

“I think I told you I was only interested in the money he could lend us,” Catherine said gently.

Jacinda yawned and leaned her head back. “I know. But love is the fruit of marriage. That you are interested in something about him is another good sign. A good beginning.” She closed her eyes to indicate that the conversation was over, and the smile that lingered on her lips showed her satisfaction in having the last word.

The week before the wedding skies were cloudy, while excitement rose to a crescendo. Catherine was relieved to see that the women didn’t ignore the harvest. They picked tomatoes all day and sewed a quilt for Magdalena in the evenings around the table in Catherine’s kitchen. Profits increased. Every time they went to the bank they watched the numbers in the bank book rise. Josh would have been proud of them if he had been there, but he wasn’t. Señor Duran, their loan officer, said he was on a business trip.

Catherine didn’t ask when he’d be back. She knew Jacinda would be disappointed if he didn’t come to the wedding. But it wasn’t her business. It wasn’t her wedding. Still, she thought about it all week.

Early in the morning on the day of the wedding she stood on the front steps of the small frame village church and looked up at the darkening sky. The church was small, but large enough to hold all the guests and keep them dry if it rained. It was the outdoor reception she was worried about.

The wind lifted the hem of her filmy summer dress, and she held tightly on to the wide brim of her straw hat with the lavender ribbon. The air was heavy with moisture. They needed rain. They prayed for rain, but not until after the wedding.

Inside the church she walked up to the altar to arrange bunches of flowers that she’d picked before dawn that morning. She buried her face in a bouquet of roses still wet with dew and inhaled their fragrance. From the rear of the church the door creaked and a gust of air blew up the aisle. She whirled around. Holding a yellow rose in one hand, she looked up expectantly.

It took Josh’s eyes a few seconds to focus in the dim light. They hadn’t told him what time to come. He was looking for the bride. He found Catherine. The door slammed shut behind him, and he breathed the air inside, warm and heavy with the scent of roses.

“You’re early,” she said, her voice trembling so slightly he almost didn’t notice.

He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know what time it started. I’ve been out of town and out of touch.”

She lifted a vase onto the altar and began filling it with lilies. “I heard you were away on business.”

He walked partway up the aisle. “Yes. Duran tells me everything went so smoothly you didn’t even miss me.” There was a long silence. Behind the tall stalks of lilies she paused and looked at him. He couldn’t stand the suspense. He had to know. “Did you?”

She came out from behind the flowers and stepped down, her hat framing her face like a Botticelli painting. “Yes, I missed you. I wanted to tell you—” she stopped and took a breath of air “—that I’m sorry I implied you were an opportunist. I’m really grateful for all you’ve done for us.”

He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I told you if I succeeded here I’d come out with a promotion. What else could you think?”

She ran her finger around the petals of the flower in her hand. “You also told me you went out on a limb for us. If we fail, it will make you look bad.”

“It looks as if you’re not going to fail. Duran tells me your receipts are high. You’re keeping up with your payments. If this continues, it would be possible to make other loans to the rest of the market, formers and artisans, too.”

“Really?” She walked forward until they were only inches apart. He nodded. The scent of flowers was everywhere. In her hair, on her skin and in the air. He’d never seen her in a dress. A dress with tiny buttons up the front he couldn’t keep his eyes off.

A side door opened and the priest from the next village appeared in a brown robe tied with a cord at the waist. He began lighting candles, and the glow filled the church. Catherine looked at her watch. “You’d better go,” she said softly. “I have to finish my work.” She broke off the stem of a red rose and leaned forward to put it in his buttonhole. He caught her fingers with his hand. There was a tiny pinprick, a spot of blood on her finger. His touch was so gentle, her eyes misted over.

“What is it?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

She shook her head and gave him a watery anile. “I always cry at weddings.”

“It hasn’t even started,” he noted.

She bit her lip. “I know.” She turned abruptly and went back to the flowers.

He stared at her for a long moment, taking in the curve of her hips in the pale dress, the cloud of her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Then he left and went to stand in front of the church.

Soon they came, by twos and threes, on horseback, in carts and on foot. All the women he knew and the men he didn’t know, stiff and formal in their Sunday best. Even Old Pedro, arriving on his burro, was wearing a suit jacket over a white shirt, the cuffs covering his gnarled hands. He nodded to Josh but didn’t approach.

The women greeted Josh with cries of delight and proudly introduced him to their husbands, home from the mine for the occasion. They spoke slowly so he could understand how happy they were to see him, and a warm feeling filled his heart, a strange feeling of belonging.

Josh hardly recognized Jacinda as she alighted from her horse-drawn cart with ribbons twined around the reins and flowers twisted over the horse’s ears. Splendid in her long dress, with silver hoops dangling from her ears, she beamed at Josh and presented her son, the bridegroom.

When the church doors opened, Josh followed the crowd and took a seat at the back, saving a place for Catherine. She slid in next to him just as the music began and put her hand in his. His heart thudded against his chest.

“A last-minute problem with the veil,” she whispered. “The flower girl stepped on it and I had to sew it up.”

Now the guests were on their feet, craning their necks for a glimpse of the bride. First came the flower girls in short white dresses with rings of daisies on their heads. Then the ring bearer, Magdalena’s little cousin. And finally Magdalena, her veil firmly in place, her eyes on the bouquet of sunflowers in her hands.

“A symbol of fertility,” Catherine whispered.

Jacinda’s son stood waiting at the altar, wearing a starched white shirt and a solemn expression. When the bride approached, a look of awe stole over his face, and Catherine gave Josh a sideways glance. He turned her hand over in his and held it tightly.

The ceremony lasted a long time, but Josh didn’t mind. There was something about the ebb and flow of the words in Spanish, the feeling of Catherine’s hand in his, the glow of candles and the scent of roses that made him want it to go on forever.

But finally the young couple turned and came down the aisle, and the bells rang out from the steeple across the countryside. The guests stood in front of the church armed with handfuls of tiny grains of wheat to throw. Josh examined the wheat in the palm of his hand.

“Another fertility symbol?” he asked.

She nodded. “Flowers, seeds, shells, horns. All the decorations are symbols of strength or fertility. Not that they need them,” she said under her breath. “Magdalena is... uh.. .expecting. It’s not a shotgun wedding,” she assured him. “It’s just with the men away it’s hard to find a time to get married. They’ve been engaged forever. Jacinda and Doña Blanca arranged it long ago, at birth probably. Jacinda’s a great believer in arranged marriages.” She sighed. “If only she’d forget about arranging mine.”

“It must be a real challenge finding someone good enough for you.”

“She was about to give up when you came along in your three-piece suit.”

“Me?”

“We’re the only North Americans she knows, so naturally she thinks it would be a great match.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t think it’s enough that we come from the same country. I think two people ought to have something more in common.” She looked up at him from under the brim of her hat, and suddenly the sun came out. Before he could answer the crowd oohed and ahhed. “It’s a good sign,” she explained, looking up at the sky. “Happy is the bride the sun shines on.”

Just before the couple pulled away Magdalena leaned across her new husband and threw her bouquet of sunflowers into Catherine’s arms. The women crowded around her to offer congratulations, and she blushed and looked helplessly at Josh. See, see what they’re doing to me? she asked silently.

She told the women it meant nothing, but they insisted. Magdalena had caught the bouquet at the last wedding, and look what happened. Catherine joined in the merriment, but she couldn’t believe she’d be the next to marry. How could she when she had no one to marry? It had all been planned and orchestrated, no doubt by Jacinda.

Soon the guests dispersed into carts or onto horses for the ride to Doña Blanca’s for the reception. Catherine invited as many villagers as could fit to ride with her in the truck. Old Pedro had brought his burro. Josh drove his car.

Next to Catherine sitting on the front seat was her neighbor Doña Maritza, holding Catherine’s flowers in her lap. The back was filled with men from the mine, bunched together in their Sunday suits.