Page 59 of Midnight Rider
“I’m not really rich,” Bernadette said. “My father is.”
“I think you understand my fears.”
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “But I could never hurt Eduardo. I love him too much.”
“I saw this,” thecondessasaid slowly. “I saw it too late. Can you forgive me for the obstacles I placed in your path?”
“If you can forgive me for pouring cream over you,” Bernadette replied, tongue-in-cheek.
Thecondessa’sold face lit up and made her years fall away. “It was an experience I shall never quite forget. And I must say, it was richly deserved. I am glad that I did not cost Eduardo the one bright flower in his life.” She shook her head. “He told me about Consuela, finally.” Her eyebrows lifted. “You know?”
Bernadette nodded.
“I had no idea. We knew that her mother had some peculiarities, but we had no idea that she was mad, completely mad. Then when Eduardo insisted on taking Consuela to Texas, out of our sight, we knew nothing of his problems with her.” She shook her head sadly. “I have so many regrets. One should never meddle in the affairs of others.”
“Yes, but sometimes it’s very hard not to, when one cares about them.”
Thecondessasmiled. “Yes. It is.” The smile widened as she added,“¿Porqué no se dices a mi nieto que puedes hablar español?”
“Porqué ahora no es el tiempo para eso.”
Thecondessalaughed. “And why is this not the time to tell him that you speak his language quite well?”
“Because I learn so much secretly that he wouldn’t want me to know,” Bernadette said simply. “I’ll tell him. Soon.”
Thecondessasearched the sparkling green eyes and thought how nice it would be to have a great-grandchild with such pretty eyes.
* * *
EDUARDONOTICEDTHEIMPROVEDrelationship between the two women in his life with secret amusement. Fences apparently had been mended very quickly, because now in the evenings thecondessasat beside Bernadette while they worked on their various sewing and crocheting projects and they never seemed to run out of subjects to discuss. There was something else between them, too, though, he noticed, because they seemed more and more like coconspirators.
He took Bernadette riding with him one morning when the dew was still on the grass near the house.
She liked to wear old jeans when she rode with him, something that he expected to outrage his very proper grandmother. He was surprised when thecondessachuckled and said that her new granddaughter was a sensible girl not to wear heavy, bulky skirts on horseback.
“You’ve changed her,” Eduardo remarked when they were well away from the house.
“Perhaps she’s changed me a little, too. I like her,” she added. “She’s contrary, of course, and painfully opinionated, but you always know exactly where you stand with her. I shall miss her terribly when she leaves.”
“As shall I.” He glanced at her amusedly. “I notice that your lamentations don’t include Lupe.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “I don’t miss Lupe,” she said curtly. “That flirting, overperfumed, interfering hussy!”
He threw back his head and roared. “She felt much the same about you, I think.”
“She isn’t married to you. I am!”
He glanced at her with indulgent affection. “So you are, Señora Ramirez. Very married.”
She knew that he was referring to their exquisite nights together, and she blushed in spite of herself.
“Ay, que placer me das. No podia vivir sin ti.”What pleasure you give me. I couldn’t live without you.
“Nor I, without you,” she said without thinking. “Oh, look, Eduardo!”
He was so shocked by her reply to a language he didn’t think she spoke that he was diverted immediately. He followed her pointing finger to a small herd of white-tailed deer bounding across their path.
“Beautiful, are they not?” he asked, but his mind was spinning. Did she speak Spanish? And if she did, how much of his private thoughts had he inadvertently given away to her?