Marriage, Bravo Style! Page 3

  She asked, “So has Dad made amends to you, then?”

  “Yes. He apologized to me, for hitting me. And for the more distant past, for the way he drove me away when we were young, for the part he played all those years ago in our early troubles. I accepted his apology. And also he’s been to see Aleta, to make amends with her face-to-face. And with Davis, too.”

  Elena saw red. “Dad owes nothing to that man.”

  “Javier felt that he did. I agree with him. And your father told me that Davis had a few amends of his own to make, that the two of them had a good talk.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

  “I’m telling you. Now. And if you ask your father about it, I know he will be relieved to have it out in the open with you.”

  “And what about you, Mami?” Elena couldn’t hold the question back. “Don’t you need to make amends?”

  Luz leaned back in the patio chair and rested her elbows on the chair arms, linking her hands across her lap. Her engagement diamond caught the light and glittered in a ray of sun that had slipped through the dappled shade of the oak that sheltered them. Luz had never taken off her rings.

  “Yes,” Luz said. “I need to make amends. Very much so. And I have done that, to the best of my ability. I have apologized to your father, for my betrayal of our marriage and our love, and for my many lies. I have also done my best to make amends to Aleta Bravo. I have prayed and taken confession and done the penance Father Joseph assigned me. And now, I live every day honestly. I tell the truth and I am straightforward with those I love.” Luz spoke from the heart. Elena started to feel a little guilty for getting on her. But then Luz added, “And you’re angry with me. Mercy said you would be.”

  “Mercy?” Fresh irritation made her voice sharp. “You already told her about all this?”

  “Yes. She called this morning. We talked about it.”

  “Suddenly I feel like the baby of the family again. Always the last to know about everything that happens.”

  “Elena, por favor. I’ve told you both. And I only told your sister first because I talked to her before I talked to you.”

  Shamed, Elena dropped her gaze. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of acting like the baby of the family….”

  “It’s okay,” her mother said. “I understand. None of this is easy. There is so much pain. It’s a natural thing to want to lash out when we are hurting.”

  Elena lifted her head, met her mother’s loving eyes, and asked the big question. “So…does this mean you and Dad are considering getting back together?”

  Slowly, Luz shook her head. “No. That part of our marriage is over. We live apart now and we are both accustomed to it. We both have a kind of peace now, of contentment.”

  A moment ago, Elena had been angry at the thought that they might reunite. Now, she ached at the idea that they never would. “What kind of marriage is it, if you don’t even get to be together? Aleta and Davis worked it out, even though she moved out of their house and he had to crawl on his belly like the snake he is to get her back.”

  “Davis Bravo is not a snake,” her mother said sternly.

  Elena folded her arms across her chest, muttered, “Tell that to someone who cares,” and knew that she was acting like a baby again.

  Her mother made a low, sympathetic sound. And then lectured Elena some more. “Davis has made mistakes, yes. Big ones. As we all have. And now, what we want, all of us, is peace in the family. Because we are all one family now, united by you, m’hija. And by Mercy and Luke and Lucas and the new baby that’s coming. United by your close bond with Caleb, your brother. Una familia. The Cabreras and the Bravos. You know that we are.”

  Elena did know. But they—her sister, her mother, all of them—asked too much of her. “Do not tell me that I have to make peace with Davis Bravo. I get enough of that from Mercy.”

  Her mother reached out again. She got hold of Elena’s right wrist and tugged. Elena gave in and relaxed a little, letting her arms fall away from her chest, allowing her mother to take her hand.

  Luz said, “I am not telling you what to do. You have to make your own decisions about your relationship with Davis.”

  Gently now, Elena pulled her hand free. She picked up her glass, sipped her tea. “There is no relationship between me and Davis.”

  Luz sank back to her own chair again. She stared at the tall glass of tea in front of her, but didn’t reach for it. “I have told you what I needed to tell you. Why don’t we speak of something more pleasant now?”

  More pleasant. Like Rogan Murdoch.

  But no. She wasn’t ready to talk about him with anyone but her sister. And anyway, what was there to say? About that guy who’s buying dad’s company? He told Caleb he thought I was charming and gorgeous. I really wish he would ask me out.

  Uh-uh. Either he would or he wouldn’t. If it ever went anywhere with him, then she would have something to say to her mother about it.

  She put on a smile. “I’m going to Bravo Ridge for Easter dinner tomorrow. Mercy talked me into it. How about you?” Mercy always invited their mom to the Bravo family dinners—and she invited their dad, too, though Javier never went.

  “I don’t think so,” Luz said. Her eyes were full of memories.

  When Elena and Mercy were young, Easter was a big day for the family. They all went to mass and took communion together, early in the morning. And, then, at home, when Elena was small, she hunted Easter eggs like any other American child. But by the time she was eight or nine, egg hunts were for babies. By then, Mercy was part of the family, too.

  And in those years, they would often drive down to Corpus Christi and spend the day at the beach. Always, they had wonderful food. Avocado soup. Roast lamb to celebrate the end of Lent. Agua de melón. And capirotada, Mexican bread pudding, for dessert.

  They were all together then, a happy family. And that was what mattered, that was what made Easter such a special day.

  “I wish you would come, Mom,” Elena said.

  “Not this year.”

  They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, watching a golf cart roll along a winding trail until it disappeared in a stand of trees.

  Her mother spoke again. “Forgiveness, m’hija. Sometimes I think it is the secret to a full life. We forgive and we let go. And then we can move on, we are ready to accept all the good that life still has to offer us, because we’ve made an open space in our hearts where bitterness and anger and our own secret guilts once lived.”

  “Mom. I promise you. I have no secret guilts.”

  “But anger and bitterness, eh? Maybe a little of those?”

  “I thought we were moving on to more pleasant subjects, remember?”

  “Ah, but to me forgiveness is pleasant. Better than pleasant. Forgiveness is the way to happiness.”

  Anticipation.

  There was no other word for what Rogan was feeling.

  He’d been looking forward to seeing Elena again since he’d sat across from her at lunch the day before. It was not a feeling he should have allowed himself, given that he’d already decided he would not ask her out.

  She arrived at seven. He and Caleb were in the kitchen with Irina, keeping her company while she finished getting the meal ready. The doorbell rang and Rogan had to hold himself in check against the powerful urge to jump from the counter stool and run to get it.

  “That’s Elena.” Caleb left them and returned a minute later, laughing at something his sister had said, carrying a bag of chips and a covered bowl.

  Elena was right behind him. She looked as beautiful as she had the day before. Maybe more so. She wore a white strapless sundress printed with vivid red, pink and purple flowers. Her hair was down, thick and shining. And the velvet skin of her shoulders made him ache to touch her.

  He wouldn’t, of course. Not ever.

  But hey. A man could dream.

  “Hi,” she said, sending him a bright smile that made weird things happen in the pit of his stom
ach. “Hi, Elena.”

  She set the bottle of wine she’d brought on the counter and went over to greet Irina with a quick kiss on the cheek. “What are we having?”

  “Cedar plank salmon, sweet and sour rice and roasted asparagus,” Irina said in her throaty, slightly accented English.

  “Yum. I brought white bean dip and olives for an appetizer.”

  “Perfect,” Irina declared.

  Elena took the bowl from Caleb and unwrapped it. It was the divided kind—olives on one side, dip on the other. Irina handed her a big basket for the chips.

  For while, they all just stood around, chatting. Again, like yesterday at the restaurant, Rogan found it hard not to stare at Elena. That dimple at the corner of her mouth enchanted him. And he loved the husky sound of her laughter.

  Eventually, they sat down to eat. Caleb got the salmon from out on the grill and opened the white wine Elena had brought. He poured for all but Irina, who was expecting their first baby in August. The food was great, the conversation easy.

  Elena talked a little about her job teaching social studies to eighth graders, and Irina bragged about some deal Caleb had just made for BravoCorp, selling imported wine to a chain of high-priced restaurants.

  Rogan talked about Murdoch Homes and his plans for expansion. Nobody mentioned Cabrera Construction, or the negotiations Rogan and Javier were deep into. That was fine with Rogan. It wasn’t a done deal. Not yet, anyway.

  The evening went by much too quickly. They finished the meal and sipped the last of the wine. Irina served dessert and coffee outside on the patio, poolside.

  At ten, Elena got up to go.

  Too soon.

  Magically, Rogan found himself on his feet when she rose from her chair. Which was fine. The polite thing to do. After that, he meant to tell her it was nice seeing her again and then to sit back down.

  But then he heard himself saying, “I’ll walk you out….”

  Caleb sent him a knowing look, which Rogan ignored. He turned and followed Elena inside. They went through the kitchen and on out to the front foyer.

  It was a great place to be, following Elena. He watched the gentle swaying of her hips beneath the full skirt of her dress.

  She turned to him at the door. He looked down into those bronze-colored eyes of hers and felt dazed and confused and way too eager.

  To kiss her.

  To stay up all night talking with her. He didn’t care in the least about what.

  She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m guessing—at the Bravo family ranch?”

  He could get lost in the sound of her voice, in the tempting way her mouth moved when she talked.

  “Rogan?”

  He realized he’d been staring. And he hadn’t answered her question. “Right. Easter dinner. I’ll be there.”

  A smile played at the corner of her red lips and that dimple teased him, appearing, then vanishing. Then appearing again. “If you buy my father’s business…” She let the sentence trail off.

  He was lost in her eyes. And this close, the scent of her was driving him crazy. She smelled like a tropical garden. Jasmine and sandalwood. Gardenias. Orange blossoms.

  Somehow, impossibly, he remembered to speak. “If I buy your dad’s business, then what?”

  “Will you be moving to San Antonio?”

  He longed to nod, to lie outright, to tell her he was, yes. Absolutely. If she was here, he wanted to be here, too.

  Absurd. Pointless. Over the top. Completely unlike him.

  “No,” he said. “I’ll stay at the home office. One of my top contractors is willing to make the move, though. His name’s Ellis Pierce. He’s a good man, with a wife and two little girls.”

  “A wife and two little girls,” she echoed. Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Just like my dad, way back when.”

  “Right. I hadn’t realized.” And the last thing he’d meant to do was to make her cry. “Hey…”

  She blinked, put on a tight smile and hitched her chin a fraction higher. “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry. What did I say?”

  “It’s not you, Rogan. Really.” She glanced down, dark lashes like fans of silk against her cheeks. When she looked at him again, she had her tears under control. “Just sentimental, I guess. It’s hard to picture my dad retired. Next thing you know, he’ll be buying a Winnebago, heading for Florida or Arizona, where all the retired people go.”

  He wanted to comfort her. It was like a physical need in him—to pull her close to him, to guide her shining head down to rest on his shoulder.

  But of course, he did no such thing. “Would that be so bad, your dad moving to Florida?”

  “No. Not at all. As long as he’s happy there—and what’s that they say? ‘The only constant in life is change.’”

  “Ain’t that the truth—but at this point, I feel obliged to add that nothing’s settled yet. Your dad and I are still hammering out a deal.”

  “Ah. I see. The good man with the wife and the two little girls will be taking over if you and my dad work things out.”

  “Exactly. If…”

  “You’re being way too cautious, I think. I have a really strong feeling it’s all going to work out.” She gazed up at him with open invitation in those golden-brown eyes, clearly talking about more than his negotiations with Cabrera Construction. It was a very tempting offer. He ached to take her up on it.

  Talk about playing with fire. He was smarter than that—or so he kept trying to tell himself.

  She said, “You mentioned that your brother was your business manager?”

  “Cormac. Yes.” He braced a hand on the doorframe a few inches from her head, much too close to all that glorious gold-shot dark hair.

  “Will Cormac be coming down here soon—I mean, if the negotiations continue?”

  “Yes, he will. Next week.”

  “And you’ll both stay here, at Caleb’s?”

  “No, we have a suite reserved at the Hilton—the one on the River Walk? Caleb and Irina have been great, but I don’t want to take advantage of them.”

  “They have plenty of room. I think they’d love to have you and Cormac stay with them.”

  “That’s what they said, too. But no. The Hilton will be perfect.”

  “So…the negotiations are moving right along, then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She slanted him a knowing look. “But you still won’t admit that it’s a done deal.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll look forward to meeting Cormac.” She smiled—and there it was, that tempting dimple teasing him again, right there beside her way-too-kissable mouth.

  It was his turn to say something. Anything. It didn’t really matter what the words were, he realized. Only that he spoke. And she answered. “I like your dad.”

  “He likes you.” Her gaze slid to his mouth—and then swiftly lifted again so she was looking in his eyes.

  A kiss, he was thinking. Just one. How wrong could it be to steal one little kiss?

  True, it couldn’t go anywhere between them. But not everything had to go somewhere. It was such a simple, perfect moment. A beautiful woman, a whispered good-night.

  A kiss. One kiss…

  He went for it, stepping in a little closer, lowering his head.

  She lifted hers.

  Their lips met. Electric and tender.

  He wanted to linger, to take her by the shoulders, pull her body close to his, to wrap his arms good and tight around her, to taste her more deeply.

  To take his sweet time about it.

  But he didn’t. That wouldn’t be right.

  He lifted his head, whispered her name. “Elena…” It tasted so good in his mouth, as good as her lips had felt pressed to his, as good as the scent of her, sultry and sweet.

  “Good night, Rogan.” She slipped away from him, opened the door and went out.

  He followed, as if pulled by invisible strings, and stood on the porch to watch her run down the walk away
from him, the high heels of her red sandals tapping briskly with each step. At her car, she circled around to the driver’s door, pausing when she got there to give him a last wave.

  He lifted his hand, returned the gesture.

  And then she was ducking inside. The engine started up. The car pulled away from the curb and rolled off down the street.

  Rogan stood there on the front step after she was gone, thinking that he shouldn’t have kissed her.

  Wishing he had kissed her again.

  Chapter Three

  That night, Elena dreamed of Rogan. Of kissing Rogan. Of being with him in some hazy, romantic place where they talked about everything, all through the night.

  But when she woke in the morning, she couldn’t remember a single thing they’d said. All she knew was that she would see him again that afternoon.

  She could not wait.

  Eager for the day to come, she threw back the covers and headed for the shower. An hour later, she met her mother at church and they attended early mass together, took communion side-by-side. After mass, Elena suggested they share Easter breakfast.

  But Luz only hugged her and said, “Not today, m’hija. Have a beautiful holiday….”

  Elena almost told her then. I plan to. Mami, I’ve met someone. Someone so special…

  But she didn’t. She hugged Luz a second time and they parted on the church steps.

  At home, she made coffee and stared out the kitchen window while it brewed, thinking about Rogan, trying to make the all-important decision as to what to wear to Bravo Ridge that afternoon. The knock came at the front door as she was filling a cup.

  She went to answer and found her dad, wearing a white dress shirt and dark trousers, holding a bakery box. “I stopped in at El Mercado.”

  Laughing with pleasure at the sight of him, she took his arm and pulled him inside. “Just in time. I have the coffee ready.”

  She filled two cups, got out the milk and sugar and they sat at her kitchen table and ate cuernos de azúcar—Mexican croissants dusted with sugar—and lemon-filled empanadas.

  “More coffee?” she asked.

  At his nod, she got up and poured them both another cup and then carried the pot back to the warming ring.