Rio Grande Wedding Part 10

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen. It wasn't so bad for me. I never liked it, school. I wanted to be with the land. So, my uncle, he took us in. He was not rich, like my father, but not poor, either. He had a good farm. It was good enough."

Molly discovered that she liked the way he talked. His voice was not deep, but the lilting accent, the precise emphasis he put on certain consonants appealed to her.

"But?" she prompted.

He bent his head. "My younger sister, she was-" He shook his head. "She wanted too much. A rich life. A boy came to marry her. A good man, I think, but ordinary, a farmer. She ran away." He looked away, into the distance, into the past. Light s.h.i.+mmered on the dark irises. "To America."

"Land of the free and home of the brave," Molly said, tongue in cheek.

He lifted a shoulder. "Land of money. She thought she would come here and find some man who had plenty of money to marry her and take care of her, and she would have-" a dry lift of his eyebrows as he gestured toward her kitchen "-this."

Molly felt a curious sense of guilt. But that was silly. Wasn't it?

Alejandro continued, "You can guess what happened to her." The beautiful mouth tightened. "She worked for three dollars an hour as a maid for a big hotel in Texas. It was okay, you know? She was happy enough. Sent money back to us sometimes, like she was therica ."

Molly smiled. "So where is she now?"

"She married. Not rich, but she had a dishwasher." A sad smile. "She had Josefina, too.

An American citizen. But it turned out her husband was no good. She left him when Josefina was only two. It was hard for her, but she wanted to stay so Josefina could have something better. So she would be an American."

He took a breath and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "Two years ago, my sister was killed in a car accident. Josefina was with the baby-sitter. She called us to say what happened."

Again, sorrow settled like a veil over his features. "My sister had asked, a long time before, if I would go to America and take care of her daughter if something happened."

He lifted a shoulder. "So I came. In a van, in the night. And here I am still."

Molly sipped her coffee, letting the story settle. A soft sense of admiration went through her, that a man would honor a promise that caused him so much personal difficulty. "Why not apply for citizens.h.i.+p?"

His smile was bitter and knowing. He did not even bother with a reply, only shook his head.

Molly knew a little of the problems of Mexican nationals gaining citizens.h.i.+p in the United States. Given the political and social impact of such immigrants on the local economy, as well as the ancient Spanish colonial roots of the region, the subject was in the news a lot. "I guess you aren't a n.o.belprize winning scientist, huh?" she said lightly.

He rewarded her with a grin. And this time, it wasn't a small quirk of the lips, but the whole thing. White teeth in a half moon, a wide, flas.h.i.+ng grin. It hit her the same way it had last night right through the solar plexus. "No scientist," he said, and spread his strong brown hands, palm up. "Only a horseman and a farmer. Plenty here already."

"I'm sorry," Molly said impulsively.

He shrugged. "I tried, you know, to find someone to marry me. For money. And there was an old woman, in Colorado, who was going to do the paperwork for me another time, so I could help her with her yard." He shook his head.

Molly noticed suddenly that he was still sweating, and his left arm stayed protectively wrapped around his ribs. "Let me get you some more medicine," she said. "And then you should go back to bed."

"What I would like,senora , very much, is to bathe." He inclined his head, modestly, and met her gaze. "I do not think I can do it alone."

"I'll help you," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm only sorry I didn't think of it myself." She stood and held out a hand. "It will make you feel better."

He looked at his hands.

Molly chuckled. "I won't look," she said. "Much."

A smile edged his mouth, abashed and accepting. Molly helped him to his feet.

His saint put her strong shoulder under his arm again, and helped him down the hall. It was easier with her, easier on his pains, anyway. Not so easy in some other ways. From his vantage point above her, the crown of her blond and brown and gilt hair was visible, but so was the top swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He tried not to look, but each time he moved his eyes, it seemed there was that slope of smooth white flesh again. Nothing on earth would have aroused him exactly in his current state, but if he could have been, that slope of smooth pale skin would have more than done it.

Up close, she smelled of wind and sage and soap. Faint hints of cinnamon came from her breath. Her braid slithered along his arm, silky and heavy at once, and he wondered how her hair looked when it was not braided.

She led him to a bathroom that he had not seen. This was big, nearly as big, as his bedroom at the farm, and it was not like any room he'd seen before. Warm pine panels covered the walls, varnished carefully to seal the moisture out. A huge old tub on claw feet dominated one corner. Plants hung around skylights and a ring of windows along the top of the wall. "Very nice," he said.

"My husband's pride and joy." She settled him on the closed lid of the toilet. "He was a carpenter."

He glanced down, and saw the wedding ring still lived on her left hand. Choosing not to ask his questions, he said only, "A good one."

Shestraightened, looking around with pleasure as she efficiently tied her braid in a knot. The position put her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in silhouette, and he saw they were shaped like commas, heavier at the bottom curve.

"Yes, he was," she said, and met his eyes, answering the question he had not asked.

"I'm a widow. He died four years ago."

"I am sorry."

A sad smile. "Me, too." Briskly, she bent over and dropped a plug in the drain and turned on the water. "Nice and hot?"

Alejandro nodded.

"What we're going to do here is-" she opened a linen closet and took out a pile of towels she set on the sink "-you can undress to your skivvies, and I'll help you with whatever you can't manage, then leave you to the rest."

"Skivvies?"

"Underwear. Then I'll bring you fresh clothes and you can manage the covering-up part, and I'll help you get dressed." She smiled. "Okay?"

Her att.i.tude was so sensible it made his modesty seem foolish. He lifted his shoulder, caught his breath against the pain that spread in a band over his chest and said in a strangled voice, "Okay."

Her laughter was soft. "Come on, big boy, hand over the s.h.i.+rt."

It was not nearly as humiliating as he'd feared. Her no-nonsense hands braced him as he undressed to his "skivvies" and her strong, small body provided the support he needed to get into the tub. He could not suppress a groan of pleasure as he sank into the water.

"Too hot?"

"No, no. Perfect."

"Maybe the heat will ease some of your stiffness. Let me get your hair washed and I'll leave you to soak a little while."

"Oh, you do not need-"

"Alejandro."

It was the first time she had said his name, and in her softly husky voice, it was beautiful. He raised his eyes. She looked down at him, a patient expression on her mouth. "You can't wash your hair. You can't lift your arms."

"No," he admitted.

"Do me a favor." She knelt beside the tub, putting her face on the same levelas his own . "I'm a nurse. I do these things all the time. Stop being humiliated every time you run into something you can't do, okay?"

A wave of grat.i.tude overtook him. Gripping his knees with his hands, he met her gaze.