Eduardo smiled as he squeezed her. “Henna. I love you. I want you to be happy. If you're happy, then my baby is happy. I'll do whatever you need me to do to make you happy.”
Their horses had been saddled and made ready by the time they entered the barn. Henna swung herself up onto the back of Maya as Eduardo holstered a shotgun to his saddle and mounted the large chestnut quarter horse he rode daily around his plantation.
They headed out of the stable, taking the path through the grenadine and papaya orchards then up the hills to where the coffee plants began. A path was formed out of a series of switchbacks that swayed back and forth through the terraces of coffee plants. Workers wearing
guayaberas
and straw cowboy hats moved with hands that flashed as they rapidly picked only the bright red berries from between the slick green leaves.
Eduardo occasionally stopped and spoke with a foreman before they moved on. As the sun rose higher in the sky, they closed in on their destination.
“How much farther is it?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she hated that she sounded like a complaining child. She felt fine when she'd woken, but the combination of the sun pressing down on her and the change in altitude was making her feel ill. More than ill. Unsteady and faint.
“It's close,” Eduardo said.
They followed an animal track and entered a densely wooded area with plentiful shade trees, bringing her a small amount of relief. The woods opened onto a clearing that held a wooden house, a chicken coup, a pen with two goats, an outhouse, and a well. A flock of chickens scattered when the horses’ hooves came bearing down. The door to the house opened, and a woman in a peasant blouse with a brightly colored skirt walked onto the porch. She had a full and lush body with a head of the most glorious black hair Henna had ever seen.
“That's the ancient
bruja
?” Henna quipped as Eduardo helped her off of her horse. When her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled slightly before she found her footing.
“Are you okay?” Eduardo asked holding her steady.
“Dehydrated,” she said. “I just need water.”
Eduardo reached into her saddlebag and took out a sealed bottle of water and handed it to her. “That is not the
bruja
. That is her great granddaughter Juanita. She has the eye, too.”
Henna looked at Juanita who looked at Eduardo with quite an eye. “So I see,” she said. “Let's do this.”
Eduardo pulled a wrapped package from his saddlebag then walked with her up to the shaded porch. He spoke with Juanita who blatantly ignored Henna. She tried not to tap her foot or cross her arms, but she wasn't feeling well and wanted to be offered a place to sit.
“Go with Juanita,” Eduardo said. He handed her the wrapped package. “For the
bruja
.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, taking the deceptively heavy bundle from him. “What is this?”
“Pork belly. A gift for the
bruja
. I need to fix the door on the hen house,” he said. “You'll be fine.”
Juanita beckoned for Henna to follow her into the cabin. The cool and dark interior smelled of the dried flowers and herbs that hanged in bunches from the beams across the ceiling. Juanita sat her at a multipurpose table off to the side. A wood-burning stove held a stewing cauldron that steamed theatrically. Henna had to give the
bruja
top marks for creating an ambiance.
Juanita left her alone for a moment after taking the bundle Eduardo had given her, then returned, guiding a tiny old woman draped in a colorful shawl. Juanita escorted the
bruja
to the table. She sat in a chair across the worn and smooth surface from Henna and stared at her for long enough to make her uncomfortable. From within the folds of her shawl, her two withered hands, lumpy and crackled from arthritis, emerged. She placed her hands palms up on the table then gestured to Henna with her fingers.
The
bruja
held Henna's hands for a moment, then ran her wizened fingers over her palms, gently scratching the surface. The old woman spoke with Juanita in a raspy whisper.
“You speak Spanish?” Juanita asked her in broken English.
Henna held up her fingers to indicate a very small amount. Eduardo's family and his chic friends in Bogota spoke English. No one that worked on the plantation spoke English. She'd had to learn quickly.
The
bruja
spoke with Juanita in a whisper as she gestured about the room. Juanita placed a bandana wrapped bundle on the table in front of the
bruja
. The
bruja
unwrapped the red fabric and revealed an abused pack of playing cards. She put the cards in front of Henna and gestured with her hands as if shuffling. Finally, she held up three fingers.
Henna shuffled three times and placed the cards on the table. The
bruja
spread the cards in front of her one at a time, pausing between each revelation. There were no smiles or frowns. No reaction at all to what the card might or might not have meant to her. When she seemed satisfied, the cards were scooped up and carefully rewrapped in the bandana. Juanita brought a cigar box and a pad of paper to the table and gave them to the
bruja
.
The
bruja
spoke to Juanita as she gestured to Henna.
“You...” She patted her tummy. “
Bambina. Si?
”
“Do I know that I'm pregnant?” Henna asked. “Yes. Everybody knows I'm pregnant.”
Why else would two people be getting married with two weeks’ notice?
Her mother's words repeated in her head constantly since the conversation she'd had with her mother to announce their rush to the altar.
The plan originally had been to just tell people they were getting married. The conversation had ended with Henna in tears, her mother going for the scotch, and Eduardo being put on the phone to explain to her father that he'd gotten his thirty-seven year old daughter in trouble. Her mother's words.
A thirty-seven year old woman who was a doctor and a home owner was still in trouble in her mother's mind if she wasn't married and pregnant. The final words with her mother had been to the effect that she had best get married quickly and quietly then tell everyone she went into labor early and hope she didn't deliver a ten pound baby.
Eduardo and her father had managed to calm down both women and arrive at a point where her mother stopped referring to her pregnancy as either an accident or a booboo and she had promised not to strangle her mother.
For some reason, and in a way that had never made her entirely comfortable, her father and Eduardo seemed to get each other. Her father had been the least bothered about the abrupt change in circumstances and the most supportive. He'd been the one to tell her that marrying Eduardo would be another smart thing his smartest child had done in her life.
Juanita spoke with the
bruja
who responded with a few gestures. The old woman took a hunk of black crayon from the cigar box and began making long thick and thin strokes on the paper. Henna watched the paper upside down as two conflicting images began to appear. When the
bruja
finished and she held the drawing in her hands, Henna wasn't sure what she felt. Annoyance? Anger? Frustration? Sadness? All of the above and then some?
On the left side was sadness. On the right joy. The left rectangle was divided into two triangles. Within the top triangle, Henna smiled and held her baby with San Francisco as the backdrop. The bottom triangle was Eduardo, sad, alone, and miserable. On the right of the page was a family portrait. She and Eduardo with two small girls close in age.
“You understand?” Juanita asked from her place behind the
bruja's
shoulder. “
Comprende?
” She pointed her finger to the triangles left side of the paper. “No marry Don Eduardo. Sad.” Juanita frowned and rubbed her eyes as if crying. “Marry Don Eduardo. Happy. Two girl. Isabella. Cecilia. Happy.”
She tipped her head in acknowledgment. The picture was like a blackmail note.
Do as I say, or suffer the consequences.
No gun to the head could be as potentially motivating as the dual images displayed on the page.
“Say
nada
picture,” Juanita warned with a wag of a finger. “Or bad happen. Very bad. You break Don Eduardo’s heart.” She placed her hand to her chest and frowned. “
Comprende?
”
Henna tipped her head again and smiled tightly.
Marry Eduardo or I will break his heart.
That was clear. She knew that without the
bruja
drawing a picture. It didn't matter what he said to her, he wanted to get married. It mattered to him. Eventually, the pressure of wanting to get married would push a wedge between them. Because that was what she did. Simon was right. She fought against her own happiness. She stood in her own way. Not once since she'd found out she was pregnant had she considered
“Say Eduardo quickly yes, yes. No trouble. Say no, no. You break heart. Make cry.”
“I get it,” she said. “Marry him or I will break his heart and make him cry.”
“
Si,
” Juanita said. “No problem.”
The
bruja
spoke to Juanita who walked to the door and out. After she left, the old woman took the drawing from Henna's hands, folded it in four and gestured for Henna to stick it in her bra. With the drawing safely stowed away, the
bruja
just sat smiling at her. Finally, Juanita returned with Eduardo. The
bruja
gestured to the chair next to Henna and he sat down.
The
bruja
began speaking to him then nodded to her.
“Okay,” Eduardo said to her. “Something you need to do?”
“Did she tell you what that something might be, or is it up to me to tell you?”
Eduardo spoke with the
bruja
for a moment, then turned back to her. “Whatever it is, you should do what you have to do before sunset tonight.”
She smiled tightly at the
bruja
who returned the gesture along with a pat to her hands. The old woman continued to speak to Eduardo, cutting her out of the conversation. Finally, the
bruja
gestured to Juanita who helped the old woman from the table and returned her to the room she'd originally come from.
Eduardo spoke with Juanita briefly as she walked them outside. When they were on their horses riding back, Eduardo was uncharacteristically quiet.
“What did she say to you?” Henna asked, breaking the silence.
“The goat died. She wants another one for Juanita,” he said.
“And?”
“Domingo is the father of Maria's baby, and I had better do something about it before Angelo finds out his daughter's pregnant, gets drunk, and does something about it himself.”
“Okay,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“Have a firmly worded conversation with Domingo about the virtues of marriage.”
“Anything else?”
“She congratulated us, told me again that we would have two daughters, and that she was very sorry she would not be coming to the festival, but she was going to die tomorrow and that she needed to finish her book.”
“God as my witness, if she drops dead any time in the next forty-eight hours, I will no longer question the power of the
bruja
or the existence of destiny.”
“It's good to know that after everything we have together it takes the death of an old woman to finally convince you we belong together.” His words were humorless, and there was no smile on his face.
She pressed her lips together then spoke. “What else?”
“She wants to be buried on the western slope of the mountain, and I'm to name our daughter after her.”
“I'm not calling my daughter
bruja
.”
Eduardo laughed at last. “Her name is Isabella.”
“Oh,” Just as Juanita had told her. Isabella and Cecelia. “That's actually very pretty. If we have a girl, I'll consider it. And?”
“I like Isabella. It's a good name. Or Cecilia. That was my grandmother.”
She rode in silence for a moment as she tried to make up her mind. “Can we stop for a minute?”
Eduardo reigned in his horse and turned to look at her. “Well?”
She pulled the folded paper from her bra and handed it to him.
“You're not supposed to show me this.” He unfolded the square of paper gingerly as if a sketched snake might jump off the page. “You know if you do, it's not supposed to come true.”
“Eden filled me in,” she said. “Fortunately I still maintain a high enough level of skepticism, even though you do have me pretty well convinced destiny brought us together.”
He looked at the page for a moment then rubbed his hand against his jaw as he studied it. “What do you think this means?”
“Well, let's see Eduardo...” She took the drawing back from him and looked at it then held it up for both of them to see. “To the left, if we don't get married, we go our own separate ways. To the right, if we do get married, we're a happy family. Tell me the truth. The real truth. How much does it matter to you that we get married?”
“It means everything to me. I don't want to marry you because you're pregnant with my child. I want to marry you because I love you, and I want us to be a family. I want us to be together.” Just as she suspected.
“It really does matter to you, doesn't it?”
“Yes. It really does matter to me.”
“You know what?” She looked to the sky then to Eduardo. “I totally respect that. Maybe I've been so worried about what I want, that I haven't given a whole lot of thought to what you want. And to be totally honest, my mother calling our baby an accident and telling me we had better get married before anyone found out I was in trouble,” she growled a little, “really kind of pissed me off.”
“I am not unaware of this. To be truthful, as much as I like Judith, I am not pleased she tried to turn our joy into something shameful.”
“It matters to you that we get married much more than it matters to me that we wait until I come to some epiphany about the timing being right. I think we can both agree that I have this tendency to stand in my own way when my happiness is at stake. So, let's just do it.”
“You want to get married tonight?”
“I want to get married tonight. I can bend to make you happy. Our relationship isn't all about you making me happy. I can compromise and make you happy. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I'm absolutely positively certain this is the right thing to do, but I'm not certain I'd ever come to that conclusion. What matters is that you want this and you matter to me more than anything or anyone else in this world.”