The old man…Juan, Rosa’s father…recognized his daughter, regarding her with a mixture of wonder and apprehension, as though she was a ghost returned to mortal form (for in truth he half-expected never to see Rosa alive again) and then looked behind himself and spoke a few words.
An old woman…slightly stooped from years of giving birth and tending children and working sunup to sunset…stepped out onto the porch, her tired eyes bright with excitement. The old woman…Maria, Rosa’s mother…pushed past her husband as the wagon came to a halt in front of the house.
Rosa climbed down from the wagon and allowed herself to be lost in her sobbing mother’s embrace. Some of Rosa’s younger brothers and sisters appeared from seemingly nowhere, all of them amazed and pleased by the unexpected return of their sister…and perplexed by the presence of the big white man.
Joshua sat at the reins of the wagon for a few moments, feeling conspicuous and alien as Rosa and her family bombarded each other with a rush of Spanish. Behind him, John stirred to waking and Joshua reached back and lifted the basket up.
Rosa, who was already turning at the sound of her child, accepted the basket from Joshua and explained to her family that the white man was her husband and that John was their firstborn child.
A couple of Rosa’s brothers helped Joshua tie up the horses while Maria, who had scooped up the bewildered but accommodating child from Rosa’s arms, and her daughters cooed at John.
As Joshua walked close, Rosa whispered something to her father. The old man looked up at the strapping white man (Joshua was easily twice as tall as Juan) taking his measure and then held out his rough-hewn hand. Joshua took the man’s hand and shook it firmly. They looked each other in the eye, speaking not a word in either of their languages, and nodded. That night, after supper, Rosa regaled her family with tales of the north. Joshua, unable to follow any of it, quietly slipped out onto the porch and lit his pipe. Juan soon followed, lighting his own pipe. The two men sat on the edge of the porch, silently smoking and looking up into the cool, dark night.
Joshua couldn’t shake feeling alien during the next week even though his acceptance in the small town was all but universal (a few of Rosa’s would-be suitors displayed some hostility towards him but they were the exceptions.) His command of a scant few Spanish words and phrases were of little service to him and so he kept to himself while Rosa basked in the welcoming familiarity of family and neighbors. At night, the house being crowded and they not wanting to displace anyone, he and Rosa slept in the tent they’d brought with them (Maria having insisted on keeping John in the house) and they talked then. Joshua began to fret that Rosa might not want to end her homecoming.
Rosa had a chance encounter with Manuel, someone with whom she had shared an intense teenage romance. Manuel was married with children of his own and seemingly quite content in the little town. Rosa crossed paths with him while taking a stroll into town to look around on the last day of their visit. They went to their “secret place”…a secluded clearing in the nearby woods…and talked over old times. Manuel offered how things might have been different had Rosa married him…Rosa conceded the truth of that without letting on how little appeal the prospect held for her. When Manuel leaned in to kiss her, Rosa was surprised that she did not turn away. Manuel whispered humidly as he leaned in to embrace her. He pushed in to kiss her again and Rosa, her mind’s eye filled with visions of chaste but potent childhood kissing, responded with a passion. Rosa pulled away, her head swimming, when she felt his hand on her breast. As guilt washed through her, Rosa shook her head and told him that old times were done and that they both had taken vows to others. Rosa turned and left Manuel there in their secret place.
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