Flight of Passion: True romance and the obsession for love Page 6

  Yet she wanted him and had no idea how to keep pushing him from her mind. Would going home to Mexico provide the distance that she needed?

  She would never know unless she went. Tomorrow she would pack her bags and leave—just for a week to clear her head, she resolved, biting her lip pensively.

  DESIRE

  To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves

  ~ Federico García Lorca ~

  FOURTEEN

  Ruby hesitated at the gateway to her parents’ estancia. Her heart leapt at the familiar scent of clear country air and exotic blooms covering the land. Here was a chance to flee fate. A chance before it was too late, to pry herself free and determine her own destiny where neither family nor duty had influence.

  She turned briefly and surveyed the sprawling landscape. The sea of soothing, contrasting greens momentarily distracted her from the mountainous task that lay ahead. Dreams. Reckless dreams, she reminded herself.

  Her family were broke. She would never inherit the wealth she needed. She must put duty first. Once powerful the Diaz family had carried much respect in Mexico and with her intended betrothal to Carlos Torres her family fortune would be restored and the family estancia saved.

  Slipping off her shoes she stepped onto the pasture and burrowed her toes into the freshly cut grass, a habit she’d maintained for years to re-anchor herself to the land after so much time in New York’s sprawling metropolis. She closed her eyes, raised her face to the cloudless sky, and inhaled the sweet country air.

  The deafening sound of crushing gravel shattered the silence. Horse steps, calculated in their purpose drew upon her.

  “Well, if the prodigal daughter hasn’t returned.” Her stepbrother’s lips curved into a snarl.

  “Antonio!” she said, her eyes wide with fright.

  His eyes burned with accusation as he dismounted from his black stallion. He raised his right cheek toward her and tapped it lightly with his finger.

  She stepped dutifully toward him and kissed him lightly on both cheeks.

  “I didn’t expect to see you until the cattle muster next week,” Ruby said sweetly beneath a nervous smile.

  “Next week might be too late,” he said abruptly. “The wolves are circling. You of all people must understand,” he added making no effort to mask the contempt in his voice.

  Ruby nodded. She dug her toes firmly into the soil, “Yes, I’m well aware.”

  “Why then,” Antonio demanded, “do you risk everything?”

  Ruby stepped back and looked at him through uncertain eyes.

  “You were seen with Oliver Hart,” he growled, his voice while measured carried a threat.

  A question formed on her lips. A question she dare not ask. How did you know? Are you spying on me?

  “What the hell are you playing at Ruby? That man is trouble. Always was. Always will be.”

  “I had nothing to do with it. Carlos wanted something Oliver owned. He took me to him. It was not my idea. Carlos does what he wants,” she said, fixing her eyes firmly on her brother. “Oliver means nothing,” she murmured, averting her gaze and praying that he didn’t register the lilt in her voice that called her a liar

  Antonio closed his cracked fingers around her arm, “Make sure he knows that. Do you hear? The last thing we need is him ruining everything.”

  Ruby nodded solemnly.

  “Don’t forget—” he hissed, releasing his grip. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled like a wild dog tormenting its prey. “Don’t forget what will happen if you fail,” he called as he mounted his horse.

  Ruby fell silent as she watched him ride away. A cloud of dust billowed behind him as he galloped toward the stables, trailing like deadly ash.

  She bit her lower lip and unclenched her delicate fingers. The peace and tranquility she’d felt was quickly consumed by her step-brother’s controlling, unpredictable temper.

  She took a deep breath to settle her trembling belly and let out a big sigh.

  This was not going to be easy, she decided as she hopped back into the rented jeep and drove toward the house, along a sweeping driveway lined with hundreds of jacaranda trees blooming like soft purple clouds. As she caught sight of crocuses clustered together in the far flowerbed like butterflies gathered to lap at a puddle, her thoughts returned to Oliver, and the heaviness she’d felt in her heart returned anew.

  But as the historic hacienda came into sight her spirits soared. The 19th century stone building shone like a precious jewel in the midday sun. It nestled happily atop a hill with magnificent views of the ocean below and the surrounding lush, tropical countryside.

  Now my soul can soar, she mused happily.

  As the jeep continued its climb and drew closer the salmon pink plaster walls and terracotta tiled roof came into view, warming her soul with its ageless grace. The colonial pillars supporting the veranda reminded her of an ancient Roman bathhouse upon which scarlet bougainvilleas trailed happily.

  Ruby smiled like a child greeting a dearly loved, but seldom seen, grandmother. Feelings of excitement entwined with worry for the future coursed through her body. How could she ever let Casa Rosa go? She knew with clarity she must do everything in her power to keep it safe.

  Surely she could make her family understand there were alternatives to the course they so determinedly pursued. A course that would deny her freedom, her dreams, her passions.

  As she stepped down from the jeep onto the stone cobbled tiles and walked slowly toward the entrance she wondered with rising anxiety if for once her family would be receptive to her ideas.

  Ruby paused briefly to pick at a piece of peeling plaster and rubbed it wistfully in her finger before discarding it gently upon the ground. As she approached the ornately carved wooden door she paused to collect her thoughts, bracing herself for what she must do.

  Ruby placed her hand slowly on the wrought iron handle and took a deep breath. Freedom, she knew, was a gift she would never know until she fought for it.

  The heavy three-meter mahogany double doors suddenly sprung open. Maria, the servant who had raised her since birth, bustled out, her chubby arms held wide open. A smile spread across her face. She wore a pale gray dress with a lace apron.

  “Ruby” she cried, smothering her face with wet kisses.

  Ruby smiled, and allowed herself to be swallowed by Maria’s generous bosom, welcoming her familiarity.

  Maria took a few steps back upon the terracotta tiles, “Let me take a look at you.” Her eyes swept quickly from Ruby’s face to her feet and then back to her face as she read her emotions. She stepped forward again, reached out, lifted Ruby’s chin with her plump forefinger and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “Why so sad?”

  Ruby’s mouth curved tightly, “I’m tired, that’s all. Everything’s fine.” She averted her eyes from Maria’s probing gaze.

  “Is that wonderful Carlos keeping you up too late?” Maria said winking. “Think how your life will be. Ahhh, and your papa so proud. So happy his daughter can find happiness.”

  Ruby smiled and looked sad, both at once.

  “Yes Father will be happy. Happy now I can finally be useful to him,” she said quietly, the soft timbre of her voice masking her growing apprehension.

  “Your father loves you, Ruby. All he has ever wanted is to secure your future.”

  “By deciding my fate? By making me feel guilty for wanting a life of my own?”

  “Have courage my love.”

  “I’m trying, but so much is at stake.”

  Maria wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

  “You must always listen to your heart,” Maria said softly.

  Ruby gazed solemnly at the tiled floor. She’d never thought with her heart. She’d learned to contain her feelings from an early age. Listening to her heart had only brought trouble, just as it was doing now as it cried out for Oliver.

  “It is not easy to follow your own path.
Easy is to do what others want,” Maria continued as though sensing the battle between emotion and logic, duty and desire, that waged war within Ruby’s overactive brain, “but the heart is your faithful servant...if you allow it.”

  A wave of sadness washed over Maria’s face momentarily, then lifted like a cloud passing over the sun. Ruby looked with surprise at Maria’s moistened eyes. Ruby scolded herself silently for being ungrateful for the threads of freedom she did have, freedom a servant on low wages would never know.

  “Maria, I’m sorry. I sound ungrateful. But I’m grateful—” she began tentatively. She wanted to say how thankful she was to have been adopted by the Diaz’s, to have been given a home, a beautiful home, but she couldn’t shake the hurt that she’d never felt wanted.

  Maria lifted her chin, kissed her on the forehead and took Ruby determinedly by the hand. “Come, your mother will be excited to see you.”

  Ruby bit her lip pensively. Somehow she doubted it.

  FIFTEEN

  She stepped barefoot onto the rust-colored Mayan tiles, drawing strength from the smooth, natural stone beneath her feet. As Maria led her quickly down the wide hallway, she glided along the terracotta tiles. Eighteen foot high ceilings, with exposed beams and rafters, stonewalls, and hand-carved tropical hard wood furniture, flawlessly drew attention to their Mexican culture and evoked the splendor of past eras.

  There was something solidly reassuring about the treasured possessions that had been handed down through the generations, Ruby reflected as she ran her hand across the smooth, polished surface of an antique table lining the hall.

  She felt as though each heirloom contained the spirit of their creators reaching out to her in solidarity and offering her more comfort than she’d ever found in the arms of those that lived.

  “Señora, your daughter is here,” Maria announced formally from the periphery of the kitchen. Ruby wasn’t surprised to find her mother there. Her mother loved to cook.

  Joy Diaz looked up briefly, her lips stretched into a stiff smile before returning her gaze to the floured marble bench top.

  “You look like you’ve put on weight.”

  Ruby drew a deep breath. Her mother was in one of those moods.

  “A little,” Ruby said, not wanting to risk more criticism.

  “Sit down, stop hovering. You know how I feel about people in the kitchen.” She gestured with flour-covered hands toward the 10-seater, wooden table in the center of the kitchen, then turned and reached into the wood fired oven.

  Ruby held her hands over her rumbling stomach as her mother withdrew a hot tray of freshly cooked tortillas. She looked derisively over Ruby’s shoulder toward the kitchen door, and back to Ruby again, her brow creasing.

  “Where is Carlos?” she asked coolly.

  “He couldn’t come. He has business.”

  “Business? That boy always is always working. We never see him.”

  “We have something else in common,” Ruby said softly, picking at the edges of her tortilla.

  “You need to watch yourself, Ruby. Men like Carlos need looking after,” she said sternly, looking down her aristocratic nose. “What could be more important than the business he has with this family? Everything is okay I hope?”

  Ruby’s shoulders knitted with tension, “Yes, everything is okay,” she said more brightly than she felt. “It’s Carlos—he is so busy with his campaign, I hardly see him.”

  “It is better not to expect too much,” her mother said sharply, noticing the disappointment in her daughter’s voice.

  “I know, it’s just that…”

  “Just what?” Her mother’s voice sounded a warning.

  Ruby’s eyes darted beyond her mother’s reproachful gaze. As she watched the white swans glide gracefully upon the lake she felt strangely envious of their freedom, and their love. Mates for life, how was it possible?

  “Just what, Ruby?” her mother demanded.

  Ruby took a deep breath, summoning courage as she did so. “Mama,” she began tentatively. Okay, here it goes. “What should true love feel like?”

  “True love? True love is a freshly baked plate of tortillas,” she said, pushing them beyond Ruby’s reach.

  Ruby folded her arms and shifted on her seat. Her attempt to draw closer to her mother and her plea for guidance once again escaped her.

  “It’s just, I’m not sure of my feelings for Carlos,” she persisted. Taking another deep breath, her voice trembled slightly as she spoke again, “I’m not sure that marrying him is the only answer.”

  Impatience rose in her mother’s voice like steam escaping from a pressure cooker, “You watch too many movies. Always filling your head with romantic visions of happily ever after. Always the dreamer. Life is not a fairytale, my girl. Life is not a Mills and Boon. Life is family. Dedication. Honor. Sacrifice.”

  She rose from the table and walked briskly to the kitchen window fixing her gaze on the row of terracotta urns filled with prickly cacti. “Our families have business,” she said sharply.

  “I know,” Ruby said gently, rising to her feet and walking toward her mother. Her vocal chords trembled, quavering as she tried to summon the courage to share her feelings. “I think I can find a way for us to all be happy. A way that needn’t involve me marrying for money, a way…”

  Joy Diaz stretched the pastry over the cold marble bench, her lips pursed as she clenched the ends of the rolling pin, raised it abruptly, and slammed it down with a chilling thud. She spun around, facing Ruby with a hostility that threw her.

  “We need this marriage! Don’t be so selfish!”

  Ruby looked briefly into her mother’s face and tried to understand her attack. She had not even let her finish. She had not even heard her ideas. A pro when it came to manipulation her mother had instead labeled her as selfish and made Ruby feel instantly guilty.

  Ruby’s eyes stung. She fought back tears and resolved to put her mother’s heightened brittleness down to stress. The strain of trying to support her ailing father. The worry of trying to keep the creditors from the door. The pressure of trying to run the ranch on a shoestring. It hurt less.

  Why else would she be so cruel?

  Joy Diaz pursed her lips. “Considering all that we have done for you, all we have given you, is it too much to ask you to do something for us? Is it too much for you to do as women throughout history have done and continue to do—to marry because it is convenient? Or are you better than every one else?”

  Ruby shook her head. “No.”

  “We agree on something then. Forget romantic notions of love. Save these for a night at the movies or a good book. Carlos is a clever man. An ambitious man. A rich man. You will not find better.”

  “Yes he is and he deserves to be happy. We both do.” Ruby faced her mother with uncharacteristic defiance. “But I don’t love him as I should.”

  Her mother’s eyes darkened. “Love? What’s love got to do with it?” Her eyes narrowed. “Has something changed?” she hissed through pursed lips.

  Ruby knew no good would come of mentioning Oliver. No good would come from sharing the unexpected passions that rippled through her body when he touched her. No good would come from replaying memories of a love once shared but then so ruthlessly abandoned.

  “Nothing has changed,” Ruby said flatly.

  Carlos was still dependable, still reliable. Still determined to have her as his wife. And although it pained her to concede the truth, she knew her mother was right. They needed this marriage. They needed a promise-keeper—not someone who would abandon them.

  “Good,” Joy Diaz said, rubbing flour from her hands. “Next time don’t come home without Carlos,” she said firmly. “I assume it hasn’t escaped you?”

  Ruby’s brows knitted in a perplexed frown.

  “Men are not in plentiful supply. You must never let a man like him out of your sight or someone will steal him. Besides,” she continued her voice softening as she sensed Ruby’s resignation, “it will do your f
ather good to see you both together as our families have always intended.”

  Two butterflies dancing joyfully past the window caught Ruby’s eye. Part of her sensed it was futile to attempt to change the course of fate, yet something deep within her wished it didn’t have to feel such a burden.

  Now was not the time to speak about love. But perhaps a talk of money, a topic always on their minds, would bridge the widening gulf between them. There was no reason that just because she was marrying she need forsake her dream.

  “About my idea.” Ruby’s voice grew louder and her conviction deeper as the passion carrying her words grew like sugar cane in the sun. “I have an idea for the estancia, to make it financially viable.”

  “Bahh!” Her stepbrother scoffed, striding into the kitchen and wrapping his stocky arms around his mother, kissing the back of her neck tenderly before turning to Ruby. “Bahhh, to your ideas. Ideas don’t put food on the table. Ideas don’t pay the mortgage.” He pulled over a chair from the dining table, slammed it down and sat, shovelling tortilla into his mouth.

  “I can make this idea work,” Ruby said quietly, confidence ebbing as her brother’s mocking suffocated her passion.

  “Business? Business is a man’s domain. Stick to your knitting. Stick to your hobbies.”

  Silent fury quietly simmering within Ruby suddenly rose like a flooded stream, “Women all over the world run businesses, and have done for years you ignorant moron—and what’s more their men proudly encourage them. What have you ever done to bring money into this home?” she challenged.

  “Don’t talk to your brother like that!” her mother scolded, going to her son’s side. “He tries. The recession is not his fault. And he is right. We need money, not ideas. I can’t pay the creditors with ideas. Just like I can’t pay them with tortillas.”

  Ruby swallowed a terrible desire to tell them to go to hell. But she knew she couldn’t. They were her family. And even if most times she felt like an outsider, like she was a mistake, the cold truth was they had adopted her. They were the only family to have wanted her after endless foster homes. And Casa Rosa was the only place where she had ever felt she belonged.