Chapter 21 #2
A long pause lit the air with silence, flammable with unspoken emotion. Ana held her breath, waiting for some kind of indication that her words were not uncalled for.
“Then I would hope that you would feel safe here for the same reason.”
“I do.”
Ana hiccupped, and whether it was a result of her holding her breath or fighting back tears, she could not say. Why must she cry so often since becoming a married woman? Or was it since becoming an expectant mother? Either way, it was quite frustrating indeed.
Peter bent his already doubled-over frame to kiss Ana’s cheek. Just as soon as she started to lean into his touch, he started to move away from under the desk. Ana felt cool air rush in at the absence of his warm body and missed him instantly.
“Qué?”
“I confess I am quite constrained in so small a space,” he said with a laugh. “Would you care to join me out here? We can still sit on the floor, beside the desk, if you wish.”
“Bueno.”
Ana joined Peter, pushing her back up against the wall as she moved herself even closer to him than before.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder and laced her fingers through his, telling herself that she desired it only to be comfortable and not because of the surge of butterflies that the closeness gave her.
Breathing deeply, her unexpected emotions began to calm.
Ana had quieted significantly since they had snuggled close together. They relaxed that way in cozy silence, neither one eager to move, but she had not continued her usual stream of commentary. Few things stilled her tongue so.
Peter’s tone lilted in a teasing tone. “Your Majesty, I propose that you are hiding more than just your location secreted away here in this library. Now what is the secret you are keeping from me?”
“Qué?” Ana’s stomach dropped in an instant. She squeezed her hands in her skirts as her heart sped up in a wild, anxious pattern.
Her forehead creased in genuine concern. “I promise, Pedro, I have no secrets from you.” Her bottom lip trembled.
What secret could he possibly be thinking of?
Of course, the origin of her condition was a secret they alone would share till their graves.
But Peter had never jested about such things.
He would never say anything to make her feel guilty or uncomfortable in the slightest, having witnessed the terrible circumstances she had endured.
Surely he could not be referencing that.
At present, it seemed that Ana’s very existence was a secret.
He had implied that if some of his leaders knew of her condition, they might try to call her in to testify about San Sebastián, or worse, they might try to hide her further.
But it was very well understood between the two of them that Peter wanted her to feel as if she had a normal life here.
He would not be teasing her about such things.
Secret-keeping had always been a pain-filled point in Ana’s life.
She had been entirely too young and tender when the burden of a large, life-altering secret had been placed upon her.
The evening before Papá was scheduled to return from his responsibilities, Ana caught a glimpse of Mamá packing a valise.
Although Ana had understood that she would be leaving, it had not crossed her mind that she would be leaving permanently, especially when Mamá had kissed her the following morning, telling her she was going to visit a cousin in the south for a time.
Why else would she leave her closets full of dresses and her home full of possessions if she did not mean to return?
And why else would she leave Ana?
It was an excruciating secret. One that continuously ripped open her heart as the months—and then years—passed and Mamá never wrote and never returned.
But Ana had never breathed a word to Papá about what she had seen, what she had heard.
This secret was largely why Ana had sworn to be as open and honest with her husband and children as she possibly could.
She would not put them through the turmoil that she had endured.
Perhaps that was just it: Mamá. True, Ana had not told Peter very much about Mamá’s absence in her life, but he had also never asked about the issue, and she had never found an appropriate moment to divulge such a heavy topic.
Ana had tried her very best to be open and honest with Peter.
It had not been a simple task, all things considered, particularly when she was dealing with the unexpectedly wild emotions that her condition had brought her.
And after all her efforts, she felt that somehow, Peter was the one who had not been completely honest with her.
After all, he had spent much longer in London than expected and had returned with a burdened spirit indeed.
A few traitorous tears escaped now, though she tried to put the heaviness behind her in favor of the lightness of the evening’s celebrations.
“Ana darling, I was merely jesting.” Peter wiped her tears and pulled her into an embrace. “It is only a game and an ill-timed jest on my part. Don’t cry. Not on our special night. Please, forgive me.”
“Bueno, I forgive you.” Ana tried to believe her words, much as she was trying to calm her aching heart.
“Are you certain that you are all right?”
“Sí.”
“And you wish to continue?”
Ana nodded, brushing the wetness from her cheeks and moving her hair back from her face.
Peter stood, reaching for her hand. “So, Your Highness, have we spent sufficient time hiding away here? Shall we continue with our celebrations?”
“We shall, mi rey.”
“Do tell me, what do you have planned for us now?”
For a moment, her mind was foggy, still caught up in painful memories, but soon happier memories replaced them: Glimpses of Papá wearing a fuzzy hat, fake nose, and silly costume as he chased the town children around the square.
Echoes of the laughter they shared that filled the quiet emptiness of their home.
El Día de los Inocentes was very good for that, for bringing laughter and lightness to one’s home, even on a dark day.
After all, it commemorated a dark day indeed, the day when King Herod of old commanded that so many innocent children be killed in his search for the babe Jesús.
And still, they could celebrate the clever and inspired trick that Joseph and Mary had played on him in escaping with the Lord Jesús.
Even so, Ana could put dark memories behind her and enjoy this evening with her husband.
“A simple game for el Día de los Inocentes.”
“Somehow I do not trust that it will be truly as simple as you say.”
“Sí, it will be. You will wear a silly costume while the whole casa will say how ridículo you appear and make . . . how you say? Jests.”
Peter shook his head, chuckling. “It sounds simply delightful.”