Chapter Twenty-Four
What was I supposed to wear?
Rodrigo had invited the three of us to a family gathering to celebrate someone’s birthday. As Liz had so kindly pointed out, being invited to a family event was an important step in a relationship. It meant moving beyond casual and into serious territory.
It had happened way too quickly. I’d barely known him a month. On the other hand, I’d known Michael all his life, and we’d dated for at least a year before I was invited to a family event. It had been another year after that before he was welcome at one of my small family birthday parties.
Besides, all of that time we’d grown up in the same place. Born and raised Irish Catholic in Butte, Montana made someone have a particular viewpoint of the world. Once we were old enough, we all drank green beer on Saint Patty’s Day. A hard-knocks mining town, Butte raised its children with a rough love, toughening them up for whatever was thrown their way.
Growing up in a city that was sinking beneath your feet, home to one of the largest superfund clean-up sites in the country meant you grew up with a chip on your shoulder and your fists clenched.
I knew who I was.
Who was Rodrigo?
“You ready?” Diane called.
“Not yet.”
“Okay. He’s your boyfriend,” she shouted back.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” What a stupid thing to call someone who was in his sixties.
“Right,” Liz shouted.
Sisters. I should leave them home.
But then I’d have to face the demon ladies of Rodrigo’s family alone. He’d warned me his younger sisters clung to the traditional ways, much like his parents and his wife had done. They were not pleased he was seeing someone Anglo. Worse than that, someone who wasn’t from Texas.
With a sigh, I chose a blouse and capris. He’d told me the gathering would be casual, but it hadn’t sounded that way to me. A few of the family were musicians and would be playing. There would be the inevitable pi?ata for the grandchildren. A few of the younger generation were charged with organizing games for the children, and some were instructed to help with the three babies that would be there.
It sounded like chaos, totally different yet totally the same as a good Irish shindig.
Topaz earrings in my lobes and makeup carefully applied, I emerged from the bedroom.
“Finally,” Liz said. “I thought we were going to have to go in there and dress you ourselves.”
I gave her the stink eye.
It didn’t work as well as it had at the beginning of the trip. She’d caught on that I was all bark and no bite.
“Stop ragging on her,” Diane said. “This is a big deal. She’s got to be nervous.”
“That’s why she has us,” Liz said. “We’re her wingmen … women … wingwomen.”
“I’m right here,” I said.
“Three musketeers!” Liz shouted.
“So do we have wings or capes?” Diane asked.
“Whatever it takes,” Liz said. “No one’s going to mess with our sister. And if any of the family disses her in any way …” She drew back her fist. “Pow!”
As silly as they were being, my heart just about burst in two with their support. It was going to be all right. Even if the traditional women snubbed me, my sisters would have my back.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”
Liz led the way to the car, and soon we were off.
Diane was deliberately chatty, talking about a few shots she’d manipulated and her plans to go tromping around Montana when we got back.
“I’ve always wanted to have a photo in Montana Outdoors ,” she said. “That’s my goal. It may take years, but I’m going to go for it.”
“That’s wonderful!” Liz said. “Those pictures are always so amazing, everything from eagles to bumblebees.”
“And some of the most amazing landscape photos I’ve ever seen,” I said. “Pictures taken by ordinary people on their way from one place to the next.”
“Or someone who’s planned for years to be at the right spot at the right time,” Diane said.
My memory was flooded with some of the pictures I’d seen in the magazine sent out by the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. The images made me homesick.
There was no way I could move to Texas permanently.
~ ~ ~
Cars were parked everywhere in the spot between Rodrigo’s house and the barn. Kids and parents petted the horses, steady quarter horses Rodrigo had told me he was going to put in the corrals closest to the house. He’d banished the Arabians to a far field.
“They’re good animals, but too skittish to be around kids,” he’d told me. “Neither they nor the children would fare well.”
Even though we’d been told to bring nothing, Liz had made up a few trays of brownies and carried them in with us. We also had a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer.
Rodrigo must have spotted us, because he met us before we’d even made it halfway down the path. After greeting my sisters, he kissed me.
On the mouth.
In front of my sisters.
Liz merely arched an eyebrow while Diane winked at me.
“I’m so glad you could come,” he told us. “And I see you have disobeyed me once again and brought food and beverages.”
Liz shrugged. “Blame our mother. We never went anywhere empty-handed.”
“My mother felt the same,” he admitted with a smile. “Come, come. My family is anxious to meet the wild people from Montana that I’ve been spending time with.”
Anxious to give me the once over.
I squared my shoulders. They weren’t going to intimidate me. I had the pride and honor of Butte, Montana to uphold.
Even before my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the vine-covered patio, I knew they were staring. Four eyes watching every move I made. Lying in wait for my first mistake so they could tsk tsk my crassness.
Or whatever the Spanish version of tsk tsk was. And I had no doubt they had one. No matter the culture, there were always women of a certain age and disposition looking for the errors other women made.
Rodrigo made introductions, and I was quickly overwhelmed by names and relationships. There were two names I hung onto: Esmerelda and Lucia. They were already anti-Kathleen.
But on the other end of the spectrum was the man who came up to me and immediately put his arms around me and gave me a hug.
“Don’t worry about them, darling,” he said. “They’re horrible to everyone except the chosen few. And let me tell you, I’m not one of those.”
I tried to place him in the flurry of names Rodrigo had given out.
“I’m Connor, Danny’s husband. Which makes them my sisters-in-law, a fact that totally pisses them off.” He laughed, taking my stress level down by a third.
I looked around for my sisters to introduce them, but they’d been waylaid along with Rodrigo by his son, Juan.
“Don’t worry about them. I’ll find them at some point. I’ve heard of your artist sister. Most of her work has been too kitschy even for me, but I understand she’s doing something totally different these days.”
“Yes. She’s doing some work in a completely different style.”
“Do you think she’ll let me see them? I own a gallery in San Antonio. I’d love to be able to show her work.”
“You’ll need to talk to her about that,” I said.
“I will. In the meantime, let’s get you a drink. You’ll need it for this group. I still have scars from my first family gathering. Oh, those women can skewer a person without saying a word!”
As I was led away to the drinks table, I looked over my shoulder at Rodrigo.
He gave me a shrug and a smile.
Connor took me under his wing and made sure I got to know his husband, Danny. He also re-introduced me to Rodrigo’s brother, Felipe, the fourth child of the family, and his Anglo wife, Susan.
“Ah, yes,” she said. “The sisters are not pleased. But I am. I’ve never seen my brother-in-law this happy. You’re good for him. I hope you stick around.”
“Well,” I said, “I actually live in Montana. My sisters and I are on an extended road trip in an RV.”
“How fascinating!” she said. “You must tell me all about it.”
By the time I finished telling Susan about our adventures, my sisters and Rodrigo managed to catch up to me.
“How are you doing?” he asked me.
“I’ve had a delightful time with Connor, Danny, Felipe, and Susan.”
“Good. They are the safe ones.” Rodrigo introduced my sisters to the four family members. The discussion of RV life picked up from where we’d left off.
“I can’t imagine going anywhere for that long with my family,” Felipe said with a shake of his head. He was a good looking man with thick gray hair and a mustache to rival Rodrigo’s. His smile was slow and his love for his wife evident. “Even my wife and I would have to have some space, I think.”
“It would have to be a very large RV,” she agreed with a grin.
“We’ve had our moments,” Diane agreed. “Fortunately, we all have different interests so we can get away from each other. Whenever we’re somewhere for any length of time, Liz rents a studio. She’s a very popular artist.”
“Yes,” Connor said to Liz. “I can’t wait to talk to you. See if I can show your new works in my small gallery.”
“He’s modest,” Danny said. “His gallery is one of the top ten in San Antonio.”
“I’d love to discuss a show with you,” Liz said graciously.
“And what do you do?” Susan asked Diane.
“I’ve recently taken up photography,” she said. “I’m spending a lot of time getting to know my camera and some of the online programs I can use to edit the pictures I take.” She pointed to me. “And Kathleen’s a weaver.”
“What a talented family,” Susan said.
“You’re a weaver?” Rodrigo asked, almost at the same time. “You never told me this.”
“It didn’t seem important,” I said. “I do it for myself. And I’m still learning.”
“She’s making the most incredible-looking lace,” Liz said, startling me. I hadn’t thought she’d noticed.
“You can weave lace?” Connor asked.
“Not me. I’m just learning. But yes, people can weave lace.”
“I agree with Susan,” Connor said. “A very talented family.” He looked at Rodrigo. “You’ve chosen well.”
“Um,” I said. “We’re just friends. No one’s chosen anyone.” I needed to put the record straight.
Pain flashed in Rodrigo’s eyes. It disappeared quickly.
“That’s true,” he said with a smile I knew was false. “After all, they’re off on their adventure in a few weeks.”
“And you can’t convince them to stay?” Danny asked.
“Not so far,” Rodrigo said.
“Well, we’ll have to help you out,” Connor said .
“Thank you,” Rodrigo said to his brother-in-law. “But I think I’ll handle this on my own.”
“You have to forgive Connor,” Susan said. “He’s so helplessly in love with Danny that he thinks everyone else should be in the same state.”
“I’ve got the same problem,” I said, nodding at my sisters.
The laughter that followed eased the tension somewhat, but I still felt badly for the hurt I’d given Rodrigo.
I hadn’t realized how invested he was in our relationship. Like my sisters said, family introductions were a big deal. I wish I’d believed them and begged off from the party.
But it was too late now, and I was going to need to deal with the fallout.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “I need to visit the powder room.”
I turned away, and Diane followed. “It’s a one-seater,” I whispered.
“Just checking to see if you’re okay.”
“I will be when I’m done in the bathroom. Which I’m doing. Alone. By myself. Okay?” For some reason I was seriously aggravated.
“Sure,” she said, and veered off toward the drinks table.
I went to the guest bathroom and frowned at my face in the mirror. This whole situation was getting way too complicated. What had started as a friendly horseback ride was turning into a family drama worthy of a telenovela.
It was a far cry from the world I’d envisioned for myself after we returned to Montana, and I settled into Liz’s old house. There, I’d imagined blissful mornings of sleeping in while someone else milked the cows. Showers with lots of hot water. A toilet where the seat was always down.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
I took care of my business, thoroughly washed my hands, and left. Instead of returning to the chaos on the patio, I went to the kitchen to see if Antonia was there, masterminding the whole event.
“Ah, Kathleen,” she said when I walked in. She bustled over and gave me a solid hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“You too. Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“It’s mainly organizing. The family brings everything. At least they think they do. There is always the person who brings filling for tacos, but forgets the shells, or sour cream, or guacamole.”
“It’s hard to remember everything. ”
“Si. I spent yesterday making stacks of tortillas.”
“You make your own?”
“Yes. It’s not that much work, and they taste so much better than store bought. I can show you sometime.”
My immediate reaction to spending more time in the kitchen was revulsion, but I hesitated with my refusal. What would it be like to spend time with this kind, talented woman who had no problems teaching an Anglo how to make tortillas? It would be something I could learn for myself, not because it needed to be on the table at any particular time.
“I would have liked that,” I said. “But since we’re leaving in a few weeks, that won’t be possible.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said. “And you won’t be back after your trip ends?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad. You’re good for him. He’s had a lot more energy since you arrived. Before that, I think he was at a loss. Juan’s been taking over more and more of the ranch duties, and I don’t think Rodrigo knows what to do for the next stage of his life.”
“I know the feeling.” As much as I was looking forward to all my alone time, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with myself. I’d been busy for almost four decades.
But a man wasn’t the answer. No, I’d have to figure out the next stage of my life on my own. Rodrigo would need to do the same.
“Well,” she said. “If you do come back, the offer stands.”
“The offer to do what?”
I turned. One of the two sisters who’d been watching my every move, stood in the doorway. Esmerelda?
“Teach her to make tortillas.”
“Pah!” Esmerelda spat out, almost literally. “She’ll never learn. She was raised on corned beef not chili con carne.”
“Anyone can learn anything,” Antonia said, a slight chastising in her voice.
“Not when they’re that old.”
I’d had enough.
“I’m no older than you,” I said. “I learn things almost every day. Maybe not big things like tortillas, but it could be a word or two in Spanish. Like la anciana. I think it fits you perfectly. To be an old woman, you need to think like la anciana. I do not.”
I turned to Antonia. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it.” Then I turned back to Esmerelda. “And, if you ever want to learn to drive a Class A RV motorhome, I’m your woman. But you’re probably used to driving a Ford sedan, not a truck, being a woman and all.”
“I … I …”
I left Esmerelda sputtering and Antonia with a grin on her face.
As I left, I realized I shouldn’t have done that. Where the older sister might have been an enemy, she was definitely one now.
Oh well, only two more weeks. Maybe one more ride to say good-bye to Star. Then we were off to the Grand Canyon.
I slipped onto the patio and watched the festivities for a while. There was lots of laughter, a few serious discussions, and a group of teenagers who had migrated to the darkest corner of the space. As I watched, a girl and boy slipped from the group and off the patio.
Moments later, one of the older men walked in the same direction. As I watched, the teens snuck back onto the patio, eyes focused on the ground.
One of the benefits of a large family was that someone was always on the lookout for bad behavior.
Esmerelda stalked back onto the patio.
But who kept the adults in line?
“Hello again,” Juan said, coming up to me. “Do you need anything? A drink perhaps?”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good. My father wouldn’t be happy if you weren’t attended to.”
I chuckled. “Did he really say that?”
“Not in so many words, but it was how he was about Mamá. As the oldest son, I was charged with attending to her, along with my sister, Miranda.” He pointed to a woman about his age who was talking with a few other women.
“I’m sorry your mother passed,” I said. “You must miss her.”
He nodded. “It was difficult for my father.”
“He must have loved her very much.” Even though Rodrigo had denied the feeling, a person couldn’t be married for decades without developing some feelings.
The rumor Trixie Lynn had passed on snaked through my memory.
“He loved her and cared for her,” Juan said. “And I’m sure he misses her, but …” He gave a gentle shrug.
I waited for him to continue.
“It’s not important,” Juan finally said. He smiled. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? ”
“Quite sure.”
“Okay.” He started to move away, then turned back. “Don’t let my aunts get to you. They’re hopelessly old-fashioned, and everyone ignores them. Makes them mad.” This time the shrug was genuine. “Serves them right.”
I grinned at him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem.”
After he left, I looked around for my sisters. Liz was engaged in conversation with several women, while Diane was seated by a young girl, listening intently to whatever the girl was telling her.
My sisters were good people, able to rise to the occasion and beyond.
The clink of coins caught my ear, and I turned toward the sound. A small group of people surrounded a felt-topped poker table. Some were emptying bags of coins in front of them while one person was shuffling cards. They were chatting and smiling as they set up the game.
My breath stopped.
I stared at them for a few more moments before realizing Rodrigo wasn’t there. Then my lungs began to inhale and exhale again, and I turned away. Spotting a chair in a quiet corner, I went there to sit down. I hadn’t been sitting for more than a few moments, when I noticed a wide-eyed boy making his way toward me. I figured him to be about six, with the thick black hair and wide mouth that many of Rodrigo’s family had, including him. Rodrigo’s grandson, Marcos.
When the boy saw I’d spotted him, he looked away.
Deliberately, I turned my head in another direction, but was still able to keep an eye on him from my peripheral vision.
Once he realized I wasn’t watching him, he resumed his steady walk toward me.
I stayed quiet, and soon was rewarded with the feel of a small body leaning close to me. A hand reached out and touched my hair.
Unsure whether or not to move, I waited a few seconds while he explored the texture.
Then, I slowly turned and looked at him. “Hello,” I said with a smile.
“Hello,” he said, not removing his hand from my hair.
“My name is Kathleen,” I said.
“Hi Kathleen,” he said, maneuvering his mouth around the syllables .
“And who are you?”
“Marcos,” he said.
“Marcos is a nice name.”
He shrugged and stopped stroking my hair. “You have different hair,” he informed me.
“Yes. It used to be kind of red. Now it’s gray.”
“My tia’s hair is gray, but it doesn’t look like yours,” he said, pointing to one of Rodrigo’s sisters, who was technically his great-aunt.
“I bet her hair was black like yours once.”
He slapped his hand on his head, and his eyes widened. “Will my hair become gray?”
“Not for a long time. And then you’ll look very distinguished.”
“What’s ’stingished?”
“Handsome,” I said. “Like him.” I pointed to Rodrigo, who turned around at that moment, spotted me, and started walking my way.
“That’s Abuelo,” the boy said.
“Oh? Is that your Papá?” I pointed to Juan.
“Yes. You know my papá?”
“I’ve met him.”
“I love my papá,” Marcos said.
“Of course you do,” I said.
“I see Marcos is entertaining you,” Rodrigo said.
“Yes, we’re having a good conversation.”
“This lady says you’re handsome,” Marcos helpfully said.
“Oh, did she now?” Rodrigo asked.
“Yes. She said I’d look like you when I got old.” The frown came back. “That won’t happen for a long time.”
“No, Marcos,” Rodrigo said. “Not for a long time.”
“Okay. Bye!” With a wave, Marcos ran off to join some other kids, probably all related to him in one way or another.
“He’s cute,” I said to Rodrigo as I stood.
“Handsome, huh?”
“The word I used was actually distinguished, but he had a little problem with that.”
“I can imagine,” Rodrigo said. “But I’ll take that too. Are you having fun?”
“Yes. It is interesting to see so many people related to you.”
“And you haven’t yet met my own papá,” he said. “He’s in an assisted living facility not far from here. He finds it hard to walk.”
“Wouldn’t your sisters take care of him? ”
Rodrigo laughed. “They tried. He spent a few weeks with each and then decided assisted living was a better choice.”
“Smart man,” I said with a chuckle.
The clink of coins broke through my consciousness again.
“Is that a regular thing?” I gestured toward the poker table.
“At gatherings? Yes. There’s usually a game going. Friendly. Small change. No one is going to go broke at that table. Have you ever played?”
“No.”
“It can be a fun game—you need skills in strategy and observing other people. But a lot of us like games of pure chance. In fact, the parish is running its monthly bingo game next week. You should come with me.”
“You play bingo?”
“Only at church. It’s for a good cause. I didn’t used to go, but Antonia told me if I didn’t leave the house more often she was going to quit. Losing her was not an option.”
“Definitely not.”
“So you’ll come with me?”
“Um … I don’t know.” My chest squeezed a bit.
“Please. Just for fun. I’ll buy you a couple of cards, and we can have a good time. All the money goes to the church’s outreach programs.”
Surely I could make it through a bingo game.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
“That’s great! We’ll have fun.”
“We have to plan a time to go riding again, soon,” I said, wanting to move on from the whole subject of gambling in all its forms.
“Yes. That’s true. Does Tuesday work for you?”
“I think so. I’ll text you.”
“Good. I want to spend every moment I can with you before you leave.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It will take every minute to execute my campaign to get you to come back.”
“Well, now I’m warned. My guard will be up.”
“Then I’ll have to leave you defenseless.”
“Just how are you going to that?”
“Like this.” He pulled me close and kissed me.
Right there.
In front of God and everybody … including his sisters.