Marriage, Bravo Style!. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ understand. None of this is easy. There is so much pain. It’s a natural thing to want to lash out when we are hurting.”

      Elena lifted her head, met her mother’s loving eyes, and asked the big question. “So…does this mean you and Dad are considering getting back together?”

      Slowly, Luz shook her head. “No. That part of our marriage is over. We live apart now and we are both accustomed to it. We both have a kind of peace now, of contentment.”

      A moment ago, Elena had been angry at the thought that they might reunite. Now, she ached at the idea that they never would. “What kind of marriage is it, if you don’t even get to be together? Aleta and Davis worked it out, even though she moved out of their house and he had to crawl on his belly like the snake he is to get her back.”

      “Davis Bravo is not a snake,” her mother said sternly.

      Elena folded her arms across her chest, muttered, “Tell that to someone who cares,” and knew that she was acting like a baby again.

      Her mother made a low, sympathetic sound. And then lectured Elena some more. “Davis has made mistakes, yes. Big ones. As we all have. And now, what we want, all of us, is peace in the family. Because we are all one family now, united by you, m’hija. And by Mercy and Luke and Lucas and the new baby that’s coming. United by your close bond with Caleb, your brother. Una familia. The Cabreras and the Bravos. You know that we are.”

      Elena did know. But they—her sister, her mother, all of them—asked too much of her. “Do not tell me that I have to make peace with Davis Bravo. I get enough of that from Mercy.”

      Her mother reached out again. She got hold of Elena’s right wrist and tugged. Elena gave in and relaxed a little, letting her arms fall away from her chest, allowing her mother to take her hand.

      Luz said, “I am not telling you what to do. You have to make your own decisions about your relationship with Davis.”

      Gently now, Elena pulled her hand free. She picked up her glass, sipped her tea. “There is no relationship between me and Davis.”

      Luz sank back to her own chair again. She stared at the tall glass of tea in front of her, but didn’t reach for it. “I have told you what I needed to tell you. Why don’t we speak of something more pleasant now?”

      More pleasant. Like Rogan Murdoch.

      But no. She wasn’t ready to talk about him with anyone but her sister. And anyway, what was there to say? About that guy who’s buying dad’s company? He told Caleb he thought I was charming and gorgeous. I really wish he would ask me out.

      Uh-uh. Either he would or he wouldn’t. If it ever went anywhere with him, then she would have something to say to her mother about it.

      She put on a smile. “I’m going to Bravo Ridge for Easter dinner tomorrow. Mercy talked me into it. How about you?” Mercy always invited their mom to the Bravo family dinners—and she invited their dad, too, though Javier never went.

      “I don’t think so,” Luz said. Her eyes were full of memories.

      When Elena and Mercy were young, Easter was a big day for the family. They all went to mass and took communion together, early in the morning. And, then, at home, when Elena was small, she hunted Easter eggs like any other American child. But by the time she was eight or nine, egg hunts were for babies. By then, Mercy was part of the family, too.

      And in those years, they would often drive down to Corpus Christi and spend the day at the beach. Always, they had wonderful food. Avocado soup. Roast lamb to celebrate the end of Lent. Agua de melón. And capirotada, Mexican bread pudding, for dessert.

      They were all together then, a happy family. And that was what mattered, that was what made Easter such a special day.

      “I wish you would come, Mom,” Elena said.

      “Not this year.”

      They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, watching a golf cart roll along a winding trail until it disappeared in a stand of trees.

      Her mother spoke again. “Forgiveness, m’hija. Sometimes I think it is the secret to a full life. We forgive and we let go. And then we can move on, we are ready to accept all the good that life still has to offer us, because we’ve made an open space in our hearts where bitterness and anger and our own secret guilts once lived.”

      “Mom. I promise you. I have no secret guilts.”

      “But anger and bitterness, eh? Maybe a little of those?”

      “I thought we were moving on to more pleasant subjects, remember?”

      “Ah, but to me forgiveness is pleasant. Better than pleasant. Forgiveness is the way to happiness.”

      Anticipation.

      There was no other word for what Rogan was feeling.

      He’d been looking forward to seeing Elena again since he’d sat across from her at lunch the day before. It was not a feeling he should have allowed himself, given that he’d already decided he would not ask her out.

      She arrived at seven. He and Caleb were in the kitchen with Irina, keeping her company while she finished getting the meal ready. The doorbell rang and Rogan had to hold himself in check against the powerful urge to jump from the counter stool and run to get it.

      “That’s Elena.” Caleb left them and returned a minute later, laughing at something his sister had said, carrying a bag of chips and a covered bowl.

      Elena was right behind him. She looked as beautiful as she had the day before. Maybe more so. She wore a white strapless sundress printed with vivid red, pink and purple flowers. Her hair was down, thick and shining. And the velvet skin of her shoulders made him ache to touch her.

      He wouldn’t, of course. Not ever.

      But hey. A man could dream.

      “Hi,” she said, sending him a bright smile that made weird things happen in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, Elena.”

      She set the bottle of wine she’d brought on the counter and went over to greet Irina with a quick kiss on the cheek. “What are we having?”

      “Cedar plank salmon, sweet and sour rice and roasted asparagus,” Irina said in her throaty, slightly accented English.

      “Yum. I brought white bean dip and olives for an appetizer.”

      “Perfect,” Irina declared.

      Elena took the bowl from Caleb and unwrapped it. It was the divided kind—olives on one side, dip on the other. Irina handed her a big basket for the chips.

      For while, they all just stood around, chatting. Again, like yesterday at the restaurant, Rogan found it hard not to stare at Elena. That dimple at the corner of her mouth enchanted him. And he loved the husky sound of her laughter.

      Eventually, they sat down to eat. Caleb got the salmon from out on the grill and opened the white wine Elena had brought. He poured for all but Irina, who was expecting their first baby in August. The food was great, the conversation easy.

      Elena СКАЧАТЬ