Chapter Sixteen
Henna stood on the balcony that looked out over the fields behind the colonial hacienda Eduardo had called home his entire life. He'd left hours earlier before sunrise as was his custom leaving her in bed to wake when her body was ready. It had become her custom to get out of bed, ring the kitchen to bring her breakfast then drink her coffee on the balcony as she studied the many moods of the mountains. She loved them the best when they were covered in mist.
True to his word, he'd spent a month with her in San Francisco. He'd bonded with Simon, laughed at her method for folding fitted sheets, sat on her couch during the day, watching soccer while she worked, prepared her dinner when she came home then took her to bed. She knew after two weeks that she never wanted to be apart from him.
Making plans to leave her life behind had been easier than she thought it would be. Her patients had been redistributed to other doctors. A week after deciding to follow her heart, the people in her department were throwing her a going away party. Simon assured her they were not happy to see her go.
When she first arrived in Colombia, Eduardo had brought her onto the balcony to show her his world. He swept an arm in front of them as his other arm held her tightly. “Here. As far as you can see and then farther still belongs to my family.” Once she'd arrived and saw his world through his eyes, she knew there was no going back, only moving forward.
After a couple of days in the house, she learned quickly that the platoon of women who ran the place looked at her as if a question mark hung over her head. When she'd asked Eduardo for a solution for her problem with the staff, his suggestion was that they get married. One solution for all of her questions about her place in his life. For this reason, she'd hesitated for longer than she should have to tell him that he was three for three in paternity, and in fact had the luckiest sperm ever to swim up a uterus.
Any suggestion that they refuse to get married on principle, make a united stand against the tyranny of middle-aged women who had a tendency to judge and wield marriage like a stick to beat single women with, had been met with laughter. Eduardo was clear in his attitude. She was not going to change the beliefs of a group of people who had been raised and lived with a certain set of values by refusing to conform.
If she didn't want to marry him, that was her prerogative. He wasn't going to force her. He was a grown man and didn't need to win the approval of his employees if he decided to have a woman live with him who wasn't his wife. He wasn't the one they would look down on. This fact had to be accepted whether she liked it or not. He made it very clear to her that if she went down that path then she would have to accept the fact that she was the one who would remain on the outs.
After two weeks in Colombia, they traveled to Switzerland so Eduardo could conduct business with one of his biggest buyers. In Switzerland, life had been perfect. Nobody cared if they were married or not. But their life wouldn't be lived in Switzerland if they stayed together. In Colombia, people got married then they lived together and had babies. The decision to get married had come quickly when they were in Switzerland.
After about two months together, he figured out she was pregnant. Or he'd made an educated guess based the fact she'd never actually had a period in their time together. Confronting her with a pregnancy test he'd bought at a pharmacy probably wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but she knew him well enough at that point to know he occasionally had the subtlety of a cudgel when trying to make a point. So, with him standing over her, she’d peed on the stick. When the test delivered the result she knew it would, she was as convincingly shocked and overjoyed as he was. And in truth, at that point, she was overjoyed. She wanted to be with him.
A positive pregnancy test had been enough to push her into agreeing to get married. For Eduardo, there was really no other choice. What she hadn't counted on, was getting pregnant first month around. She expected to have at least a couple of months to ease into the idea. But no. Her fate had been sealed.
When they'd returned from Switzerland and announced that they were getting married, the women had warmed slightly to her. This one act of compliance had been enough to earn their contingent approval. They still gave her a look that told her they knew why she and Eduardo were getting married. That, more than anything else, annoyed her. As much as she wanted to be with Eduardo, she didn't want her choice dictated to her to appease the moralistic sensibilities of the women who worked for the Salazar's.
The door to the bedroom opened, but she didn't bother turning around to see who it was. Warm hands landed on her bare shoulders, followed by soft lips on her neck. Eduardo always returned mid-morning to discuss the day with her.
“What do you see?” Eduardo asked from behind her.
“It's going to be a hot day,” she said.
“It's going to be a very hot day,” he responded. “How do you know?”
“You've had the workers move higher up on the mountain. You do that when it's going to be particularly hot in the valley.”
“You're learning to know me,” he said. “Get dressed. We're going riding.”
“My family is arriving today,” she reminded him again.
Before leaving San Francisco, she'd extracted promises from each of her friends to visit. Simon had been the first. He'd arrived before they'd gone to Switzerland and slipped right into a new life. Waverly's adamant refusal to hear that they would never get married had prompted him to flee town. It was possible he might never leave. Eduardo paid him well and the idea of working with patients who actually needed him appealed to him.
When Simon arrived, or fled the machinations of Waverly as he preferred to think, Eduardo gave them an outbuilding to use after he'd had it painted, installed air-conditioning and windows, and somehow had managed to have their applications for a license to practice medicine in Colombia fly though all government channels faster than a phone call. There were things about how Eduardo managed his affairs she just didn't want to know. What she did know was that when they really needed an ultra-sound machine, a new one was delivered within a day.
Since teaming up, they'd delivered four babies, tended to the needs of nearly a dozen pregnant women, did the best they could with what they had to reattach a nearly severed finger, treated an almost epidemic level of the clap, had a firmly worded conversation translated by Inez with the two women who were purveyors of the world’s oldest profession about the need for condoms, arrived too late to be of any use after a drowning, and treated enough snake bites to ever make her comfortable walking around in sandals on the plantation.
As much as it galled her to admit it, having Simon around helped her. His terrible Spanish was better than her nonexistent Spanish. Plus, despite the fact he'd run away from Waverly rather than confront her, technically he was still a man. There were far too many people in their rural stretch of Colombia who would quite literally rather die than go to a woman doctor. Simon also willingly went out into the mountains to make house calls.
“We’re supposed to go and pick them up. I'd love to go for a ride, but it's going to have to wait.”
“I already sent Alberto and Domingo to the airport.”
“I really wanted to go to the airport to meet them.” Only the threat of not seeing her oldest daughter get married had gotten her mother to come to Colombia. Like only a mother could, she had extracted many promises from Henna, mostly surrounding indoor plumbing and security. Meeting her mother at the airport might be essential to securing a repeat visit.
“Is there actually a reason why you can't take me?” She reserved becoming irritated until Eduardo responded. He might actually have a legitimate reason. Colombia wasn't San Francisco and it was not safe for her to drive on her own from where they were in the Andes mountains to Bogota. But she could have gone with Alberto and Domingo. After getting used to the fact they carried guns with them wherever they went, she frequently traveled with two of the men Eduardo used for security when he wasn't available.
“The bruja wants to meet you. She sent a message down the mountain that you're to come to her today.”
“I don't want to meet the bruja.” She dreaded meeting the bruja. Everyone she had met since arriving in Colombia revered and feared in equal measures the bruja. “I especially don't want to meet her today. Why now? We're getting married in...” She looked behind him at the clock on the wall. “Eleven hours. Oh, my god. Eleven hours? No. I'm not going to meet the bruja today. The last thing I need is for her to put the whammy on me. I'm nervous enough as it is. I still think we're rushing this.”
“Are you still frightened?” Eduardo turned her away from the view of the mountains to face him.
She glanced into his eyes then looked at his chest. He wore one of a hundred or more battered work shirts paired with faded jeans and cowboy boots that comprised his work uniform. She liked him in linen and wool, but nothing compared to how Eduardo filled out a pair of jeans. “I might be just a little afraid.”
He kissed her on the forehead as he drew her against his chest with his arms wrapped around her. “Don't be. She's just an old woman. Nothing more. We will go and pay our respects to her because it matters to the people who live and work on my land.”
“Politics,” she said. Eduardo refused to admit or acknowledge that he was, without any question, the lord of his own fiefdom. His workers came to him for everything from dispute mediation to his blessing on their upcoming nuptials.
“Politics,” he said. “Besides, all of the preparations are getting under my skin.”
“Nervous? Getting cold feet?” She certainly had cold feet. It seemed too late to back out, but that didn't change the fact she had reservations about the choice to get married so fast.
“Neither. Annoyed people can't just get their jobs done without coming to me for approval every five minutes. If I'm not around, then they need to figure it out on their own. Get dressed to ride. Where we're going there are no roads.” He released her then turned and walked back through the bedroom.
She showered and dressed in riding pants and a polo shirt. Her childhood dream of owning her own horse had become a reality when Eduardo learned she could ride. Although technically Maya belonged to Gloria, Henna had an open-ended invitation to ride her whenever she wanted.
A great deal of hustle and bustle buzzed in the house outside of their bedroom. Their wedding reception was no ordinary party. Everyone was invited. Everyone included all of the people who earned their living working for the Salazar's and their extended families. There would be hundreds of people to feed and entertain. When the decision had been made to get married, Eduardo had insisted on two things. One, they get married in Colombia. Two, they have a traditional wedding. He hadn't eloped the first time around, but it had been fast with little ceremony. Fortunately, Inez knew what needed to be done.
Preparations for the wedding began immediately after Eduardo instructed the staff to make things ready. Two weeks from the day they made the announcement to the day of the wedding. Two weeks. There would be no months’ worth of preparations and hours spent mulling over flower arrangements and color schemes. Just one singular order for a great festival to mark the occasion of Don Eduardo's marriage to the woman they all suspected was probably pregnant.
Henna might not speak Spanish, but she understood body language. That and Simon had told her the main topic of conversation amongst the workers circled around the bloom in her cheeks and the roundness of her belly. Her checks were not rosy and her stomach was as flat as a board. At eight weeks pregnant, there were no external signs of her condition other than the massive party being planned outside in the courtyard of the hacienda.
She walked down the stairs through the foyer and out the door to the busy courtyard. From sun up to sun down the activity was constant at the front of the hacienda. The back of the house, where the pool and gardens were located, privacy and peace dominated. Except for the workers maintaining the grounds and the women working in the extensive kitchen garden, only family entered To the front of the house and off to the side, the coffee beans were processed from brilliant red to pale green.
She spotted Eduardo on the patios, which were a series of concrete terraces where coffee beans where spread out to dry in the sun. She watched him as she walked nearer to where he stood talking with one of the foremen. When he saw her, the foreman nodded to Eduardo who dismissed him.
“They all do that.” She stood next to him as they looked at the terraces. “Run away whenever I get near.”
“They're back country Colombians,” Eduardo said. “You have to just understand their mentality. You're an unmarried woman that openly sleeps in my bed. They don't know what to make of you in that capacity. After tonight, they'll still ignore you, but that's because you're my wife and not my mistress.”
She snorted indelicately. “You realize there is a double standard around here. They all look at me like some whore of Babylon and you're Don Eduardo. Wholly unfair.”
“I'm a man,” he said. “Bad behavior is expected.”
“That is so unfair,” she said. “Our personal life should be ours. They spend more time worrying about my flat stomach and our sleeping arrangements than I do.”
“We're going to solve that problem tonight,” he said. “As of tomorrow, nobody is going to care where you sleep anymore, and as for your flat stomach, time will resolve that question.” He put his hand on her arm just above her elbow as they walked in the direction of the barn. “Are you still wondering if this is the right thing to do? Because it is. At least, for me it is. I want it to be the right thing for you, too. Otherwise, we can wait.”
“We haven't even known each other that long,” she reminded him. They'd known each other three months. Just as long as her sister had known Romeo before they'd jumped into their marriage. If she hadn't fussed so much about Eden getting married after three months, she would probably be more willing to take a leap of faith.
“How long is long enough?” he asked. “We are meant to be together. I have no doubts.”
“I just need some time.” Her excuses where growing increasingly more thin as time went on. She wanted to get married. She just didn't want to get married because she was pregnant. It seemed unfair to her baby. Making the child the reason she and its father married was a lot of pressure to put on her future infant. The psychological pressure could potentially be enormous if, by some fluke of Eduardo's precious destiny, they didn't work out.
“Take all the time you want. If you don't want to get married tonight, then we don't get married tonight. I want you to be happy. If waiting makes you happy, then we wait.” He gave her a kiss on the head. A rare public display of affection from a man who was hotter than the sun behind closed doors and cooler than the moon in front of his workers. She sighed in relief. “Thank you. Maybe after the baby comes. Then we can get married. Just now...” She shrugged. “Now feels like we're forcing this. Like we're getting married for some reason other than we love each other. People should never get married because of a pregnancy.”
“You think that's why I want to marry you?”
“Isn't it? Honestly, would you be pushing for us to get married if I wasn't pregnant?”
“Probably no,” he said. “Okay. If you want to postpone, we postpone. The festival still has to go ahead. Too many people have worked too hard over the past two weeks to cancel because you don't want to marry me. Just so you understand, I want to marry you because I love you. Not because you're pregnant. That just pushed forward plans.”
They walked through the courtyard where lights had been strung from poles festooned with garlands and bouquets of flowers, a bandstand assembled, tables and chairs set out, and a pig roasted while being slowly turned on a spit. Poor pig. What a way to go.
The nearby stucco church where they would be married had been filled with enough flowers to send a person with hay fever into shock. Not that she'd seen. The church, where the nondenominational ceremony she'd insisted on was to take place, had been decorated without her input. Eduardo wanted it to be a surprise. He wanted her to be happy and joyful in their marriage from the beginning. For certain, at least at that moment, he was better than she deserved.
She looked up at his profile. “Why are you okay with this? Don't think I don't know you. Based on everything I know about you, you should not be okay with this. I know you well enough to know that you do not want your child, who you are mystically convinced is a girl, to be born out of wedlock. I know you, Eduardo Salazar. You're up to something. You may drive a Porsche, but you might as well be pulling a donkey loaded down with bushel baskets for as modern as you are about some things.”
Eduardo smiled as he squeezed her. “Henna. I love you. I want you to be happy. If you're happy, then my baby is happy. I'll do whatever you need me to do to make you happy.”
Their horses had been saddled and made ready by the time they entered the barn. Henna swung herself up onto the back of Maya as Eduardo holstered a shotgun to his saddle and mounted the large chestnut quarter horse he rode daily around his plantation.
They headed out of the stable, taking the path through the grenadine and papaya orchards then up the hills to where the coffee plants began. A path was formed out of a series of switchbacks that swayed back and forth through the terraces of coffee plants. Workers wearing guayaberas and straw cowboy hats moved with hands that flashed as they rapidly picked only the bright red berries from between the slick green leaves.
Eduardo occasionally stopped and spoke with a foreman before they moved on. As the sun rose higher in the sky, they closed in on their destination.
“How much farther is it?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she hated that she sounded like a complaining child. She felt fine when she'd woken, but the combination of the sun pressing down on her and the change in altitude was making her feel ill. More than ill. Unsteady and faint.
“It's close,” Eduardo said.
They followed an animal track and entered a densely wooded area with plentiful shade trees, bringing her a small amount of relief. The woods opened onto a clearing that held a wooden house, a chicken coup, a pen with two goats, an outhouse, and a well. A flock of chickens scattered when the horses’ hooves came bearing down. The door to the house opened, and a woman in a peasant blouse with a brightly colored skirt walked onto the porch. She had a full and lush body with a head of the most glorious black hair Henna had ever seen.
“That's the ancient bruja?” Henna quipped as Eduardo helped her off of her horse. When her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled slightly before she found her footing.
“Are you okay?” Eduardo asked holding her steady.
“Dehydrated,” she said. “I just need water.”
Eduardo reached into her saddlebag and took out a sealed bottle of water and handed it to her. “That is not the bruja. That is her great granddaughter Juanita. She has the eye, too.”
Henna looked at Juanita who looked at Eduardo with quite an eye. “So I see,” she said. “Let's do this.”
Eduardo pulled a wrapped package from his saddlebag then walked with her up to the shaded porch. He spoke with Juanita who blatantly ignored Henna. She tried not to tap her foot or cross her arms, but she wasn't feeling well and wanted to be offered a place to sit.
“Go with Juanita,” Eduardo said. He handed her the wrapped package. “For the bruja.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, taking the deceptively heavy bundle from him. “What is this?”
“Pork belly. A gift for the bruja. I need to fix the door on the hen house,” he said. “You'll be fine.”
Juanita beckoned for Henna to follow her into the cabin. The cool and dark interior smelled of the dried flowers and herbs that hanged in bunches from the beams across the ceiling. Juanita sat her at a multipurpose table off to the side. A wood-burning stove held a stewing cauldron that steamed theatrically. Henna had to give the bruja top marks for creating an ambiance.
Juanita left her alone for a moment after taking the bundle Eduardo had given her, then returned, guiding a tiny old woman draped in a colorful shawl. Juanita escorted the bruja to the table. She sat in a chair across the worn and smooth surface from Henna and stared at her for long enough to make her uncomfortable. From within the folds of her shawl, her two withered hands, lumpy and crackled from arthritis, emerged. She placed her hands palms up on the table then gestured to Henna with her fingers.
The bruja held Henna's hands for a moment, then ran her wizened fingers over her palms, gently scratching the surface. The old woman spoke with Juanita in a raspy whisper.
“You speak Spanish?” Juanita asked her in broken English.
Henna held up her fingers to indicate a very small amount. Eduardo's family and his chic friends in Bogota spoke English. No one that worked on the plantation spoke English. She'd had to learn quickly.
The bruja spoke with Juanita in a whisper as she gestured about the room. Juanita placed a bandana wrapped bundle on the table in front of the bruja. The bruja unwrapped the red fabric and revealed an abused pack of playing cards. She put the cards in front of Henna and gestured with her hands as if shuffling. Finally, she held up three fingers.
Henna shuffled three times and placed the cards on the table. The bruja spread the cards in front of her one at a time, pausing between each revelation. There were no smiles or frowns. No reaction at all to what the card might or might not have meant to her. When she seemed satisfied, the cards were scooped up and carefully rewrapped in the bandana. Juanita brought a cigar box and a pad of paper to the table and gave them to the bruja.
The bruja spoke to Juanita as she gestured to Henna.
“You...” She patted her tummy. “Bambina. Si?”
“Do I know that I'm pregnant?” Henna asked. “Yes. Everybody knows I'm pregnant.” Why else would two people be getting married with two weeks’ notice? Her mother's words repeated in her head constantly since the conversation she'd had with her mother to announce their rush to the altar.
The plan originally had been to just tell people they were getting married. The conversation had ended with Henna in tears, her mother going for the scotch, and Eduardo being put on the phone to explain to her father that he'd gotten his thirty-seven year old daughter in trouble. Her mother's words.
A thirty-seven year old woman who was a doctor and a home owner was still in trouble in her mother's mind if she wasn't married and pregnant. The final words with her mother had been to the effect that she had best get married quickly and quietly then tell everyone she went into labor early and hope she didn't deliver a ten pound baby.
Eduardo and her father had managed to calm down both women and arrive at a point where her mother stopped referring to her pregnancy as either an accident or a booboo and she had promised not to strangle her mother.
For some reason, and in a way that had never made her entirely comfortable, her father and Eduardo seemed to get each other. Her father had been the least bothered about the abrupt change in circumstances and the most supportive. He'd been the one to tell her that marrying Eduardo would be another smart thing his smartest child had done in her life.
Juanita spoke with the bruja who responded with a few gestures. The old woman took a hunk of black crayon from the cigar box and began making long thick and thin strokes on the paper. Henna watched the paper upside down as two conflicting images began to appear. When the bruja finished and she held the drawing in her hands, Henna wasn't sure what she felt. Annoyance? Anger? Frustration? Sadness? All of the above and then some?
On the left side was sadness. On the right joy. The left rectangle was divided into two triangles. Within the top triangle, Henna smiled and held her baby with San Francisco as the backdrop. The bottom triangle was Eduardo, sad, alone, and miserable. On the right of the page was a family portrait. She and Eduardo with two small girls close in age.
“You understand?” Juanita asked from her place behind the bruja's shoulder. “Comprende?” She pointed her finger to the triangles left side of the paper. “No marry Don Eduardo. Sad.” Juanita frowned and rubbed her eyes as if crying. “Marry Don Eduardo. Happy. Two girl. Isabella. Cecilia. Happy.”
She tipped her head in acknowledgment. The picture was like a blackmail note. Do as I say, or suffer the consequences. No gun to the head could be as potentially motivating as the dual images displayed on the page.
“Say nada picture,” Juanita warned with a wag of a finger. “Or bad happen. Very bad. You break Don Eduardo’s heart.” She placed her hand to her chest and frowned. “Comprende?”
Henna tipped her head again and smiled tightly. Marry Eduardo or I will break his heart. That was clear. She knew that without the bruja drawing a picture. It didn't matter what he said to her, he wanted to get married. It mattered to him. Eventually, the pressure of wanting to get married would push a wedge between them. Because that was what she did. Simon was right. She fought against her own happiness. She stood in her own way. Not once since she'd found out she was pregnant had she considered
“Say Eduardo quickly yes, yes. No trouble. Say no, no. You break heart. Make cry.”
“I get it,” she said. “Marry him or I will break his heart and make him cry.”
“Si,” Juanita said. “No problem.”
The bruja spoke to Juanita who walked to the door and out. After she left, the old woman took the drawing from Henna's hands, folded it in four and gestured for Henna to stick it in her bra. With the drawing safely stowed away, the bruja just sat smiling at her. Finally, Juanita returned with Eduardo. The bruja gestured to the chair next to Henna and he sat down.
The bruja began speaking to him then nodded to her.
“Okay,” Eduardo said to her. “Something you need to do?”
“Did she tell you what that something might be, or is it up to me to tell you?”
Eduardo spoke with the bruja for a moment, then turned back to her. “Whatever it is, you should do what you have to do before sunset tonight.”
She smiled tightly at the bruja who returned the gesture along with a pat to her hands. The old woman continued to speak to Eduardo, cutting her out of the conversation. Finally, the bruja gestured to Juanita who helped the old woman from the table and returned her to the room she'd originally come from.
Eduardo spoke with Juanita briefly as she walked them outside. When they were on their horses riding back, Eduardo was uncharacteristically quiet.
“What did she say to you?” Henna asked, breaking the silence.
“The goat died. She wants another one for Juanita,” he said.
“And?”
“Domingo is the father of Maria's baby, and I had better do something about it before Angelo finds out his daughter's pregnant, gets drunk, and does something about it himself.”
“Okay,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“Have a firmly worded conversation with Domingo about the virtues of marriage.”
“Anything else?”
“She congratulated us, told me again that we would have two daughters, and that she was very sorry she would not be coming to the festival, but she was going to die tomorrow and that she needed to finish her book.”
“God as my witness, if she drops dead any time in the next forty-eight hours, I will no longer question the power of the bruja or the existence of destiny.”
“It's good to know that after everything we have together it takes the death of an old woman to finally convince you we belong together.” His words were humorless, and there was no smile on his face.
She pressed her lips together then spoke. “What else?”
“She wants to be buried on the western slope of the mountain, and I'm to name our daughter after her.”
“I'm not calling my daughter bruja.”
Eduardo laughed at last. “Her name is Isabella.”
“Oh,” Just as Juanita had told her. Isabella and Cecelia. “That's actually very pretty. If we have a girl, I'll consider it. And?”
“I like Isabella. It's a good name. Or Cecilia. That was my grandmother.”
She rode in silence for a moment as she tried to make up her mind. “Can we stop for a minute?”
Eduardo reigned in his horse and turned to look at her. “Well?”
She pulled the folded paper from her bra and handed it to him.
“You're not supposed to show me this.” He unfolded the square of paper gingerly as if a sketched snake might jump off the page. “You know if you do, it's not supposed to come true.”
“Eden filled me in,” she said. “Fortunately I still maintain a high enough level of skepticism, even though you do have me pretty well convinced destiny brought us together.”
He looked at the page for a moment then rubbed his hand against his jaw as he studied it. “What do you think this means?”
“Well, let's see Eduardo...” She took the drawing back from him and looked at it then held it up for both of them to see. “To the left, if we don't get married, we go our own separate ways. To the right, if we do get married, we're a happy family. Tell me the truth. The real truth. How much does it matter to you that we get married?”
“It means everything to me. I don't want to marry you because you're pregnant with my child. I want to marry you because I love you, and I want us to be a family. I want us to be together.” Just as she suspected.
“It really does matter to you, doesn't it?”
“Yes. It really does matter to me.”
“You know what?” She looked to the sky then to Eduardo. “I totally respect that. Maybe I've been so worried about what I want, that I haven't given a whole lot of thought to what you want. And to be totally honest, my mother calling our baby an accident and telling me we had better get married before anyone found out I was in trouble,” she growled a little, “really kind of pissed me off.”
“I am not unaware of this. To be truthful, as much as I like Judith, I am not pleased she tried to turn our joy into something shameful.”
“It matters to you that we get married much more than it matters to me that we wait until I come to some epiphany about the timing being right. I think we can both agree that I have this tendency to stand in my own way when my happiness is at stake. So, let's just do it.”
“You want to get married tonight?”
“I want to get married tonight. I can bend to make you happy. Our relationship isn't all about you making me happy. I can compromise and make you happy. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I'm absolutely positively certain this is the right thing to do, but I'm not certain I'd ever come to that conclusion. What matters is that you want this and you matter to me more than anything or anyone else in this world.”
“You're certain?”
“Absolutely. Besides, they've been roasting that poor pig all morning. I'd hate to think it died in vain.” She nudged Maya along the path as Eduardo followed behind her.
Eduardo nudged his horse, and it obediently followed his command. He rode behind Henna for several minutes taking a moment for himself to silently thank the bruja for being such a clever old woman.