Bloom of love, p.18
Bloom of Love, page 18
Carla
My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
~Inigo in The Princess Bride
Carla was shaking and the occasional tear still trickled down her cheek. This was stupid. This was infuriating.
She wasn’t normally one to weep like a heroine in a bad novel. Sure, she cried at sad movies – and happy ones, for that matter – and she hated conflict with all her might, so today was officially the first time she’d ever witnessed a fist fight, but still…
It had to be the hormones. She’d heard that when a woman was pregnant, she was more emotional, but it was one thing to hear that and quite another thing to be living through it.
Christian drove them to his single-wide, leading her through to the bedroom, undressing her with delicate movements, so obviously worried that she was going to shatter into a million pieces at any moment. She wanted to tell him that she was fine – she might’ve even murmured that at one point – but she surely didn’t feel fine.
He pulled back the covers, helping her to lay down, and then spooned her from behind, stroking his hand down her arm, whispering, telling her how much he loved her. How much he loved the baby.
Oh God. The baby.
Could she bring a baby into this dysfunctional family? Christian’s uncle seemed to hate her simply because of her skin color. Would he hate their baby too?
“Why does your uncle hate white women?” Carla asked quietly into the semi-darkness of the room. It was night now, but neither of them had bothered to turn on a lamp. She wanted the darkness anyway. She wanted to hide from the world in the circle of Christian’s arms, and never come out again.
Christian let out a heavy sigh, ruffling Carla’s hair with his warm breath.
“I didn’t know he did until tonight, actually,” he admitted. “I was worried about him getting drunk off his ass. After all, that’s just a typical Saturday night for him. Or Tuesday night, for that matter. My dad was supposed to be slowing him down – giving him water and lemonade to drink between beers – but Yesenia said that he started as soon as he woke up this morning. My dad’s best efforts didn’t do a damn thing. I do have to say that falling off the front porch and into a table of food is a new low for him.” He chuckled humorlessly. “He won’t even remember this tomorrow. He won’t even remember the party, I’m sure of it. He’ll call us liars when we tell him he fell off the front porch. He’s…”
Christian let out another heavy sigh, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “He’s not only an alcoholic, he’s what alcoholics aspire to be when they grow up. He has his favorite beer – Corona, in case you’re curious – but he’ll drink anything. My parents tried to help him quit one time, until they found him drinking the cough syrup.”
“What?” she interrupted, startled. “Why cough syrup?”
“Brands like Nyquil? Some of their products are 25% alcohol,” Christian said with a dry chuckle.
“Wuuuhhh…” Carla had no words. No intelligible words, anyway. “That’s craziness.”
“Well, after the cough syrup incident, my parents decided they’d allow him to drink all he wanted at their house. As long as he’s not on the road, maybe risking his life or someone else’s behind the wheel, they’re happy. And he’s happy, because my mom takes care of him. Laundry, meals…you name it, she does it for him. He still has his own place, but he’s rarely there. Life at my parent’s house is the easy street for him. Not for the rest of us, though, because now we have to live with him. Thank God for my job here on the Miller farm, so I have my own place. I’m not in the thick of it all the time like Nieves and Yesenia are.”
“Sooo…” Carla said hesitantly, not sure how to point out the obvious without being too blunt, “what does this have to do with him hating me because of my skin color?”
“Right. Like I said, I didn’t know that he hated all white women. I just thought he hated her. The woman who killed his family.”
Carla froze. She couldn’t breathe. Killed…?
“Not with an ax or something,” Christian said quickly. “She was driving. Not paying attention. She drifted into oncoming traffic and hit my aunt’s van head on. Tía Gabriela died instantly. My cousins lasted a few days but they hadn’t been buckled in. You know how it was in the 1980’s. Buckling up every time you got into a vehicle…it just wasn’t strict back then like it is now. They were thrown from the van. Even if they’d lived, they would’ve been vegetables. I was just a toddler when it happened. I don’t remember his wife, or his kids. Two boys. I’m sure we played together, but…”
He trailed off then, and Carla let him hold her and simply be for a moment. Even if he didn’t remember this, to lose two cousins and an aunt…
“I think that alone would’ve done my uncle in. But then, the county prosecutor decided not to go after the white woman. She was the wife of the bank president in town. My aunt and cousins were the relations of a poor Mexican family. The woman was sorry, and wasn’t that enough? It caused her a lot of trauma. Why, she had to go to therapy and everything!”
Carla snorted with horrified laughter. It wasn’t funny. Not funny in the slightest.
But the way he said it…
“My uncle has always ranted and raved about that woman. She destroyed his family. She ruined his life. I really thought he hated only her. I didn’t know…If there were signs that it spread beyond that to all white women in general, I missed it. When I was a kid, I called him The Snake – el Serpiente – in my mind. Quick to strike, and mean as a rattlesnake. I learned to stay out of his way early on. I’d always wondered if he was this mean his whole life, or if he’d changed because of the wreck and losing his family overnight. My father…” He sighed. “He always makes excuses for him. It doesn’t matter what he does or who he hurts, my papá will say that it isn’t Nicolás’ fault. Nicolás is the youngest of the family, and somehow, despite pushing 60, he still hasn’t grown up. He’s still the baby.”
Carla listened, worry growing inside of her as Christian spoke. No matter how sad his uncle’s story was – and it was heartbreaking – Carla couldn’t let him hurt her child. She would never allow that man around her children, no matter who he was related to.
“He can’t be around our kids,” Carla said softly, liking the sound of kids. As in, more than one. Would they have more children? God, she hoped so. She wanted a whole passel. “Our kids are going to be half-white. He’s going to hate them, isn’t he.” It was a statement, not a question, but still, Christian paused and then nodded, his nose rubbing against the back of her head with the movement.
“I wouldn’t have said yes before tonight. But now that I’ve seen him…I never thought he’d disown me. I’m the only son of his favorite brother. The few times in my life that he was nice to me, he told me that I looked like his younger son before the wreck. He says we have the same smile. It’s the only kind thing he’s ever said to me, but I still didn’t expect…Damn, I was stupid to agree to this party. Tonto. I don’t know why I believed my father when he promised that he’d make my uncle behave.”
“It was a nice party,” Carla said loyally. “Before…” She waved her hand in the air, encompassing the whole fight. “That,” she finished lamely. “Why are you talking about the Lone Ranger, though?”
“The what?” The bewilderment was clear in his voice.
“You said Tonto. That was the Lone Ranger’s companion in those movies.”
He started shaking in his belly and then a roar of laughter came pouring from his lips. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It never occurred to me…Tonto means fool in Spanish. I was calling myself a fool.”
“Oooohhhh…” she said. “That makes a lot more sense.” She turned in his arms to face him. She was done dealing with the hurt. The anger. The difficulties of life and family. She wanted to do something else. Or, to be more specific, someone else. “Well, quit being a tonto and kiss me. You’ve got a naked woman in your arms. You haven’t forgotten what to do with one of them already, have you?”
“I was trying to be a gentleman,” he protested, even as she leaned forward and slipped the buttons loose on his shirt, bearing his tanned skin to her gaze. She kissed the newly revealed spot, running her tongue over his skin, and he let out a groan. “I…I think I can be persuaded to not be quite so gentlemanly, though. If you insist.”
“Oh, I insist,” she said with a small laugh, undoing another button. Suckling another piece of revealed skin. She wanted to forget about dead children and mean uncles and just be.
“You know one of the benefits of me being pregnant is?” Carla whispered as she tugged on his belt, freeing it from its loops.
“No, what?” Christian asked in a breathy whisper, his hands running all over her body.
“No need for a condom! I can’t get pregnant twice.” She grinned at him for a moment and then went back to undoing the top button of his jeans.
“Right,” he groaned, as she unzipped his pants. “Turns out, that’s a very, very good benefit.”
Chapter 30
Christian
This is true love. You think this happens every day?
~Westley in The Princess Bride
December, 2020
Christian drummed his fingers on the counter of the bakery, trying to wait patiently for the customer in front of him to make a decision, but it was a struggle. She was a painfully thin, older woman in town – Mrs. Gehring? Maybe? He was never good with names – whose husband used to be a big farmer. He’d died many years ago and she’d sold the farm and moved to town.
Nice, elderly lady. Sweet. Kind.
And if she didn’t pick out a donut in the next 13 seconds, he was going to strangle her.
Finally content with her choice, she worked her way to the front door, cane firmly in hand, waving it at people as she went. Christian worried a bit about her aim – was she going to whack anyone with her cane on the way? – but not that worried. He had much more important things to do.
Like buy glazed orange muffins. Ever since Carla got pregnant, these muffins were the one thing she craved day and night.
“You know,” Sugar said conversationally as she bagged up a half dozen of the muffins without even asking him what he wanted, “Carla’s the cause of more sales of these muffins than the rest of Long Valley combined together. I had Gage asking me why we were going through them like crazy, and when I told him I thought it was pregnancy cravings, he just laughed and laughed.”
She handed the bag over with an expectant smile, clearly hoping he’d dish, but Christian just thanked her and headed for the door. He liked Sugar enough, but there was a reason she worked at a bakery. She was a gossip queen, and he wasn’t ready to spill.
This was not something he wanted spreading around town. Not yet.
He shouldn’t be surprised that the rumors were already flying, though – Carla did have that special pregnancy glow that he’d always heard people talk about but had never seen in person. His sisters and mother had looked miserable sick when they were pregnant, but Carla…she just looked even more gorgeous than normal.
Which was really saying something.
He drove the few blocks down the street and parked behind the flower shop; he would’ve just walked the muffins down but parking was limited in front of the bakery, especially now that Cady had opened up the Smoothie Queen next door. He didn’t want to hog a spot.
He pushed open the glass front door to Happy Petals, listening to the pleasant tinkle of the bell that said home to him, and breathed in the heavily perfumed air. Carla said that she’d long ago become “nose blind” and couldn’t smell flowers any longer – apparently something common among florists – but Christian could only hope that’d never happen to him. This smell meant Carla, and Carla meant love.
Looking up, Carla saw who it was and sent him a brilliant smile, heading around the counter and pushing her turquoise-rimmed reading glasses into the pile of hair on top of her head.
“Hi, bebé,” she said with an excited grin, laying one on him that made him wish that they were in a less public place than her flower shop, and then pulled back, looking concerned. “I didn’t realize you’d be coming over early. I don’t close for another 30 minutes.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to bring these to you now,” he held out the bag from the Muffin Man and she let out a squeal of delight, “and figured I could hang around until you close if you’re too busy to close up early. I have some exciting news I want to share.” He wiggled his eyebrows in what he could only hope was a mysterious way, and she laughed.
“Sadly, Mrs. Panuska is coming over with her daughter to approve the final design for the flowers for the wedding this weekend, so I can’t close up early. You could always tell me while we wait for them to show up.” She looked up at him hopefully as she peeled the paper off a muffin.
He shook his head, trying to look stern and failing in the face of such naked begging. “Nope. This is an ‘after the store closes’ kind of conversation.”
She looked at him, her mouth screwed up as she tried to decide what on earth the big news could be, when the doorbell jingled and in walked an overbearing woman practically towing a younger woman along behind her. This must be Mrs. Panuska and her daughter. Listening to the woman asking all of the questions, the bride-to-be mute as her mother decided on changes in style and colors, Christian decided the daughter was getting married simply and solely to get out from underneath her mother’s thumb.
Tyrannical didn’t begin to describe Mrs. Panuska.
Bored, Christian wandered into the back and into Autumn’s office. At least, it was what he assumed was her office. It had been the last ten times he’d been to the store. Today, however, it just looked like it was ground zero of some kind of fancy fabric explosion.
“Autumn?” he said hesitantly, not sure if she was even in the room. She pushed her way from behind some boxes, swearing as she went.
“Hey, Christian,” she said, pushing her curls out of her face. “Come to help me?”
“Uhhh…sure.” He had six sisters and a mom. He was used to being voluntold for all sorts of projects.
“Good. Mrs. Panuska will be here at least another 30 minutes, making sure that Carla has plenty of time to question her life choices. In the meanwhile, I need you to help me cut this tulle into 3-foot lengths.”
Tool, eh? It doesn’t look a damn thing like any tools I’ve ever used, but sure. Why not.
As they laid out and cut the tulle into 3-foot lengths, Autumn pattered on about her worthless boyfriend, Johnny, and how miserable he was lately, and how that was making her miserable, and life was too short to be miserable, and she sure wished he’d learn how not to be miserable, and Christian was just on the verge of asking Autumn why on earth she was still with this guy when Carla popped her head around the corner.
“I wondered if Autumn had put you to work,” she said with a grin. “Mrs. Panuska is gone and the front door is locked. You wanna go out for a drive? Or up to my place? Or out to yours…?”
“Let’s just head upstairs,” Christian said, not wanting to wait another moment to tell Carla the big news. Carla looked surprised for just a moment – she knew how bad his allergies could get if he spent too much time in her apartment, even after all of the allergy shots he’d endured so far – but then shrugged and smiled.
“Okay, but Autumn,” she turned to her friend, “if the bed starts a-rockin’—”
“Don’t come a-knockin’,” Autumn finished. “Do I look like I was born yesterday? I might just put in earbuds. If I ain’t getting any, I don’t want to hear anyone else getting any.”
As Carla and Christian climbed the stairs, Christian asked in a whisper, “Why is Autumn with Johnny?”
“That, bebé, is the $64,000 question,” Carla said, putting the bag of muffins on the one open spot on the dresser and eagerly digging one out to eat. Bella was busy rubbing against Carla’s legs, meowing her greeting, but for the moment, they both ignored her. “If any of us could see what she saw in him, we’d understand it better. But yeah…they’ve been together for years, and never have I seen two people be more mismatched in my life. She keeps attending our Early Spinster’s Club meetings because she says she’s never going to marry Johnny, so…”
Christian felt a hitch in his throat at the mention of marriage.
As strange as it was, they’d never actually talked about marriage. Raising kids and buying a house, sure. But marriage…
Carla was old-fashioned enough that she was probably waiting for him to ask her, or at least for him to be the one to bring it up.
Why the idea of buying a house with someone didn’t scare him as much as marrying that person, he wasn’t sure. If he was going to marry anyone in the world, it was Carla.
He just wasn’t ready to tackle that conversation. Yet.
He side-stepped the topic and dove into why he was there. “So…” he said, sidling past her to sit on the end of the bed and pull Carla up between his legs, “I talked to my parents today.”
Her hand stopped halfway to her mouth, a crumb dangling from her upper lip that was absolutely killing Christian to look at. He wanted to suck it off. Thinking with Carla Grahame around? Virtually impossible.
“Yeah?” she said cautiously. “And how did that go?”
He began stroking his hands up and down her glorious thighs and ass. If he couldn’t kiss her, he could at least be feeling her up.
“I told ’em the good news. Told ’em you were pregnant. My mom cried.”
“Happy tears or sad tears?” Carla asked instantly. Her tongue flicked out and picked up the stray crumb. Dammit.
“Happy,” he said, working hard to keep his mind focused, despite the distraction that was Carla Grahame. “Honestly? I really believe my parents thought I was gay,” he said with a low chuckle. “After all, I’m 38 and have never been married. To know that I really do like girls and all of their fun parts makes my pretty conservative parents very happy. Plus, our kids will have the Palacios last name, unlike all of my sister’s kids. That sort of thing is damn important to my father.”
