AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her aunt clicked her tongue again. “I wanted your wedding to be a grand affair, when it happened. With candles, musicians, tables of food and beautiful gowns. So did your mother. And now I have missed it entirely.”
“I’m sorry. It was a simple ceremony,” she said with a sigh, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Let’s finish our tea then walk in the gardens. My feet have longed to stroll the paths of home.”
“What? Not the stables? I thought you would have already been down to see Cortes. He’s done a lovely job with the new foals the last two years.”
“That is good. The Hightower stables will become famous soon.” Shelene missed her horses. She missed the foaling, the training, the riding. All of it. She should have been happier to be home, but the dull pain in her heart, the brokenness, could not be repaired even with the beautiful Andalucíans of the Hightower stables.
She had to practice that—everyone was used to saying the Belgrano stables. She would change the name, or would she have to change it to the Forrester stables? Ah, Roman wouldn’t care.
“My dear, let Cortes and the stable hands take care of the horses. You are now the matriarch of the family. You must entertain. You are now the wife of an English lord. You must live up to your exalted state.”
“It is an exalted state I will not have for long, Tía.”
“Let us not talk of it now. You must recover from your journey and revive your spirit after the sadness of your parents’ passing. Promise me you will seriously ruminate over your future and do nothing imprudent.”
Shelene poured another cup of tea.
“I will pray that you are guided correctly. And for the safe return of the man I know you love,” her aunt said.
Shelene’s jaw clenched, and she glanced out the open doors. Weight bore her down. It wasn’t just her husband. It was her father, and her brother-in-law. And young, inexperienced Joaquin. And Mama. She’d had to bear up under the strain for months.
Marriage had long represented companionship, a girlish dream, perhaps. The sharing of life’s burdens. She had a taste of that promise and now, ashes.
“Come, dearest. Let us walk up to the hill and pay respects to your mother,” her aunt said, hooking her arm with Shelene’s.
Dewey followed along at a respectful distance, carrying a hoe, allowing Shelene to ask private questions about the family and finally, a few subtle questions about her uncle—the other unspoken weight. At least Roman was right to tell her the news of the family’s Barabbas. The Belgrano name had a long, impeccable history. Her uncle might tarnish the name, but he wouldn’t destroy it.
Mama had left Papa to his ships and his fate, knowing that if he died, he would die happy. She had grown apathetic to his absences, devoting herself to religion and needlework. And always to Las Colinas. Shelene wasn’t sure how Papa had convinced her to leave Spain for England. Mama’s world was small: the hacienda, her daughter and her daughter’s future. But her love was large.
Francisco Belgrano, on the other hand, was bitter about Las Colinas’ maternal passing. Shelene often wondered if that was what drove him to such evils. He also hated Roman, just as he hated England. Roman did not hide his involvement in Uncle Francisco’s capture and the family had never hidden their relationship with Roman. Some might suspect Roman had romanced her to get to her uncle, but the family had known him for years prior. Uncle Francisco must blame someone for his choices and misfortune.
Uncle would not be happy that Shelene had married one of his mortal enemies. Maybe he would never find out, if he was on the run from authorities and trying to save his deceitful, murderous skin. It was for the best that he was on another continent.
Shelene entwined her arm with her aunt’s. “I’m so happy to be home.”
“Good, then we must plan a magnificent party and our joy will be complete.”
No, her joy would never be complete. Her grief was complete. Losing Father and Mother. Losing Roman. Horses, stained glass and scented gardens weren’t going to relieve her pain, but she could pretend that life was grand, profess her happiness and proclaim to all that she was delighted with her state of aloneness.
* * * * *
Brahim al Meda, the estate manager, and Sakina, his wife, spent the next morning with Shelene walking through the gardens, orchards and vineyards. Shelene was pleased with the extraordinary care the family took in maintaining the property. They walked down the long lane bordered with orange trees toward the work buildings: the lower paddocks, the forge and smithy, the grain storage, the winery buildings.
The Berber couple, along with their seven grown children and their families, had faithfully supplied the estate and other paid laborers working the land with an abundance of fresh vegetables and fruits, breads, cheeses and meats, and were integral to the production of fine wines and sherry sold all over Spain.
Most of the original Berbers and Moors had long ago been forced to leave Spain. Some remained, many converting religions or appealing to local families for protection. For the al Meda family, Brahim’s grandfather had resettled in Spain nearly seventy years ago and the family had been working in the valley since.
Martina’s sons worked the fields. They, too, were marrying and bringing their wives to the estates.
Cortes had taken care of the horses and the breeding line for thirty years—before Shelene was even born. Brahim’s youngest son, Udad, was being trained to take over. She’d see them both tomorrow, and she’d be well-rested, ready to ride one of the friskier stallions across the hills.
When she’d left Spain two years ago, there were nearly two hundred working the estate.
“Two-hundred and thirty,sayidati.”
“Oh, so many more! How many of them are your grandchildren, Brahim?” Shelene asked.
“Only forty-three, but we are expecting more in the coming year,” he said. “We have a treat for you. A new variety of grapes from the United States we planted four years ago has produced excellent casks this year.”
