Roz Fox - Someone to Watch Over Me

“Bella, was the man I just saw pulling away from the bakery your admirer at Summer’s reception?”

Isabella pursed her lips tightly.

Dolores answered in a roundabout way. “Nona thinks he’s planning on settling in the valley.”

“In our valley? Or somewhere near Colt and Summer?” Trini handed her sister the bouquets and watched as Isabella placed them in cans and set them in a nearly empty upright cooler.

“Nona doesn’t know that he’s buying anything,” Isabella rushed to say. “He was reading the real estate ads. So he happened to open that section. So what?”

“I saw what I saw,” the short plump woman insisted. “He had a red pen in his hand, and he’d already circled at least two ads. One said acreage for sale.”

“Interesting,” Trini drawled. “I wonder if he’d like some suggestions on where to find the best land?”

Two of the shoppers who’d remained silent up to now both pounced on Trini. “You know very well Luisa and Benito want you to marry Paul Cruz,” the elder of the two said. “You wouldn’t catch Paul languishing in a bakery midday.”

“Paul Cruz is a jerk.”

“If you don’t trust your elders’ judgment,” the skinny woman sniffed, “ask Claudia Durazo and Teresa Castillo what it’s like trying to fit into a foreigner’s way of life. Our great-grandparents didn’t come all this way to dilute our bloodlines through intermarriage. You should respect your parents’ wishes, Trinidad Lucinda.”

Isabella saw Trini make gagging motions behind the women’s backs. “Trini shouldn’t marry to please anyone but herself. If she doesn’t love Paul, she needs to keep looking until she does fall in love.”

“Love can come slowly.” Dolores wagged a finger. “Sometimes you need to live with a man and work shoulder to shoulder with him to appreciate his good qualities.”

“And sometimes he doesn’t have any good qualities,” Isabella insisted just as doggedly.

“Bella, Bella,” cried Nona, flapping her work-worn hands. “Don’t judge poor Paul based on your experience with Julian. Even his dear mother said Julian’s mind snapped after you filed for divorce.” Nona didn’t actually say that Isabella bore some responsibility for Julian’s terrible deed, but it was implied all the same.

The Navarro sisters drifted closer together for support, and Trini immediately came to Isabella’s defense. “Julian was a horse’s patoot long before Bella woke up and decided to dump him.”

Dolores Santiago muttered and crossed herself. “The Church counsels couples on working through personal problems. It’s common knowledge that Bella stopped going to counseling, while Julian continued on alone for over a month.”

Few in their tight-knit village knew of Julian’s longstanding history of jealousy and sick possessiveness. The local Catholic priests should have seen through him. Still, Isabella couldn’t condemn them. Father Sanchez and Father Achurra had been as hoodwinked by Julian as everyone else. He was a master when it came to hiding his emotional deficiencies from everyone but his wife. Although Isabella found it hard to believe Julian’s parents didn’t have some inkling, too.

She wiped her hands on her apron. “I have a lunch to cater. The Apple Growers’ Association meeting,” she added, preparing to go back to the kitchen.

“Trini, would you mind bagging the ladies’ baked goods? I still have half a dozen sandwiches to make. Then the boxes will be ready for napkins, apples and cookies.”

Trini ducked behind the counter. “I’ll finish here so they can be on their way. Then I’ll be right in to help you. Oh, Mama sent a messa—” She frowned. “Never mind. I’ll deal with this.” She telegraphed a warning to her sister that said don’t ask any details—or at least not while their aunt’s best friends were in the shop.

“Thank you for shopping here,” Isabella remembered to say belatedly. “Nona, the suizos were fresh-baked this morning.” Isabella stopped to fill a bag with the currant buns she knew were a favorite of the Baroja family. As she handed it to Trini to ring up and then continued on into the kitchen, she wondered what her mother might want. If it was important, why hadn’t she phoned?

She turned on the faucet to wash her hands and discovered they were shaking again. Some days she doubted she could hang on till the trial. It was difficult enough to read the garbage spouted by Julian’s lawyer. She shouldn’t have to deal with censure from family friends, as well. Thank goodness there were only a few in the community who suggested she fell short as a wife and mother. She couldn’t bear it if people she dealt with every day sympathized with Julian.

Granted, they had a male-dominated culture. Which didn’t matter as a rule, because the men were good and decent. Men who loved and provided well for their families. According to stories handed down, Isabella knew it hadn’t been easy on the first wave of Basque immigrants. Few spoke anything but Euskera or Euskera blended with Spanish. They knew the land and the sea, and were fiercely independent. That meant they kept to themselves, so the townspeople often viewed them as antisocial.

Summer Marsh’s great-grandparents and many of the Paiute horse-breeders who lived along the Malheur River were kind and understanding, or so the tales went. By the time Isabella and her siblings came along, they were accepted as equals. Each new generation seemed more comfortable working and socializing together than the last. But some older members of the Basque community still balked at the idea of intermarriage.

Trini stormed through the café doors the way she stormed through life. “Aunt Carmen sicced those old busybodies on us today. I should never have told her about Gabe Poston.” She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead several times. “You’d think I’d learn to watch my mouth. I just don’t understand why they can’t mind their own business.”

Isabella deftly assembled the last sandwich on the board. After setting it in one of the white boxes, she opened a cupboard and took out a stack of paper napkins. “Wash, please. Then grab a tray of red apples from the pantry. I’ll bag the cookies. We can have this done in a jiffy.”

“I wish I could be more like you, Bella. You never let a thing they say get to you.” Trini jammed her fanny pack into a deep drawer with Isabella’s purse, then scrubbed her hands.

“They get to me, Trini. But arguing and giving them more fodder to complain about is a waste of energy. Energy I’ll need to get through Julian’s trial.”

“Which reminds me. Mama took a call from the prosecutor.” Trini entered the walk-in pantry, leaving Isabella’s stomach in a knot as she waited for her sister to return with the apples and complete the message.

“Why didn’t James phone me here?” Isabella asked the moment Trini reappeared. “He has this number, and I’ve been here all day.”

Trini shook her head, making her short curls dance. “James Hayden doesn’t care about your case, Bella. I wish there was a way to fire him and get someone else. Mama and I are positive he didn’t have the guts to tell you he lost the appeal to keep the trial in Burns. It’s been moved to Bend because the judge doesn’t think people in this county can be impartial enough.”

“What? When?” Isabella dropped the cookie she was holding. It broke into a million pieces when it hit the tile floor. “No!” she cried, feeling the thread that held her nerves together unraveling. “The drive alone prohibits the whole family from attending.”

“I’m sorry, Bella.” Trini became instantly sympathetic. “Old Gutless said it was either Bend or LaGrande. He chose Bend because it’s a few miles closer.”