“Oh, my. You look…dressed,” said Alva, her eyes wide.
I stood in front of the chapel doors, my scowling father beside me, waiting to make our grand entrance up the aisle. “I thought it a fitting occasion.”
“Yes, it would seem so. We are ready for you.” She looked lovely in a pastel yellow gown. Her eyes danced with mirth as she gave me one last glance before entering the chapel.
I was surprised to find that someone had packed and delivered most of my wardrobe to the rancho, including my mourning clothing. I wore the most hideous black dress my aunt had commissioned following my mother’s death. It was an unfashionable crepe-and-lace dress that did nothing for my figure. My aunt believed that death and fashion did not mix. Taking my father’s arm, I stepped into the chapel, head held high.
I heard gasps from the crowd as we made our way down the aisle. My father’s face grew crimson as more people openly gawked. I set my gaze on the man waiting at the rose covered altar, his broad shoulders slowly turned.
I stumbled. My father held me steady as I adjusted from the shock. Carlos had transformed. Gone was the rugged stable hand. His strong jaw was clean shaven, his hair perfectly styled, and the suit he wore highlighted his muscular build. The man looked like trouble.
Confusion flashed through his eyes, but then he beamed. My thoughts were difficult to grasp. We stopped a few feet away, and my father handed me to my future husband.
“Corazon, you look lovely,” Carlos whispered as the priest began the Latin mass.
I scoffed under my breath. “Good. I might wear this for the next thirty days.”
He chuckled. “That will thrill my family.”
I turned to him, my eyes furrowed.
He smirked. “In Spain, brides wear black on their wedding day to emphasize their commitment to the family—that she will honor, obey, and love her husband until death. You are honoring part of my heritage. Thank you.”
I huffed. “That is not what I am doing.”
“Nevertheless, my parents are overjoyed.”
I turned to see them in the first pew, smiling brightly. I scanned the rest of the guests, including an ethnic mix of Whites, Mexicans, and a few Chinese. Some smiled, others watched me in shock, while most young women glowered with annoyance. I turned back to face him. “I will correct your family’s assumption.”
The priest shushed us and continued a two-hour mass where the guests repeatedly stood, then sat, then knelt again and again. Coins and lassos were involved in the ceremony. It was strange and exhausting. The dress was hot and uncomfortable, making each minute stretch like molasses.
When the mass was finally over, the guests dashed outside to shower us with rice grains as Carlos led me to a clearing beside the garden. We were surrounded by well-wishes coming from the Mayor of Aliso to the rancho cowhands. The celebration was an invitation to all.
The garden had transformed. Rows of tables with white linens and striped, multi-color runners sat on the lawn. Colorful paper bunting with intricate designs undulated in the warm breeze above. We sat at the head table. Beautiful red rose flower arrangements perched in the center, their soft scent mingling in the air
Alva with a group in tow approached our table. “Dearest sister, I am so pleased you are now a Galtero. Felicidades to both of you.”
Carlos motioned them to come closer. “Thank you, Alva. Corazon, I would like to introduce you to the rest of my siblings. These are Ramona, Olivia, and Raul. And finally, the youngest, Miguel.”
The boys bowed, and the girls smiled and extended their hands.
They were a handsome family. Beauty ran in the Galtero lot.
“Enjoy your day. We are all looking forward to getting to know you,” said Alva. “Come all. We must visit with our relatives.” Steering her siblings from the table, she strolled them off into the crowd.
Music played, unlike anything I had ever heard. The band had trumpets, guitars, and violins that meshed to make an intoxicating sound.
Carlos stood. “May I have this dance?”
“Would this be a waltz?”
“It will be whatever we want.”
I took his arm and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
The music slowed, and the strings took over, creating a soft melody.
Carlos ran his hand along my back before it settled on my waist. Threading the fingers of his other hand with mine, he held me close as we swayed to the music. The warmth of his gentle touch sent a wave of goosebumps throughout my skin and the scent of his spicy cologne left me lightheaded.
“Your body fits perfectly with mine,” he whispered, his breath tingling in my ear as he pressed me closer. “Corazon, may I kiss you?”
I looked up, watching his eyes darken. My stomach flipped. “Oh..I..I..”
“That was not a no.”
He leaned in closer and kissed me gently as the guests clapped and cheered. “¡Viva los novios!” they chanted
I pulled back. “What are they saying?”
“They are cheering for the bride and groom. They are asking us to kiss again.”
“Is it tradition?” Who was I to break tradition? I scoffed. This was not how a proper bride conducted herself, especially one who would be leaving in thirty days.
“It is now.” Carlos’ lips swooped down to mine for another sweet kiss.
As I sighed into his lips, my eyes widened. I was acting like...like a happy, blushing bride.
He lifted his head and smiled downward, his smoldering look quickened my breath. “Carlos, tonight I would like to retire to my own chamber, alone,” I said, heat rushing to my face.
He spun me and brought me back against his chest. “Corazon, you do not need to fear. I will not force my attention on you. I will wait for you to ask.”
I relaxed, since I would not be asking for his attention. I was one hundred percent almost certain that I would never do so.