Chapter 13

Marianna held her baby close, stroking his fine hair as she breastfed. Rocking relaxes Kenneth. She smiled at the tiny bundle in her arms while she rhythmically rocked the chair with her foot.

When he whimpered, she moved him to her other nipple and caressed his smooth, soft back.

But as he fussed, he began coughing, then gasping for breath.

Marianna gently patted his back as he rested against her shoulder. Then she shushed him and sang Hush-A-Bye Baby.

The dream setting changed. Tears running down her cheeks as she cradled the motionless bundle, Marianna watched from the cabin’s doorway. Ramon jabbed the crusty soil, straining to break through the hardpan. His shovel gave a metallic ring each time it hit a rock, but he wiped his brow, stabbing again and again.

Marianna held the wrapped baby until the last moment. With a parting kiss, she tucked a small container inside his patchwork quilt, and lay her son to sleep for the last time.

His face stoic, Ramon covered the grave and stood the etched flagstone in the ground.

Again, the dream transformed. The setting remained the same—Marianna stood by the grave, tears running down her cheeks—but the timeline changed. The toppled stone had darkened with age.

Still dreaming, I saw myself standing beside the grave. A silent spectator, I recognized the loquat tree, but the blossoms had grown into juicy clusters of fruit.

Kneeling, Marianna turned red eyes toward me and raised her hands, imploring.

A crash of lightning and a peal of thunder, followed by the puppy’s frantic barking woke me.

“Teddy! Calm down. That’s just thunder. Come here.” As I called, I patted my thigh, which usually brought him running.

Instead, he paced the cabin like a caged coyote.

“Teddy, come here, boy.”

He cowered at the other side of the room, his hackles raised, and his tail tucked between his legs.

“It’s all right.” I stood and approached him, speaking in a soft, soothing voice. “It’s just thunder and lightning.” Picking him up, I carried him to the window and peered through the downpour. “See, the storm can’t hurt you.”

As the rain washed away the tree’s snowy petals, pale yellow fruit emerged.

Are those loquats? Staring at the tree, I recalled my dream. Or was it a visitation?

Then a convertible sluiced through the driveway’s puddles, splattering mud in its wake.

Bea jumped out, ran through the rain with a soggy paper in hand, and rapped on Luke’s door. When no one answered, she strode to the cabin and hammered on my door.

What does she want? I cracked it open as Teddy jumped down. “Yes?”

“You have my dog.” Bea handed me the waterlogged poster as she pushed past.

The puppy cowered in the far corner.

“Teddy’s your dog?” I blinked. “Why didn’t you claim him when I posted the signs? Why’d you wait a month?”

“Just saw the poster today.” Bea’s eyes narrowed. “Give me my dog.” She gave a shrill whistle.

Teddy started trembling.

Something’s not right…“What’s his name?”

“Spot.” Bea all but sneered. “Here, Spot.”

Tail between his legs, the dog crept behind the bed.

“Either Teddy doesn’t recognize you, or he’s afraid of you.”

“First, you horned in on Luke.” Legs planted wide, Bea plunked her fists on her hips. “Now, you’re stealing my dog.”

“Nobody’s horning in or stealing anything.” I silently counted to five. “I just want to be sure Teddy belongs to you.”

Bea pulled out her cell phone and punched 911. Her index finger poised to connect, she scowled. “Give me my dog…or do I have to bring the sheriff in on this?”

****

“Bea took Teddy.”

“What?” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Luke groaned as he shut the door.

I relayed the conversation.

“If Teddy was her dog—which I doubt—why’d she wait a month to claim him?” Shaking his head, he spoke under his breath. “Bea for bitch. Well, she just made up my mind.”

“About what?”

He shared the county clerk’s advice. “I hadn’t planned to pursue any legal action, let alone hire an attorney, but Bea’s changed my mind.”

“What about legal backlash?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

I recalled the woman’s threat to call the sheriff. “Could you face any court fees?”

“Don’t borrow trouble.” He rested a hand on my shoulder as he glanced at the rocker. “Worry’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but doesn’t get you anywhere.”

I chuckled at the image until I recalled my catnap. “But does a rocker take you places?”

He squinted.

I described the visions. “Were those dreams, or did Marianna pay me a visit?”

“Who knows? Maybe a spark of energy lasts after death—like starlight. The twinkle we see as stars is really the afterglow of suns, millions of lightyears away.”

“You’re comparing starlight to a person’s spirit.” Seeing his point, I nodded. “But why would Marianna show me the grave—both during the burial and now?”

“What do you mean, now?”

“I dreamt the loquat tree had fruit, yet before this morning’s rain, I’d seen only its blossoms. Marianna appeared when the fruit was ripe…in other words, now.” I squinted, trying to make sense of the dreams. “Do you think she wants us to find something…do something?”

“You mean, uncover something?” Rubbing his chin, he turned toward the tree. “After the rain, that hardpan would be soft—easier to shovel. If we ever thought of exhuming her baby, now would be the time.”

“But digging up a baby’s bones would be grisly.” I shook off a chill. “Even if our guess is right, why would Marianna want us to unearth her and Mateo’s only child?”

“For one thing, he’s related to us both, so we’d be her likely choices. For another, Kenneth’s grave was makeshift, at best.” Luke gestured with his chin. “Maybe she wants us to give her baby a proper burial.”

“And funeral.” I glimpsed the tree through the window. “But Marianna could’ve made her wishes known anytime during the past weeks. Why show herself today—just as the loquats ripen?”

“What’s happened recently?”

“Where do I start?” Counting off on my fingers, I reviewed the past 72 hours’ events. “We found the diary’s lost pages, learned of the baby’s grave, and discovered Mateo’s secret compartment. Then Bea made a play for you—”

“Said goodbye—”

“Besides brainwashing you and essentially stealing Teddy”—I glanced through the window at the vineyard—“maybe she chopped the vines.”

“That thought occurred to me, too, but without evidence, it’s guesswork.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Though, she did grow up around vines—”

“So, she’d have known where to cut them.” I wrinkled my nose. Bea for bitch.

“After her performance with Teddy this morning, I wouldn’t put it past her, but we can’t jump to conclusions.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s go back to your question. Why would Marianna appear today?”

“And just as the loquats ripen…” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Last night, Mateo shared his side of the story, when he revealed not only his love for Marianna, but the deed.”

“Which will be a legal challenge before it…bears fruit.” His cheek dimpled.

I chuckled despite the topic, then wriggled, remembering our sudden attraction. “And who could forget last night’s kiss?”

“I can’t.” A glimmer lit his eyes.

“I mean…” I forced myself to look away. “You’re Marianna’s great-great-grandson, and I’m Mateo’s great-great-granddaughter. We’re the fruit of their love, and as far as I know, their first descendants to have—”

“An emotional connection?” He stepped toward me.

“A rapport.” I took a step back. “Could Marianna and Mateo somehow want to relive their love through us, their offspring?”

“Vicariously?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I believe in ghosts, let alone buy that idea.”

“Then let the proof be in the pudding.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve both admitted to sudden…inclinations.”

“Hormones and pheromones could account for those.” Grinning, he leaned closer. “Not to mention living and working in close quarters these past weeks.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it.” My pulse fluttered.

“Even if that’s so, how would last night’s apparition fit into your idea that Marianna and Mateo could or would want to relive their lives through us?” He raised his chin.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Shrugging, I held up my palms. “But we know their time together was cut short—first by the war, then by Mateo’s misreported death. They didn’t finish what they started. Maybe they want us to tie up their loose ends.”

“That’s just more speculation.”

“True.” I nodded. “But last night, we both saw Mateo.”

“You saw the apparition, not me.”

“We agree we saw something. We can’t be sure what or who, but that entity led us to the watch and deed, which proves Mateo’s love for Marianna.”

“That’s true…” He rubbed his brow. “Until last night, she didn’t know he loved her, did she?”

“So, through dreams”—I glanced at the rocker—“Marianna showed us what may be the baby’s grave. Maybe she wants him exhumed.”

“We’re back to why?”

“I can only guess, but maybe she regrets the baby’s hasty burial. Maybe she wants their child’s memory to live on. You said even your grandfather’s realtor didn’t know whose gravesite it was.” I mentally replayed the past weeks’ sequence of events. “So far, these odd happenings have benefitted us.”

“What odd happenings?” He caught my gaze.

“Besides discovering the deed last night, we found the dime last month.”

“And these have helped us how?”

“The sale of that antique dime not only paid for the outdoor tasting room but was the reason I stayed. Even my car accident—”

“Now you’re adding your accident to the list of ‘odd happenings’?”

“Maybe…” I tilted my head, thinking. “It sounds weird, but we wouldn’t have met otherwise.”

“These incidents are just coincidences.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, remember?” I tossed my chin. “But from the recent events, I think Marianna and Mateo are reaching out to us. We just don’t know what they want.”

“Or why they’d want to interact.”

“Maybe it’s to gain our trust.” I shrugged. “Or maybe it’s to gain our support.”

“I’m sorry.” Swallowing a smile, he shook his head. “I can’t take those assumptions seriously.”

“Why not? You know their information’s reliable—the deed proves it.” I took a deep breath. “Marianna and Mateo have earned my trust, and I think they’re entitled to our help.”

“For the sake of argument, why would Mateo want our help?”

“Unfinished business. Think of it from his perspective. Through no fault of his own, the War Department declared him dead. As a result, he lost his child because of complications brought on by his reported death, and he lost his wife to another man. Then, because of a misunderstanding, Marianna turned against him.”

“True…” He rubbed his chin.

“They both have unfinished business—but they’re dead. Who better to turn to than their descendants?”

Groaning, Luke ran his hand through his still-damp hair.

“After all they’ve been through, they deserve our help.” I appealed with a smile. “Besides, who knows where the venture will lead?”

He sighed. “So, which ‘loose end’ do we tie up first?”

****

After the rain stopped, Luke and I got shovels from the shed, moved the headstone aside, and began digging.

At roughly four feet, my shovel caught on a decomposed cotton remnant. “This might be part of the quilt Marianna used to wrap Kenneth.” I rubbed the muddy, threadbare scrap between my fingers, trying to sense its history.

“If we’ve already dug to the burial depth, this soil could be the baby’s decomposed body. Notice the darker color?”

“Hallowed ground.” Speaking in a whisper, I replaced the decayed cloth scrap. “We should keep it intact. Be right back.” Minutes later, I returned with a plastic storage container. “How’s this?”

“For now, it’s perfect.” After several minutes of shoveling the wet soil, Luke unearthed a rusted tin can. “Will you look at this?”

Only the word tobacco was legible.

He caught my gaze. “What’s a tobacco can doing in a baby’s burial?”

“Open it and find out.”

He undid its disintegrating metal hinge, tipped its contents into his hand, then unfolded the damp paper.

“This certifies that Mr. Mateo Ramirez and Miss Marianna Rodriguez were united in holy matrimony according to the ordinance of God and the laws of Texas.”

“The date’s right.” I pointed to the words. “March 6, 1898, but why would she bury their wedding certificate along with their baby?”

“She believed her husband had been killed in the war. Then her premature baby died. Maybe she wanted to bury that entire chapter of her life.”

“That would make sense since she married Ramon two weeks later.” I scratched my head. “But finding this wedding certificate the day after Mateo revealed the deed is too coincidental to be a coincidence.”

“Maybe your dream was a visitation.”

I stared at the yellowed paper, trying to fit it into the puzzle. “Marianna’s in-laws stole her inheritance, and this document may play a role in restoring it. Let’s not rebury it.”

“Good idea.” He refolded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, but he added the can to the container.

“That soil’s all that’s left of Marianna’s baby. I can’t imagine her grief.” I blinked away unexpected tears. “I know we’re doing the right thing.”

****

The next morning, I compared notes with Luke on our ride back from town. “The funeral director recommends a green reburial with a graveside service.” The desert marigolds sprouting along the road brightened my spirits. Spring. Life. “He also suggests drawing a map of the property to show the burial site, then filing it with the property deed, so Kenneth’s grave won’t be forgotten.”

“I think Marianna would like that.” Luke side-glanced as he drove.

“How’d it go with the lawyer?”

“Sounds like we have a good case. The deed map clearly includes Bea’s property, and the deed was recorded, so its authenticity is rock solid.”

“What’s next?” I glanced at the stream paralleling the road. Early catkins dangled from the cottonwoods.

“The lawyer’s going to check Bea’s deed. If it’s quitclaim, as he suspects, he’ll challenge it—and he’s prepared to go to court.”

“That ought to go over well.” My jaw tightened. “One thing bothers me, though. Why did Mateo bring the title to light?”

“Apparently, he wants the land to go to Marianna’s descendants.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Maybe to clear his name”—he shrugged—“right any wrongs or resolve any misunderstandings. Maybe this is his way of finding peace.”

“Until he showed us that deed and note, we’d read only Marianna’s story.” I leaned back against the headrest. “Think he needs closure?”

****

Three days later, Bea’s convertible roared into the caliche driveway spewing dust and pebbles behind it.

Bea jumped out before the vehicle rocked to a standstill, then hammered on Luke’s door.

“What brings you—”

“How dare you sue me!”

Responding to the shouts, I strolled over from the cabin.

Bea about faced and pointed. “She’s the reason you’ve turned on me, isn’t she? Admit it!”

“Maeve’s got nothing to do with this legal inquiry—”

“I knew you were trouble the moment I caught Luke sneaking from your hotel room.” Bea glared. “Now what are you trying to do—steal my land like you stole my dog?”

“Steal—interesting choice of words.” Ignoring her barb about Teddy, I focused on the past’s injustices. “If your title’s solid, you have nothing to worry ab—”

“Of course, it is.” Bea’s eyes shot daggers.

“But if you can’t prove ownership, the courts will show your family stole Luke’s land.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“Luke has the deed to the Ramirez ranch that Mateo gave Mari—”

“I grew up hearing that story about the tramp that tried to pass off her bastard as his.” Bea curled her lip.

Bastard? My chest heaving, I glanced at the upturned soil that had been their baby’s grave. “It’s time the land is returned to its rightful owner.”

“That land’s been in my family for over six generations, and that’s where it stays. See you in court.” Bea turned on her heel, slammed into her car, and roared off in a shower of dust and gravel.

“How to make friends and influence people”—he grimaced—“sue them.”

“You can’t blame her for putting up a fight, but that land belonged to Marianna…and would’ve been Kenneth’s.” I caught Luke’s gaze. “If Bea’s family won’t recognize Marianna and Mateo’s marriage, it’s lucky we found their wedding certificate.”

“Even with that document, it’ll be a court battle.” His jaw tightened.

“What’s the saying? Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If her family’s lived on that land for six generations—”

“And paid taxes and made improvements on it…” He held up his index finger, emphasizing his points.

“Bea has a good case, but if her family grabbed that land from Marianna—”

“Against Mateo’s wishes—”

“She’d only reap what her family sowed.” I crossed my arms, still chafing about Teddy and the cut vines.

“Ready for some more ‘good’ news.” His tone tongue-in-cheek, he wrinkled his nose.

“Now what?” I took a deep breath, bracing myself.

“The supplier texted that the countertop is delayed.”

“So…?”

“So much for completing the tasting room early.” His mouth twisted. “If we don’t have a bar, why bother opening an outdoor tasting room?”

Like a tire deflating, my disappointment rushed out with a sigh. “All your work to finish the patio early. I’m sorry about the timing, but this is a temporary setback, just until the countertop’s delivered.” I shook his shoulder, then forced a smile. “In the meantime, we can enjoy it—maybe have our meals there. In fact, I picked the first loquats for tonight’s dinner.”

“The first fruits.” His lips twitched in a wry smile.

As I recalled our kiss, a shudder slid down my spine. We’re the fruit of Marianna and Mateo’s love…I took a deep breath, refocusing. “Since it’s my turn to cook, I thought we could eat al fresca and celebrate spring with a chicken with honey-loquat glaze.”

“It’s a date.”

Is it?

****

That evening, as we finished dinner on the new patio, a high-pitched whine broke the stillness.

My ears perking, I scanned the vineyard.

A small mound of dried grass and burrs barked.

“Teddy?” I ran to meet him.

A chewed-through rope hung from his bleeding neck, so tight, it had rubbed off his fur and chafed his skin raw.

“Teddy, what did she do to you?” As I picked him up, he fell against my chest, exhausted.

“If I had any qualms about suing Bea before, I don’t anymore.” Luke shook his head as he tried to loosen the rope. “I’ll need scissors to cut through.”

“Let’s take him to the cabin. His food and water bowls are there.”

Five minutes later, Luke cut off the rope as I placed his water bowl near him.

Not stopping to breathe, the dog drank it dry.

“He’s dehydrated.” Bea for bitch. I refilled the bowl, set it down, and opened a can of dog food. “Teddy, how could she do this to you?”

****

The phone’s bleat jarred me from a sound sleep, and I glimpsed Caller ID through a fuzzy haze. Cody? My eyes snapped open as past emotions wrestled with common sense. On the fourth ring, curiosity prevailed. “Hey.”

“Was hoping you’d pick up.”

His voice brought back warm memories, quickly followed by resentment. “I thought you were in Afghanistan.”

“I was…”

“And…”

“My division was part of the troop withdrawal.”

The irony. I curled my lip. “Being deployed was your excuse to break up. Now you’re back.”

“You make it sound like I wanted to—”

“Didn’t you?” Old wounds reopening, I fingered the disconnect button.

“You know tours last six to twelve months.” He groaned. “You were mustering out. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

The lump in my throat prevented any accusations. I swallowed hard.

“I broke our engagement for you!”

“Like hell you did!” You broke my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut. I will not cry.

“Maeve…” His voice caught. “I’ve missed you.”

I swiped at the tears.

“Could we meet for coffee?”

“You want to just pick up where we left off?” My sniff was sarcastic. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?”

“Because when you broke up, you set other events in motion.” Like a spring breeze, thoughts of Luke blew across my mind. “Life is a chain reaction of choices…”

“So, you’ve met someone else.”

“Let’s just say I’ve moved on.”

“I see.” He drew a hoarse breath.

I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I fiddled with the disconnect button, debating whether to hang up.

As the seconds ticked by, Teddy woofed and brought me the ball.

“Well, could I write you—put on paper what I have trouble saying?”

Seven hundred miles is a safe buffer. “I suppose.” Despite the warning flags, I gave him my address. “Where are you being redeployed?”

“I’m not. Instead, I’ll help develop plans of actions and milestones.”

“POAM.” I nodded, familiar with the commissioning program. “Where are you stationed?”

“Fort Bliss.”

The name hung in the air as I did the math. Instead of a ten-hour drive, El Paso is only three. The diaries came to mind. Is this how Marianna felt when Mateo returned?