After driving fifty miles to Plainview, Gil and Cissy were astounded to hear that the recommended restaurant had a wait time of ninety minutes. On a Monday night. Gil shared a look with Cissy. His empty stomach rumbled loudly, and they both laughed before taking themselves off to enjoy a dinner of hamburgers at a local fast food joint.
Gil had never enjoyed a burger more. Cissy insisted on paying for the meal—even the milkshake that he chose for dessert and enjoyed on the drive back to Grasslands. Because she’d paid, the evening shouldn’t have felt like a date, but it did. In fact, it felt like a date that Gil didn’t want to end, which was why he wound up parking his old truck next to the green in the center of town so they could amble around the tree-dotted space beneath the spotty glow of decorative street lamps.
Texas in late May could be uncomfortably hot, but this night was like velvet. Lush, warm and soft, it flowed around them as they strolled. Gil was struck again by his fondness for this place.
“You’ve got to admit,” he said, “Grasslands is a great place to live.”
“It is,” Cissy agreed, nodding. In the lamplight, her hair curled like a fiery nimbus about her head and shoulders. “I’ll miss Grasslands.”
She would still go, though. Gil recalled the photos of the children at the orphanage and understood that she was called to Mexico. She would not shirk what was undoubtedly God’s will for her life. And yet…how could she move away from here?
“I knew this was where I wanted to build my ranch as soon as I saw it,” he divulged. “I meant to head on south, but when I got here, I just couldn’t make myself go any farther, so I looked around and discovered that the Colbys were hiring.”
“God brought you here,” Cissy remarked softly.
“I think so,” Gil agreed. The idea made him sad, for if she belonged in Mexico and he belonged here, then they couldn’t possibly belong together, even though it felt as if they did. “Un enigma,” he whispered.
“What’s that?”
“Just something my grandfather used to say, that God’s ways are a mystery, a conundrum.”
“Yes.” She bowed her head as they strolled along, then suddenly she spoke again. “You know, you could help me brush up on my Spanish. ¡He olvidado tanto!”
Regretfully, he shook his head. “My Spanish isn’t that good. I know some words and phrases, but that’s all.”
Cissy looked stricken. “Oh. I thought… That is…”
“My grandparents learned English soon after they came here from Colombia and used it in their daily lives. My mother knows more Spanish than I do. She picked it up from Dad, but he isn’t truly fluent, either. I—I could probably learn, but I wouldn’t be any help to you so far as practice goes.”
“Perfectly understandable. I just wish…” He shook his head. What he wished simply didn’t matter.