Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [177]
Severo’s dogs announced his arrival from the valley.
“There’s a letter for you,” he said as soon as he saw her.
Soon after the 1858 zafra ended, Ana had written to don Eugenio requesting that he send Miguel for a visit to Los Gemelos. There was no response. She wrote again, and the letter went unanswered. After the third letter, nearly a year later, she’d finally received one from Leonor. “Miguel will not be coming to Hacienda los Gemelos. This is his home. If you would like to see him, we cordially invite you to visit him here.”
“The old harpy!”
“Not good news?”
“She refuses to send Miguel. I should shock them all by appearing at their door.”
“It can be arranged,” he said with a bemused smile.
She didn’t laugh but returned to the house, mentally drafting a response to doña Leonor. In Ana’s mind, the capital might be as far away as Sevilla, or the Convento de las Buenas Madres in Huelva, and a return to any of those places conjured memories of a life that might have happened to someone else. After discarding several attempts, she didn’t answer Leonor’s letter. Instead she wrote to Miguel, and over the next few months, did so more often, hoping that he’d ask to visit the hacienda. He never did.
Even though the boy showed no interest, Ana told herself that her work at Hacienda los Gemelos was for Miguel. He was far away, under the control of people who hated her, but he’d eventually inherit his grandfather’s assets, including the hacienda and Ingenio Diana. She imagined that, as Severo’s wife, she’d inherit his fortune, too, if he died before her. With no legitimate heir, Severo’s wealth would also go to Miguel through her. Her animosity toward the Argosos didn’t extend to the child. He was still young, under the influence of his grandparents, but someday Miguel would come home to claim his legacy, the world she’d created for him.
During the short-handed zafra following the cholera epidemic, Severo had become a different man in Ana’s eyes. She’d seen him at his worst, as a cruel, unfeeling, violent man, and it was hard for her to envision him in any other way. She still talked to him, shared meals, even allowed him to make love to her, although when he noticed her reluctance, weeks passed and he didn’t press her. He spent more nights away than usual. She didn’t reproach him, didn’t argue, didn’t challenge him because nothing she could say or do would change him or their situation. There was no one else to turn to, as she’d realized years ago. She had to learn how to be with him every day without allowing her increasing antipathy show.
Either he didn’t notice her coldness or didn’t care, but every month more children she took to be his were born to white campesinas. By now she’d figured out that Severo didn’t take black women as mistresses. The mulatto children she’d always believed to have been fathered by Severo were possibly—no, probably—Ramón’s and Inocente’s. How soon after their arrival at Hacienda los Gemelos did they begin to deceive her? She thought the eldest, Pepita, now married to Efraín, was the first product of their betrayals. Sixteen years later, Ana still held a grudge against the twins. At the same time, she’d pretended not to know about Severo’s infidelities for nearly a decade.
One morning she awoke on the marital bed alone. She’d avoided imagining Severo with other women, even when they came to the infirmary, almost apologetically, to bring forth another of his bastards. Now she was angry at herself for allowing him to parade his lovers and his illegitimate children before her, as if to prove something. But what? As she dressed, she knew one thing. She’d had enough.
She rode to the valley when a swirling morning fog still hung below El Destino. Halfway down the hill, the mist turned to a fine drizzle, so by the time she reached the batey she was soaked through. The casona was now used as an office and supply room. She kept fresh