Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [178]
Severo came up the stairs of the casona about an hour later, when he saw her horse tied to the post below. He hung his sombrero on its peg and coiled his whip on the floor. She’d ordered coffee and bread, guava jelly, cheese, and smoked ham, set on the homely, hacienda-made crockery. As they ate, he reported on the work that had been accomplished over the past two days. She could tell that he knew something was on her mind, but he didn’t ask, and his lack of concern made her angry. After a while, she couldn’t keep silent anymore.
“Last night another of your cueros delivered a baby.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Ana. It demeans you.”
“Not as much as the spectacle of your mistresses and their cursed offspring.”
“You’ve never complained about them before.” He sipped his coffee, watching her over the cup’s rim.
His admission was infuriating. “First Ramón, then you, betray me.”
“I thought you didn’t care.”
“Why wouldn’t I care, Severo? I’m your wife.”
She’d rarely seen him lose control, but she now saw that below the exterior calm, he was seething. “Ramón was your husband, but it didn’t keep you from sleeping with his brother.”
They both knew that he’d overstepped a boundary that should have never been breached. Ana paled. Severo raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
“Let us not play games, Ana. I knew from the beginning, and yet it made no difference at all to me.”
“Yes, it has. You’ve been punishing me for all these years. I didn’t know why, but I do now.”
“Don’t act the victim. I know you too well—”
“You do not.”
“More than you imagine. You married me just to keep me here, helping you. I was sincere when I proposed to you. I’ve loved you, and have tried to make you love me.” He stood and paced away from her, then came closer, looming over her. “But admit it, Ana. You’ve never seen me as anything but your mayordomo.”
“No, no, Severo, that’s simply not true, and—”
He stepped away. “This is the kind of conversation neither of us likes or wants to have. I’ve already said things that I’m sorry for.” He fetched his sombrero from the peg by the wall. “Don’t worry. Nothing will change. Over the last couple of years, we’ve become more business partners than husband and wife in any case.” He retrieved his whip from the floor and adjusted it on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’ve cleared the air. You’ll no longer have to pretend you love me. And I don’t have to pretend it doesn’t matter.”
He kept his word. Nothing changed in their work interactions, but a chasm had opened between them. He lived in El Destino but slept in a separate bedroom. He exaggerated his always respectful manner, reverting to his more formal, premarriage demeanor. She mirrored his behavior until they circled each other, their work the focus of their everyday lives. He had dinner with her several times a week, but their companionable hours on the balcón, smoking and sipping rum, ended. After supper he went into his room or rode off she didn’t know where.
She missed his company. She had no other friends, but her stubborn pride told her that it had always been that way, except for the years at the convent with Elena. She was sometimes afraid in El Destino. Teo and Paula, Conciencia, Gloria, Meri, and the others lived in bohíos nearby, but when Severo wasn’t home, the house felt enormous and unwelcoming. She was afraid of the male slaves, many of them new to the hacienda after the cholera, most of them with a history of running away. What if they knew she was alone, and … No, she couldn’t think about it, had to banish the frightening scenarios. She also refused to feel sorry for herself, or to let Severo know that, in spite of herself, the sound of Penumbra’s hooves on the path up the hill made her heart race with anticipation.
She still consulted him on anything to do with the hacienda, and one evening she told him what she’d been thinking.
“Last year the norteamericanos raised the sugar tariffs, and now our prices are down to