Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [18]
She lay in bed stunned, pressing her thighs together against the pain. It wasn’t possible—this couldn’t be marital life. It had been a long day. The next night would be different. Her handsome, charming husband would make love to her, would make her feel like Elena did, every sense alive, every nerve tingling. She knew it would be different with a man, but she’d expected pleasure, not this utter desolation.
The next day, Ramón was as cheerful and lighthearted as usual, and Ana was sure that this night would be different. They joined the Argosos, Inocente, and Elena at evening Mass, then shared a leisurely dinner at a restaurant overlooking the harbor. When they went to bed, however, there were no caresses, no long delicious kisses, no hands roaming across hot skin. This time, he didn’t talk. As soon as he came into the room he extinguished the lamp, rolled on top of her, opened her legs with his knees, and pushed himself into her. Just as on the night before, he thanked her, turned to his side of the bed, and slept.
In the morning, they received a message from don Eugenio. There was a complication with their travel plans. Word had come that their vessel had met with bad weather on the crossing back to Spain and required more repairs than anticipated. They could be transported to Puerto Rico on one of the Marítima Argoso Marín cargo ships, but it could accommodate only three passengers and a couple of their trunks.
“What are we supposed to do?” Leonor fretted. “They can’t take us all. I’ve already sent most of the furniture. I can’t leave my harp.”
“You, Papá, and Elena go as scheduled. Ramón, Ana, and I will stay for now,” Inocente suggested. “We’ll send your harp and the things you can’t take. We’ll follow as soon as they have room for us.”
“A good solution,” Eugenio said.
“But that’s exactly what I didn’t want, with us across the ocean from each other!”
“It will only be a couple of months at most, Mamá,” Ramón said.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Inocente said. “Don’t worry.”
Neither Ana nor Elena was consulted about the plan. On August 8, 1844, Elena, don Eugenio, and doña Leonor sailed to Puerto Rico. The same afternoon, Ramón told Ana that they’d move in with Inocente to keep him company until another ship could take the three of them across the sea. The harp, furniture, and chests were sent on different vessels, and every few days either Ramón or Inocente inquired at the Marítima Argoso Marín office when they would be able to leave, but each time Ana was disappointed by another delay.
“It’s hurricane season in those waters,” Inocente reminded her. “Shipping is often disrupted by the weather.”
Over the next six weeks, Ana, Ramón, and Inocente explored Cádiz province. The twins always put Ana between them when they walked along the beach, promenaded around the plazas, or rode into the villages in the foothills. The peasants were rebuilding their cottages and villages following the devastation of the Carlist War five years earlier. Ana saw mostly old men, women, and children. The peasants received Ramón and Inocente with smiles and welcome gestures, happy to see young men again, or with angry, resentful glances if they’d lost husbands, sons, and brothers. With fewer men in their prime years to work in the farms, groves, and vineyards, the forlorn countryside had vast stretches of uncultivated land that had reverted to weeds and grasses.
After their walks around the city or following their rides outside its gates, Ramón, Inocente, and Ana returned to the nearly empty house to bathe and rest. A local woman delivered meals, served, and cleaned, then left them alone as candles sputtered into translucent puddles. When church bells rang eleven, Ana went into the bedroom and changed into her nightgown. At quarter past the hour Ramón walked in. Or Inocente.
She