FicWad

Diego barely dared look at his father over breakfast. Seeing the looks he exchanged with Señora Valdès while greeting her and gallantly helping her to a chair had made him almost queasy, and having them sit opposite each other was making him rather uneasy. Let's hope she wouldn't play footsie with him! Against his better judgement he even dropped his napkin twice and his bread once just in order to check by peeking under the table.

But no. Both were behaving perfectly normal and properly. If not for the intent and meaningful gaze at the beginning, you could now swear nothing had happened between those two the night before.

Humph, Diego grumbled inwardly, he would have to remember that he wasn't the only one who was good at pretending under this roof, even though this thought was still very new to him; but after all, he reflected, he had to have taken this trait after someone, hadn't he?

But he shouldn't have worried about any footsie-playing: after a few minutes, the atmosphere really wasn't favourable to saucy ribaldry since they were discussing the upsetting events of the day before, and the continuing search for Pablo Ortega's accomplices.

When the name of her tenant-farmer came up in the conversation, Diego saw Araceli's hand tighten around the handle of her silver table knife and he was relieved that the man wasn't there, or he might have had to prevent an attempt of murder.

Not that with its rounded tip the blade would have done much damage, but still... And Diego wasn't sure whether his father would have helped him keep her from it, or whether he would have teamed with her: he too was very upset at the previous day's painful recollections.

But then Concepcion brought Leonor in, and her parents' mood changed drastically. Doña Araceli relaxed immediately and pure love and tenderness flooded over her face. Relief, too. Don Alejandro had the sweetest look ever when he fondly watched his daughter say good morning to her mother, then he hugged her longer than usual and laid a lingering soft kiss on her forehead with his eyes closed when she came to him. With a last caressing pat on her arm he finally let go of her, and she suddenly looked down at her shoes.

Concepcion had retreated to the background, waiting for her mistress's instructions for the day. For now, Araceli was taking care of reminding her daughter of good manners: raising children was a constant fight against turning a blind eye to bad habits, and a matter of seemingly endless repetition! So once again she had to tell her:

"Your manners, Leonor! Say good morning to Diego."

"Good morning, Señor," the child bashfully and almost reluctantly complied, still looking down.

"You can call me Diego," he told her in the gentlest voice he could manage. "I'm your brother, after all."

The girl simply nodded without raising her eyes to him, but she didn't utter a word.

Pfff, Diego sighed inwardly, she's certainly not making things easier! But his spirits were heightened when he saw the approving look in Don Alejandro's eyes. It had been a long time since his father last looked at him like that. Approval, mixed with some dose of gratitude. It immediately warmed Diego's heart.

"Leonor," her mother then said, "I told Diego of your interest in drawing and of the progress you've made since you started your lessons. He's curious to see it and offered to show you one or two things about drawing this morning, and to lend you his pencils and sketchbooks for the duration of our stay here."

Again she nodded, watching her shoes intently.

"Leonor...!" Araceli warned her.

This time the child understood what was expected from her without further explanation from her mother, so she dared raise her head and answer:

"Gracias, Señor."

"Gracias Diego," Araceli corrected.

"Gracias Diego," Leonor finally said to no one in particular.

"Si," Alejandro echoed, "gracias Diego. Muchas gracias."

His father clearly knew it cost his son, but he was confident that, once being left one-on-one, those two would finally break the ice. And as in his fatherly eyes Leonor was the most adorable child in the world, it was impossible not to become absolutely fond of her once you knew her. And, in his same fatherly eyes, Diego was the kindest and gentlest young man in the world, and it was absolutely impossible not to like him.

Understanding him was a totally different matter altogether, and Lord knew he indeed didn't understand his son's behaviour and interests most of the time; but he loved him deeply and it seemed unfathomable to the father in him that anyone – and particularly a child – who knew Diego could not have a soft spot for him. Even though the man was frustrating to no end, he thought with an inner sigh.

"All right, then," Alejandro said. "I'll be out this morning and will have lunch in the pueblo. I have things to do around there. I'll also speak to the alcalde to inquire about Ortega's interrog–"

Suddenly remembering that the subject may upset Leonor, he stopped short.

"Well, I'm on my way, then."

"Leonor and I might go to the pueblo too after siesta," Araceli said.

"Are you sure...?" Alejandro asked, rather reluctant to have them exposed again to people's judgement.

"Yes," she simply replied. "And I want to personally thank your alcalde for his help yesterday, even though someone else eventually brought Leonor back."

At the memory of the black bat-like man the girl tensed, sill a bit frightened by this dark faceless ghost.

"And you Diego?" his father asked. "Will you come in town later today?"

Good question. Coming to town meant going to the tavern, especially if his father was there. And going to the tavern meant seeing Victoria. And after last night's events and conversation in her bedroom, he wasn't sure he was up to it. Thank goodness she didn't know who was the man she made such bold advances to the night before, didn't know who it was in the real life, didn't know it was him, or for sure he wouldn't dare show his face in front of her for several days. And perhaps ever again.

Yes, he thought, Victoria had been right: he truly was a coward.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," he answered his father's question, brilliantly managing to sound nonchalant. "After spending some time with Leonor this morning, I might ride to the hills to collect plants in order to complete my herbarium about indigenous flora used for Indian remedies..."

"Always your nose in some book..." Alejandro grumbled. "It can't be healthy in the long run..."

"But I'll precisely be outside, in the fresh air!" Diego pointed out.

Did his father miss the part where he said he'd be in the hills?

"Right, right, hijo. Just try not to fall from your horse. At least take Felipe with you, in case anything happens there."

Diego couldn't suppress a sigh, which didn't go unnoticed by Doña Araceli.

"Si, Father," he finally let out. "Thank you for the idea."

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Alejandro knew he had to do this. He didn't like this, but he had to. Now he had to be a man and face his peers who now knew what he had done. He wasn't looking forward to it, but now had come the time.

The day before he had been too overwhelmed by his emotions – anguish at first, and then surprise, intense relief, overjoy at having Leonor back safe and sound, and finally worry about Diego's judgement and about his behaviour toward his sister – to pay much attention to others' reactions; but now he really dreaded it: how would the Los Angelinos take his past failing? How would they take the public knowledge that he, one of the most prominent and respected figures of their community, had had a child out of wedlock? That he strayed with a woman who could be his daughter!

Would they see him as some pathetic aging Don Juan? Or worse, as a sugar daddy? Would they just laugh at him, or shun him totally?

Would they congratulate him for getting himself such a younger woman?

Would they mock him for accidentally getting her with child? Would they blame him for that? Or for tarnishing a woman's reputation and not cleansing her name by making the honourable thing and giving her his?

And even more than his fellow caballero friends or the farmers, Alejandro dreaded their wives' reactions. What would the ladies think of him? Of the fact that he didn't marry Araceli? No one could know, of course, that he proposed marriage to her as soon as he knew of her pregnancy, and they didn't have to know about her rejection of his offer.

And how did Victoria 'digest' the news, now that one night had passed since he introduced his daughter to her?

No, Don Alejandro de la Vega was really not looking forward to entering the tavern, the centre of any social activity in Los Angeles at lunchtime; but he knew deep down that the more he'd wait, the worst it would be.

Here, two feet away from the tavern's porch, he was really, really tempted to turn his back and retreat to the privacy of his hacienda. But it would be very cowardly of him, he knew that, and it would never be said that Alejandro de la Vega was a coward. So he took a determined step forward and resolutely strode into the main room.

Alone. He didn't want to expose Leonor to the public disapproval of her father, of her parents. And even less to some slighting or derogatory word about her or her status, uttered by a tactless or downright ill-meaning consumer.

He didn't want to expose Araceli either. Lord knows she had had enough of that in the past and on her own in San Diego in the first year of Leonor's existence – and a few months before! – and now that things had cooled down over there, he didn't want to use her here as a shield against his own acquaintances and to hide behind his ex-lover's skirts. No.

He could still have dragged Diego along to the tavern with him of course, but he wouldn't hide behind his son either; Alejandro wasn't that kind of man, and he didn't need his son to protect him. Which was fortunate, he thought, what with poor Diego being unable to protect himself against anyone, for a start!

As expected, and just like the day before, as soon as people noticed he had entered the room there was a significant decrease in the usual level of noise and many pairs of eyes turned to him; mostly to peek as discreetly as possible, but some people overtly stared at him rather intently. Some men winked at him, some others sent him a mischievous look, two or three eyebrows rose appreciatively, and the rest was frowning. Two or three turned ostensibly to another direction.

He could see that Victoria – oh, she looked drawn he noticed, did she get enough sleep? – seemed torn between not looking him in the eyes and wanting to put him out of the current misery he was experiencing from her other customers.

He tried to ignore the unwillingly slightly judgemental part of her attitude and held onto the more benevolent part of it. Deep down, he knew that this girl was a true friend and that she too would do her best to come round. Heaven helps those who help themselves, he remembered: now he had to be strong, for Leonor, for the name he was bearing, so indirectly for Diego too; he thus gathered his strength and put up a brave front to face the pueblo's little community.

"Buenos días Victoria," he tried to say as normally and with as much joviality as usual, "what do you have for lunch today?"