Chapter 18

Toni

"Toni, I love you and I want you to marry me." The words came across the table with the force of a blow. It wasn't a hurtful blow, it was actually pleasant to hear those words, but they were the last words she'd expected to hear, and for a moment she was stunned, unable to respond.

"Toni, are you all right?" She heard that question as though it came through layers of cotton. She wasn't going to faint, nothing like that, but for the moment everything else was distant, only the proposal clear to her mind. Vaguely she heard herself answer, and knew she had to get herself together and respond intelligently.

She looked across the table at 'Berto and saw nothing but concern on his face. "I'm fine. It's just that the question came out of the blue. I had no idea..."

"I'm sorry, Toni. I guess I was so caught up in what I was going to do that I forgot about the effect..."

"It's all right, 'Berto. But please, could you say it again? I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

He squeezed her hands. She felt the pressure as a link to reality. "Antonia Leticia Cedillo, will you marry me?"

Yes, she had heard him correctly. But hadn't he said something else? "'Berto, what else did you say?"

"I love you."

There it was. She had never hoped he would love her. She'd loved him without any hope that he would do more than like her, and care about her, and now...

"'Berto, please don't misunderstand me – to hear you say that is something that I will treasure forever. But ... are you sure?"

He took a breath, and she felt his fingers shift slightly on her hands. He was still holding her hands, still keeping up that reassuring pressure. "I wasn't sure until today. I've wondered about it for a couple of weeks now. I've tried to figure out how I feel about you. And I've eliminated everything else. And when I decided to marry you – to ask you to marry me, that is – it settled things. When I made that decision, the ultimate one, I knew then that it was the right decision, because I love you."

Now Toni took in a breath. "I wish I could answer you right now. But 'Berto, I'm going to have to think about this."

His face fell. Clearly he hadn't thought beyond the proposal, and really she couldn't blame him. "All right, Toni. Take as long as you need. I won't push you about it." She could tell by his voice that he was having to work at control. She knew he wanted a quick answer, that the waiting would be the worst thing he'd ever endured. But she also knew that she couldn't answer right away. She had her own turmoil to deal with, her own questions to answer.

"Thank you, 'Berto," she said. And she squeezed his hands back, acknowledging his time of intolerable strain. "I'll answer you just as soon as I can, but ... but I have to make sure of my own heart first. I have some things that I have to think about, things that I haven't told you."

"Is it anything you want to talk about?"

She considered. "No, not now. But later, maybe. Yes, I think that later – when I can give you an answer – maybe I'll want to talk about it." She looked down at the table, and then back into his eyes. "I think that if I can, it's the least I can do for you. You deserve to know what I am, if I can tell you..."

She heard how shaky her voice was all of a sudden, and then 'Berto's hands had let go of her hands, she heard his chair scrape on the floor, and he was kneeling beside her, his arms around her. "Don't do anything you don't want to do, Toni," he said into her ear. "If you can tell me, fine. If not, I'll understand."

She nodded. His lips touched her cheek, and a hand gripped her neck lightly and moved down to between her shoulder blades. "I want to tell you," she said, a little more in control now. "I truly want to. But I can't today, and I don't know if I'll be able to later. But I promise you that if I can, I will. And as soon as I can, I'll give you an answer to your proposal ... as soon as I can."

It ought to be the simplest answer I've ever given, Toni thought. I love him, and he loves me, and he wants to marry me. "Yes" should be automatic – but it can't be. In the two weeks – 13 days, actually – since she'd realized that she loved 'Berto she'd reconciled herself to never telling him so, to keeping it hidden, along with the shame of her past. She had never thought that he would profess his love for her – never thought that he did love her. And she certainly hadn't thought that he would ever want to marry her.

And so she had to think over again the choice she'd made two weeks ago. She'd decided that she loved 'Berto, and that he must never know. And now he'd upset everything. She wanted badly to tell him yes, she would marry him, but was that the right thing to do?

Would it be right to burden him with a wife who was so filthy, so sinful, so horribly ruined? Would it be right to allow him to join himself to someone who could only drag him down into a cesspool of immorality?

And what about the age difference? It was one thing to live with someone who was 10 years younger. But marriage? That would be cradle robbing – at least many would think so. She wasn't old enough to be his mother, but given how young girls were having babies these days, she wasn't far from it. She was already in school when he was born; when she was graduating from high school he was only eight years old; when she was moving in with Garry he was just 12. He was now 18 or 19 – she wasn't entirely sure which, since she couldn't remember his birthday just now – and she was nearly 30. He was still a boy, and she was a woman beginning to move toward middle age.

'Berto had left her alone – had gone out walking again – so that she could think. She didn't know how long it would take for her to figure out what she ought to do, but she appreciated the time 'Berto was giving her today. Her mind was a muddle and her emotions were in turmoil, but she could almost marry 'Berto just because of his sweet consideration – except that wasn't a sufficient reason for marrying.

She was standing at the living room window now, looking out at the flitting birds and budding trees. It was another gentle spring day. Over the past couple of weeks they'd had their share of blustery days, when the wind turned the sky brown with dirt from the Rio Grande bottoms, but today wasn't like that. She turned from the window and went through the kitchen and the utility room, and stepped out into the back yard. It was warm enough that she didn't need her shoes, and the sun had dried the dew. She walked out into the grass, which she'd cut just a few days before, feeling the blades prick up between her toes and tickle the bottoms of her feet. The sun was warm on her arms and her face, and she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, letting the warmth caress her skin.

I want him with me so badly. I crave him with my body and my mind and my spirit. He is what will make me happy. But would it be right to marry him? That was the big question, the one that gave her such fits. I wonder if he knows what torture that simple question has caused me.