Chapter 31

Toni

Sunday came up as a typical Albuquerque spring day – blowing dirt. An Albuquerque spring may have fine days, and this spring had been getting more than its share of them, but the lasting image, for good reason, is blustery wind and a sky brown with dirt from the river bottom. Toni looked out the living room window that morning and saw the branches of the trees tossing, and a piece of newspaper blowing down the street, and knew that it was springtime.

She was in her nightgown, having just gotten out of bed. 'Berto was in the bathroom, using the toilet, shaving, brushing his teeth, preparing for their first trip to church. It's a lot different from last week, she thought as she dropped the curtain and padded toward the kitchen in her bare feet. And it's a lot more pleasant because it's a lot different.

In the kitchen she filled the kettle and set it on the burner to heat. She prepared two cups with coffee, sugar, and creamer, and stepped into the utility room to look out at the back yard. She saw that the birdbath was getting low; she'd have to fill it later in the day. And the grass was getting high again – and here she realized something. For the past seven years she'd thought nothing of cutting the grass, or doing laundry, or vacuuming the house, or whatever it might have been, on Sunday – but today she wasn't going to fire up the mower and she wasn't going to let 'Berto do it either. I don't know what's happening to me, but it seems that Sunday is more like it was when I was young. And then she laughed at herself. As though 29 is old!

But in a sense she was considerably older than she had been at 22. It wasn't just the seven years that had passed over her ... she remembered the passage from Daniel where God decreed that Nebuchadnezzar, because of his arrogance, would become like an animal while "seven periods of time" passed over him. Perhaps something like that had happened to her, and now she was recovering her sensibilities. But, No, that's not it. I wasn't arrogant. My sin was sexual, not prideful. And it still is, I guess. I love 'Berto and I'm going to marry him and until that happens he stays with me ... but it is sinful, isn't it?

She felt a tear start down her cheek, and she wiped it away. This was no new thing. For seven years I've mourned my innocence and my relationship with God. And I guess I'll mourn for the rest of my life. But all wasn't lost. Out of the ashes of my life I've gained something, at least – I have 'Berto, and that is a wonderful blessing, more than I deserve.

She could hear the kettle beginning to boil, and went back into the kitchen to stand by the stove. She liked to turn it off as soon as it started screaming. I guess I'm still a child in some ways, she thought, and the little smile that came to her face banished tears, at least for the time being. The water boiled, the kettle cried out, and she turned off the burner and poured hot water into the two cups. I poured just one cup of water for five years, and it was habit. And now, in just a month, I've gotten thoroughly used to two cups. I feel married already ... I know I'm not, but I feel like I am. And that was worth a smile too.

When 'Berto came into the kitchen, sniffing after his coffee, that was another occasion to smile. Of course she smiled when she saw him, never mind the nose for coffee, but he too was domestic now – no longer the stranger, the boy who'd stolen her heart in an afternoon, but the man who loved her and was the center of her life and would soon be her husband. They set their cups on the table, and then, before either sat down, she grabbed him and held him in a fierce hug. She leaned her head against his chest, hearing his heart thump out Toni, Toni, Toni, and wrapped her arms around him and held on. Of course he held her too, but she could have cheerfully at that moment disappeared into him, become literally the same flesh as 'Berto, lost her being in him.

When the emotional surge passed, she relaxed a bit and looked up at him. "Do you know how much I love you?" she asked.

He looked down at her, his gray eyes as captivating as ever. "If you love me half as much as I love you, it must be like a bonfire inside you."

But if I say, "I will not remember Him/Or speak anymore in His name,"/Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire/Shut up in my bones;/And I am weary of holding it in, /And I cannot endure it. The memory came to her of itself, and she knew what it was. When she was a teenager she'd memorized hunks of the Bible, and this was one of them, a verse from Jeremiah. She seemed to recall that the context had nothing to do with what 'Berto had said, and yet the wording was apt given his imagery. "It is a bonfire," is what she said aloud. "It burns – but it doesn't burn me up." The angel of the LORD appeared to him in a blazing fire from the midst of a bush; and he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, yet the bush was not consumed. It was another verse coming back of itself. Between the desire for a church wedding, and the fact that she was going to be in church for the first time in seven years, and the day being Sunday, her mind must have sideslipped into a channel it hadn't run in since she was 22. "It's a pleasant fire," she continued, not telling 'Berto what her thoughts were doing. "It warms me rather than burns me – but it is a fierce fire. I would never have believed I could love so completely, if I weren't experiencing it."

"I know what you mean, Toni. I didn't even know, really, what love is till I met you. And now I could swear that there's love in my veins instead of blood, that I breathe love instead of air. That's how much it's taken me over."

She nodded. "That's exactly how it is with me. All of me loves you, and with a power I can't begin to comprehend."

"Yes ... I know exactly what you mean, mi palomita morena. It's the same with me..."

'Berto

Roberto didn't have any church clothes – everything he owned was fine for work or play, but he'd never had occasion to dress up for anything. So he put on a clean shirt and a clean pair of khaki pants, and his running shoes, and that was that as far as getting dressed. Toni, on the other hand, proved to have resources that he knew nothing about. From the same well from which she'd drawn her dress yesterday she'd brought up – or out – an off-white pantsuit. Under the jacket she had on a black blouse – a color he would have sworn he didn't like, but which on her looked good and with the suit looked fantastic. It had shorter sleeves than were usual for Toni, he saw before she put the jacket on. I guess when she wants to she can go without those extra long short sleeves.

It became time to leave, and they squeezed each other's hand on the stoop before walking along the front of the house toward the carport. Both their hands were sweaty, it seemed. Toni's nervous? That's a new thought. Except for their little spats, and last week when she'd turned into a screaming fury, she seemed so calm all the time ... serene, he could have called her. But it seemed that today she wasn't as serene as she looked, though if all you considered were her face and carriage she looked as though nothing more were happening than a Sunday drive.

They got into the car and she started it up. And then she turned off the engine again. "I forgot something, 'Berto," she said, and she was out of the car and trotting toward the front door. She unlocked it and disappeared inside. I wonder what on earth she might have forgotten, but it was just a moment and she was back on the stoop, locking the door and trotting toward the car. She got back in and handed him a book – a Bible, he saw. As she got the car started again she said, "It's been so long that I nearly forgot that."