me. That we don’t have enough in common,” Josh suggested.
“It won’t do any good. She has her mind made up.”
He shrugged. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe we ought to do it their way. After all, they don’t have as many divorces as we do”
“That’s just what she told me the other day. Do you mean you’d be willing to marry someone Jacinda chose for you?”
He grinned. “Only because I know who she’d choose. You must admit she has good taste.”
Catherine’s head spun. “Good taste in choosing me or you?”
“Both of us. Maybe we deserve each other.”
Jacinda’s head turned from Josh to Catherine, trying to figure out if they were arguing or flirting. Finally she joined their hands together and took her place in the circle. The brass band began to play in earnest, a four-measure tune that was repeated over and over. Soon the whole group was holding hands and swaying to the music, a whirl of vibrant color, their pounding feet beating a rhythm that echoed inside Catherine’s head.
When the dance was over, she was dizzy. Josh put his arm around her, and she relaxed against his side, fitting perfectly, the curve of her hip against his thigh. Jacinda appeared with cups of chaca, the fermented corn drink reserved for special occasions, then she waltzed away, her silver beads bouncing up and down on her chest. Catherine coughed as the drink burned a path down her throat. She sat down on a small bench.
“I should have known better,” she said. “I’ve had it before. But not on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll get you something to eat,” Josh said.
She nodded gratefully. “They’re cooking a whole lamb around back. I’ll wait here. That’s men’s territory.”
Josh followed a cloud of smoke that billowed from the pit behind the house. One of the men, now in shirtsleeves, was turning the spit, the others watching and waiting their turn.
“If you marry for love and not money,” Paco was saying, “you’ll have good nights and bad days.”
“In my opinion,” one of the others said, “love is a ghost. Everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.”
They all turned when Josh ambled up to survey the savory meat.
“Here is a banker,” the groom said, his black tie slightly askew. “Let us ask his opinion. Is marriage the tomb of love?”
Josh shrugged. “I have never been married,” he said slowly, “but I have heard that he who does not find love, finds nothing.”
The men cheered loudly. Whether it was for the sentiment or that he’d constructed a whole sentence in Spanish, he didn’t know. They cut him a slice of meat to try and he carried it in a napkin back to Catherine. But instead of Catherine Old Pedro was sitting on the bench.
Josh signaled to Pedro to wait while he went to his car to get the leather tool belt. He handed him the box as casually as he could. Pedro didn’t speak when he saw the belt, but his eyes widened with surprise and pleasure. He buckled the belt around his waist and stood up to show Josh.
Just then Jacinda came up to admire Pedro’s belt and the red rose in Josh’s buttonhole. When he told her it came from Catharine, she smiled. “I believe,” she said slowly, “that this is a match made in heaven.”
Josh didn’t tell Jacinda that he’d already heard all about it or that it was wishful thinking on her part. Weddings made people feel sentimental. It was the music, the flowers, and it was the chaca. He reached for his glass. Maybe a drink of chaca would make him a believer. He wanted to believe. He wanted to think there was room in his life for the luxury of falling in love, but he knew there wasn’t. Not now. Not yet. Not until he was financially secure. Not until the fear of poverty had been erased from his mind.
When Josh didn’t answer, Jacinda’s face wrinkled into a hundred disappointed lines. She dusted off her skirt and headed for the long wooden table set up under the apple tree, taking Pedro with her. The bride and groom squeezed together at one end, and he saw Catherine beckon to him from the other side.
“Where were you?” he asked, taking his place next to her.
“In the kitchen helping the women. Where were you?”
“Talking with the men around the fire.” He rested his hand lightly on the small of her back, feeling the heat from her skin through the thin fabric.
“About what?”
“You know. What men