Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,60
help him make them come true. But he was afraid. Afraid to try. Afraid to fail. She knew something about that. The thought of the farm in California, the cold, stern face of a banker, the fields baking in the sun, brought a cold chill of fear to her heart. Yes, she understood that kind of fear. As long as she stayed here, as long as things went well on the land, she could keep it at bay.
She looked up at his face in half shadow under the swinging light bulb above them, unable to read his expression. “It must be time for the party,” she suggested, grateful for the distraction, for any reason not to stay in this room, to prolong the moment when they had to go to bed next to each other on the straw mattresses.
Miguel’s house was filled with music and laughter and food. The women in their bright skirts and their dark braids smiled shyly and greeted them warmly. They pressed cups of tea into their hands and led them to the best seats to watch the entertainment.
There was music and dancing. Catherine found herself clapping and swaying to the music, forgetting everything but the warmth and friendship of these people she scarcely knew and the man next to her who she felt she’d known all her life. Before they left they got directions for the Island of the Sun so they could go on their own at sunrise to experience for themselves the legend of the sun god.
They walked arm in arm to the schoolhouse. Without saying anything Catherine changed into her nightshirt in the small bathroom. When she came out, Josh was standing by the door, still wearing his blue jeans and plaid shirt with the sleeves up above the elbows.
She sat cross-legged on her mattress and looked up inquiringly. He cleared his throat. “I’m going out for a walk,” he said hoarsely.
“A walk, now? Why?” she asked.
“You must know why.” He reached for the doorknob. “I can’t keep my eyes off you and I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you. I can’t sleep next to you and I can’t sleep when I’m not next to you.” He shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. So I’m going out for a walk. Maybe it will clear my head.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Anyway, it’s almost time to get up and go to the island.’’
She swallowed hard. “Josh?”
Framed in the doorway, he paused. “Yes?”
“I feel the same way. I want you, but I know I can’t have you.”
“Why not?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“Why not?” she asked. “You know why not. We’re going in different directions, like two shooting stars that happened to collide. And before there’s any damage we’ll dust ourselves off and be gone on our way. I’ll never forget what you did for me and for the village. You took a chance on us and got us the truck.” She took a deep breath. “Now it’s my turn to help you with your goal. Old Pedro has offered to take you to the mine. Isn’t that wonderful?” She paused and watched his face darken as if a storm cloud had passed.
“That’s not my goal. I thought you understood that. It’s a dream, that’s all. My goal is to become a vice president of the bank. To never have to worry about money again. Chasing after silver isn’t part of my plans.”
Shivering, Catherine pulled the hand-woven blanket up around her shoulders. She had spoiled the evening by bringing up the subject of the mine. Maybe she’d spoiled the whole trip. She clamped her mouth shut so as not to say any more. So as not to suggest that dreams are just as important as goals. And that it was important to know the difference between them.
He stared at her for a long moment. “I need some fresh air. I’ll see you in the morning.”
After the door closed behind him, Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. How could he walk out on her now when she felt so close to him? When they shared so much? She told herself it was best that he had. What would she do if he were here on the mattress next to her, warm and vital and tempting her to forget what she’d said about going in different directions? But if it was for the best, why did she feel so awful?
Chapter Nine
Catherine thought she’d never sleep, but she must have because the