The Alvares Bride

“And I remember how you used to talk about everything under the sun, rather than talk about whatever was upsetting you. Looks to me as if some things never change.”

Carin flushed, put down her cup and folded her hands on the table. “Nothing is upsetting me.”

“You left your husband.”

“I left a man I never should have married.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Amanda sighed. Carin rolled her eyes.

“And I,” she said, “remember that you used to give that irritating little sigh anytime you were about to stick your nose into somebody else’s business.”

“Good,” Amanda said. “Then, you won’t be startled when I ask you the obvious question.”

“I can’t think of one obvious question, but ask whatever you want. Just don’t expect an answer.”

Amanda sat back and folded her arms. “If you never should have married him—”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Well, then, why did you?”

Carin laughed. She went to the stove, poured herself more coffee, held out the pot. Her sister shook her head.

“Too much caffeine for the little prince.”

Carin smiled. “You might be carrying a princess,” she said, knowing that her sister had opted not to know the sex of her baby in advance.

“This is a prince. Only a boy would act as if he were kicking around a soccer ball inside my—What? Oh, Carrie, what did I say?”

“Nothing.” Carin sank down in her chair and shot a big smile at her sister. “Go on. You were saying…?”

“I was saying that you don’t strike me as a woman who’d marry a man she didn’t want to marry.”

“Well, I did. But I finally smartened up and realized I wasn’t going to let him ruin the rest of my—the rest of my—”

“Are you crying?”

“No.” Tears trailed down Carin’s face. “Why would I be crying?” she said, and buried her face in her hands.

“Carrie.” Amanda went to Carin’s side and put her arms around her. “Tell me what happened, please. How soon after the wedding did you realize it had been a mistake?”

“I knew it was a mistake the second I agreed to marry him.”

“But I must have spoken to you a dozen times, while you were living on that ranch. At the beginning you sounded, well, sort of blah.”

Carin looked up and laughed through her tears. “Is that a scientific diagnosis, doctor?”

“You know what I mean. You sounded flat. I figured you were having a little post-partum thing, you know?” She pulled a chair close to Carin’s and sat down. “I thought about paying you a surprise visit but, after about a month—”

“Six weeks,” Carin said, and dug a bunch of tissues from her pocket. “Six weeks, and one night…”

She blushed. Amanda looked at her and blushed, too.

“Okay,” she said, and cleared her throat, “after six weeks and one night, you sounded—look, I know you’ll tell me I’m crazy, but you sounded as if you’d never been happier.”

“I’m a good actress.”

“You’re a terrible actress, the same as me. That’s why Sam used to get all the Cinderella parts in those school plays, remember? You and I were always the wicked stepsisters.”

“Yeah,” Carin said, with a sad little laugh. “We had fewer lines to ruin.”

“Exactly.” Amanda raised an eyebrow at the soggy mass of paper in Carin’s hand. She took it from her with two fingers, dumped it in the trash, pulled several sheets from the roll of paper towels over the sink and handed them to her sister. “Blow.”

Carin blew, then wiped her eyes, then sighed. “All right. I was happy. Kind of.”

“And?”

“And then I wasn’t. And I left Rafe.”

Amanda sat down again and took Carin’s hand. “That’s it? You were happy, then you weren’t, and so you packed up and left?”

“Yes,” Carin said, and she began to weep, this time as if her heart might break. “He doesn’t love me,” she sobbed.

“Well,” Amanda said cautiously, “did he actually love you when he asked you to marry him?”

“He didn’t ‘ask’ me, he blackmailed me. I’d never have agreed otherwise.”

“Aha.”

“Aha, what?”

“Aha, I was right. I told Nick something was fishy. I mean, Mom made it sound like this romantic adventure. The dashing Brazilian and the beautiful American met at Espada, had a passionate night, then continued their affair in New York…”

“We didn’t. The passionate night at Espada was it. Rafe made up the rest to make it easier on Mom.”

Amanda reached over and tucked her sister’s hair behind her ear. “I figured it was something weird like that, that maybe you’d dreamed up a story to appease Mom’s maternal sensibilities. You and I talked on the phone, we had lunch, and you never once mentioned that you were seeing anybody, much less Raphael Alvares.”

“He threatened he’d take Amy from me, if I didn’t marry him.”

“What? How could he have done that?”

“He had papers. Legal documents. He said he had contacts…”

“The rat.”

“So, I had no choice. And for the next six weeks, we—we lived in a sort of armed truce. Separate rooms, separate lives. And then—and then something happened, and it changed, and I began to see that he wasn’t the cold, insensitive man I’d thought he was, and—and I fell in love with him. I thought I fell in love with him, I mean, because I didn’t. Why would a woman fall in love with a man who doesn’t love her?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda said softly. “Suppose you try and tell me.”

“Sex,” Carin said, her voice trembling. “It was sex, that’s all.”

“If two people are really lucky, sex can be a wonderful affirmation of love.”

“Well, that wasn’t it. It was just…” Carin bit her lip. “All right,” she whispered. “I did fall in love with him. I never believed I could love a man, the way I loved Rafe. But he didn’t love me. He married me because of Amy. Only because of Amy.”

“You married him for the same reason.”

Carin slapped her hand on the table and shot to her feet. “Haven’t you been listening? I married him because I had no choice. And I don’t love him, not anymore. I hate Rafe. I despise him. I’ll always despise him!”

“Wait,” Amanda said, as Carin rushed from the room. “Carrie…”

“Let her go,” Nick said softly. “She needs to be alone for a while.”

Amanda turned around. Her husband was standing in the door that led to the dining room.

“It’s a classic mess,” he said, “isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, and then she went into his arms, kissed him, and wondered why it looked as if not one of the Brewster sisters could meet a man, fall in love, and live happily ever after without having to go through the torments of hell.

* * *

Carin sat curled in the blue velvet chair, feet up, arms wrapped around her knees, and stared out the window.

Night had captured the city. It was night back home, too, but it was different there. There were no streetlights at Rio de Ouro, no blaring horns. The sky would be black and scattered with stars; the rustle of the brush near the stables might be the only sound that drifted on the night wind. Back home…

Back home? What was she thinking? She was home. She was in New York. Rio Grande do Sul, with its gently rolling grasslands, its coastal mountain range, wasn’t her home.

It was Rafe’s.

Carin leaned her head back. She was tired, that was the problem. Drained, emotionally and physically. She’d only been back a week, or was it more? Monday? Tuesday? What day had she left ho—

Dammit. What was the matter with her?

“I am home,” she said into the silence. Even Rafe had finally understood that she belonged in her world, not his. Otherwise, why would he have let her go?

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nbsp; She hadn’t spent any time wondering if he would, after their quarrel. All she’d known was that she was going to leave him, that he couldn’t stop her. What she’d felt for Rafe, all the love, had turned to hatred so bitter that she’d trembled with fury as she packed her things and Amy’s.

She was almost done when she heard the front door slam. Her heart raced as she listened to Rafe pounding up the stairs.

I should have locked the door, she thought, but it was too late. He flung the door open and filled the doorway with his size and his anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.