“And there.” Carina pointed. “You can just see Sonoma.”
Ahead, a cluster of buildings stood closer together than the farms, but still orderly. The road went straight into what seemed a large central square. Quillan eyed it with curiosity. They were coming in at mid-afternoon, but the town seemed sleepy even so.
“That’s the plaza. General Vallejo laid it out and plotted the streets around it. Cattle used to graze there along a white picket fence. Now with the train through, it’s not pretty anymore.”
Quillan eyed the dirt square, gauging it some six square acres or more. The tracks ran along one side, lined by stores and businesses and ending in a turntable at one corner of the plaza. He said, “Who’s General Vallejo?”
“Mariano Vallejo. He was sent here by the Mexican president. A great man for the community and a friend of Papa’s. He gave us our fountain.”
“Fountain?”
“In the courtyard. You’ll see it. A lovely white swan.”
Quillan’s belly tightened. A fountained courtyard. High connections. What did he know about any of that?
Carina motioned. “Turn here.”
They had not entered the plaza, were still some blocks from it as he brought the wagon onto a smaller road that started off east.
“Over that way is Lachryma Montis, General Vallejo’s home. He has a spring-fed reservoir that provides water for his gardens. He sells some to the town.” She dropped her hand to her lap. “Papa’s land is ahead about a mile and a half.”
With every sentence Quillan felt less sure of his chances. Had that quickening inside at the sight and scent of the land, at the thought of settling down, been God’s urging or his own desires? He’d know soon enough. He snapped the lines, and the horses picked up their pace.
Carina’s heart swelled at the sight of Papa’s white palatial home surrounded by vine-covered hills and rows upon rows of shapely apple and orange trees. After Crystal it seemed everything fine and marvelous. The walls of the courtyard welcomed her with the wrought iron gates standing open. Voices and laughter came from inside. Male voices. Her brothers were playing bocce along the west wall where a strip of sand had been laid out for the game. As the wagon entered the yard, hooves clop-clopping on the cobbles, the rumble of the huge wheels echoing on the stucco walls, her brothers stopped and turned.
“Carina Maria!” Vittorio’s call sent her heart leaping. How long had it been since she’d heard and seen them? Too long!
“Hello, hello, I’m home.” She held out her arms as Angelo reached up for her waist.
He swung her down. “Where have you been? Why no word for so long? You nearly put Mamma in her grave.” His tone was not what she had hoped for. Weren’t they happy to see her?
“It’s Papa who’s been a dead man.” Joseph snatched her satchel from behind the seat as soon as the wheels ground to a halt. “Do you have more? Anything in the back?” He eyed the tarp-covered load.
“Yes . . .”
“Do you owe the driver money?” Vittorio hollered up to Quillan, “What does she owe you?”
“I don’t—” But every time she turned to answer, Angelo pushed her farther from the wagon, and Lorenzo and Tony had placed themselves between her and Quillan. She was too small to resist, and they were too many; all her brothers, her twin cousins Matteo and Benny, and— Then she saw Flavio, his white shirt sleeves rolled above the wrist, his vest open over loose-fitting pants. He stood with another cousin, Nicolo, one hand on his hip. His mouth was firm, accusing, but his eyes darkly melting. Her heart jumped, but she wasn’t sure with what. She had known she would see him; how could she not? But she hadn’t expected it so soon.
“Look who’s home!” Catching her arm, Tony tugged her toward Flavio, but Angelo stopped them.
“No, she’s going inside.”
“But Flavio—”
“Flavio can wait.”
It wasn’t Flavio she was concerned with. She tugged against them both as they steered her toward the house. “Wait.” If they would just let her talk!
“We’ll take care of things out here.” Lorenzo swung open the large wooden door.
“You don’t un—”
Angelo pushed her through. Carina stomped and pushed back, but they fenced her in with their arms, doing their duty, protecting the hapless woman from a strange man—who happened to be her husband! “Stop it, Angelo. Tony, let me go!” She thrashed her way back out the door and slapped at Lorenzo. “Stop it now and listen.”
Lorenzo caught both her arms and pinned them to her sides, speaking in Italian. “What were you thinking riding in like that without a chaperone? Have you no decency?”
She struggled. “If you would let me talk for one minute—”
“Talk inside.” He lifted her off her feet.
She kicked his shin hard. “Stop it!” Now Flavio was grinning, and that sent a rush of fury through her. She kicked Lorenzo again. “Stop treating me like a child!”
He dropped her to grip his shin. “You are acting like one!”
She straightened her skirts with a huff and found Quillan with her eyes. He had dismounted the wagon and come around to the near side. His hair was loose, his face shaven, the mustache full across his upper lip and down to his jaw. His face showed her nothing, but there was an animal wariness in his stance. No wonder, with her brothers behaving like madmen.
She pushed past Lorenzo, but Flavio blocked her way, both hands on his hips. He looked her up and down with a smug smile. “So you’ve come to your senses.”
She raised her chin. “I never left them.”
He switched to Italian. “I knew you’d come back.”
He was so self-satisfied, she wished she hadn’t. She switched to Italian to answer. “Gross’uomo. You think you know everything. You’re so smart, so macho. Get out of my way.”
“Your brothers can get your things. You come with me.” He reached for her arm.
She shook him off. “My husband might have something to say about that.”
The courtyard fell silent. To a man, they turned to look at Quillan. He strode over and held out his hand. She reached for it and pressed in to his side.
“This is my husband, Quillan Shepard. Quillan, my brothers: Angelo, Vittorio, Lorenzo, Joseph, and Tony. These are my cousins Matt, Benny, Nicolo, and Flavio.” She had actually struck them dumb. No one spoke; no one moved. Then they all started hollering at once.
“What is all this commotion?” Mamma came through the door. “Carina!”
Carina ran to her, threw her arms around her neck, and kissed her cheeks again and again. “Oh, Mamma, Mamma.”
“Carina, my angel. God has brought you back from the grave.”
She shook her head. “Not from the grave, Mamma. Oh, Mamma.” Carina squeezed her again. Then she looked up and saw Papa.
He spread his arms, and she went to him, kissing him and pressing her face into his chest. “Papa.”
They swayed back and forth in their embrace. “Carina, Carina. You’re home.” Then he saw Quillan and paused his rocking. “Who is this?”