A Ballad of Love and Glory by Reyna Grande

Author:Reyna Grande
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Washington Square Press
Published: 2022-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

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When he was dismissed, Riley headed to the Temple of Our Lady del Carmen a few blocks distant, made of Mexican cantera stone that glowed pink in the afternoon sun. Ximena had taken to praying there in the afternoons, and though his schedule rarely allowed him time to join her, that day, he was desperate to see her. He wanted her to be the first to hear the news of his meeting with Santa Anna.

As he traversed the plaza fronting the palace, he fancied himself there with Ximena, listening to the ballads being played by the musicians on the kiosk, the Spanish lyrics a string of sighs. Men and women out for a stroll dressed in their elegant finery greeted him—the dons, in their embroidered jackets, tipped their broad-brimmed hats at him; the doñas lowered their lacy fans to reward him with a smile. “Buenas tardes, teniente,” they said.

“Buenas tardes,” Riley responded. Even after all these months, he was still shocked at how the Mexican aristocrats treated him. Previously, a man like him knew only scorn and disdain from the higher classes, but now he found himself being treated like a human being. And it wasn’t for his skills, he knew that. Mexico was a land where skin ranged in colors, from the deepest brown to the palest pink. He’d not seen anything like it. His fair skin and blue eyes had never afforded him either privileges or admiration before.

He passed the busy cafés, fondas, and shops. Unlike the Río Grande region, this old city, surrounded by mountains with gold and silver mines and a population of sixty thousand souls, had pleasant weather year-round and, best of all, no dreadful humidity. This is why Riley was not surprised to see the streets teeming with people. As he stood before the doors of the temple, stone angels hovered above him, carved into the intricate facade. He entered the temple and was at once overwhelmed by the ornate gilded retablos rising high above him, the decorated pulpits, and the glassy eyes of saints watching him from their pedestals. He wasn’t used to so much opulence and grandeur. For a moment, he missed the humble chapel in Clifden, whose stone walls were covered in moss, not gold leaf.

Making the sign of the cross, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness inside before searching for Ximena among the kneeling figures. Silently, he made his way to the front until he spotted her before the golden altar of the Virgin. Like all Mexican women, she wore a long shawl over her shoulders, and her black hair was woven into an intricate braid that wrapped over her head like a crown. Not wanting to disturb her, he knelt a few paces behind, but she must have sensed him staring at her, because she turned around and her eyes widened in surprise.

“John!” she said, a little too loudly. Her voice—his name—echoing against the golden walls of the church. She blushed, and he could tell she’d forgotten where she was.

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