She continued to wash dishes her back turned to her aunt. “What’s to chat about? We just had a nice long talk.”
“Yes, but we need to chat about you.”
Sara sighed. “What about me?”
“You like him, don’t you?”
She turned to face Silvia. “He’s a nice guy. And you like him too.”
“Not the way you do,” her laughing aunt said, crossing her legs, clasping her coffee mug. “You’re attracted to him. I can tell.”
Burying her head in her wet hands, Sara feigned distress. “Oh my God, it is that obvious?”
“I’m serious, mia,” Silvia said.
“And what do you propose I do about it?”
“So, it’s true!”
Taking a deep breath, Sara’s eyes scaled up at the ceiling. She hadn’t much of a chance to think about her own feelings. It somehow felt premature to share them even with her beloved aunt who was like a mother to her.
“I—I don’t know about all this,” she said, grabbing a dish towel and wiping her hands as she sat down. “It’s too soon. No doubt he thinks of me as just a friend, Tía. In fact, I prefer friendship. Nothing more.”
Silvia leaned forward to pat her niece’s knee. “I know, mía, I know. You don’t want your heart broken again. But falling in love is a risk you must take. Or one day, you might regret it.”
Sara couldn’t hold back her laughter. “I can’t even be thinking about that—falling in love. I’m just getting to know him.”
“You know when I knew your Tío was the one for me? As soon as I set eyes on him at a dance in the village. We hadn’t even spoken to each other yet. Later, he told me he felt the same.”
Even though she had heard that story before, Sara never tired of it. It was romantic. But life and times were simpler then. Even though she now lived in a palace, Sara knew she lived in the real world. Life and falling in love wasn’t a fairy tale. She stood up for her second attempt at attacking the dishes.
“And mía, you’ve always been mature and wise beyond your years. An old soul, as they say. But you are too serious-minded at times.”
There was a slight pause as Sara heard her aunt sigh.
“You’re young. You need to relax and enjoy life,” her aunt continued, obviously not done with the conversation. “You may think that Arlen regards you as a friend but have you noticed the way he looks at you?”
Her back to her aunt, Sara continued to soap each dish, each glass, images of the past few days flashing before her. Of course she noticed. But she simply chose not to put meaning to them. If her experience with men gave any indication of their intentions, it was that men were men. And they liked to look.
The following morning as a rooster crowed to signal the dawn of a new day, Sara lay awake contemplating the day ahead. It was the last day of her personal leave before she would return to Santangelo and to her life of service to the princess. The very same princess who was once engaged to the object of Sara’s attention. Her carefully edited thoughts were mindful not to label her feelings as “affection.”
Sipping coffee out on the veranda later, a tinge of disappointment wielded in her heart as she hadn’t yet heard from Arlen. She chastised herself for expecting he would call and make plans with her today. He obviously had left and didn’t bother to tell her.
He’s not my boyfriend; he’s not obligated to call. See, this is why I can’t be in a relationship. I can’t deal with all this anxiety.
Her heavy heart encountered some relief as she cast her eyes on a mother duck with her yellow ducklings following her in a line toward a pond. That’s what she needed to do: have all her ducks in a row, focus on her career and everything else was a distraction. There was absolutely no time for romance. She had a job to do.
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