The Glory Game (57 page)

“Because …” She paused, liking the way he was distracting her. “I'm going to sponsor a team for Rob. I want him to play with the best, and that's you. I also thought you might continue to coach him if you two were getting along. Does the idea appeal to you?”

“You appeal to me.”

“Raul,” Luz protested his avoidance of her question, but not too vigorously.

Much to her regret, he lifted his head to gaze lazily at her. “I have never played for a woman before.”

“You've only played
with
them, is that it?” she murmured, stroking the outline of his mouth.

He chuckled in his throat. “It is more fun, no?” he countered and kissed her teasing finger.

“And maybe it would be more fun to do both?” Luz suggested.
“I have a big house, stables on the grounds, a practice field, and a huge king-sized bed. Where will you ever get that kind of an offer? Just think of the fringe benefits. What's your answer? Will you play
with
and
for
me?”

“It will be my pleasure.” He leaned down, kissing her lips slowly and thoroughly, then nuzzled their corners. “Is this the important thing you were so anxious to talk to me about?”

She went still beneath him. “No.” When he raised his head to investigate the peculiar flatness in her voice, Luz shifted on the rumpled quilt and reached for the envelope on the nightstand. “This came for you today.” She gave it to him and watched his expression. When he turned the envelope over to glance at the back flap, she said, “I didn't open it.” Not that she hadn't been tempted. “I wasn't aware she was writing to you.”

“Only twice before.” Raul absently studied the envelope but made no move to open it.

“What does she write you about?”

“Do you want to read this?” He offered it to her.

“No.” She turned her head on the pillow in a negative movement. It was better if she didn't know the private things Trisha wrote him.

“Nor do I.” He tossed it back onto the nightstand.

“I haven't gotten around to telling her about us.”

“Why?”

“I wasn't sure how long it would last.” Luz studied the faint white line of an old scar on his chest where a horse had kicked him. “I wasn't even sure if I wanted it to.”

“Now?” There was a measuring quality in his look.

“And now, I want you to play on my team,” she answered lightly.

“What if this is not what Rob wants? Or your daughter?” Raul questioned the depth of her commitment.

She had thought through the first part of his question. “Rob wants to play polo and he wants to improve his game. Regardless of how he may feel about you personally, I think he still believes you can help him to do that. Trisha is another matter,” she admitted heavily. “I guess I can't put off writing her about us any longer. Maybe she'll have time to get over the worst of it before we see her. I'll know more in November.
Trisha always surprises me. She never does what I expect her to do.”

“November. It is so close.” He rubbed the soft point of her shoulder.

“You'll come before the end of the month, won't you? We'll have the holidays together before you and Rob have to start selecting the other players on your team in December.”

“I think I can arrange that.”

She smoothed her hand over his chest. “Do you suppose dinner is ready yet?”

“Perhaps we can enjoy an appetizer, first,” he suggested as his hand slid lower on her stomach.

“What about your shoulder?”

His kiss proved to be a very satisfactory answer.

Late that evening, Luz wrote the long-postponed letter to Trisha. It was the most difficult letter she had ever written; she tried to word everything carefully to soften the blow, implying an affair without baldly stating it. She had even more misgivings the next day when she gave the envelope to Hector to mail. But it was done, and she was, at least, freed from the guilt of hiding it.

S
hortly after breakfast on Friday, Luz walked out the front doorway and paused to wait for Hector to join her. The dark sable coat was draped over her arm, the white linen jacket providing sufficient cover for the spring temperature of the pampas. Her glance strayed to the car parked in front of the mammoth gray stone house as Raul stowed the last of their luggage in the trunk. Although she and Rob weren't scheduled to leave for the States until Monday, the polo matches being held this weekend in Buenos Aires made it practical for them to spend their last days in the city.

She heard the door shut and swung her attention back to the gray-haired man with her. He made his awkward-looking turn away from the door and started immediately for the car, as if conscious of the wait she'd already had while he'd maneuvered out of the door and closed it.

“There is still time to change your mind and come to the polo matches with us, Hector.” Luz made a last attempt to persuade him as they walked to the car.

“The
estancia
could not function without me for three days,” he insisted, then showed her a mustached smile. “It is the truth.”

“I believe you.” But she regretted parting from him so soon, and swung around to face him when they reached the car. “I will miss you, Hector—our talks and our rides.”

“We will all miss you, Señora Luz. You have filled the house with your ‘light.'” His dark eyes seemed more brilliant, fond in their gaze.

Raul joined him, but his attention was centered on the two
men digging close to the front foundation of the house. “What are those workers doing?” He frowned.

Smiling, Hector looked at Luz. “They are planting vines. I remember what you said. The next time you come, Señora Luz, those gray stones will have a shawl of green and the house will not look so cold.”

The next time you come. The phrase echoed in her mind. She wanted to come back—to Argentina, to the pampas, to the
estancia
. Hector wanted her to come back. She hoped Raul would, although she tried not to think too far ahead. There was no comment from Raul, regarding either the planting of the vines or Hector's reference to her return. The frown was gone from his face, leaving his features void of expression.

Turning, he opened the passenger door. “We should leave.”

“Goodbye, Hector.” She clasped his hand and kissed him on both cheeks.

“In Argentina, we say
chau
. Too many Italians,” Hector said to explain the marked similarity to
ciao
, thus covering his emotions while he gently squeezed her hand.

“Chau.”
Luz smiled, then turned to the car, sensing Raul's impatience.

Moving past him, she slid onto the seat and concentrated on arranging the fur coat on her lap while Raul closed the door. Briefly she wished Rob had chosen to ride with them instead of traveling with the other players, although the three of them confined together in a car for nearly four hours might have been a considerable strain. It was natural, she told herself, that Rob would prefer to ride with his friends and fellow players. Sometimes she felt she was being overly sensitive, reading things into his normal moodiness that weren't there.

As Raul climbed into the driver's side, Luz turned and waved to Hector. When they pulled away, her glance took in the austere manor house, the roofs of the stone barns, and the green of the polo fields for the last time. The broad leaves of the eucalyptus trees formed a canopy over the long driveway, casting shadows on the car. The next time you come … the words came back, and she wondered when that would be.

“Have the horse vans left yet?”

“Nearly an hour ago,” Raul replied.

“Rob will probably meet us at the hotel.” She glanced at
Raul's unsmiling face and noted its brooding look. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” His response seemed unusually abrupt. Reaching down, he flipped on the radio and tuned in some music to fill the silence. Frequently, Raul became quiet and introspective prior to a polo match. It was his way of concentrating on game strategy, he had once told her. Luz didn't intrude on his thoughts and soon became lost in her own.

Spring in Buenos Aires fulfilled the promise Luz had seen on her arrival in the country. The jacaranda and
paraiso—
paradise—trees lining the city streets lavishly adorned the vistas with purple and yellow blossoms. At almost every street corner, there was a flower stall, a vibrant splash of colors as vivid and varied as an artist's palette.

It was infinitely better to gaze out the side windows of the car than to look where they were going, Luz had discovered. She was fairly certain only licensed daredevils drove in the downtown traffic, although Raul seemed unperturbed by the mad changing of lanes by the cars in front or beside him.

Luz recognized the facade of the hotel as Raul drove up to the entrance. After the car rolled to a sensible halt, the uniformed doorman stepped up to open her door, bowing slightly and extending a hand to help her out of the car. She waited on the front steps while the luggage was unloaded from the trunk. Raul said something in Spanish to the doorman, then joined her, his hand gripping her elbow to guide her into the lobby. His expression remained preoccupied, almost grimly so, Luz noticed.

After registering at the desk, they were escorted to the bedroom suite. When Luz glanced into the second bedroom, she noticed Rob's polo shirt and breeches hanging in the closet. “I guess Rob's been here and gone.” Raul stood at the window overlooking the city and the Rio de la Plata, giving no indication he'd heard her. Luz hesitated, then went into the bathroom to freshen up. When she came out a few minutes later, Raul was still standing at the window, his position unchanged.

Hesitating, she studied him, then walked over to the window and smoothed the frown from her face with a smile. “What are you thinking about?” She tried to inject a lightness into her voice.

For a moment, he stared at her as though she were a stranger to him. Luz was suddenly and unexplicably uneasy. “Come.” Moving, he curved an arm around her shoulders and turned her from the window. “There is something I want you to see.” He propelled her toward the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked, but he didn't answer her.

The
estancia
car was still parked in front of the entrance when they emerged from the hotel. Raul guided her to it. As soon as she was settled in the passenger seat, he slammed the door and walked around to the driver's side. Luz watched him slide behind the wheel and start the motor. The muscles stood out along his jaw, betraying the tension that charged the air. He seemed almost angry, which thoroughly confused her.

While Raul battled through the downtown traffic, Luz sat silently, trying to figure out what was wrong, and half worried it had something to do with Rob. She didn't understand why Raul was keeping their destination a secret. If they were going to the polo grounds, why didn't he say so? It didn't make sense.

Caught up in her thoughts, she paid little attention to the areas they traveled through until Raul slowed the car and turned onto a narrow street. Luz stiffened when it finally registered where they were. On both sides of the car, squalid huts of tin, wood, and cardboard littered the blocks.
Las villas miseria
. Why would Raul bring her here? She stared out the window at the clutter of shabby dwellings, a television antenna poking incongruously from the tin roof of one of them. He turned onto a side street, narrower than the last. It took them deeper into the shanty district, and her apprehensions increased.

“Raul, where are we going?”

At last her voice made an impression on him, and he glanced at her, his eyes appearing cold with challenge. “I want to show you the place where I once lived.” He faced the front again, his gaze sweeping the miserable shacks all crowded together. Her mind went blank at his stunning announcement. She was completely at a loss for words, unsure whether she was shocked, dismayed, or repelled by this revelation of his past. “Would you like to see it?”

Her mouth worked for an instant before anything came out. “Yes. I would.”

She stared out the window at the makeshift hovels, oblivious
to the turns he made that failed to change the scenery. She remembered what he'd told them when they had driven past this area on the way to the
estancia
—about the shortage of housing and the constant immigration of people from rural areas into the city, more than could be accommodated.

Raul stopped the car on one of the back streets, switched off the motor, and stepped out. Luz waited an instant, then realized he wasn't going to come around and open her door. He was standing at the collection of shacks across the road. She hesitated, then climbed out of the car by herself. Conscious of the eyes staring from behind rickety fences and crude doorways, Luz walked cautiously forward. In her white linen suit and white open-toed heels, she felt decidedly out of place. There was little sound except for the distant laughter of playing children, as if their presence had hushed everyone in the immediate vicinity. She tucked her purse more securely under her arm and continued to Raul's side.

She saw the cold, remote look on his face. Although he appeared to take no notice of her, he waited until she was beside him, then started across the street. Luz followed a step behind and stopped when he did.

“It was there, where that brush grows.” He indicated a spot half enclosed by a rickety fence. Luz stared at it, unable to visualize what he saw in his mind. “I made a shelter out of cardboard boxes, big enough for me to sleep in. Sometimes I would build a little fire outside, but only a little one. I did not want my house to burn. It was not always easy to get more cardboard boxes. And a stableboy does not make much money. I was always hungry.” Raul spoke as if she weren't there. “Many times, I stole from the vegetable gardens of the others who lived here. Sometimes I would fill my pockets with the grain from the stables and make a mush that I heated in a can over my little fire.”