by Leigh Smith
Maria, what are you doing in there?"
"I'm getting dressed, Papa."
"Everybody is here and waiting for you."
"Well, I'm the bride and there is no wedding without me, so just let them wait."
"Maria, I'm warning you, if you are not downstairs in ten minutes, I am going to..."
"Going to what, Papa?"
"Send up Juan. He knows how to deal with you."
She smiled at the thought of Juan coming upstairs just now. The hell with the old wives tale about the groom seeing the bride before the actual ceremony. Juan would appreciate seeing her in the lacy bra, panties, and the garter belt holding up her silk stockings. She was wearing high heels and would do a little pirouette to let him get the full view. Oh, his prim and proper upbringing might kick in initially and he would threaten to take her over his knee if she didn't behave. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. I think I just might have to dawdle a little longer. Nothing like a bride blushing with afterglow, she thought to herself.
Cars had been traveling the road to Rolling Hills Ranch all day. The marriage of Maria Elena Bartolá and Juan Antonio Cabrillo was taking place on this the first day of 1946. The world had been made safe for democracy. California was beginning to experience the growth that would eventually propel it to the most populous and popular state in the union. Southern California was teeming with jobs and the promise of a better life. Returning military personnel were only too happy to migrate to this Golden State after experiencing a taste of 'paradise' while in the service. However, in this part of the state, the pace was a little slower and the aristocratic Spanish heritage was still very much in the forefront. Rolling Hills Ranch sat high atop the hills of the Monterey Peninsula.
With the setting sun glistening on the Pacific, it was the perfect backdrop for these two Californios. The Bartolá's and the Cabrillo's had lived on this land for generations. Hundreds of invitations had been sent and accepted because this was an event not to be missed. It was the first social event of this new year and although the union of these two families wasn't a surprise, it was surprising it had taken so long.
White, slat-back wooden chairs tied with white bows and white seat cushions were set in equal rows on either side of an aisle lined with baskets of flowers. The scent of the flowers combined with the salty sea air gave off a heady aroma. The priest stood at the head of the aisle, under the arched entrance to a gazebo covered in fragrant night blooming jasmine and watched as the bride walked down the aisle on the arm of her father. Juan stood to the right of the priest with his brother Joaquin standing beside him. Maria Elena was a vision in a long sleeved white satin gown, with a sweetheart neckline trimmed with hundreds of seed pearls. In lieu of a veil, she wore the heavy lace mantilla worn by her mother, and her grandmother before her.
Juan sucked in his breath as her father turned over her hand to him. The rest of his life was about to begin. He looked forward to the journey he knew would be filled with love and laughter. He knew because Maria Elena Bartolá Cabrillo had already provided him with more love, laughter and excitement than most men had in a lifetime.
Diego Jose Bartolá was the owner of Rolling Hills Ranch. The King of Spain granted his paternal ancestors a land grant in the late 1700's. Once Mexico gained its independence from Spain in 1821, Mexican civil administrators converted what was once land granted to the missions, back to private property. Diego Bartolá's great-great grandfather was the beneficiary of an even larger tract of land because of this action. When California became a state in 1846, many of these land grants were scrutinized and unless they were written recorded boundaries, the land often reverted to the state. Luckily, for the Bartolá's their deeds had not only been recorded but also mapped with latitudes and longitudes firmly establishing them as owners of their huge tracts of land. The Cabrillo family had benefited in much the same way. However while the Bartolá's interests included cattle, horses, some mining, and farming, the Cabrillo family concentrated mainly on the raising and breeding of cattle.
At almost six feet, Diego Jose Bartolá was taller than the average Spaniard. He had an air of authority that rested on his shoulders as easily as the clothes he wore. He had thick, straight black hair, with dark brows and eyelashes that shaded slate-grey eyes and a smile that could warm the coldest heart. It wasn't surprising that Diego won the heart of Margarita Ysidro Castro the only daughter of Ignacio Castro another wealthy landowner. Their marriage was a true love match lasting two years until her death from complications of childbirth at the age of twenty-six. He mourned her for the rest of his life. Diego, a widower at thirty, transferred all of his love to their daughter, Maria Elena. This child became his world.
He tried to compensate for the loss of her mother by doting on Maria Elena. Her every wish was granted. She knew no boundaries and any interference by a nanny or any of his family was met with denial. She could do no wrong, so the spoiled little girl became a spoiled young woman. Maria was born with the best features of her mother and father. She had her mother's porcelain fine skin and long eyelashes that hooded deep purple-blue eyes that were either sparkling with devilment or clouded with wrath. Taller than most girls, she moved with grace and poise and when it suited her fancy Maria could charm anyone with an engaging smile. From her father, Maria received her shiny thick black hair and an olive complexion that always made her look as if she had been kissed by the sun. Her mother, though reserved and fragile, was the most sought after prize of the region. She was beloved and known for her sweetness, unlike her daughter. Maria was strong and independent with a fiery temper she must have inherited from earlier ancestors because both her mother and father were patient and even-tempered. Many of the young men and women in the area learned very early to either agree with her or suffer her temper. It was easier to avoid her. Just as the nursery rhyme said, when she was good, she was oh so good, and when she was bad she was horrid.
Juan was the youngest of six brothers and often suffered at their hands, not physically, but because he was the youngest it was their greatest pleasure to never let him forget his place in their family. Juan was not as tall or burly as his siblings, he was more slightly built. He was handsome with the dark hair and complexion of his father and brothers but possessed more of his mother's gentleness. His interests were more scholarly that those of his brothers. Though he tried his best to measure up to his family's expectations, he was a dreamer, and the rough and tumble work of cattle ranching was physically tough on him. His brothers and other ranch hands were always following behind him to either rescue him from some calamity or remedy his mistakes. His strengths were more cerebral and often he could be found beneath a tree reading a book while the others were mending fences or riding the range. It was no surprise he wanted to further his studies and when he went off to college, his family knew he was doing what he was meant to do.
Juan and Maria were childhood playmates. Even as a young child, Maria was very bossy. Juan never gave into her demands, would merely look at her with those placid eyes, shake his head, and then ignore her requests. He had a lot of experience in this area. His size, age, and interests provided constant fodder to be teased and taunted by his brothers. His parents intervened occasionally but chalked it up to sibling rivalry and felt it would toughen him up and strengthen his character. They were correct. Maria was used to getting her own way and occasionally would just stomp away from him taking her revenge in another way. It didn't nettle him. He waited knowing she would always return.
When they were about twelve or so, Maria took to riding her horse at breakneck speed over the hills and dales of the area. She was a dare devil and it was a sight to see her astride her white horse with her beautiful black hair trailing behind her; she was as wild as the horse beneath her. Juan loved watching her ride, but when she came across Juan on these rides, there were times he would be so deeply engrossed in his book he wouldn't hear her coming. She would scare the devil out of him as she reined in Domingo right under his nose. He would always look up at her and shake his head.
"Someday Maria, you are going to be sorry,"
"Sorry for what?" she would always ask.
"When the time comes you will know the answer to that."
When Juan went off to college, Maria spent her time learning her father's business. School did not interest her - she wanted hands on learning. Her days were spent either working with the horses or out in the vineyards with the other workers. She would don a pair of britches and a shirt, tie back her hair, and work right alongside the other workers. Some of them didn't even realize she was the boss's daughter. She loved the smell and feel of the earth. She knew that achieving a rich complex flavor often grew out of difficult conditions such as drought, lack of nutrients, and poor drainage, and she wanted to know firsthand how the crops were progressing and make any changes to improve the quality of the grapes.
Their vineyards had been producing grapes for the Franciscan friars that settled this area and it was this fact that kept their winery open during prohibition. The sale of sacramental wine had increased hundred fold within two years. Their winery, though small, produced some of the finest pinot noir and chardonnay grapes this side of the Atlantic, so the winery prospered during a time that others had to shutter their doors. Maria enjoyed the work and would often talk to Juan about expanding the vineyards during his school vacations. Juan suggested or brought her books about climate, soil, the aging of the grapes, experimenting with other grapes to produce varietals, and storage of the grapes. They talked about working together, putting Juan's education to good use in producing crops such as cherries to blend with the grapes, and other crops such as almonds and pistachios that would increase their revenue and expand the use of the land granted to their ancestors.
During the Christmas break of his last year of school, Juan made an appointment to ask Señor Bartolá for his daughter's hand in marriage. Diego granted his permission readily. Taming the spitfire would be a challenge but her dowry was worth the trouble. Diego Bartolá knew his daughter well and although he wished she wasn't quite so exuberant he knew she had the wisdom to choose the right partner for her. He had always hoped there would be a union between the two neighboring families and was happy his wish was coming to fruition. He knew Juan understood what he was in for with his free-spirited daughter but he also knew his most prized possession would be in good hands.
While walking past her father's study, Maria overheard Juan asking for her hand in marriage. She burst in.
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