The Promise by T.J. Bennett

another. If this emotion could do what it did to Miguel, I wanted nothing more to do with it.”
    “But it was ten years ago. You married eventually,” Inés pointed out.
    “Twice.” Alonsa gave another longsuffering sigh.
    “Twice?” Inés responded, intrigued.
    Alonsa nodded. “Yes. When I neared twenty, Papa felt I had mourned my sins long enough. He did not believe in this curse, you understand. We had gone to the priest, and when I completed my penance, he forgave me for disobeying my father and blessed me. The priest said we should not fear the mad ravings of a dying lunatic, and to trust in God, not pagan curses. Papa seemed more than ready to accept his pronouncement.”
    “And you?” Inés asked.
    Alonsa’s gaze shifted. “I wished only to forget. After a time I did. At any rate, I had no other siblings, and Papa wanted grandsons to whom he could pass along his skills. He selected a nice young man for me from a neighboring township and allowed him to court me.”
    Something about the emptiness of her voice made Inés think Alonsa would have chosen differently, if even at all.
    “Did you have no wish to wed?”
    Alonsa lifted a shoulder eloquently.
    “It did not matter. I had no intentions of disobeying my father again, after the last time.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, I … liked Eduardo well enough. He was handsome and charming. What had happened to me with Miguel seemed so very long ago. Perhaps, I thought, all would be well.” She massaged her brow with one delicate finger. “But on the wedding night …”
    Inés began to unwind the damp braid trailing down Alonsa’s back to her waist. “What happened on the wedding night?”
    “I felt nothing at his caresses. I had thought when we were wed, when I was his wife in the eyes of God, it would be different, but …”
    She rocked gently on the pallet. “Even though he possessed my body, my heart felt as though it awaited another. He begged for my love, but I … I could not make such a thing happen against my will.”
    Alonsa tugged absently at a lock of damp hair Inés had unbraided as she spoke.
    “I promised to be a faithful and dutiful wife. I promised to obey him in all things.” She lifted a shoulder. “What more could I do? Still, he would become … angry. Frustrated when I did not respond as he felt I should. I feared he would become like Miguel.” She stared off into space, lost in her recollections.
    Inés found a brush and began tugging out the tangles in Alonsa’s wavy tresses. “So,” she asked, “what happened then?”
    Alonsa blinked, and quietly resumed her tale.
    “We went on in this way for a while. He would leave for days on end, come home late at night, and sometimes he was … unkind when he took me.” She glanced at Inés. “He did not mean to be. He was just as miserable as I, I think.”
    “You should not make excuses for such behavior,” Inés sputtered. “Unkindness in bed is sometimes even worse than a fist.”
    Alonsa’s eyes widened and Inés saw a nearly imperceptible shudder pass over her. “Yes, I thought so, too. But I felt too ashamed to admit it.”
    Inés rested a gentle hand on Alonsa’s shoulder.
    “Is that why you refused to marry Günter? You fear the marriage bed? Because, if you do not mind me saying so, your desire for him a little while ago was quite … apparent. At least to me,” she added hastily when she saw Alonsa’s cheeks turn pink.
    “To the entire camp, no doubt,” Alonsa murmured.
    Inés smiled, and Alonsa, for the first time in days, smiled with her. Inés decided she liked the fact that this woman could laugh at her own folly, at least.
    “No, it is definitely not an issue with Günter,” Alonsa admitted. “If it were not for you and your banging pots, who knows what might have happened here today?”
    Inés sent her a woman-to-woman gaze. “I shall keep my pots silent if the opportunity arises again. However, I thought you might regret such a thing so soon