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The Continuation of My Adventure
Episode 6: At the Tree
Talk about powerful emotions. And memories. But not about the TV series. Instead, in a few swift milliseconds, what came pouring through me were memories of my helping Zorro, who for some reason needed my help in our living room. Of keeping Tornado safe and fed in my family’s chicken coop. Chasing the commandante through our swing set. Carrying Zorro as my first love affectionately through the years, and then meeting him again in 1998 – and falling in love, this time with Diego, who when I was a child had been sort of a shadow with a sombrero. Falling into new adventures that involved so many fabulous people. Sitting in a jacuzzi in Key Largo, talking about Zorro (and I think it was an Anna Maria discussion) at the same time with Pat and MaryAnn, and Elise and Sue Kite and Jill Panvini, and Suezzzz and others and as our words overlapped – knowing what everyone was saying. And that crowd at Olivera Street in Los Angeles, in days of innocence -- all that laughter and such a sense of victory for Zorro. That’s partly what I thought about. Memories of a time he knew nothing about.
All this as I looked up at Diego de la Vega.
And Diego de la Vega was staring at me.
He was saying, “That is an excellent recommendation for Mexico City.”
Exactly what he should have said.
That satin voice. I looked up at Diego, my eyes brimming over, and I shook my head back to see, more clearly through the mist, that tall man with the thick black hair, gigantic smile, and mammoth hands and muscular arms, now crossed over his chest. It would almost have been a defensive gesture, except he was smiling so. But his muscular torso was emphasized, and his shoulders had never seemed broader than now.
What did he look like?
What a foolish question! You know, all of you know. He is what you want him to look like when you want to feel this way.
He was staring at me, then he gave a start, and he looked down at my hands.
“What is that you’re playing?”
I remembered what I should say. “I do not know. I heard a street musician playing it, and I loved it.” (And I also heard you sing it, Diego! Although the WD Zorro producers had moved it from “The Sweet Face of Danger” to the “Invitation to Death” sequence.) I kept on playing, and I listened to him as I played.
“It is much too pretty to be just a tune. It should be a song.”
We were prattling, and we knew it. We were not talking about anything, but oh yes we were.
“You need words for a song,” I said.
“I have some words,” he said softly.
I stopped playing and looked up at him at him again.
”What are they?” I asked. Or was that Magdalena? I could feel her holding her breath, and let me tell you, when two personalities are holding their breath in one body, boy, do you really feel it.
Diego smiled down at me. “Welcome home, Magdalena.”
We both heard that, too. And exhaled with a very profound sense of coming home, but I felt that sadness again.
“Diego,” broke in Alejandro’s hearty voice. “You spoke of wanting to take Magdalena for a drive.”
Dego laughed, and I found myself smiling at him.
“My father speaks my mind with absolute precision,” he exulted.
“Perhaps we could have a bite before we start out?” asked Aunt Inez.
“Aunt Inez will watch over as as duenna,” I said, knowing my lines, and also knowing that she loved to eat. I looked over at Diego. “Whatever fun we might have had, we are not children now.”
“You know,” said Diego, almost in a whisper to me, “the older we grow, the more watching we need.”
Oh, yes, yes.
As I stood, he took my arm and led me to the dining room. The hacienda had a separate room for dining, which has not been shown on TV, why I don’t know. It is just beyond the sala and has a lovely large window looking out over a rose garden. I thought the roses were trying to climb in to join us. The table was set elegantly, a large candelabra over a fine lace tablecloth over linen, and fine china and silver.
A bite to eat! We started with a fish soup and graduated to quail that had been marinated in a light wine followed by sugar cakes, and all served with a dry white wine. Neither Diego nor I ate much. The three “grownups” kept trying to get us talking, but if we did speak, our answers were short.
“Magdalena, tell us about Mexico City.”
“Diego went to Italy. He had an audience with the Pope.”
(I could do better than that. Did you know that Diego was shanghai’d and went to China?)
“How far do your lands extend now, Alejandro?”
Some such things like that.
I kept my eyes on the food. I didn’t eat except when I looked up and saw Diego across from me, looking right at me. His eyes looked right into mine, and I wondered if I was making up the sense that he could not believe I was there.
How I wished I knew what to do. I haven’t flirted in years. And just how do you scintillate men in 1820? Maybe a few of you munching pizza while you listen would have ideas. I can hear myself, in 2003, telling me to, oh, just act nonchalantly, stand up, and leap over the table at Diego. Somehow, I restrained myself, thinking that more subtlety was called for.
You would think that Magdalena would give me some ideas. She seemed uncertain, too, however. After all, she’d been criticized for bad behavior and sent home. Maybe she didn’t want to make trouble.
But it was more than that. There was that awful sadness again. I hurt to feel it. What happened, Magdalena?
You could not bear to know. I cannot bear to remember
I put my napkin down, and I smiled at Diego. Don’t be sad, Magdalena.
Aunt Inez was asking about the recipe for the quail. Don Alejandro boasted of his cook. “There is nothing she cannot do. We are most fortunate. This was soaking in wine and vinegar for nearly a week. But more I do not know.”
Well, I take it that none of you want to know about the food or the room or Don Alejandro and Don Francisco, intending to sit down to chess or Bernardo’s rolling his eyes at me to Diego – and he thinks he didn’t see me.
Ha.
I decided to live a little dangerously. As we got up from the table, I paused by Bernardo and said, softly, “I know you cannot hear me, but you are so sweet.”
A few minutes later, Bernardo nodded brightly at me and handed me a little nosegay of yellow and white flowers.
“Ha! Off with you!” Diego roared. He seemed to have come to life and was waving his servant away, signaling him with his huge hands. He could have been Italian or Sicilian! He seemed to be as anxious as I to get on the road, and he seemed pretty ebullient lifting me up to the front seat of the carriage, while Aunt Inez muttered that I should sit with her.
We need another gentleman,” Diego said.
“That nice sergeant who took care of us yesterday,” I said, wickedly.
He laughed. “Sergeant Garcia? That is exactly the man I had in mind.” He leaped in beside me and set the horses to a trot, giving a salute to his very happy father. Aunt Inez muttered something in the back seat, but I gave her a look. She tittered.
So we collected Sergeant Garcia. When he climbed into the carriage, he upset us all, and I tumbled right into Diego. We had a fine laugh at that. I must say that tumbling into Diego looks a lot better from the perspective I was in than from my own living room. Diego did not mind my bumping into him at all, and I felt him give my arms a nice squeeze and not let me go too fast. Well, how about that Diego. What an opportunist! We left Bernardo behind us. I remembered vaguely that Bernardo was tending to Eagle business, but I was too excited. We rode into a bright afternoon. Which was when I remembered I didn’t have my contacts on. I’d forgotten all about them. Yet everything was vivid and brilliant without any optical assistance! Why was that? I had never seen like this. I realized that the sergeant looked like my beloved Henry Calvin. I turned to make sure, and he gave me a little wave. Then, in resigned equanimity, he waved at Aunt Inez, who giggled.
So did I. I turned back round.
“What was it like to grow up here?” I asked.
Diego started describing California’s attractions to children, turning at every other word or so to smile at me. His account was fabulous and entertaining, and we were laughing at his antics as a child. I’ll go into those later. Or maybe I will just remember them. For both Magdalena and me, life was about as right as it could be. Sadness seemed to melt in the warmth of the sun and the brightness of Diego’s eyes and smile. The afternoon opened its arms to us and just ahead, there – I could see it. The lake. Here I’d thought it had been made just for that scene. Nope, here it was.
The lake, dear Guy Williams Friends List, was particularly beautiful part of the world, with cottonwoods and elm trees providing shade along the banks. Now, I wished we’d brought a picnic. At least, it was a delightful and cool spot. But, oh dear, look how many trees there were.
Don’t get me wrong. I like trees.
But if you remember, after the Star Ceremony, a group of Zorro fans traveled to the location where the Did the Kiss Happen or Did It Not Happen scene was filmed. This place looked pretty much like that place, and I decided not to quibble whether it was. Instead, I thought about all the attempts to find The Tree. See, this is how Zorro creates lovers of nature! Were ever trees so studiously studied before? Had ever a scene been so religiously replayed? I remembered Sueezzzz leading a lively discussion of just what was that tree while we all sat in Kathy Gregory’s suite at the Roosevelt. After a noisy discussion and thorough analysis and instant replays of the video, The Tree was designated. Too bad we can’t put a plaque there.
But which was it? I felt it my duty to find the correct tree.
My thoughts were interrupted when Diego pulled up on the reins and leaped out of the carriage. I looked over at the trees and down at him looking up at me.
“I thought we’d stop here,” he said. “It is cool here, and it is one of the prettier places nearby.”
“It is beautiful!” I cried. “It is an enchanted lake!”
More enchanted than anyone knew!
Then I was flying over him, just for a second, as he put his huge hands around my waist. I hardly felt them, I’m afraid, thanks to the poor whale’s bones, but what was thrilling about this, if you can stand me prattling on about it being thrilling, was flying close down to his green eyes that looked straight into mine. It was as though I were diving into his eyes – for just a fraction of a moment.
My feet were supposedly on the ground, but I was still flying, looking up at him. I could see him drinking me in, savoring the moment, and his hands had not left my waist. For a brief moment, I thought the kiss would happen then.
Oh, no. We had company.
“Why are we stopping, Don Diego?” cried the sergeant.
Diego’s hands dropped to his side, but he smiled at me. “To admire the view.”
At that, I turned round and ran toward the trees, flinging my arms out and whirling. Well, it was beautiful, but I’m not sure if it was worth an act to rival Julie Andrews at the beginning of The Sound of Music, although that song was at the tip of my tongue. I could feel nothing but happiness and see nothing but beauty – and Diego, who was tending quickly to the sergeant and Aunt Inez. I turned back to the lake and starting walking through the trees.
I hurried down the lake shore, away from the sergeant and Aunt Inez, and when I felt it was a good place, not too close to shouting distance for the sergeant, I leaned against a tree facing the water, watching the sunlight sparkle on it. It was simply splendid. I wanted to stay there, enjoying the hot white diamonds that the lake shot into my eyes.
When Diego joined me, I did not look up at him but kept looking at the lake.
I felt giddy and beautiful, a child again, far from sadness, far from the miserable games of being a grownup and knowing ugliness. I was the little girl who played “senorita” while entertaining serenading swains at my balcony.
“I used to swim here,” Diego said. He leaned against the side of same tree. I loved this tree. I haven’t the faintest notion if this was The Tree or not; I’d have to look at Suezzz’s video again, but I guess any tree with Diego leaning against it is The Tree.
I wondered, too, why Diego said that. I looked up at him with a question in my eyes. He saw it, shrugged.
“Life was simpler then,” he said. “I was a boy sneaking away from my books and chores and heading for the simple pleasure of tossing off my clothes and getting cool here. I used to swing off branches and leap off boughs into the water. There wasn’t a chance I wouldn’t take without thinking.”
“Isn’t life simple now?” I asked.
“At the moment, it seems very simple,” he said, and his eyes bore into my face. “But that is a gift of the moment.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, but I knew darn well what he meant.
“So long ago, I could do as I please. Now I cannot.”
“No, I think things are very simple,” I said. You will guffaw at that, but really, at that moment, I believed it. And wouldn’t you think things were simple, oh Friends, if Diego was leaning against the very same tree you were leaning against?
“I would like to come out here sometime to swim.”
Sometime? I was ready now. For one thing, the water looked wonderfully refreshing
Now, “swimming” might bring to mind thoughts of one piece tanks or maybe bloomers, but in those days, people shucked off everything and dove in. I will if you will, I thought.
I laughed. “I’m afraid that would shock my father very much. And Auntie Inez!” I laughed. “Does it shock you, Diego?” I asked, turning to smile at him.
He laughed back, shaking his thick wavy head down onto his forehead. You know the look. But oh, you really have to be there for the full effect, a combination of boyish innocence and knee buckling sensuality.
We were laughing, glancing, knowing, teasing. It struck me that I was flirting with Zorro, or Diego unmasked. Yes, that is what I meant, Diego unmasked. I think you will know what I mean.
“Let me say that I am not entirely unmoved by the idea,” he said, his eyes gleaming. Perhaps he thought I would not get the joke. I don’t know if Magdalena did. But let me say that this was my favorite line in all of Zorro. This and Zorro’s “Ha!” when he slices the candle in the first Mountain Man episode. Here, a boundary into adult flirting was transgressed, revealing more of Diego’s mischief that was more Zorro-like. I looked at him directly. I wanted to know something.
“It is funny how things happen. You were very determined not to like me when we met today.”
He looked surprised.
You know, in the show on TV, I’m always surprised by that line. I mean, how did Magdalena know? The first time she sees him, he’s already caught in her spell. How did she know he’d been reluctant to come down? Tomorrow, Father, I’ll meet her tomorrow. That scene with Diego and Alejandro occurred without her knowing it.
But -- The only reason I knew he didn’t want to like Magdalena at first was because I knew that scene. That meant … could it have meant…that I was really supposed to be here – or anyone else who knew that scene. Anyone else who was a Zorro fan. Any one else who was on the Friends List. Anyone of you.
But I was here. I was thinking…maybe I’m supposed to be here?
No no no no no.
But she was looking into the same pair of green eyes I was. She was captivated by the same man I was. I could feel her melting, feel her caring very much what Diego de la Vega thought about her. At that moment, I thought whimsically, want to join a fan club? Diego was looking down at the ground, at his shoes, then he looked at me and smiled ruefully. “Very,” he said, softly.
“And now?” I asked. “I know that you have heard talk about me. What have you heard?”
He shook his head. “I did not listen.”
“Of course you did,’ I said. “What have you heard?”
He shrugged. “People talk about me, too. What have you heard?”
“That you have disappointed your father because you fancy yourself a composer.”
He was taken aback when I said that, and I was immediately sorry, but then he chuckled.
“I guess it did not take long for that word to reach your ears. And it is not entirely true. I do compose, but I am interested in science, too. Still, that is not what my esteemed father would want me to care about. He is worried about the future of California-- not only our hacienda but the fate of New Spain. That powerful men want to abuse the riches and the opportunities here. He does not think I am interested in that.”
“Are you?” I asked.
I had him where Magdalena seemed to want him, but it wasn’t where I wanted him. At least not then.
“Yes,” he said, “very much so.”
“I would be interested in hearing about it,” I said.
He smiled at me, as if to say, but not now, no?
Not now, yes.
“What have you heard about me?” I asked.
”I do not remember,” he said. He circled round me, putting both of his magnificent hands on either side of my head against the tree. “Anything I heard has been rendered irrelevant, unnecessary, untrue.” He said the words rhythmically, emphatically.
“Have you changed your mind, then?” I asked, my eyes focused on his. Now he was where I wanted him.
For answer, he bent toward me as I leaned against the tree, his lips approaching mine as I lifted my face to meet his.
