Not until near the end of his letter did Bruno tell them—in a single sentence that looked to have been scrawled in such haste it was nearly illegible—of the deaths some years earlier of Felicia Flor and his baby sons. And in the next sentence asked the twins’ permission to show Marina’s letter to Vicki, who would be greatly relieved to know they were alive and well. She was a far better writer than he and he was certain she would be happy to do all the letter writing for both of them in the future. Besides, the correspondence would be good for her spirits. He also asked if he could share the information with his sisters. Gloria Tomasina, he told them, lived with her husband Louis Little on his father’s hacienda near San Luis Potosi, and it was by means of the Littles’ close friendship with Porfirio Diaz that she had been able to end the siege of Buenaventura. His younger sister Sofia Reina still lived with their mother in Mexico City, but she had always had a keen interest in the Wolfe family and would be eager to learn what had become of the twins and that they were well. He closed with, My love to you all. Your most affectionate cousin, Bruno Tomas Wolfe y Blanco.
“We got a cousin whose in-laws are friends with
Marina wanted to know if they would return to Ensenada de Isabel, now they knew Mauricio was dead. The twins said no. When their father died, the whole place, cove and all, became the property of she-knew-who. It wasn’t home anymore.
Well, what of Bruno’s request to share the letter with Vicki? Of course he can, James Sebastian said. And he can tell his sisters as much as he wants to, Blake said. They neither one cared whether anybody told John Samuel anything. But nobody would.
None of them could know Josefina’s death had not been so serene as Bruno supposed. For a great many years she had believed that life could produce no more surprises to someone her age, and then Marina and the twins were gone and she was astonished to discover that even an ancient relic such as herself—who had known every variety of loss and believed she had learned to endure them—could miss anyone so much. She was lonelier than she had thought it possible to be. There was a great stone weight in her withered breast that every day grew heavier until she felt it would crush her heart. As, finally, one night, it did.
In her letter to Bruno, Marina tendered everyone’s condolences on the loss of his family, and their regret at not having had the chance for better acquaintance with Felicia and the boys. She conveyed the twins’ gratitude for his informing them of Mauricio Espinosa’s death, and told him he could share her letters with Vicki Clara and tell his sisters all he wanted about the twins. But, knowing Vicki would read the letter, she made no reference to Bruno’s concern about her frail health. She reported that Remedios was doing very well in her pregnancy and the child was due in the spring. She described the house the twins had built in Brownsville and told of the one they were building in the wild palms downriver at the place they called Wolfe Landing. She told about Brownsville, about its residents, an almost equal mix of Mexicans and Anglos and all of them inclined to public conversation in bellows. Though smaller than Tampico it was louder and had even more cantinas. And more dogs. She had never seen so many dogs at large. Sometimes she heard parrots in the trees and sometimes saw a flock of them streak over the patio in a colorful flash, and in such moments she missed Tampico terribly. And of course Buenaventura.
Bruno passed Marina’s two letters to Vicki, who was ecstatic about them. She was in the library reading the letter to Josefina yet again when John Samuel happened by and asked who it was from, and she said an old school friend. As she saw it, if the twins wanted John Samuel to know anything about them they would ask her to tell him or they would tell him themselves. As Bruno had expected, she was delighted to correspond for both of them with their kin across the border. She addressed her letter to Marina but directed it to all of them. She said how happy she was to know they were unharmed. How wonderful it was that Marina and James Sebastian were married and had a son! And Blake married too and also to soon be a father! She knew Remedios must be very lovely and precious and she could hardly wait to meet her. How good to know the family was still growing—but dear God, how the years were flying! She made no reference to the medical troubles Bruno had mentioned, but she wrote at length about Juanito Sotero. Told how handsome he was and how strong, how accomplished in his studies. About his excitement to be going to military school in the coming fall. Her only concern about him was that his attitude had become so serious. Oh, he enjoyed his sports and he had friends, yes, but to be frank, she rarely heard him laugh. She did not mean to suggest he was solemn, because he was not—his smile was lovely and not infrequent. It was only that he seemed less a child than a very young and purposeful adult. As though the death of his brother had ended his own childhood. How silly she must sound, she wrote, to have such concern about a son so healthy and intelligent. He had been thrilled when she told him his uncles were alive and well. In the years since the twins’ departure, she and Juanito had sometimes made a game of imagining where they might be and what they might be doing. Juanito asked if she were going to tell his father what they had learned about Uncle James and Uncle Blake, and she said she wasn’t. She gave no explanation and he did not ask for one, but only said he wasn’t going to tell either. In closing, she wrote, With love to you all, my dear sisters and brothers, including my baby nephew and the niece or nephew soon to join you. Vicki Clara.
Marina wrote Vicki in March with the news that she was again pregnant and had been for about four months. This one was no accident. James Sebastian was so pleased with Morgan James that he wanted another son. She had told him they could try but she wasn’t sure she could conceive again, and even if she did he should keep in mind that it might be a girl. He said that would be all right with him. And, just like that, she was pregnant. What in heaven was going on? Who would have thought another seed could sprout in this old pot? As for Remedios, her baby was due any day. And Vicki should see the twins now! Twenty-three years old and handsomer than ever. At the end of the letter, the twins had added a few lines of their own to Vicki, each penning an affectionate greeting and lamenting the eternity since they’d last had the pleasure of her dear company. They were pleased Juan Sotero was doing so well and asked her to convey their proud salutations to him. They invited her and Juanito, together or when each might have the chance, to come and visit them in Brownsville. Nobody mentioned John Samuel.
In that first letter to Vicki, Marina addressed her as she always had, as Dona Victoria, and was chided for it in Vicki’s next letter. Sisters, Vicki wrote, are never so formal with each other. Marina loved her for her graciousness.
That spring they received their first letter from Sofia Reina Wolfe y Blanco, addressed, at Bruno’s suggestion, to Marina Colmillo de Wolfe. It was a brief and affectionate missive conveying Sofi’s admiration for the twins, having heard so much about them from her brother. Marina wrote back that they were all very happy to make her acquaintance, if only by way of letter, and told her of their great fondness for Bruno. This correspondence would continue for seventeen years, during which time Sofi and Maria Palomina would learn much about their relatives at the border and the Wolfes would come to know a good deal about their kin in Mexico City. But some things, of course—such as the history of Sofi’s marriages—could not be told in a letter and would have to wait those seventeen years before becoming known to the whole family.
Came the fall and Juan Sotero kissed his mother goodbye and shook his father’s hand and entered the gates of El Colegio Militario de Veracruz. By which time there had been two more additions to the Wolfe family across the Rio Bravo. Remedios Marisol had borne Jackson Rios at the end of April, and then a little more than three months later Marina brought Harry Sebastian into the world. Now Remedios was pregnant again. Mother of God, Marina wrote to Vicki, we are like a bakery of little Americans!
But Harry Sebastian’s birth, like his brother Morgan James’s, had been hard on Marina, and because the danger of another pregnancy would be graver yet for a woman of nearly forty, she and James Sebastian had agreed to have no more children. She would resume taking precautions, but if there should be an accident she would certainly seek the help of a curandera, a choice that of course had its own hazards. In all honesty, Marina confided to Vicki, I will be so very happy when I am dried-up and no longer have to be so careful. May it happen soon soon
They finished the river house two weeks before the new year of 1895. A large single-story with four bedrooms, a big kitchen and spacious central room, a wide verandah all around. When they brought the wives out to see it, Marina said it was pretty and she would live in it if it were in town. Remedios liked the house too but if Marina would not live there neither would she. They were amenable, however, to occasional visits. After taking the wives back to town, the twins allotted themselves a rare day of leisure. They went to Point Isabel and took the
