A Circle of Time (18 page)

 

“He's here, Allison,” Joshua whispered as he led her from her balcony and into the rose garden that evening. “I saw him!”

“Who's here? What are you so excited about?”

“The man—the shaggy man who chases you in the woods. I was alone in the stable, getting the horses ready for the night, when he drove up in Don Carlos's buggy.”

“So he's the one Tere hired to bring the buggy back,” Allison murmured. “Are you sure he's the right man?”

“I can only go by what you told me, but he seems to fit the description. Shaggy black hair and beard, ragged clothes, real sunburned. Looks like a hermit.”

“Sounds like him. Did you talk to him—ask him who he is?”

Joshua nodded. “A little, but he's real skittish, not much of a talker. Asked me to let Miz Teresa know that the buggy had arrived and that she could keep the cross as payment for use of the buggy. He would be honored if she would wear it often.”

“He let her keep the cross? That's strange. It looked awfully valuable. I'll bet he could sell it for a lot of money.”

“He is peculiar at that. He looked tired and hungry, so I asked him if he wanted some food. He glanced around, kinda nervouslike—reminded me of a hunted rabbit. Then he thanked me and said no, he had food in his bag. But I could tell he was tempted, so I offered to let him sleep in the stable. He just shook his head, grabbed his bundle, and left.”

“He's gone!”

“Sorry, Allison. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't force him to stay.”

“No, I guess not. But I didn't even get to look at him, to see whether or not he's the right guy. And we don't know anything about him. We don't even know for sure if he's dangerous.”

“I know a couple of things about him. He's honest. He could've kept the horse and buggy, but instead he brings them home and doesn't even expect payment for his effort. Even gives away the one thing of value he owns to a woman he's just met.”

Allison considered Joshua's comment. “Those sure don't seem like the actions of a murderer. But you said you knew a couple of things about him. What's the second?”

“He's a Spaniard. I could tell by his accent.”

 

The next day, Doña Ana seemed agitated and distraught. She begged to be left alone with the drapes closed. But once Tere had seen the progress her mother had made, she refused to give in to the woman's whims and allow her to regress to her former invalid state. She drew the drapes and cracked open the windows. And she had Allison bring in several vases of fresh flowers. Then they sat with her and tried to make interesting conversation. But all their efforts couldn't seem to distract Doña Ana from her state of distress.

Doña Ana kept staring at the cross around Tere's neck. Tere had been pleased when Joshua gave her the news that the man had allowed her to keep the cross. She displayed it prominently against her chest.

At one point, Doña Ana said, “Tere, tell me about this man—the man who gave you the cross.”

“There is nothing to tell, Mamá. He seems like a sad man. I doubt he has a nickel to his name, and yet he was generous enough to allow me to keep this beautiful chain and cross.” Tere fingered the cross, holding it so the sun sparkled off the rubies, casting brilliant red reflections on the walls.

“Describe him to me.”

“Why are you so curious, Mamá? He is simply a stranger.”

“Humor me,
mija,
” insisted Doña Ana. “Tell me what he looks like.”

“Of course, if you wish. He told me he is a sailor and recently arrived in San Francisco from the coast of India. He looked like a sailor, skin tough and darkened by the sun, long black hair and beard, and quite ragged.”

“A sailor?” Doña Ana appeared pleased with the news. The tension seemed to lift from her face. “And ragged, you say?”

Tere chuckled. “Papá would definitely not approve of such an acquaintance, even if he is a Spaniard.”

“A Spaniard?” Doña Ana leaned toward Tere. “Did he say how a poor sailor acquired such a valuable piece of jewelry?”

Tere thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, he did mention it was given to him by a very dear friend. Oh, I truly must find him and repay him. This is too generous a gift.”

“Tere, listen to me,” said Doña Ana. “Did this man tell you his name?”

“Only that they call him El León. Why all the questions, Mamá?”

“Tere, this cross is an heirloom from my mother's side of the family. Your father is not familiar with it, and unbeknownst to him, I gave it to Isa when she turned seventeen. The last time I saw it was just before she eloped with José.”

That afternoon, when Allison and Tere met at Doña Ana's bedroom, they were surprised to find the woman bright and alert and sitting up in bed.

“Mamá, you must be feeling better,” said Tere. “Are you ready for a trip to the garden?”

“
Sí, hija,
I would like to take a trip, but not to the rose garden.”

“Not in my automobile, I hope!” Tere laughed. “Papá would never forgive me for taking you for a ride in the motorcar before you were strong enough.”

“Your
papá
would not be happy about where I want to go now, either. But he is not home, so he shall never know. He told me he would be gone most of the afternoon. But he will be back in plenty of time for dinner, so we must hurry.”

“
Está bien,
Mamá; but you have not yet told me where you wish to go.”

“I want to see Isa. Take me to her.”

“Mamá—”

“Tere, do not argue with me. This is important. Help me into the chair. You and Becky shall take me. We'll tell Nelda only that I want to tour the house.”

Allison and Tere helped the woman into her wheelchair and wrapped a light blanket around her legs. While Allison pushed the wheelchair, Tere spoke to Nelda.

As they neared the west wing, Doña Ana gave her daughter further instructions: “Tere, run ahead and send Socorro on an errand. Becky and I shall wait here. As soon as Socorro is gone, come back and open the gate for us. I do not want to take any chances that the nurses will inadvertently say something to your father.”

Looking puzzled, Tere did as she was told. Several minutes later, she returned and led Allison and Doña Ana through the wrought-iron gates to Isa's bedroom door.

Before Tere could open the door, Doña Ana said, “Remove the cross, Tere, and put it in your pocket. I do not want to upset Isa by letting her see it. How is she, today?”

“Socorro said she's about the same. A bit more agitated, maybe.”

Doña Ana nodded sadly, her eyes moist. “All these years and nothing has changed.” She took a deep breath and ran her fingers over her hair, smoothing her silver curls. “Hurry, Tere, take me in or I may lose my courage.”

Tere unlocked the door and stepped aside so Allison could wheel in the chair. Tere had begun to lock Isa's bedroom door in addition to the iron gate since they had discovered how Isa had escaped the week before: She had snuck from her room while Socorro was napping and had found a loose window in an adjoining room. Until then, she had been allowed to wander the west wing.

Isa was sitting in a rocker in front of barred glass doors, gazing out at the garden and humming to the baby doll on her lap. Her golden-red hair was more disheveled than the last time Allison had seen her; strands leaped from her head, wild and electric. She did not acknowledge their presence.

Tere motioned for Allison to place the wheelchair in the middle of the room. Then she knelt beside her sister.

“Isa,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Isa jumped, startled, but continued to stare out the window. “Isa, I have a surprise for you. Look, you have company. Someone you haven't seen in a very long time.”

Isa stopped rocking. “Company? Is it José? Has my dear José come back for me?” She began to straighten her dress and fuss with her hair. “How do I look, Tere? Help me with my hair. I need to look nice for José.”

Tere pushed a few stray strands from Isa's face. “You look beautiful, Isa. But—”

Isa stood, dropping the doll from her lap, and turned. Her eyes scanned the room. “José? Where are you?”

“Isa,
mi amor...
” Doña Ana held out her arms to her elder daughter.

Apparently noticing her mother for the first time, Isa ran to her and knelt at her feet. “Mamá, have you seen José? He promised he would come back for me. I have been waiting.”

“No, mi angel,”
Doña Ana said, smoothing Isa's tangled curls. “I have not seen José in a very long time.”

“He is coming, Mamá, I know he is. But”—Isa glanced around suspiciously—“we must not let Papá know. Promise me, Mamá. You will never tell him José is coming.” Isa looked up into her mother's eyes. “Promise me.”

Doña Ana winced. “I promise, Isa. If José ever comes back—”

“He will, Mamá, he will. You may doubt him, but I do not. I know he is coming.”

“How do you know,
mija?
Tell me.”

“Because he promised me. José would never break a promise to me. He loves me. And because I feel it here—” Isa placed her hand over her heart. “I know it is time.”

Doña Ana took Isa's face in her hands and spoke softly and slowly, as though she were speaking to a child of three. “Isa, listen carefully. Do you remember the ruby cross I gave you on your seventeenth birthday?”

Isa's hand flew up to her neck, feeling for the cross. Her eyes gazed past her mother. “Abuelita's cross?” She nodded, still staring at something only she could see. She made a motion with her hands, as if she were taking something from her neck and lifting it over her head. She held out her hands, waiting for someone to take the imaginary item.

“Joselito, take this cross as my wedding gift to you. Wear it always, and it will keep you safe. If we are ever parted, I shall know you are coming for me when you'return the cross to me by messenger. Let it serve as our secret signal.”

Doña Ana's face turned pale; she closed her eyes. Allison heard Tere's quick intake of breath as she digested the information.

“Isa”—Doña Ana took Isa's hand in hers—“you gave the cross to José?”

Slowly, Isa brought her gaze down until it was resting on her mother's face. Her expression was one of pure joy. “José is coming for me, Mamá.”

“Isa,
mija,
think carefully. Did José send you the cross while you were at the convent?”

Isa's eyes again stared past her mother. Her beatific smile faded, replaced by an anguished grimace. “Something is wrong,” she said in a chilling whisper. “José must be hurt. Otherwise he would have sent me the cross.” Isa rose, towering over the small woman in the wheelchair. “Papá must have found out about our plan. He must have stopped him or—”

Isa glared down at her mother. Her face held a mixture of pain and disbelief. “You were the only one I told, other than Magda, the only one I trusted. You told him, didn't you? You told Papá, José was coming for me at the convent. That was why José never sent me the final message—the cross—because Papá stopped him. And it was your fault! ”

Isa reached down and gave the wheelchair a mighty shove, sending Doña Ana speeding across the bare tiled floor. Allison, who had been standing against a wall where she could watch but remain in the background, leaped for the wheelchair, barely stopping it from hitting the wall. She caught Doña Ana in her arms as the woman flopped forward.

Doña Ana shook uncontrollably, sobbing and hiding her face in trembling hands. “
Perdóname,
Isa, I am so sorry. I never thought—”

“How could you, Mamá? I hate you!” Isa screamed, lunging at her mother with clenched fists. Her hair flew out in plumes and swirled about her head, accentuating the rage that consumed her face and blazed in her eyes.

Tere stepped between Isa and her mother. She trapped Isa's arms at her sides with her own.

As Isa struggled to free herself from Tere's strong grasp, she continued to scream at her mother. “If something horrible happened to José, it was your fault! Everything was your fault. If I could have escaped with José, I'd still have my baby. But because of you, I lost José, and I lost my precious baby! I'll never forgive you, Mamá, never!”

In a great burst of energy, Isa ripped her arms free from Tere's grasp. She made another attempt to grab Doña Ana, but Tere tackled her from behind and threw her to the floor.

“Get Mamá out of here, Becky, go!” Tere yelled as she wrestled with her sister, who squirmed beneath her like an angry alligator.

As the sisters thrashed about on the slippery tiles, Allison tried to guide the wheelchair past them. She had almost reached the door when a blood-chilling scream froze her feet to the floor.

“José!” Isa cried between hysterical laughs and sobs. “José is coming!
¡Gracias a Dios!
He is alive!”

Allison spun around to see Isa lying on her back with Tere sprawled on top of her. Isa had ceased struggling, and from her hand dangled the golden chain and ruby-studded cross.

Isa's cross!” Magda said, gazing at the rubies as they caught the firelight and reflected it back in crimson flashes.

Magda hadn't been surprised to see Allison and Joshua march into her little cottage in the late afternoon. In fact, she had been expecting them. Another of her premonitions. She had even set the table for tea. What she wasn't expecting was to see Allison wearing the ruby cross.

“You've seen it before?” asked Allison.

Magda nodded. “The night Isa eloped with my brother, they came here first. Isa was wearing it. It was the first and last time I ever saw it, but I never forgot it. After Isa came back from the convent, Dona Ana asked me whether I had ever seen Isa wearing it. Apparently Isa had lost it. Wherever did you find it?”