Tarnished Beauty (36 page)

Señor Peregrino sighed weakly. “I suppose it is,” he said.

Jamilet tilted her head so that it lightly touched his shoulder. “I love you, Grandfather,” she said. “And I'm so glad I found you.”

He pressed her hand. “And I you, my dear.”

Jamilet left him at the window, and went to the open suitcase where she pulled out trousers, a shirt, and a pair of shoes. She placed them on the bed, and turned to face him, her eyes glittering with determination. “I'm going to leave for a moment so that you can get dressed. And when I get back, we're going to walk the
camino
together so that we can thank Santiago for granting us our miracles.”

 

Chanting echoes reverberated from above and below, seeping through the walls of the building in mournful wails that all at once softened the hospital's harsh reality. The notes of the song fell as tenderly as a child's tears, growing more intense as they descended, filling the corridors with such resonance that everyone was forced to stop and listen. Patients and staff alike exchanged baffled glances, as if to confirm that what they heard was real and not imagined.

Señor Peregrino and Jamilet emerged from the elevator on the first floor hand in hand. His song spread out before them like a verdant path, twisting and winding its way out toward the front door of the hospital. He didn't stop singing until they stood in the doorway of Nurse B.'s office.

When she saw them standing there together, like a portrait in a frame, her mouth dropped open and she floated up from her chair, her eyes focusing and refocusing on the scene before her. “Antonio, you…you're here, you left your room.”

Mr. Simpson looked up from his work, clearly disappointed.

Señor Peregrino cleared his throat, and patted Jamilet's hand. “My granddaughter and I will be taking our breakfast in the garden this morning. It's such a lovely day, and I'm sure the fresh air will do us good.” Before they turned to go outside he added, “And you can tear up those papers, Jenny. You won't have any need for them, as I'll be going home soon. Or wherever it is that I choose to go.”

They strolled out toward the garden and selected the bench beneath the largest tree. Señor Peregrino looked about, and when his eyes met Jamilet's their triumphant smiles grew into laughter as light as the breeze. Moments later, an orderly appeared with a fresh pot of coffee while Nurse B. watched them from her office window, her expression filled with wonder.

As custom dictated, Señor Peregrino prepared the coffee and they sipped away, enjoying it in this new venue, and marveling at how wonderful the taste was. A peaceful silence passed between them, and it seemed that Señor Peregrino was on the verge of dozing off when something caught his eye. He pointed down toward the main road and said, “There seems to be a young man watching us. Do you know him?”

Jamilet looked to where he pointed and saw Eddie standing at the gate. Her heart began to beat furiously at the sight of him. When Eddie saw that she'd spotted him, he waved her over and pointed at his watch to let her know that he didn't have much time.

“Yes, I know him,” she muttered.

“It appears that he has an urgent need to speak with you. Perhaps you should go see what he wants.”

Jamilet was flustered and unsure of what to do. She knew that Eddie had to get to work and didn't have much time to spare. For a moment, she was tempted to drop everything and run to him as fast as her feet could carry her, but she didn't. Instead, she turned back to Señor Peregrino, and inhaled deeply. Her voice was clear and confident when she said, “I'm sure that we'll have a chance to talk later, and I'm enjoying this time with you, Grandfather. The coffee is especially delicious this morning, don't you think?”

“Yes it is,” he replied, smiling with pleasure.

When Jamilet turned to look again, Eddie was gone. She relaxed and allowed her gaze to wander up to the branches of the tree, and she watched the leaves flutter gently in the breeze. “May I ask you for a favor, Grandfather?”

“Anything, my dear.”

“Since I listened to your story, will you listen to mine? It will explain the reason I left Mexico to come here.”

He turned to her, clearly intrigued. “Of course I will. When will you begin this story?”

Jamilet placed her coffee cup down, then stood up, holding both of her hands out to him. “Soon, very soon. But first I'd like you to teach me how to sing one of your songs—how about the one that you and Rosa sang together?”

Chuckling, he set his coffee cup down and eased himself up from the bench. “Very well, I'll teach you the song that Rosa and I sang as we made our way down the Monte de Gozo and into Santiago, but I warn you, it's not an easy one to learn. Some of the notes are quite high, and you'll have to practice to get it right.”

It took several attempts before Jamilet was able to sing along without stumbling or depending on Señor Peregrino to lead, but her voice proved to be a sweet and delightful complement to his. And although she would learn many of his songs, her favorite would always be the one they sang together that first summer morning they strolled the perimeter of the hospital grounds arm in arm, as if wandering the highlands of Galicia.