Entry #15

Adan, I know I have not written in a while.

A month has passed like ages, which has fed my guilty inscription now. I feel as if I have been away from you for thirty years rather than thirty days. The month has been arduous, long, and fruitless. We searched for Carmen day and night. Mama Gondu and the others of his village in the jungle were of great help. They navigated the jungle effortlessly, pushing through the bush in such a way that no nature came to great harm. Search parties began to operate in shifts, but I knew by the end of the first week that our hunt would come to a close. I remember one night while I was eating in the mess, Father Alvarelo had just come back with Lope and the others. He put his hand on my shoulder, and smiled sadly before I could even ask my question.

“She is alive,” I concentrated on the food I had up until then been neglecting. “I know she is alive.”

Lope interjected. “She is gone. Do you understand what that means? You may want to start mourning, Hermana, my men cannot continue.”

I remember boiling over with tears. Perhaps if it had been anyone but Lope, perhaps if I had even mastered some sleep I could have exercised temperance. My food knocked over as I stood swiftly from my seat. “They cannot continue? You are soldiers! Lord, I would hate to see your perseverance were an actual war to meet you one day!”

Lope advanced on me, and Father Alvarelo played peacemaker. “Leave her,” he said. “You leave her, now.” I received a steely glare from Lope, who waved his men to follow him as he stormed from the mess.

I dropped into my seat, buried my face in my hands. “I did not mean that.”

“You must mind your tongue around Lope. He - ”

“I know what he can do. A man who sharpens his fists on the fairer sex is no man at all, he has not enough value to even be a shame to his own race.”

Father Alvarelo stared. He cracked a smile, he bowed his head, he laughed, and I laughed with him.

“I am sorry,” my fingers fanned over my lips. “I am not myself. If the Mother had heard me then, my oh my. I would revert to candidacy if I was not chased into the Seville hills at once instead.”

I was silent, my smile fading. Thinking of Seville made me think of Carmen, and I could not bring myself to laugh any more.

“Father Alvarelo, I cannot stop thinking of her.”

“I know,” he lay his hand gently on my back.

“She is alone. She is alive, and alone. I know she is still alive.”

“How?” Father Alvarelo's brows knit, he leaned forward. “How when we have found no sign, not trace of her?”

“You may call this some poorly placed optimism, and I would not argue in return that it is my faith that keeps her alive in those jungles.”

“Then what?”

“It is a feeling, and it is palpable, as real as you are to me now. I know. I simply know.”

A week later and the search was called off. I was distraught, and unless my Lord required me in the church, I rarely left my room. Father Alvarelo managed to lure me out occasionally to eat with him, and if I ever did make it to mess or mass, Father Leoncio would usually ask me questions regarding our faith, regarding the world at large to keep me from retreating to my room. Pepita also would encourage me to help her in the infirmary, and Doctor Gil kept me busy with some light gardening. Eventually, I was in the habit of a regular schedule that brought me around to mess, saw me reading silently in the library and attending all mass. There was a comfort in prayer, a comfort that for the last few weeks I had missed, and was happy to return to. I believe everyone else was happy to see me return to some semblance of 'normalcy' as well.

Day Mass on Christmas, and there is a crisp turn of the wind as it cuts through the air. All are present. My students have even come with their families to participate. Captain Gonzalo is there as promised. He has come with a woman, one I can only assume is the wife Pepita has mentioned before. Pepita is noticeably further removed from his presence, more so than usual when he is around. She is even far from Lope. I saw her from my place at Carmen's organ (since she has gone I have started to play the music for the services). Occasionally, in the midst of recitation in the service, I see her eying Captain Gonzalo and his wife from over her book.

Gonzalo's wife is very pretty, very dignified. She reminds me of a noble woman. Perhaps she is from such blood. Her skin is clean, smooth as far as I can tell from my place at the organ. She is dressed conservatively for church, save for some of her skirt which is dark red with a black lace detail. Her eyes are almond shaped, dark, and quite entrance. Gonzalo is affectionate as he can be in church, holding her hand when they are seated again and listening to Father Alvarelo's sermon. Why would Gonzalo turn from a woman like this? Is she cruel? Is she too doting? Stifling, or far too aloof?

“Psst,” Father Leoncio hissed from his shoulder, and my fingers jumped onto the keys. There was no whispered apology from me. A missed queue in church was not enough to throw off the Day Mass. Truly, the service was something peaceful after such a hectic month. Probably why my thoughts were so free to ramble.

After the Day Mass, Gonzalo and his wife broke away from the crowd so that Gonzalo could treat her to a tour of the mission. I watched them from Doctor Gil's garden, a place I often reported to after services for weeding and cultivating. Gonzalo's wife strode with such grace, in a way she seemed ethereal and charming. I wanted more than anything to approach her and introduce myself. There was something altogether fascinating about the spouse.

“I see you have noticed Olvida,” Doctor Gil said from his place under the herbs. He was wearing thick gloves and flexing a pair of shears open and shut idly as he followed my gaze.

“How long have they been married?”

“Oh, years now.”

“I see.”

“They have an odd sort of relationship.”

“How so, Doctor?”

“I try not to gossip. If anything what I say is to keep you from asking or saying anything that might put her out.”

I canted my head to the side. What he said has piqued my curiosity.

He pocketed his shears in his apron and stood, wiping dirt off his gloved hands. “Even before they came here, they tried for a child. Olvida, though. Olvida has had trouble conceiving. They try when they can, and ultimately, she has had no children. I feel he has begun to give up. He is desperate for a son, though.”

“Why?”

“There is a history of poor health in his family. He is about to reach an age where his fathers and fathers before them met with some complications. Though he is well-rounded when it comes to his health and endurance, the man is afraid he will be seized before he can conceive a boy.”

A few things fell into place for me in regards to Gonzalo, Olvida, Pepita. At that very moment some of the motivations made sense, though it was not in my place to think any further. I had to dismiss this from my mind. The business was not mine, and I had pried far enough, I think. I watched Gonzalo cross the courtyard with Olvida. They were approaching us, and the Doctor and I put on our friendliest faces.

“Doctor Gil. Hermana Nieve. This is my wife – Olvida. She is up from the coast for Christmas this year.”

The doctor tipped his brimmed hat, and smiled widely. “A pleasure to see you again, signora.”

“And you, Doctor Gil.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said.

“Hermana Nieve,” Captain Gonzalo gestured to my little classroom across the courtyard. “I am needing to speak to Lope for just the moment. Would you mind giving my wife a tour of your class?”

“Not at all,” I nodded to Olvida. “Please, signora, follow me.”

Captain Gonzalo was off, and I left the garden to lead Olvida to the little hovel that would open its doors back up for class again soon. The children would be such a relief. I had not seen them for so long, and they had already expressed at mass how they were so excited about seeing their favorite teacher again. I unclasped a ring of keys from the sash around my habit, and flipped up the key to my class. The door was unlocked, and I held it open for Signora Gonzalo.

“It is a little dusty, and it's not usually so quiet. The students will be back again after Christmas.”

“It is very nice, Hermana... Nieve, was it?”

“Yes, signora.”

“Please. I am Olvida. You do not need to be so formal with me.”

“Very well, Olvida.”

“Do you enjoy the jungle, Nieve?”

“Yes, signora. The Tairona have been very hospitable.”

“The soldiers have behaved?”

I blushed. “Yes, signora,” I cleared my throat, “I mean, Olvida.”

“You do what I cannot. There is something about this place that irks me.”

I thought back to the library, and I do not think I would ever - could ever - forget Carmen’s dream and demeanor before her disappearance. The figure at my door, the way candles would huff into a trail of smoke, even without the help of any exhalation or passing draught. How Father Alvarelo turned to me the morning of her disappearance and told me, in all seriousness the need for an exorcism.

“What is it that vexes you, Olvida?”

“I cannot describe my notions. Only that I hate coming here. I always feel as if I am being watched by someone. I never feel particularly alone.”

The door was opened at that very moment, startling me. Olvida offered an embarrassed smile. I think she was somewhat astonished by the sudden noise as well. Standing in the doorway was Captain Gonzalo. He smiled, and leaned in the doorway. “I was thinking we could take a ride through the jungle, my dear, before the next mass today. There will not be much time between that and Christmas dinner.”

“Of course, husband,” she nodded, collecting her thoughts. She stood, and took my hand tenderly in both of hers. “Hermana Nieve, so nice to meet you. I will have to catch up with you again later.”

“Yes, Olvida. A pleasure to meet you as well, please, enjoy your stay here.”