(Excerpt Recovered)

(Continued from Entry #14)

I slept in a hut with a small family that night. I woke to sunny rays coming through the doorway. Brighter than the sun, burning through a now thin, morning fog, were the two faces of students I had not seen in the last couple of weeks.

“Oh, look at you,” I breathed, and reached for them. They smiled nervously, but the moment we embraced they seemed to relax.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Not class though,” the other joked, and I playfully hit his shoulder.

“How rude!”

He giggled, and shuffled his feet. “We can come back soon?”

“Come back for Christmas. That is very soon.”

“Here,” came a woman’s voice. “Let your teacher wake up. Here, dear, have some breakfast.” Metate prepared bread, and fruit. The children must have told her my favorites were pawpwas, they were dominating the plate that was set before me. I finished it all by emptying the cup of water she had brought for me.

Father Alvarelo was speaking with Mama Gondu when I was finally ready to leave my little pupils and their kind mother. Their father had brought me a poncho, which upon further privacy I changed into. My habit was tucked under my arm, and I pulled the poncho’s hood over my head. Mama Gondu smiled brightly when I appeared wearing the woven poncho.

“Look at her, my little Tairona sister,” he embraced me, and held my cheek in one hand. “You are much better today, yes?”

“Yes. I am sorry for… any viciousness I may have done last night.”

“You were afraid,” he kissed the crown of my head, and nodded to the boys that had brought us our horses. “When you return home, I want you to keep a close eye on your Carmen. She still has much to go through.”

"Yes, Mama Gondu.”

I climbed into my saddle, Father Alvarelo into his. We bid more farewells, and moved back into the jungle. The leaves were caressed by tumbling raindrops that had not yet been burned away by the sun. These glass beads tugged down the tip of their leaves, and the leaves would rebound after the drop released and soaked into the ground. There were birds calling back and forth in the canopy, and little creatures running amock in the under brush while the bugs buzzed and chirped. Father Alvarelo was noticeably quiet.

“Are you well, Father Alvarelo?”

He looked at me as if I were crazy. “How can you pretend? Do you remember last night?”

“Yes,” I said softly. “I just want to get back to Carmen.”

“This is about Carmen. My thoughts are heavy regarding her. She is sicker than we once thought.”

I brought my horse around, cutting off the progress of his own, and fixed him with my stare. “What did Mama Gondu tell you?”

Father Alvarelo sighed deeply. “We may have to perform an exorcism.”

But upon our arrival to the mission, there was chaos. Servants and soldiers were bustling, running back and forth across the courtyard. Doctor Gil had his arms crossed outside of his infirmary, shaking his head to Father Leoncio’s fervent questioning. Pepita appeared withdrawn as well, her hands deep in her apron pockets. All of them were sleepless in their appearance, resembling ghosts that they needed only to drift on their tiptoes to complete the image. Father Alvarelo and I kicked our horses into trots, and cleared the courtyard in a matter of moments. We pulled our horses to a halt along side of them, the beasts throwing back their heads sharply in protest to such a sudden stop.

Father Alvarelo’s teeth were gritting. “Gabriel,” he said to Father Leoncio, “what is happening? Is everything all right?”

“It’s Carmen…” He said grimly.

My heart stopped. I threw myself from my horses, and pushed through Doctor Gil and Pepita. I scrambled through the infirmary, dropping my habit to the floor and tearing open the white curtain that once hid Carmen only to find an empty bed. The covers were not turned down, but thrown off. Her slippers were missing, as was her robe.

I re-emerged from the infirmary, ran down the thin garden path, and joined the group once more. “Did she pass?” I was shaking all over. They were all so solemn, and in the end it was Pepita who had the courage to break the heavy silence I had just encountered.

“She is gone, Nieve.”