Free Write is NSFW

It's the first free-write. Holy crap, lock up your sons and daughters, here it comes.

Again, my original intention with this whole book was to make it... I guess as close to a "found film" story as literature could get. Different documents, different perspectives, etc. Just a way to have a massive character study in the midst of the weirdness that for the most part has already gone down, but should be ramping up again... soonish.

So, we have Lope and Elias here getting a little more attention. Lope, whose name literally translates into "wolf", was always meant to be the alpha male of his "pack". The whole soldier unit was always meant to have that pack mentality, so it was fun to finally flesh out the group and their leader. Did some studying of alpha behavior in wolf packs and among dogs, and tried to translate that into Lope.

Lope according to Up.

It's not all bravado, it's behavior, deliberate and calculated.

And there's Elias. I never wanted him to be a sweet, innocent character. I wanted him to be Lope's foil. He is strong in his own way, and behaves more like a challenging alpha than a full-on top dog. A lot of alphas will punish these challenges in numerous ways for various reasons.

None of us do, Dug.

So, Elias's fantasy and viewing of Pepita is meant to be one of those various challenges that gets under Lope's skin. Not only that, but it is meant to show that Elias is not as cookie cut as initially believed. We know he is a considerate person, after seeing his behavior with Nieve and Carmen, but he was never meant to be an altar boy. He was meant to possess empathy and passion, and Pepita has a way of bringing that out in people.

The "car wash" scene from Cool Hand Luke was the inspiration for this scene.

... Also, it gave me an excuse to write sexy sex fiction, too. ;) Keep your eyes peeled, some day (insert pen-name here) will be the best thing to hit romantic literature since Fabio started conditioning his hair.

Your grandma will thank me.

Also, "The NaNo Project" will be moving to WordPress over the next week or two. Once this is set up, we'll get the chapters rolling again. Thanks for your support, six people! :D You're awesome, and I will see you there.

***

The refectory was loud now that soldiers had come in for some wine and food. Others had gone back to the barracks for a smoke and some rest. As the afternoon began to edge closer to evening, the grueling exercises and tests of endurance had been called. The refectory was nice and cool compared to the rest of the jungle heat. Even at this height on Santa Marta, there was no escaping the summer. Those that had been stationed there a while and those that had just arrived in Santa Marta sat down to replenish their bellies and quench their thirst. They began playing a round of one and thirty, and soon enough the soldiers were knocking loudly on the table, but they did not dare bark at the dealer, not while Lope was dealing the cards.

He lived up to his name with his wolfish grin, big white teeth, and scruffy, dark hair around intelligent, probing light eyes. He was seated on the table, and had his foot propped on a chair. He leaned in as he dealt the cards, and like a magnet dropped into a scattered mass of needles, his platoon pressed in to see. Many of the new cadets were already involved with the group, they had taken to their new brothers instantly. But Elias was one of the hesitant few; something Lope had not missed.

“Get us some more wine, boy,” he nodded at Ludwig, the heavy cook joshing with the monks in the corner, and the soldiers shouldered Elias out before he could protest. Lope’s attention returned to the rest. His brow glistened from bearing the heat. “Good job today, for a bunch of women, that wasn’t too bad,” Lope’s face was cracked by his grin, like a brown egg ready to let out the yolk. His light eyes shone brightly. The crowd chuckled; a couple of his men playfully damned him.

“Go find yourself a woman, Lope, see how she compares!”

Lope barked with laughter. “We are here to spread our empire.”

Ludwig had shooed Elias off from the conversation, and the cadet dragged his feet into the kitchen. He plucked up a vessel of wine, and left the kitchen, nearly colliding with Ludwig. They side-stepped each other, and Elias returned with the wine.

Elias watched the cards flip, and listened to the soldiers as they tapped their knuckles on the table. He was ready to leave, when the young sub-prior, Padre Alvarelo, stepped out of the kitchen. The soldiers were uncomfortable around him, Elias noticed immediately. He was not an intimidating man, but he was the right hand of Padre Leoncio, the prior whose relationship with the Captain was shaky, at best. As he emerged, the soldiers fell into their routine of ignoring his presence. Unless Alvarelo addressed them, he was rarely acknowledged. Captain Alejandro advised them to keep any and all interaction to a minimum, to avoid any chance of altercation. Perhaps it was not the best strategy, but in the short term, it had secured a wary truce.

There were two nuns following him. They were young, probably initiates. The soldiers had settled down quickly enough to draw a curious suspicion from the nuns. Lope met their gaze, he even smiled, and his attention was accompanied by his platoon’s own fascination with their arrival. Elias followed their stares, and recognized the two nuns from his journey across the ocean. He was embarrassed once he realized his fellow soldiers were making the sisters uneasy. They scurried closer to Alvarelo’s heels, and stayed there until they had cleared the refectory.

Elias sighed as he watched them go.

“Boy!” Lope called, and Elias whipped his head about to see Lope’s arms open, his stature notched up in an impatient, demanding pose. “My wine’s getting cold!”

Elias cocked his head, and Lope pointed to an empty, wooden goblet. Unable to mask his contempt, Elias poured him a portion of wine, and took a seat with the recruits.

Jorge, the soldier with a patchy beard, turned back from watching the nuns and shook his head in mock sadness. “That’s a shame.”

“Shit,” said another soldier, the normally monosyllabic Fabian.

Lope’s doggish companion, Diego, piped up next as he poured some wine. “Wrapping up a pretty ass like that,” he said, full of regret.

“Pass me that wine,” Pietro swiped it from Diego, and the red stuff gushed into his waiting cup. “Why don't you find yourself a pretty Kogui and fuck her,” he grunted around a mouthful of wine. He had a jovial lilt to his cruelty, but viciousness lurked beneath that charming grin. The way he grabbed and guzzled the wine reminded Elias of a barbarian.

Fabian had fixed his hazel eyes on Lope across the table. “Always Pepita. If that fails.” He knew how possessive Lope could be, and considering the myriad of territorial reactions Lope had in his arsenal, such a possession always showed itself differently. It was like watching a play where the author’s style was unchanged, but the material was always new.

Lope, energized from bossing around the new recruits, had one of his more positive retorts. He snorted as he helped himself to more wine. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with her.”

A low tone oozed around the table as the soldiers smelled a challenge in the air.

Fabian was smiling. “And?” He crossed his feet on the table. His quiet demeanor, matched with this toying attitude, left Elias anxious. He did not like Fabian, not one bit.

“I come to you now,” Lope straightened, and hooked his hand at the lapel of his jacket, “as your ambassador,” he gave a dignified sniff. “If you want to explore a bitch like that, you need me. I found that pretty thing on her way to the laundry house only moments ago. Look at that kid,” he pointed at the staring Elias, who started now that he was the center of Lope’s narrative. “He doesn’t have a clue. None of these brats do. I could be talking about a dog for all they care.”

Elias shifted, and thumbed the rim of his wine cup. “I hope not.”

The table erupted, the blast of sound chased the tails of Elias’s remark, and momentarily wounded Lope’s grinning bravado.

Lope recovered. “See every couple of days the infirmary has their laundry day. Since the doctor’s got shit all to deal with, the chore usually falls on Pepita. Now see, she’s always there. She’s his nurse, so you always know where to go to find yourself an eyeful of Pepita. But to truly get a good glimpse of her, you got to find her on laundry day.” Lope had a disturbingly dreamy look to him, his cheeks were red, but Elias could not tell if this was from the wine or from the sun. The group had fallen silent, but those smiles shined from their hunched faces, and that said enough. “You get more than a checkup.

“You don’t want to get caught, she‘ll run off like a doe,” but there was nothing tender or gentle in his words, just a slimy subtext that made Elias mentally squirm. “You lay low enough though, and you’ll have something on your mind all day, all because she wears this little dress. She bends over that water, and her tits press against her dress, against this button ‘bout the size of a pearl. And I mean these are tits. They’re not breasts, it’s not some bosom. Tits.

“Then,” Lope lifted his fists, and pushed them up and down slowly. “She starts pumping her arms in the water. You know it’s just washing, but it’s Pepita doing it. So, those tits start bouncing and she gets into this rhythm. And the water’s coming up her arms, or lapping over the vat, so her dress is getting wet. You can almost see through it, and it gets better. She gets tired, because when she isn’t washing or nursing, she really is a lazy bitch, so it happens pretty quick.

“You’ll know she’s tired because she starts stretching, sweating, her skin’s shining, and she’s putting her whole body into it.”

Elias was not aware of his daze until the door to the refectory flew open to reveal Martin, another of the new recruits. He was bigger than Elias, but through all their training he boasted a beet red face. He needed only a little exertion to make his cheeks bloom red. Claudio, a fellow soldier and not the brightest in their unit, used to jeer, and accuse Martin of jerking off in the latrine. However, Martin’s secret weapon was his wit, and he was no pushover. Elias remembered an excellent retort Martin had exercised against Claudio, that Claudio’s mother had that effect on him. Even as Claudio beat him to a pulp, Martin’s bloody mouth was open and laughing. Now, he looked frightened as his new unit looked expectantly at him.

“Captain’s on mission,” he gibbered. “He just went into the cloister with that prior.”

“Hell,” Fabian grumbled, and his wine thumped onto the table. The rest of the unit was on the move. Fabian’s wine cup had tipped over, and steady burgundy stream swelled over the edge of the table, and dripped onto the ground. Lope looked Elias square in the eye through all the commotion.

“Guess you’ll just have to see for yourself someday.”

Elias stared. It was the way Lope spoke that caught him off-guard, like he had just issued a threat. Still, Elias followed the rest of the men out of the refectory. They moved through the mission, not like cattle, but like athletes on their way into an arena. Some of the crew branched off, only a few continued with Lope. Martin was one of them. Elias wondered, he hoped prematurely, if Martin was going to reduce himself to a pathetically loyal mess for Lope. Martin was witty, and he was strong, but his weakness was an ingratiating ambition. However, if he could make an impression on Lope, there was a chance he could make an impression on the Captain, and in turn, one of the Generals back in the Yucatan. Elias had a feeling that if Martin did decide to take that road, he would be leaping through hoops more than standing to receive honors.

There was a book on Elias’s bed in the barrack; there was also more training he could do. He could take a run, he could fence, and he could help in the stables. So long as the Captain did not catch him slacking as he toured the mission, there was plenty for Elias to do. But none of these options appealed to him, each met with a lackluster verve. Elias could not get the image of the woman from Lope’s story out of his head. It did not help that not far from here was the launder’s wing of the mission. The idea of spotting her nagged Elias, and he chewed the thought over with his lower lip before he decided.

He plunged through the corridors of the mission until he emerged into the cloister. The missionaries had maintained a lovely garden here, much like the doctor‘s back in the courtyard. Elias imagined they enjoyed studying the botanicals. Perhaps even the doctor helped; after all, his very vocation required him to be familiar with such vegetation, among many of his other medicinal talents. Elias reined his wandering mind in, and refocused on the launder house up ahead. Elias kept close to the ambulatory that stood with the dormitory against the afternoon sun. He had the perfect shadow, and soon found himself submerged in the cool blue umbra. Even if he could not catch a glimpse of this famous ‘Pepita’, he would at least have had the pleasure of a cool spot on a warm day.

The launder house was nothing too impressive; a wide building that squat at the end of the cloister. The windows were low enough for Elias to have a look. There were a few Tairona women gathered around a big vat of water. Their conversation was engaging and animated for those involved. As they spoke and laughed and gestured, the gold on their faces and around their wrists sparkled. There was not much light in the house, save for the sun tracing delicately through the dusty windows, but their ornaments still entranced Elias.

Such a spell did not last long. In fact, it was broken once he caught sight of another woman. She was wearing a grey dress, and there was an apron around her waist. Elias had a fantastic view of her ass. He could see where that waist ended, and where those rounds hips began. A green scarf kept her hair in a messy knot behind her head, but some curls had escaped and wound down her neck and between her shoulders. From this window, Elias only had a view of her back. Pleasant as that was, he wanted to see if Lope’s story was true. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

Elias stepped back from the building, kept low, and moved a couple more windows down. As Elias peeked into the house, he saw the button from Lope’s story. That little, pearly sphere struggled to keep a linen neckline together as a sumptuous pair of breasts swelled against the fabric. Her arms were strong from having to pump the cloth up and down the rack in the gray water every few days. As the vat’s tide receded down her arms, her skin was laced with bubbles. Her head would cock occasionally, probably to relieve stiffness built up in the muscles of her slender neck. More curls were free, some of them traced her cheeks, and some hung low and brushed across the crest of her breast, and bobbed as her body heaved up and down on the linen. Her face was set with determination, her cheeks were rosy from the work, and her eyes were low. Elias could not see them, but he wondered what color they were.

The little things intrigued him. The petite button, the curve of her neck, the way her nose came to an attractive point, and the mystery of her eyes. Would they be big or small, wide on her face, or huddled close to her nose? Could he make her laugh? He found what attracted him.
A pang of homesickness cut him as he looked at her. She had a thick body with wide hips, like the farming girls from home. They always came into town during fairs. They boasted fleece, grains, and cattle, and they were always fleshy and tanned like Pepita. Elias swooned.

He imagined Pepita drawing him into a field,

fully aware of the swing of her hips,

and their hypnotism. She pulled him into the golden wheat; she rolled him onto his back,

unbuckled his belt,

and straddled my lap.

I pushed her skirt up, felt the soft hair of her thighs

on my fingertips.

and the warmth of her skin on my prick.

I went in slowly, and affected her, and she shivered as warmth spread through her.

She began to rock like the first time I saw her at the launder house.

Her head was bowed,

I put my hand on her cheek,

her mouth found my thumb,

And she finally showed me her eyes.

Elias’s feet flew out from under him, and his forehead hit the wall as he went down. His whole world spun, and the daydream of sweet lovemaking was gone. He groaned. A boot hooked under his shoulder and pushed. Elias thumped over; the blue sky of the wheat field was replaced with Lope, Diego, and Pietro. They were all smirking down at him.

Lope squatted next to Elias with his elbows on his knees. His tanned fingers dangled idly. “You want to know what happens next?”

Elias shook his head vehemently.

The doors to the launder house threw open, and the Tairona women expelled a shocked swoon. Lope marched in, Pietro and Diego brought up the rear. Pietro had his arms fastened around Elias’s legs, and Diego clasped the kid’s arms tightly. They were howling with laughter as they followed Lope. Much to Elias’s dread, Lope was leading them right to Pepita.
Elias struggled more.

“Pepita!” Lope called to her in a sing-song voice. “I have another peeping tom for you.”

Before she could say anything, Diego and Pietro hefted Elias high into the air, and swung him into the vat. Elias collided with the surface. His yell was swallowed with cloudy water. He kicked fitfully in the deep vat, and reached through the surface. Fingers flailed blindly until they found the wooden edge of the vessel. He tugged himself up, and when he tried to open his eyes, they were filled with a burning tingle that instantly obscured his vision. Elias grunted and his eyes brimmed with tears to combat the stinging soaps. As the tears washed his red eyes, Pepita was revealed. He had surfaced right in front of her. He looked up, horrified that his first impression was that of a wet, confused cat. Her laughter rang through the launder house.

Her eyes were light green.

Chapter 8: Revised

Writing in Microsoft Word is like being released into a candy shop. Or listening to a great CD. How the Hell have I been writing in Word Perfect and staying sane? Maybe I was like was one of those guys in Plato's "cave", just looking at shadows and accepting it. Now that I've seen the light, ah, it's like a new day!

Hmm, okay, that's dramatic, but it's pretty bitching to have Word up in my life.

So, here, we finally have the tour of the last half of the mission. Good to know the lay of the land, since we're gonna be chilling here for most of the story. Revisiting the structure of a church/cathedral has been like a walk down memory lane. I remember learning cathedral architecture in art history and being absolutely fascinated by it. The very shape of them is a cross, and the nave faces east (and therefore sunrise), and there is a whole theological philosophy behind why they are the way they are.

Narthex can also be likened to a vestibule, the first chamber a congregant enters before entering the nave. Sometimes, the narthex proceeds an arcade. These can line the nave's aisle or serve as an opening to the narthex. However, any succession of archways is known as an arcade. Pulpit and lectern are traditionally at the top of the nave, with the choir in the chancel. The chancel will typically terminate into the apse, which is any semi-dome/dome shaped cap. Sacristy is where you'll find vestments and other things used for services.

It made sense to keep this a church instead of a cathedral, simple, and built primarily of a mixture of stone and wood instead of just quarried stone. This cut down on time and the demands of their resources. These missionaries knew they had a successful mission on their hands, wanted their house of God up as quickly as possible. I liked the idea of Alvarelo's and Leoncio's church starting as a canopy and some support beams, and now it is what Nieve is describing in her latest letter to her brother, built quickly to accommodate their growing flock.

Old school Fransiscan mission. Western fascade with a north vestibule (possibly buttress, not flying), and an arcade at the entrance.

I also wanted the church to resemble a tree, reflecting the wildlife around the mission itself. The transepts would be like branches, the nave like a thick trunk, and the buttresses like roots. The design of the overall mission was based on a cathedral I had visited in England when I was a child. I want to say it was Westminster, but this feels wrong. In any case, I remember visiting a cathedral, leaving through one of the transepts, and entering a courtyard. I learned that this courtyard was the heart of the cathedral's cloisters and refectory. The image was a wonderful one, very warm and inviting, and I wanted the mission to have that same feeling.

An ambulatory. Typically, ambulatories were hallways for visitors and other monks to pass through to avoid disrupting meditating monks.

Other cool terms you will probably encounter up in this chapter are:

Refectory: Also known as a "fratery", this is your basic dining hall.

Cloister: Basically, a courtyard, usually surrounding by arcades and ambulatories.

Crossing: Where the transepts meet at the nave.

8

Dear Adan,

Even when removed from his jungle, Padre Alvarelo proved quite the entertaining guide. Then again, should I have marked myself as surprised? He had built this mission with his own hands; the walls had soaked in his sermons as much as those in attendance. The jungle was his home, but this mission - in the middle of such wilderness - was his destiny. Here was a man at a place in his life he had dreamed of reaching. I wondered: Would I be much the same once I was an anchoress?

We explored the church first. There were a few monks passing through on their way to perform their own personal tasks. Some were seated, heads bowed in meditation. The building itself was simple; the stained glass was also far from boastful, which I liked. Not too detailed, but the colors swam with the daylight, and I felt serene, I felt in God’s home. The nave and transepts - save for one, it was crumbled, and covered by a temporary roof to prevent the weather from attending mass as well! - met in a crossing capped by the squat dome I had seen outside. The simplicity was matched by a modest beauty, for when I looked into the concave belly of the dome, I found it painted; images of a Tairona man’s journey to salvation, all the while guided by our own patron saint. He was born in the jungle, guided by St. Francis through the wilderness, and at times he had to resist temptation, only to reach epiphany, and at the end of the circle he died tranquilly. I was moved, but before I could comment, we were on our way! We left through the south transept, and entered an ambulatory that took us into the south wing of the mission.

We poked our heads into a library, populated with shelves buckling under the weight of tomes and ledgers. I could only guess that they were brought over from the Yucatan and from Spain herself. Though I would not be surprised if Alvarelo or any of the other monks I had seen back in the nave had copied and illustrated their own tomes. We continued our tour.

We went down the ambulatory, a cloister was off to our left, flanked by the north wing's own ambulatory. The dormitory building we entered was quite large, with many hallways intersecting one another. Padre Alvarelo informed us that this was where we would stay, but instead of stopping we re-entered the cloister, and crossed for the north wing. On our right, at the top east end of the cloister, was a laundry house. Padre Alvarelo waved to three Tairona women entering the laundry house before we entered the north wing. Here, there was a large pantry with beer, spices, fruits, vegetables, and salted meat, and behind that was a buzzing apiary. Past this pantry were halls and chambers reserved for meditation and reading. A few more monks were here, but not many. I noticed that most of them were Tairona. I was so ecstatic that the place was feeling more and more like home.

We finished our walk down the north ambulatory, which ended at a large linen drape. Beyond this were the ruins of the north transept. Padre Alvarelo explained that when the north transept succumbed to the weather, it took the end of this ambulatory with it. So, we moved aside the drape that served as the temporary door, and skirted the gutted north transept. The rubble from the cave-in had been cleared, now all that remained was the temporary roof Alvarelo had indicated to us earlier. We found a converted Tairona monk, flanked by Tairona workers, surveying the dilapidated façade. Not wanting to disturb their meeting, we decided to take a path leading away from all the broken stone and splintered wood, and reached another humble building, capped by a smoking chimney. Padre Alvarelo stopped as we made our way, and took in a deep breath through his nose.

“Ah, now, do you smell that?”

Carmen and I exchanged a look. We both took a deep breath through our noses like the padre had done, and our senses were met by a strong bouquet of spices I could hardly recognize. Still, they smelt lovely and different. I also detected meat, yes, roasting meat, and… was that fruit cooking with it? The changing overture of these savory and sweet notes left me dreamy and starving.

“Heavenly,” Carmen remarked, it was the only word to describe the aroma.

“This way,” Alvarelo curled his fore finger back and forth; he bid us to follow him into what had to be the kitchen. It was only a little larger than the infirmary. “Now, that,” he indicated a longer, more narrow building connected to this one, “is where we will take our meals, but this is where it all happens.”

We went inside.

There were pots hanging like abandoned beehives from the ceiling, alongside dried herbs and more of the peppers I had seen back at the port. Fruit colored the room, and there was what looked like a boar roasting in a crackling fire. The skin was sparkling and smooth like a ruby, my mouth was watering appreciatively. Amidst all of these meats, fruits, vegetables, and tools were more Tairona, and three monks, each of them with different jobs. One of them making loaves and flat breads, another tending to the rotating roast, and a third slicing and cooking the skinned, pitted fruits and vegetables. “If you ever need anything, do not feel shy.” Padre Alvarelo looked happy just to be here, and we could not help but feel his same sense of elation.

“Do not listen to this man!” A big man came through a swinging door across the room. “He is a liar and a buffoon and he over-salts his suppers,” he laughed boisterously. He was one of the missionaries. His homespun robe was simple; the sleeves were rolled up from a pair of large arms, the skin of which was decorated with the occasional shiny scar. Some were big, others little, some wide, most skinny.

Padre Alvarelo fought him off playfully, but the big missionary had our guide locked in his arms. He was messing with his hair, and giggling like a little boy. His cheeks were rosy, and he had a gold piercing through his nostril much like some of the Tairona men had back at the bottom of the hill. He did not look or sound Tairona though. Carmen and I were chuckling, but we still felt out of place and a little shy. The rest of the kitchen workers were grinning. They shook their heads, and “tisked” the loud man.

“Enough, enough!” Padre Alvarelo freed himself, and caught his breath. “This is Ludwig, our cook. He came here with Padre Leoncio. One night he undercooked a batch of rice, and, well, he has been,” Padre Alvarelo was interrupted by himself as he fended off another goofy assault from Ludwig, “he has been our cook ever since!”

“What have we here?” Ludwig smiled.

“Oh,” Carmen started, “I am Hermana Carmen.”

“Hermana Nieve,” I nodded.

Padre Alvarelo waved his hand to us as if presenting two works of fine art. “The hermanas from Seville.”

Ludwig’s eyes sparkled with abrupt awareness. “Oh, that is right!”

“Here to teach our Tairona children.”

“Yes, yes, I had heard you were coming.”

Carmen said: “It is a pleasure to be here.”

“Ah, yes, you say that now, but good luck to you, hermana! These little whips are trouble,” he hooked his thumb toward some of the children working in the kitchen, and they stuck their tongues out at him. A mother adjacent to one struck him on the back of his head, and he grumbled into his work. “Maybe you can teach ‘em a few manners too, eh?”

We could only giggle. Ludwig was a rather large personality in a rather giant man; his thunderous behavior would take some getting used to. Padre Alvarelo politely excused our party, and we crossed from the kitchen into what could only be the refectory. There were more soldiers here. They were playing a game, and laughing loudly. They, like the Tairona, were dressed in the attire I recognized from Spain, as well as indigenous threads I had seen thus far. They were hastily silent upon seeing us, and watched us closely as we passed; I felt a blush bloom across my cheeks, and kept close to Carmen and Padre Alvarelo.

“Come, I will show you where you two will be staying,” Padre Alvarelo bid us to follow him out of the refectory, back across the cloister's green lawn, and into the dormitories. Every chamber fit with the next like a puzzle, I was amazed to know that it really did not take the missionaries and Tairona long to build it.

“Well, once they arrived, the soldiers were keen to help us,” our guide chuckled at this observation. “Life can be cozy out here; you can imagine that for men of war it can also be rather dull. The building gave them something to do, had their blood pumping again, staved off any idleness.” I could hear a sort of breathlessness in the padre. He had been moving and speaking faster than the wind since our arrival. That he had lasted this long without bracing his hands on his knees or requesting a pause for water was just as captivating as anything else here. He was just like you when you were a child, Adan. Remember when you would build sandcastles and tug on mother’s skirts until she came to investigate?

“Our presence is appreciated here; there is no need to impose further on these people. You should rethink this.”

There were voices in the hall. I could only make out what was being said, but not who was speaking. Padre Alvarelo had not seemed to notice, that, or he was pretending not to catch scent of the conversation.

“Think? There is nothing left to think or talk about. I meet with the bishop and general in the Yucatan within the week.”

“We need you here.”

The hall we traveled intersected with another corridor, where we could have continued left or right. If I went left, I would be heading back to the cloister again. If I turned right, I would be following Carmen and Padre Alvarelo, but the voices were not coming from that way. I broke away from the tour and escaped on tiptoes to satiate my curiosity.

The first voice was speaking again. “You do not need all of us. The Tairona trust you at this point. We can go further now, further than before.”

Near the entrance to the courtyard was a cracked open door. The voices leaked from this narrow crevice. I slowly crept up to the doorway and peered in carefully. I saw the source of the argument in a plain looking study. One was a priest like Padre Alvarelo, only much older, and his expression was stern and stubborn. “This is not a strictly military matter, Captain Alejandro, and I would appreciate your candor in the future. Instead, I hear it from one of your subordinates”

Captain Alejandro?

“Yes, I read it all in the letter last night. Alvarelo made his opinion quite clear at dinner as well, so allow me to make my opinion clearer.” Yes! It was him. I recognized the unshaved jaw line and cheeks. Those eyes were set in a determined glare, and he gnashed his teeth as he spoke. “You will take my word, or I will take my men.”

I noticed the priest was watching me. His eyes found me instantly, and every inch of that stare was more like a demanding yell. I started away from the door. Before Captain Alejandro could face me, I shot off down the corridor like a bullet. I hurried after Padre Alvarelo and Carmen, tried to retrace their path from the last place I saw them. They had reached the other end and taken one final turn. I arrived just as Padre Alvarelo officially finished the tour. His back was to Carmen and he was fiddling with a ring of keys in front of a door.

“...And you will find your rooms here. Now, where is that key?”

Padre Alvarelo may not have discerned my disappearance, but there was no escaping Carmen’s awareness. She snagged my arm. “Where have you been?” Carmen mouthed.

“Ah! There we are. Now, these quarters are not much, but I am sure you will find them to your liking,” said Padre Alvarelo.

I could only stare at her with my mouth agape; I had nothing to say. I flinched from her probing stare. She only averted this gaze as Padre Alvarelo faced us once more. A smile was poured across her otherwise tense lips, and she managed to save us a good deal of humiliation by covering for my suddenly somber look.

“Padre Alvarelo, I am sure these will be perfect quarters for me and Hermana Nieve. We really do appreciate your hospitality, but I am afraid I should have Nieve lay down. After last night,” I winced, of course she had to resurface that, “and then the ride this morning, and the journey… well, you understand.”

Padre Alvarelo produced the key for us. “I understand completely, Carmen. You must be tired, both of you,” he nodded, except an uneasy look was floated my way. He recovered with that same enigmatic smile. “Supper will be in a couple hours. You will hear the bell at the top of the church sound when meals are ready, as well as services. Just like home.”

“Thank you, Padre.” Carmen bobbed.

“Thank you,” I murmured. Padre Alvarelo did not know it, but he left me alone with a very livid Carmen. She turned the key around in her hand experimentally, released my arm abruptly, and unbolted the door to our room. Following her inside would be much like Daniel’s stride through the lion’s den. Only, I was not sure I would prove as successful as he. Still, I followed Carmen inside.

Chapter 7: Revised

Not much to report on this one. I wanted to add more detail work and description to this chapter, and also lengthen the conversation between Carmen, Nieve, and Alvarelo. I will admit, it's been really fun working on rain forest descriptions. I used to be obsessed with them when I was a kid. I was fascinated by the science, weather, and zoology surrounding them. But yeah, it's a pretty straightforward chapter, not much has changed on this one.

7

We set out shortly after this eye opening conversation, Adan.

I was not sure what to make of Olvida’s confession. I would have to get used to such conversations if I became an anchoress. At one moment, I could be writing, praying, or reading, and someone could knock on my window, and tell me his dilemma. Just like that! Just like Olvida had… only I would not be in the shadow of a mountain, hidden within the jungle’s sprawling, columnar trees, with only the wind accompanying our whispers. I decided to take my experience with Olvida close to heart, to value the lesson of it, and count my blessings that I could connect to someone like her out here in the new world. Such an interaction I would never forget, such an interaction could never be left behind.

But over my shoulder was Olvida, a linen ghost with plaited hair. She was waving at our backs, no sense of sadness or regret detectable at this time. Her smile almost had me fooled, for a moment I believed that our conversation had been another vision. She looked so dignified and unbothered, like a woman who led a life of uncultivated secrets and shames. But I knew better, and a pang of remorse made me turn away from her as we entered the jungle again.

I do not think I can bear discussing Olvida’s unhappy station further. I feel as though I have broken an oath with the hostess just by writing at length about her confession. Let me tell you more about the forest!

I would say that Padre Alvarelo has lived here all his life as a child cradled in the roots, maybe even fashioned from the very earth we now traveled. He was part of this great forest, and as he described all of the exotic flowers and pointed to the colorful birds in the canopy, why, it was as if he were lit from within. His eyes shined, his smile was a beam that rivaled the occasional swipes of sunlight diving through the leaves. Such excitement was intoxicating, Carmen and I found ourselves hypnotized by this wondrous garden.

We were traveling up a stone path. The weather was cooling as we moved further. I soon realized we were ascending deeper into the mountainous forest. The earth was slanted, and the trees were nearing the clouds threading Santa Marta‘s towering peak. I believed we were leaving the world at that moment, and in my mind, Adan, we were coming that much closer to God. My delight that we would soon be arriving at the padre’s mission was consuming, it took all my self-control to keep from bursting.

“Padre Alvarelo,” Carmen spoke up, and I was momentarily distracted from this mental stream. "Did our Spanish brothers build these roads upon their arrival? I would imagine such walkways invaluable in such a dizzying wood as this.”

“The Spanish? Oh, dear hermana, no! The Tairona fashioned these before we came here. The roads lead to the port, and to other villages. So, traders come down from the mountains with blankets and jewelry and such, and come back with fish and other catch from those at port. They are all connected,” he waved his hand about, gestured to the roads we had yet to see. “Think of Santa Marta like one big heart, the roads are the veins, and since they connect the Tairona to each other, Santa Marta thrives. A happy people is a happy land,” he concluded cheerfully.

Carmen frowned. “So surprising. Most of the news we have heard back home painted the Tairona as… well…”

“Savages?” Padre Alvarelo anticipated her observation and laughed. “Blood thirsty and cruel? I will admit, when we first came here, the Tairona were hesitant, and, yes, did respond to your Spanish brethren defensively. Padre Leoncio and I knew that things like reason, order, and peace were in order, not the brute force that the captain was so eager to discuss last night.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon, I have forgotten myself,” he smiled bashfully.

“Padre Leoncio?” I inquired, eager to continue any line of conversation that would distract the padre from discussing Captain Alejandro’s opinions.

“Yes. It was he that accepted you two here. And it was he who spearheaded the promotion of peace in dealing with the Tairona.”

“Will we meet him?” Carmen asked, and vaguely passed her hand over her stomach as she adjusted her position in her saddle. I could not help but notice this slight discomfort. Usually, few things bothered Carmen. We had know quite a lot of travel over the last few months though. Perhaps she had grown weary and was ready to finally see her new home.

“That you will, hermana.” Padre Alvarelo chuckled under his breath, “Believe me, you cannot miss the man.”

We took a road that branched from this main “vein“, as Alvarelo called them, and followed it through low hanging branches and thick leaves different colors by the occasional odd insect. Once we had cleared this thicket, we were beholden to another man-made clearing. This one was larger than Captain Alejandro’s estate, and further populated as well! The stone road had tapered into a groomed dirt path that wound like a big brown snake up the middle of gathered huts. Their foundations were stone, but the rooftops were intricately woven reeds that spun into tall peaks. I was reminded of a beehive, they were nothing like the thatched rooftops I was so accustomed to back in Seville.

The men, women, and children were as intriguing here as they were at the port. They wore a mixture of our fashion and theirs; leather cuirasses mingled with colorful ponchos. Gold studs and loops pierced their ears, nostrils, and lips, and glittered against their tanned skin. Minor differences between in their appearance distinguished them from their beach-side counterparts; their clothing was longer and thicker, their feet were covered, they were clothed to weather the moods of the woods, and chill of the mountain’s purple shadow. The soil was cooler here than the warm sands of the beach. They watched us with curiosity equal to our own.

“Is this the Tairona village we have heard so much about?” Carmen asked.

“This?” Padre Alvarelo echoed. “This is actually a sister village, many of the families here are volunteers and workers for our mission. They were instrumental in the construction of it, actually,” Padre Alvarelo was approached by an older Tairona man, and they began speaking. I could not understand a word they were saying, but they were soon laughing, and Padre Alvarelo fished out a string of beads that the old man happily accepted. They said a few more quiet words, the old man looked grateful, and Padre Alvarelo clasped hands with him before leading us onward. He looked refreshed, the conversation must have, in its own way, rejuvenated him. “You will never find a more devoted, and kind congregation as this.”

We continued through this tiny cluster of huts and climbed the dusty path to the top of a hill, where the mission was waiting for us.

I would see more examples of the Tairona’s masonry here. The perimeter was made of stone, cut roughly, but sturdy. A wide open wooden door revealed an expansive courtyard. The heart of the property was a church made of stone and wood, with steeples that matched the roofs of the huts below the hill. There were also buttresses supporting the walls. The overall structure reminded me of a fat tree with visible, strong roots. I wondered if this was the focus of its construction all along. Crowning the exterior of the transepts’ cross was a fat bell. For now, it was still in a roost decorated with grooming birds.

There were wood buildings off to the west and east of the courtyard. Mingling and smoking in front of one of these buildings were soldiers, most of them half out of their uniform and casual. Their jackets were unbuttoned, their swords were relaxed against the wall behind them, and they had taken notice of our arrival. I searched for our traveling companion, Elias, but could not find him.

Aside from the church, I could see two other buildings. To the east, past the stables just off to our right, was a modest building, capped by a yellow roof and boasting a lovely garden at the front. Back on my left, not far from the soldiers, was a small chapel that appeared to be the newest of all the buildings. It, too, had that familiar thatched roof twisting into a cone shape.

Suddenly, two Tairona boys rushed out of the stable. They ran across the courtyard for us. Padre Alvarelo hopped down to greet them, and slipped them each a piece of candy. The boys spoke excitedly and tugged on Padre Alvarelo’s pockets before they were chided by a bigger man that had emerged from the stable. Like most of the Tairona, I had trouble understanding him. Their language was so different from ours, almost like a song. Only, this particular version sounded angry and agitated, enough so that the boys leaped into action. They were insistent that we dismount, and they kept waving their arms at themselves, all the while crying: “Down! Down!”

We descended from our saddles clumsily due to the fervent behest of the hasty children. Carmen managed to step down just fine from her saddle, but I found myself not so graceful. My heel caught the stirrup awkwardly and I pitched forward. Padre Alvarelo was instantly there. An arm went around my back, but I also felt his fingers clasp my shoulder to steady me. I must admit, I was stunned. By all accounts, I should have been sprawled out on the courtyard floor!

“Easy,” he braced us both, and grinned at me. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, padre, I believe so,” I could not help but blush. How silly of me!

Content with this answer, and sure that I had regained my balance, the padre withdrew. One of the stable boys was giggling and pointing at the padre, while the other grumbled at being faced with the lonely task of tugging the horses to the stable by himself. As the horses stubbornly refused, the boy rounded on his co-worker and threw his hands up. He started kicking mud at him as he yelled, and the giggling boy took off to begrudgingly help him.

A man stepped out of the little yellow building and into the garden. He had an old apron looped over his neck and tied around his waist. He was small, and squinted past the sun until the brim of his wide hat was adjusted to cut through the brightness. This must have revealed us, for he started upon discovering us, and waved excitedly. He set down a pair of shears inside the basket notched in his arm, and trotted out of the garden toward us. We met the stranger beyond the gate of the garden, and I was meant with the warm scent of flowers and herbs basking in the sun. These plants stood guard along a dirt path, and there were vegetables planted further from this first tier.

I found myself at ease in the small man’s presence. What hair unkempt by his hat hung in dark strokes across his brow and along his neck. His skin was toughened by the sun and by about, I would guess, forty years’ worth of living, but his face was jovial, courteous and boasted a smile the daylight on our shoulders could not rival.

“Basilio,” Padre Alejandro held his arms open.

“Victor.” He clasped our padre in a bear-hug and laughed out loud as he patted the priest’s back. “Good to see you again.”

“I owe you a drink; that is why you are so happy to see me!”

The man pulled away in mock disgrace. “You have me mistaken for some other devil. Ah!” His twinkling green eyes settled on us. “Are these the hermanas we have heard so much about?”

“Yes, in fact.” Padre Alvarelo presented us. “This is Doctor Gil. And doctor, I would like you to meet Hermana Nieve and Hermana Carmen.”

“What a pleasure.” The doctor took our hands quickly and shook them. “I am so pleased to finally meet you. The children will be happy, as well.”

“We are just as anxious to meet them,” I said.

There was some rustling behind him, and for a moment, I was distracted. A young woman passed through the door. Her dark hair fell in curls around her shoulders. She set down a large basket full of linens. An old green scarf was tugged from her pocket, and she pulled her hair up into a knot, and secured the bun with a quick knot from the scarf. It was only then that I noticed she had fastened us with a narrowed and measured gaze. The doctor did not seem to notice, but I certainly felt the sting of her look and flinched as she approached with the basket of cloth against her hip.

“These the new teachers?” There was something terribly unfriendly about this question, her delivery would have been aloof were it not for her chilly voice.

“Yes,” Carmen extended her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

She snorted instead. “Likewise.”

The doctor seemed more amused than embarrassed as he watched the woman trudged off; he nudged his chin up as she crossed the courtyard for the church with her laundry. “Don’t mind Pepita. She takes some getting used to, but she’s one of my best nurses.”

“Well,” Padre Alvarelo slapped Doctor Gil’s back, “we must be getting on. We will be seeing you for dinner tonight?”

“Of course! Take care. Hermana Nieve, Hermana Carmen—very lovely to meet you.”

“And you, Doctor.” I was mildly put off by the rude arrival and exit of Pepita. I knew immediately my farewell was distracted, but the doctor did not seem to mind. He offered us one more conciliatory wave, and returned to his garden.

Padre Alvarelo touched my shoulder, and motioned to Carmen. I had not even noticed she had separated herself from us.

“Carmen is hypnotized,” the padre indicated my traveling companion, and I burst into laughter. My only guess is that she watched Pepita go, but then her gaze lingered on the church. She was fascinated by it! Her father and her two brothers were builders back in Spain, so it is more than likely such professions imprinted her with a certain curiosity when it came to all things built by human hands.

“Hermana Carmen! You should see your expression,” I giggled uncontrollably, but my teasing did not affect her. She was entranced by the church before her, lips parted long enough for a bird to make a home.

“You built this?” Carmen asked, dazed.

“Not just me,” Padre Alvarelo replied modestly. “Leoncio was an excellent task master before I even arrived, and the Tairona were remarkable. Simply remarkable. It‘s almost finished. As for the rest of the mission, you‘ll find it mostly wood. Our eternal homes are not here, after all, they are with God. However, we wanted the church to be permanent; a strong hold should anyone ever need salvation, sanctuary, or simply shelter.”

“How long did it take to build this, though?” Carmen asked, dazed as she gestured to the church.

“Let me think a moment,” he motioned for us to follow. “I was only twenty-two… I would say we took about…including the years before my arrival… eleven years? Not long when you really think about it. Padre Leoncio was already laying stones when I arrived.” Padre Alvarelo made his way up the steps of the church, he was beaming boyishly. He reminded me of you when you would win at chess!

Carmen shook her head. “You had this up in eleven years?”

“Storms have been acting up lately, so we are trying to reinforce the walls. Took out one of our transepts just a few months ago,” Padre Alvarelo tittered, and shook his head with casual regret. “But, please, come inside! Let me give you the tour.”

Chapter 6: Revised

Another glimpse of Olvida before we head away from the manor. I intend to have a scene between Olvida and Alejandro before this breakfast scene. Where this chapter starts to take a further look at Olvida, the idea of the Alejandro vs. Olvida chapter would take a closer look at Alejandro and his intentions.

Writing a woman who is at once resentful and at peace with her decision is a challenge. I did not want Olvida to come across as completely petulant, but I also did not want her to be a martyr, or some pure, thumbs up image relevant to a martyr. In the middle there was an emo, middle aged woman that I did not want to flourish either. Tricky, but fun, hope you enjoy this new chapter that didn't make it into the first draft!


6

Oh, Adan.

What a nightmare. I cannot remember the last time I walked in my sleep. Can you? Your memory was always so sharp, I would not be surprised if you could! I am sure you could recall the exact night, on the exact month, of the exact year. What I said, what I did, everything. I do not think I was afraid of my night terror… so much as I was afraid of facing my host, my traveling companion, and the kind Padre that had been escorting us thus far. What a fool I am, and what madness they must think me possessed with. So, there, on the bed, I sat. My habit was heavy across my shoulders. Even inside, away from the heat, every fiber of it felt so stifling. Perhaps that was my own anxiousness.

“You are worrying too much about this,” Carmen said as she settled next to me on the edge of my bed. I did not want to look her in the eye, I only wanted to look at the jungle beyond my sun painted window. I was far too embarrassed. “Come, come now. You do not think you are the only one who has walked in their sleep before have you?”

“Oh, Carmen,” I finally gave in, and fastened a pitiful gaze on her. “I made such a raucous though. I even had our hostess taken from her sleep. What dreams I must have disturbed!”

“My lovely, little hermana,” Carmen chuckled, I had thrown myself back on the bed. My legs were dangling just above the rug my feet had been shuffling over. “Were you not such a wonderful daughter of god, I would encourage you to take to the stage. I think you would make a fine actress!” She imitated me, and threw herself on the bed, her hand across her brow as she heaved a histrionic sigh.

I frowned, a noticeable, agitated exhale huffed through my nostrils. Still, I looked at her. She was such a pretty girl, Adan. Her red hair came from an English merchant that had settled in Spain, but those dark eyes and skin could only have belonged to a mother that once lived by the sea. Her smile was wide and pleasing, the lips not parted, so no teeth revealed, just that gentle expression. I found myself calming, especially as she said: “You need not worry.”

“It just felt so real,” I sat up again, and held my hands in front of me. The baby, even now, was there; a screaming apparition of my memory. “The baby, I mean. He felt so real.”

“Your imagination is as powerful as your faith. I do not doubt for a second that your dreams could have played such a cunning trick on you.”

I bit my lip, but I was beginning to come around. I would have preferred a morsel of breakfast to nibble on, rather than the lower portion of my mouth. My focus on my midnight disturbance was beginning to lose priority. Now, it was my stomach that had stepped forward to accept my attention. I unconsciously rubbed my belly as it grumbled. “You really think our hosts will be… not too upset?”

“I know it, Nieve,” she took my hand from my belly, and drew me off of the bed. “We may abscond to Spain should they slight you even slightly,” she giggled. “How is that?”

“I am impractical to you,” I admitted to both of us with a resigned smile.

“Yes,” she replied smoothly, with a hint of playfulness. Her thumb rubbed my hand encouragingly, despite her teasing. “Are you all right now?”

I nodded instantly. “Yes, yes, I am fine. Thank you, Carmen. You are so kind to me.”

She smiled broadly, perhaps the largest smile I had seen her boast on our whole trip. Carmen secured her coif, and the black veil was drawn down over her neck and shoulders. A final curl of red hair was tucked away behind the red and black. We linked arms, and made our way through the house until we were outside on the porch, facing the tropical property. A table was there, decorated with fruits, juices, a sweating jug of water, steaming coffee (I was so anxious to try my first cup!), and some smoked fish. Sitting around this masterpiece was our host, his wife, and our caretaker, Padre Alvarelo. They were all so fresh looking, ready for the day that was already far too warm for my liking.

“Ah!” The captain was to his feet, his arms open to myself and Carmen. “Our guests have arrived.”

“We are here!” Carmen chimed, and nodded graciously as Captain Alejandro had a Tairona servant pull our chairs out for us. I recognized the older Tairona woman from last night. She had just appeared from another doorway with a large loaf of crusty bread. Her eyes locked with mine, but I found an escape. I averted my gaze, and instead concentrated on getting situated at the table. My relief returned when, once settled, I noticed the servant had left us.

“You slept well, yes?” The Captain inquired. I could not help but remark this. Surely when his wife had risen, so had he. How could he have missed such an urgent racket as the one I was making last night? Odd as it was, I could not help but to further nurture my respite. This meant less attention to my behavior.

“Indeed,” Carmen replied, as I had taken perhaps a moment too long to answer him.

“Yes,” I murmured, and accepted a cup of coffee from Padre Alvarelo. He was smiling at me, and for the moment, I had completely forgotten the conversation around us. I had my first sip. As I lifted the cup to my lips, I found the smell pleasantly rich and woody. The taste, however, made my face contort without my express control.

Padre Alvarelo had scooted closer. “A bit bitter?” He asked quietly so as not to disturb the chatter around us.

I nodded, and flashed a humiliated grin. “Yes, quite,” I washed the strong taste down with a draw on a glass of cool water.

“Here,” he retrieved a clay bowl of sugar and a little bottle of milk. The liquid lapped up the translucent walls, and draped down thin white curtains before settling again. “Try these. The milk will make it smooth, and the sugar cuts the bitterness nicely.” I was a hesitant coffee alchemist, but in no time at all, I had my coffee at a desired taste. I would not say this to the padre, but sweet and creamy as it was, I would probably remain faithful to a simple cup of tea. “How is it now?”

“Very good,” I answered, and Olvida spoke up.

“Nieve.” My eyes were instantly upon her, “I had an idea.”

My heart was thundering. Perhaps I would not escape breakfast without some discussion of the previous night after all. Still, I painted my current behavior in hues of good humor and politeness. I was a guest in her home, after all. “Yes, signora, what idea is that?”

“Padre Alvarelo says you are quite the horsewoman.”

I tittered modestly. “Oh, signora, I would not say I am so professional, but I am learning!”

“My mother always believed that practice bred perfection. How about we ride together after breakfast? I have some riding clothes you could sport. It will spare you from this wretched heat.”

The table was alight with laughter, and I blushed hotly enough to rival the sun rising ever so steadily into the pale sapphire sky. “Signora,” I could not refuse her, “I would be delighted.”

“Splendid,” Captain Alejandro, in one action, finished his coffee as he stood, and wiped his mouth properly. “Now, I do hate to cut this breakfast short, but I am needed up at the mission. Hermanas,” he bowed to us, “it was a pleasure to meet you.” But he did not bid a farewell to Padre Alvarelo. “I will most likely see you two again,” he gave us a curt nod, and left the table. My eyes drifted back to Olvida, who also was dabbing her lips with a napkin.

“Nieve. Shall we?”

Our horses crested the hill at a rapid pace. We had followed a thin path, and I had to quickly learn how to canter. Olvida kicked her horse onward, and I could only let loose a prayer from my heart that God would keep me safe as I hunkered into my saddle, and fastened my hands around those reins. After a blur of fragmented light and swirling shadows, we burst out of the jungle and into a clearing swollen with verdant hills. The leafy roof of the forest removed, I saw the trees lap like an emerald ocean at the feet of a large grey-blue mountain, the same I had seen from the shore. It stretched for the cloud dressed sky like a large stone wave that would always be cresting, but never break. Even a giant would feel small in its shadow, so imagine, Adan, how I must have felt!

Olvida drew on the reins, and her horse slowed, stopped, and snorted as its race across the soil, through the trees, and up the hill had finally ended. I gripped into the leather straps, and leaned back. My horse trotted to an eventual stand still, though instead of surveying the area like its stable neighbor had, my mount began munching on the grass as it shifted its feet. Olvida pulled a flask off her saddle, and drew from it. I saw drops of crystal spit from the mouth of the object, and as the sun played with rainbows in those droplets, I realized just how thirsty I was.

“Water?” I hazarded.

“Yes,” she smiled knowingly, her thirst must have matched my own. She held the flask to me, and I gratefully took it from her. Even though I was in lighter clothes, and such linens did leave me less constricted, there was no escaping this heat. The water would have been a gift from God, were it not such a well-timed courtesy of my hostess’s foresight.

I pulled the flask away, and brushed the back of my hand across my mouth. “Much better, thank you.”

“We will take a slower pace from here.”

“Oh, can we?” We shared a laugh, there was no denying - on either of our parts, Adan - that I was not as experienced a rider as Olvida. A more languid gait suited me well, and gave me time to recover. “I will be fine soon, I think.” I handed her the flask, and she took it, corked it, and replaced it on her saddle.

“How are you feeling?”

“My legs hurt a little,” I slapped the top of my thigh indicatively, and chuckled heartily, but Olvida’s privy smile suggested I had answered her question unsatisfactorily.

“I mean from last night,” she nudged her horse’s belly with her heels, and the creature loped forward.

“Oh,” I straightened in my saddle, and with a soft strike of my heels, my ride followed hers, though it was irked to have been interrupted from its snack. “A little shaken. I cannot remember the last time I dreamed in such a manner. I am sorry if I woke you and your husband.”

“You would have needed to have your crisis in the western wing of our manor for that to have occurred. I would not worry about the gentleman. He was undisturbed.”

From my position I had the advantage of being able to watch my hostess a little closer than she would have liked. She was tense, her arms pinched close to her side, and in a matter of moments, she had readjusted this position to take on her usually statuesque appearance.

“Still, I did not want to disturb anyone, really. I was just so frightened and -”

“Nieve, how much has the padre told you about us?” She was inquisitive, bordering on suspicious. I must admit, I was uncomfortable, and still I smiled. My eyes spoke a different language, though. They were tense, I must have been narrowing them with equal curiosity as to what could be on my hostess’s mind.

“Signora?”

“On your way to our home. Did he speak at length of us, or merely introduce the notion of lodging with us?” There was a tetchy lining to her interrogation, though I could tell she was doing her best to remain calm.

“Not at length, signora, no.” I had to choose my words carefully here. Now that I could see Olvida’s face, I could see just how tense she was. Her mouth, usually so malleable to appropriately suit any polite situation, was now a small, thin thing. “The padre was very considerate of our hosts.”

“He is a considerate man,” her features appeared to soften, though I was not ready to drop my cautionary dialogue just yet. We had soon left the clearing behind us, and entered the forest once more. The shade was welcomed, and the occasional spots of light slipped along the figure and mien of my hostess. She was a beautiful, troubled woman, and it was odd to see the light and dark move so indecisively across her. I wondered if she could see such similar effect on me?

“Signora, if there has been any breach of your privacy, and if it were my fault, I do sincerely apologize for any harassment you might have felt.”

“So,” Olvida stopped her horse, “you did not know…” Was she relieved? I could not tell, even as the light flickered across her suddenly pale face.

I drew on my reins, my horse stopped a few paces ahead, so I turned to better face my hostess. “Know? Know what?” I asked softly.

“Alejandro and I have tried for years to conceive a child. It was only a year or so ago that I gave in. It was a miscarriage, you see. I was half through my term, and suddenly, one morning, I was bleeding.”

I was struck by this, my heart broke for her. Remember when mother thought she was going to give us a little sister, Adan? I thought I could cry, my understanding of this pain was so deep. Still, no matter how much I felt for mother, I knew there was no way I could truly grasp the agony she endured, and here my hostess was, with this same affliction. I felt as helpless now as I did then. “Signora, you do not need to continue, such a travesty cannot be endured to be remembered.” I thought I was saying this for her sake, I think I was saying it for mine.

“It was not my first, you know. I had had other attacks before this one. Those,” she lowered her dark eyes, “were so early. This term was so different. We had a room prepared, we had a name. I imagined him a son.”

My spirits sank. I remembered the weight of the screaming baby boy from the other night.

“I imagined his hair dark like his father’s, his eyes big like his mother’s.”

And then I thought I had frozen all over. In this heat, my heart had fashioned itself into a block of ice, and dropped into the pit of my stomach. The baby she was describing really was much like the boy wriggling and shrilling in my arms.

“I lost my son that morning, Nieve. By all accounts I should have been taken as well, but here I am… I do not understand why God has spared me, and claimed my children to his care.”

“Oh, signora,” I drew my horse closer to hers, and reached out to touch the hand now clasped tightly around her saddle‘s horn. “I do not know what to say.”

“My husband says I have given up, and perhaps he is right. He says I confuse this for mourning. Some nights he calls me selfish, other nights he calls me nothing at all. Says nothing at all… He either stays at the mission or he stews in his half of the manor. Perhaps I am cruel,” Olvida shivered, “but I will know when I am ready again. Until then, I cannot bear to send another child to Heaven. Not even after I came so close to a cherub of my own.”

“Signora. I mean no offense. Why tell me all of this? I am only a little over the title of stranger in your house…”

Olvida sighed, and she finally looked at me. Her eyes were infinite, her smile bitter as my first taste of coffee.

“Because in a way, Nieve, so am I.”