It's Just Lola (9 page)

“I came to speak to Señora Jacoba,”
said
Juan.  “Rosa
told her
, but Jacoba wouldn
’
t see me.” 

“It’s Pepe,”
Rosa
said, sounding nearly hysterical.

Juan nodded.  “Some of the men are still combing the plantation,” he glanced at the two girls, “hoping to collect the reward. 
They found Pepe in the woods near the river.”

Lola reached the bottom step. 
“Pepe?  The old gardener?  He was living in the woods?”

“Not
exactly
living
in the woods.”
  Juan hesitated.

“He’s dead,” said Rosa.  “He’s worse than dead.”  She buried her face in her hands and started crying and rocking back and forth in the chair.  Lola
frowned
.  What’s worse than dead?

“
H
is skull was smashed—he was
killed
,” said Juan.
 

Dolores began sobbing
wildly
.  Pilar had tears running down her face, but she
seemed calm
.
 
Enriqueta was
pale
,
and
Lola could see her
shaking.
 
“Pilar,” said Lola, “can you take Rosa and Dolores to the kitchen for a cup of tea?”  Enriqueta
grabbed Lola’s arm
, threatening to pull Lola down with her as her knees weakened
.  “Juan,
can you
help me
get Enriqueta upstairs?” 
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Enriqueta was
able to walk with Lola’s support
.
 

“I need to speak to you
, Señorita Lola
,
”
Juan said as he released Enriqueta.
 

Lola gave a short nod. 
“Wait in the drawing room
.”  She got Enriqueta settled in bed.
 
“
I
need
to check on Rosa.
” 
At Enriqueta’s nod,
Lola
hurried back downstairs.  She
looked in
the kitchen
and
, although the women were still wiping their eyes and s
niffling, Rosa and Dolores seemed calm enough
.
  She hesitated.  Should she ask one of the women to sit with her
while she talked to Juan
?  It wouldn
’
t be proper
for her
to sit in the drawing room with
a man
and no chaperone.  On the other hand, she really didn’t have a reputation to safeguard anymore, did she?  She blinked back bitter tears a
t the thought
. 

Juan was still standing
in the open foyer
when she returned.  He motioned to the chair
Enriqueta
had brought for Rosa. 
Grateful for his insight, Lola sat
.  That solved the chaperone problem.

“
Señorita Lola, can you and Señorita Enriqueta attend Pepe’s funeral tomorrow?” 
He glanced toward the top of the stairs.  “If Señorita Enriqueta isn
’
t strong enough, could you still come?”

“Tomorrow?  Why so soon?  Does he...” she wrinkled her nose.

“No.  He
’
s probably been dead for two years.  There was nothing but bones and bleached rags of clothing.”

“
Then h
ow do you know it
’
s Pepe?”

“From the
hat, mainly
.” 
Lola remembered Pepe’s hat.  The brim slanted down and covered most of his face
, unlike the hats of the other Cholos
.

“Shouldn’t you wait for Papa?”

“The men
’
re uncomfortable waiting.  They want the prayers said and holy water sprinkled on the grave as soon as possible.  They
’
re afraid that Pepe...is not at rest. 
Pep
e
had no relatives, and no close friends. 
T
he family ought to be represented.”
 

“
Won’t Jacoba be there?” asked Lola. 
Juan
just looked at her. 
“What about Victoria or Amelia?”  Juan’s silence answered her
second
question
as well
.

“
Of course w
e’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

There was a short ceremony in the family chapel the next morning, attended by the girls, the house servants, Juan and six workers
, who were standing stiffly at the back of the chapel. 
Jacoba
, wearing a veil,
came in and took a seat after the priest began speaking.  The six men carried the coffin out to the far end of the family cemetery, followed by the small group of mourners.  
 

“Let us pray,” intoned the priest.  Lola looked up as a stiff breeze presaged a summer shower.  Jacoba’s hand went up to grab at her veil, but not before Lola saw a huge purple bruise
on her cheek.  Lola quickly looked down at her clasped hands, hoping that Jacoba’s swollen eye had not seen her glance.
  So that was why Jacoba refused to leave her room.

~ ~ ~

Lola woke to the sound of her father’s voice outside her door.  She sat up, intending to go to him and tell him how glad she was that he had returned safely.  By the time she had her shawl around her shoulders, she realized her father and Pilar were in a heated, if quiet, discussion.  She sat to wait until they finished.

“...I
’
ve always considered myself a small part of this family, but if this is the way you treat family, I can’t live here anymore.  Find a new cook.”

“You dare speak to me like that?”

“Yes, I dare. 
One week. 
Those poor lambs are the only family I have now, and we both know whose fault that is.”

“Don’t talk about ancient history.  Your husband knew the penalty for taking advantage of an innocent girl.  I did what I had to do
.
  I had him carried home to be stitched after the gelding.  You should thank me for ridding you of the cheating bastard.”  Lola recoiled in spite of herself at hearing her father use such language.

“My husband was a strong man, Patrón.  He
preferred death to
liv
ing
without his manhood.  By the time the
men
were able to hold him, the life had bled out of him.
  But
we both know that my husband was neither the first nor the last man to have appetites he couldn’t control.  He was neither the first nor the last man to cheat on a loving wife who forgave him all things.”

“Watch your tongue, woman, you tread in dangerous territory.”   The sound of her father’s icy voice sent a shiver through Lola.

“
One week
,”
said
Pilar
again
.  Lola heard the sound of
footsteps
retreating.  She
went back to bed and feigned sleep when Pilar
returned and
sat
by the bed.

Lola stayed very still for a long time, listening as Pilar wept quietly in the dark. 
The conversation she had overheard filled her with questions
—about herself and Enriqueta, about Pilar’s husband, about what her father had done while away.  The more she thought about it, the more questions popped into her mind—yet she was not willing to intrude on Pilar’s grief. 

The next morning
a nervous
Rosa brought their breakfast tray
and
told them their father expected them in the library after breakfast.
  Lola
’s
fear settled like a rock o
n top of her usual queasy stomach
.

“
Papa’s really angry with us
,
isn’t he?
” said Enriqueta.

Lola
nodded
.
 
Now s
he was sorry she hadn’t asked Pilar any questions last night. 

~ ~ ~

“Good morning, Papa.” 
The two girls held hands as they stood in the doorway to the library. 

“Come in.”  Enrique was sitting at his desk.  He gestured to chairs in front of him. 
The girls sat. 

“I hope you realize how badly you have disgraced yourselves, me, and the entire Herrera family.”  Lola swallowed convulsively, hoping her stomach would behave.
 
“You have besmirched the honor of a noble family that has held the trust of kings for generations. 
The consequences of your actions could stretch far beyond the boundaries of this plantation.”  Enrique paused and stared at each girl for long seconds, as though to emphasize his words.  “Jacoba, bring me the bible.”  Lola
was startled
as Jacoba emerged from a dark corner in the rear of the library carrying the huge bible that was only brought out for special occasions.  She set it down on the desk.

Enrique’s voice rose slightly in volume.  “There has never been a bastard in the Herrera family, and there never will be.”  He opened the bible to the page where the births and deaths were recorded. 

“Enriqueta Yolanda Maria Herrera, born
November
28, 1892,” he read.  He picked up a pen.  “Died February 1,
1908,” he read as he wrote.
  He looked up briefly, then turned his eyes back to the page. 
“Lola Isabel Victoria Herrera, born February 5, 1894.  Died February 1, 1908.”

Lola couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move. 
T
hey
were
going to die today
!
  Was Papa going to kill them?  She looked at her sister.  Enriqueta’s face was as white as paper. 

Their father
slammed
the bible
shut, causing Lola to jump
.  “As of today you are no longer part of the Herrera family.  I will allow you to remain in this house for one week to prepare yourselves.  In exactly one week you will leave, taking only what you can carry.”

Lola
took a ragged breath.  He
wasn
’
t going to kill them
. 
S
he stared at her father
;
he looked like a stranger—an
older man she
’
d never seen before.  Standing behind him, with a hand on the back of
his
chair, was Jacoba with a triumphant smile on her face.

El Patrón
stood up, clearly dismissing them. 
It took several seconds before Lola could gather her wits enough to take her sister’s hand and turn to leave the library.

“
Vayan con Dios. 
Go with God
,
”
t
heir father
s
aid softly.
  Lola did not dare turn back to answer.

“W
hat
’
s to become of us?” asked Enriqueta when they reached their rooms. 
Tears were running down her still pale
face
, and h
er hands were once again wringing the skirt of her dress.
 
Lola wonder
ed
the same thing
, but s
he
was
determined to reassure her sister.

“
Don’t worry.  We
’
ll manage.  It
’
s lucky we
grew up
at a time
when women can live on their own.”  She grabbed Enriqueta’s hands and pulled her down next to her on the settee.  “This isn’t what either one of us imagined our life would be, but we can’t change it now. 
You can’t make an egg from an omelet, so we’d better start
doing the best we can
.  Why don’t you start a list
of what we
’
ll take
?” 
She got paper and pencil and gave them to Enriqueta.
 
“We
’
ll pack only sensible clothing.  There
’
s no sense trekking for miles carrying a ball gown—unless of course we expect to be rescued by a handsome prince.” 

“Lola, how can you be so...so...immature?  Do you have any idea how far it is to the city?”  She snatched up the paper and pencil and wrote one word in large block letters.  FOOD.  “There’s your list.  If we can even carry enough food to get us to the city, we’ll be lucky.”  She threw the paper and pencil down and started crying again.

“
Don’t cry, Enriqueta.”  Lola sat down and put her arm around her
sister
.  “There are lots of things we can do to make our own way.”

“Like what?”

“We
’
re really good at sewing.  City women want new fashions every year, and they need lots of dresses.  We can crochet and knit, so we can make shawls and baby things, not just for our babies, but to sell.  We can read and write.  There are always people who need letters written.  I bet a lot of women would rather have another woman write their letters than a man.  We
’
re good with numbers; we know some music; we know a little French.
Maybe someone will hire us to take care of their children. 
Of course no one will hire you if you
’
re still crying by the time we reach the city.”  At last she got the desired effect—a
weak
smile
from Enriqueta.

Pilar came with hot tea and a package.  “Juan brought you some good sturdy cotton material for dresses you can wear as
you
grow into motherhood.” 

“Please thank Juan for us,” said Enriqueta.  She took her tea to the table on the verandah.

“Papa
didn’t
find Rudolfo
, did he
?
” asked Lola quietly.
 

“No, he didn
’
t find him—which is one reason he
’
s so angry.  He hates to miss his hunt.  However, Rudolfo w
o
n
’
t be welcomed if he tries to go home.”

“
So
Señor Alvarez know
s
...about us?
  If we
’
re carrying his grandchildren, do you think he might let us go there to live?
”

“No, child.  Your father
could never admit to another plantation owner what happened to you.  He only
said
Rudolfo stole his best mare
, but Rudolfo had
already
been disinherited in favor of his younger brother long before he came here
.
” 

“Rudolfo was the oldest son
?
 
But he said...”

“He said a lot of things,” said Pilar.

“How could we have been so gullible?  We believed every word he told us.  Our own stupidity caused it,” said Lola.

“Not stupidity, Lamb, innocence.  Rudolfo even fooled your father.  Not only has he lost his two beloved daughters, but he was duped by the same man—a bitter pill to swallow.”

Lola snorted.  “It is probably the pain in hi
s pride that hurts the most.
”

“Oh, Lamb, never doubt your father’s love.  He believes that he has to do whatever is necessary to uphold the honor of his house.  It was the way he was raised.  Honor is everything.”

“Even before love?”

“Denying you his love hurts you and it hurts him.  Besmirching the name of Herrera hurts the entire clan—here and in Spain.  His own father set him the example.”

The following week flew by in a kaleidoscope of emotional ups and downs as the girls alternated between extreme sadness over leaving the only home they had ever known and nervous excitement over going to the city to live.
They even had a small cake on Lola’s birthday.

The night before the two were to leave their home, Pilar brought each of them a small leather pouch with what seemed to the girls to be a lot of money.  The girls were very reluctant to take Pilar’s money.  They knew she got paid almost nothing since her room and board were provided.

“You
’
re going to need this far more than I do.  You
’
ll need to buy food while you get settled and find a way to live.  You
’
ll need things for your little ones when they arrive.  If it makes you feel better, consider it a loan.  However, I consider it a gift.”  With Pilar’s help they packed what they could carry and there were tearful farewells since no one would be allowed to see them off in the morning.  Rosa and Dolores came by for a few minutes of leave-taking.

Roberto brought buckets of hot water for baths.  Who knows,
Pilar
said, when they would be able to bathe properly again.  Pilar talked about how dirty the city was, but the girls smiled at each other when she looked away.  They had been to the city to see Juana off after her wedding.  They had stayed at a hotel, and both girls remembered the luxury of running water flowing right into a bathroom near their room.

The next morning they were up as the sun began to lighten the sky.  They dressed quickly, picked up the bundles they had packed, and slipped out the door.  Lola shivered and wondered if it was from the nervous anticipation or the chill morning air. 

“I just saw Papa watching us from the parlor window,” Enriqueta said. 

Lola turned to look back at the house.  There was no one at the window.

The girls walked along at a good pace and cheered each other with their fantasies of city life.  After a couple of hours, Lola began glancing behind them.

“Pilar said that Juan would catch up with us.  If he doesn’t come by the time we top the next hill we
’
ll stop and rest.”  Enriqueta nodded.  Although their pace slowed considerably, they walked on.

“What if Papa doesn
’
t let Juan come?”

“Don’t worry, Enriqueta.  We
’
ll do what
we
have
to
do
—
keep walking.  We
’
ll look for fruit, and at night we
’
ll make a leaf bed and sleep.  Tomorrow we
’
ll walk some more,
until
we reach the city.  Maybe we
’
ll see someone who
’
ll take us in for the night.”  They walked on.

They gradually ran out of things to say
.  Nothing was able to distract them from their tired feet and empty stomachs.  They reached the spot Lola had indicated as a spot to rest, and dug through their bundles for food.  They ate bread and cheese and sat until Lola said the sooner they got up
,
the sooner they would get somewhere—maybe not the city but somewhere.  Enriqueta smiled and admitted they couldn’t very well stay in the middle of nowhere.  They walked on.

By midafternoon
they were both hungry and thirsty
.  “Do you really think
Juan
’
s coming?”
asked Enriqueta.

“Yes.  Pilar said he
’
d come so he
’
s coming.”

“But he was supposed to catch up to us hours ago.”

“Something must
’
ve delayed him.  Who knows?  Maybe one of the horses threw a shoe, or maybe a wheel got stuck…”

“Or maybe Papa said he couldn’t come,”
said
Enriqueta. 

“Or maybe he
’
s just around the bend
.
” The two girls
grinned
as they heard the sound of hooves and the rattle of a wagon approaching from the direction they had come.

“Thank God you’re here, Juan
.
  We expected you hours ago
.
”

“Sorry.  I had trouble getting the wagon loaded.”  He helped the two girls into the wagon and handed them the food and drink Pilar had sent with him.  They ate gratefully, and Lola was pleased to see color return to Enriqueta’s cheeks.  Enriqueta yawned and was soon fast asleep with her head in Lola’s lap.

“What went wrong this morning?” Lola asked, more to make conversation than out of any desire to hear the answer.

As Juan talked Lola was surprised by how well he spoke.  The story came out in flawless Spanish that almost painted pictures of the actions in her head.  His storytelling was so good that she would have been listening with bated breath even if the story had been about strangers instead of her own family.

Juan had harnessed the horses to the wagon as soon as it got properly light.  He loaded the wagon as usual with whatever was being sent to market that day.  Then he drove around to the back of the house and waited.  Pilar was to bring out a wicker chest and place it under the produce. 

All had gone according to plan until Juan stepped down to help
load the chest
and trod on the tail of the striped cat that always followed Pilar
until the morning
milking.  The cat yowled and startled the horses, which reared and neighed loudly.  Juan grabbed the harness and quieted the horses a bit too late.

Juan and Pilar had just loaded the chest when Jacoba came running out with her hair flying behind her, wearing a nightdress with only a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.  She began screaming that Juan and Pilar were stealing from the house.  She was wild in her anger and triumphant that all her suspicions had been confirmed.  She refused to let them move from the spot where they stood.   She said they would have to stand there until someone could be sent to bring
el patrón
.

The stable hands said
he
had taken his stallion out as the sun rose.  They searched all of his normal haunts in vain.  It was hours before he reappeared.  All that time Jacoba refused to move or let either Juan or Pilar move. 

“When your father came galloping up to the house, his face was pale, and I
’
m sure he thought there was some terrible accident that occasioned the frantic call for his presence.  He was
enraged
when he saw the tableau.  His voice shook with anger as he told her it was unspeakable for her to be outside in her nightdress.  She paid no attention at first and kept on screaming about thievery.”

Lola shivered as she thought of anyone ignoring her father’s anger.

“He gripped her arm so tight his knuckles turn
ed
as white as his face.  He drew his face very close to hers, and told her quietly that if she had paid attention to her true duties and watched his children as closely as she watched his vegetables they would still have both.  His final words were that there would be no more talk of thievery and with that he shoved her toward the house. 

“So that
’
s why I was very late coming for you.”

The two rode in silence for a time. 

Riding through the tunnel of
tall trees, Lola felt far from the real world. 
Her thoughts wandered
over the recent events
in a
dreamlike sense of unreality
. 
If Jacoba had really bewitched her father, then perhaps the spell has worn off—like the spell Rudolfo used on her, which was more about
fancy
talk than witchcraft. 

“I wonder if he
’
ll ever forgive us,” she said quietly.

“He already has
.  He knew very well that the chest was full of things that will ease your life somewhat—and he purposely left the house so it could be spirited away by Pilar.”  Lola nodded and became lost in her own thoughts about her father and what was happening.  The long hours of walking were finally catching up to her, and she soon slumped against Juan as her eyes closed in sleep.