Orchid House (35 page)
Raul and Julia nodded in agreement, and Markus handed over the papers for their signatures.
When Markus went to his car for something, Julia finally had the chance to ask Raul about the two women. “Did you resolve the conflict about the pig?”
“No. They are to do nothing for a few days.”
“Why didn't you take care of it?”
“It would be better received from you. I mediate disputes with the men.”
Julia sighed. “But if I create such a thing, what will happen when I'm gone?”
Raul turned a page in the open logbook on the desk. “We return to the old system. But you have come up with an idea to resolve the problem, haven't you?”
“Why would you think that?”
Raul's eyes flickered to her, then back to the book. “Tell me what it is.”
“Okay. The women could divide this litter and every one following. They each can decide whether to sell or raise the piglets under their care. If an odd number of piglets is born, the extra one can be given to one of the squatter families so it helps someone else and there's no further argument. The sow must be kept and cared for by both of them, unless they agree to do something with it.”
“I will tell them tonight when I return to the staff houses.”
“But wait . . . do you think it's a good solution?”
“Julia. You know that it is. You do not need my approval. There are some things you must simply be confident about. If you do not know, seek the answer. But when you have the answer, do not second-guess yourself.”
“It's a lot of pressure. It's dealing with people's lives.”
“It is very important. And judging is to be done with great thought. It is right to find the burden heavy. But if you have the answer, then give it and move on. There are many things to think of on the hacienda. Give weight to what is heavy, and carry it when it is yours.”
“I'll be leaving soon.”
“Yes, so you keep saying.”
Markus returned to the room, and the phone immediately rang. “I guess that means they're working again.” He answered it and frowned. “Julia, it's for you. Would you like us to leave, or take it in the kitchen?”
Julia guessed it was either her mother or Nathan. “I'll go in the kitchen.” It surprised her how much she dreaded saying hello to whoever was calling from home.
“Julia, where have you been?” Nathan sounded angry. She heard a click as Markus set his line down. Strangely, she wished he'd stayed on.
“I've beenâwhy, what happened?” A cold fear spread through her.
“What happened? We've been trying to call you all yesterday and today.”
“We?”
“Me, your mother, Lisa, your stepdad. We've called every number we have. We even tried that lawyer guy. I already contacted the U.S. embassy.”
“Nathan, calm down. There was a storm and a volcano erupted and the lines were down. Why are you so upset?”
“Yes, we heard about the typhoonâthat's the same as a hurricane, in case you didn't knowâand the volcano was the worst eruption in modern history. It's all over the news.”
“Oh,” she said. “I haven't watched the news since I got here.”
“Julia, I can't believe you're just calmly sitting around as if nothing is happening. We've been frantic. Your mother received a death threat about you!”
“What?”
“She was warned that if you didn't leave the country, you would be targeted to be killed.”
Julia leaned her forehead against the wall and closed her eyes. The scent of a stew or something good made her dry mouth suddenly water. She nearly laughed, finding it strangely humorous that anyone found her dangerous enough to threaten, but laughing would infuriate Nathan.
“We're getting you the next flight out of there.”
How strange to imagine that in just days, she might be driving from the airport through the city northbound. How she loved San Franciscoâthe skyscrapers and triangular-shaped Transamerica buildingâthe ancient looking Coit Tower, Alcatraz on its island with sailboats and cargo ships passing by in the bay waters. From San Francisco, she'd cross the grand Golden Gate with the orange beams and arches contrasted against a flawless blue sky or a gray foggy morning.
Hacienda Esperanza would quickly feel like the past, or like a long dream she'd just awoken from. Right now the hacienda was real and home was memory, but she'd be so changed, there was no going back to the person she had been. Julia knew this as she stared out the kitchen windows at the view of the old Spanish courtyards and the green rolling fields extending to the farff mountains.
At home she'd be comparing everything to here. Friends and family would quickly grow tired of her words . . . “at the hacienda . . . did I tell you about . . . the best mangoes I've ever tasted are from the Philippines.”
She'd meet with her old girlfriends and hear how Bradley and Natasha finally settled on a china pattern for their bridal registry, and thank goodness with the wedding only seven months away. Mindy would retell tales from her most recent shoeuying binge. Shanna and Mark would have returned from a trip to Europe and say how the French were exactly the stereotype of rudeness. Shanna would say how brave Julia had been to go on her trip to the Philippines, since France seemed nearly too foreign to her.
Julia wouldn't fit there anymore. She'd long for this, for the people, the land. And for Markus.
“Are you there, Julia? Hello?” Nathan sounded more annoyed than concerned.
“I'm here. Calm down, Nathan.”
“Are you seriously telling me to calm down?”
They'd researched the people behind her death threat, he told her. They were a Communist offshoot, but the Communists in the Philippines were ruthless killersâthey'd assassinated a U.S. captain in Manila only four years earlier.
“And then a volcano erupts there as well!” His voice was shrill with anger as if it were all her fault, even Mount Pinatubo.
“Was it a death threat or just a warning?” she asked, noticing that Raul stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a look of concern on his face. “Why don't you read me exactly what it says?”
The line was silent for a long moment; then Nathan spoke. “Listen, Julia. You will get on the next possible flight from Manila. If not, we'll get the U.S. government to make sure that you do.”
T
he scents were irresistible as usual. Julia would greatly miss that.
“Ah, Julia. Try this.” Lola Gloria leaned over the pot that Lola Amor was stirring and took a spoonful.
“It's delicious. What is it?” She hoped it wasn't tinola after the mention of the dead rooster being turned into the chicken dish, though she knew this recipe would not include losers from the sabong.
Lola Gloria shook her head. “There is a story to this recipe.”
“Well, of course there is. There is a story for everything and everybody here. I bet there is a story for that plastic spoon.”
“Oh no,” said Lola Gloria. “I ordered that spoon at a Tupperware party. Well, I guess there is a story behind it, 'cause it's the first time I bought something like that, and Aling Rosa hates it. She refuses to use it.”
“Ah, you see? A story even for the spoon.”
“It is true. This hacienda cultivates more stories than crops. Much to our undoing. But let me tell you of our dinner tonight.”
Julia peered into the steaming pot on the stove as Lola Gloria gave it another slow stir.
“Tonight Aling Rosa and the Tres Lolas will present paella. It was first served for the wedding of the One-Armed Spaniard to his young bride, the first Julianna in our lineage. The One-Armed Spaniard requested the meal often. It is a dish that takes all day to cook.”
“Wasn't paella part of the story of Elena the Cook?”
“Yes, indeed. The same recipe, though Elena improved upon it greatly. So now please take a long nap if you wish, then wash for our early dinner. Aling Rosa will bring some water in a few hours. We will have some guests tonight.”
The weight of the days fell heavy upon Julia: the wake, the funeral, the journey to Barangay Mahinahon, the expectation and responsibility. She slept the afternoon away.
The sound of voices could be heard through the house when she descended the wide staircase later beneath the gazes of the ancestors of Hacienda Esperanza. She wished for a long, hot shower, not a bath that required someone to haul up a tub full of water or a shower awkwardly given from the clay pot. She missed the hard water pressure on her back in her modern tile shower at home. If she weren't leaving, an upstairs shower and bath would be the first thing she would have installed.
As Julia walked into the kitchen, she noticed the table was missing from the center.
“Perfect timing,” Lola Gloria said, turning from the counter and handing her a pot of rice.
“Good evening, Miss Julia,” Aling Rosa said in slow English as she took a dish from the oven and motioned for Julia to follow her outside.
Familiar faces already surrounded the two tables pushed into one: Mang Berto, Raul, Mara, Francis, and young Alice. Julia was disappointed not to see Markus's face among them.
“We were wondering if you'd wake in time,” Mara said, as she walked around the table placing silverware. “Francis thought perhaps the Barangay scared you into sneaking away in the night, but I said no way.”
Francis laughed and nearly tipped backward in his chair. “You don't have to tell her everything.”
He rose to greet her, and Julia feigned nonchalance.
“What's to fear from a guerrilla village, my dear cousin?” she said. “It's just a place of jungle warriors, cockfighting, and a hill-side that once was covered in decapitated heads.”
Francis kissed her on the cheek. “I guess the savageness of our country is something we grow accustomed to. Whether that's a good thing or not, I could not say.”
She smiled. “There's never a dull moment, that's for sure.”
The tables were covered in linen tablecloths and napkins. Small candles sat beside each plate with fresh white flowers woven around the table settings. The small lights hung for the funeral were like stars in the trees and along the courtyard wall, granting enough light to the deepening dusk to see the food on the table and provide a peaceful ambiance.
Gloria brought out the pot of rice and set it in an open space.
“Where is Markus?” Julia asked, afraid she might actually blush just by saying his name. Was it written all over her face?
Othaniel rounded the corner from the side walkway. “Here I am!”
“And late as usual,” Mara said, as they all greeted him.
“And yet I always have a grand excuse. This time, I was searching the shops of San Pablo, and look what I found. In honor of Julia: two bottles of California wine.” He held up a chardonnay and a cabernet sauvignon, and the others clapped in excitement.
Othaniel came up the short courtyard steps and kissed Julia's cheek, then proudly turned the bottles to show the labels.
Recognizing the winery, Julia smiled broadly. “I know this place. I attended a wedding there once.”
“Wonderful. Tonight we have California and Philippines in its own merger of food and drink and family. However, the native Californian must open the bottles, since I do not have such a talent. I hope the extensive hacienda kitchen has a corkscrew.”
She laughed and took the bottles. “I hope so too.”
Aling Rosa brought the corkscrew out and everyone watched as Julia opened the bottles. Few there had tried wine in a country too tropical for vineyards to produce well, and they eagerly set out glasses.
Lola Gloria and Aling Rosa together carried a huge iron pot through the back door. “Presenting Paella of the Hacienda Esperanza!” They set the pot at end of the table; Aling Rosa lifted the glass lid, and the steam billowed upward, sending an intoxicating aroma through the air. Julia peered inside at the mixture of rice, shellfish, vegetables, sausage, and many spices.
Mara waved Julia over to the empty chair beside her. “The sisters know how to bring a meal to life,” she said gently.
Then Raul rose from his chair, and everyone quieted. “Let us say a prayer of gratitude to our God the Father,” he said.
The pot of paella was too large to send round the table, so plates were passed and served. There was much laughter, stories, and helping after helping of food around the table.
Julia tried dishes she hadn't seen before. “What is this?”
“It is like a leafy vegetable cooked in coconut milk.”
“And this?” She took up a fork in one hand and spoon in the other and tried eating doublehanded. She'd reach for a bit of sauce with her left-handed spoon, then with the fork, mix the sauce with a bite of meat or paella.
Alice started talking to Julia in Tagalog, till her sister reminded her: “English, use your English.”
“What is it like in California?” Alice asked from across the table. “Do you eat foods like this and gather with family?”
