Rogelia's House of Magic (24 page)

Fern smiled at Xochitl as she placed in the west a painting of a gray cloud with the word “fear” written on it. “All of us have agreed to let go of our fears, Doña Rogelia. Just like you told us to do in the beginning.”

In the north Marina set a photograph of Xochitl, Fern, and herself with their arms around each other. “We’re a family, but we need you. Nanas are the links who make us who we are.”

Together, Xochitl, Fern, and Marina placed an empty glass candleholder with an image of San Miguel in the south. It was the same holder that had burned with the flame of their initiation. Now it was filled with water and three different kinds of flowers: a rose, a daisy, and a sunflower. The three friends held hands.

“This represents our energy,” they said in unison. They took deep breaths simultaneously and chanted:

“We became stronger when we trusted each other.

You have taught us to love the earth as our Mother.

By the magic of three, and our deep love for you,

Rogelia Garcia, it is time to come to.

By our will you will rise from this bed well and whole

And be healthy and strong in mind, body, and soul.”

The girls held their breath, waiting. Marina looked over at Fern and Xochitl. This was it. They had given Rogelia all they had. Marina closed her eyes and sent Rogelia all the love she had. She remembered Rogelia’s lessons of courage and the power of having faith in yourself, the lunches she had made, the knitting and Spanish lessons, and her squishy hugs. She recalled Rogelia’s laughter and her firmness. She loved everything about her.

Rogelia began to moan a little. The monitor at her side came alive. Marina’s eyes flew open. She almost screamed with delight. Fern did scream. Xochitl began crying, and Marina had to catch hold of her so she wouldn’t fall to pieces. The
limpia
had worked! They really were magical.

Rogelia opened her eyes and smiled at her three apprentices.
“Gracias,”
she said lovingly.

A nurse rushed in. She picked up Rogelia’s hand and checked her pulse. She looked intently into the old healer’s face and smiled. “This is wonderful. Looks like your grandmother will be better soon.” The nurse looked around confusedly. “What is all this?”

“Magic,” Marina said. “The best there is.”

Yes,
said Graciela.
It’s called love.

On the bus ride home from the hospital, Marina smiled broadly at the fact that Rogelia was better. Really her happiness was twofold: Rogelia was on the mend, and she had bona fide proof that she had some kicking magical powers.

I’m so very proud of you today, honey,
the woman’s voice said.

Marina’s smile broadened. The bus stopped at a red signal. Marina stared out the window and noticed bright balloons swaying in the wind over the El Ranchito Restaurant sign.

I love that restaurant,
the woman’s voice said.
I used to take your mother there all the time.

“What?” Marina asked.

Haven’t you guessed it?
the woman said.
I am your nana.

The past couple of months she had been listening to her nana and hadn’t even known it. “This whole time,” Marina whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

Timing is everything, darling,
Nana said.
I was vicariously living through your bonding with Rogelia. But I need you to do something for me now.

“There’s so much I want to ask you,” Marina said quietly so no one would hear her. “You’re my namesake, and the family only speaks about you like you’re some flawless saint or something.”

Well, Mexican people often speak about their dead relations like that, regardless of whether we deserve it. Listen, honey, I want you to invite your mother to lunch at El Ranchito. You ask her questions about me first. You two need to work this out together.

“But—” Marina began to protest.

Whatever she doesn’t answer, I will,
Nana said.

Marina pulled on the cord to stop the bus. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed her mother’s number. “Mom, can you meet me at El Ranchito? The one on First Street. It’s really important.”

El Ranchito was packed with people. A vibrantly colored mural of a rain forest was painted over the fireplace mantel in the first room. Marina passed a buffet of chafing dishes piled with beans, rice, chorizo, eggs, and potatoes.

Mmm,
Nana said.
I miss eating.

Marina hustled past a large pot bubbling with what she suspected was
menudo.
Gross. There were just some things about Mexican culture she didn’t think she would ever understand.

Marina could hear the laughter of her nana ringing in her ear.
Maybe not.

The hostess seated Marina in a large room with a rush and bamboo ceiling. Colorful
talavera
plates depicting cacti in various forms, shapes, and sizes; wrought iron decorations; and paintings of horses and beautiful women adorned the walls. Marina was on cloud nine. She not only had Rogelia back, but she also had her very own nana now.

Fifteen minutes later, Marina’s mother walked into the restaurant. She whipped off her dark shades and imperiously looked around. Marina began chomping on her fingernail. Her mother spied her and walked over to her table.

Don’t let her intimidate you,
Nana said.

Marina pulled her finger out of her mouth and straightened up.

“What’s this about, Marina?” her mother asked as she sat down. She jumped when the mariachis moved to stand next to their table and began playing “De Colores,” a folk song about spring.

Oh, my favorite song,
Nana crooned.

“I wanted to tell you. Rogelia is better. She’s gonna be okay.”

Marina’s mother smiled. “Oh, that is great news.”

A waitress dressed in a puffy white blouse and red skirt approached the table and took their drink requests.

Marina waited until the waitress left. “You know, Mom, I really need you to tell me something about my nana,” Marina said. “A real story. I, um, I really need to connect with her.” Marina paused. “Especially with everything that happened with Rogelia and seeing her and Xochitl together.”

Marina’s mother dipped a chip into the salsa and just shook her head no.

It’s okay, Marina,
Nana said.
Move slowly with her. You know how stubborn she is.

Marina looked around the room. Fires in two fireplaces burned brightly in the large room. Ceramic clay containers and pitchers sat upon the mantels. Dim lighting from metal sconces warmed the casaba-colored walls. The waitress returned with their iced teas and took their food orders. Marina stared down at the square wooden table inlaid with brightly colored ceramic tiles. Maybe she should try another tactic to get her mother to open up. “What do you have against me going to Santa Ana?”

“There’s nothing of value in the barrio,” Marina’s mother answered sharply. “No one has any ambition or makes the slightest effort to improve their situation. I don’t want you anywhere near their negative influence.”

She’s forgotten the good times we had,
Nana said quietly.
Tell her.

“Remember the time Nana took you to the community center where you learned how to sing?” Marina asked. “Or the Cinco de Mayo parades, or the corner store where you got your first ice cream cone, but then you dropped it all over your new blouse and Mr. Muñoz gave you another one, no charge?”

“How do you know all that?” Marina’s mother whispered. “I haven’t thought about that in years.” Her eyes began to water.

Marina just smiled. “Mom, please don’t make me choose between you and who I’m destined to be. I feel as if whenever I make the slightest move on my own, I not only disappoint you, I get punished for just being myself.”

“Maybe I have been a little too strict with you—you’re my firstborn,” Marina’s mother conceded, still a little begrudgingly. “I thought if I could predict your behavior, you couldn’t leave me like they did.”

Marina knew “they” meant her nana and her biological father, who had left a few months after Monica was born.

Life just happens and change is inevitable,
Nana said.

It was just like Rogelia said. “You can’t control life or keep it the same forever,” Marina said. “And you can’t keep me in a bubble, Mom. I like our history, our roots. Santa Ana is where I was little and you grew up,” Marina said.

“Santa Ana brings back too many painful memories,” Marina’s mom said with a tremulous voice. “And I guess it’s easier to cover sadness with anger.”

“Mom, I accept that you don’t want to go back to the old neighborhood, but I feel really comfortable there,” Marina said. “Can I please visit my friends without getting in trouble?” Marina pressed on.

“I can’t answer that now,” Marina’s mother said. “We can talk about this later.”

Marina’s shoulders dropped. That wasn’t exactly the answer she wanted.

The waitress brought their food. Marina and her mother ate in silence for a while.

“Your nana always fought for the underdog,” Marina’s mother said suddenly. “That is why I gave you her name, Catherine, as a middle name—so that you would always have a guardian angel to look after you.”

“She does,” Marina said. For a moment she considered telling her mother about hearing Nana’s spirit, but she was interrupted by her nana’s words.

Not now,
mi’jita, Nana said.
Give her time to digest this. You’ve given her a lot to think about.

Marina had wanted more of a promise that her mother would let her go to Santa Ana without a hassle, but she had to admit, their conversation today was a start.

“You’re really growing up fast, you know,” Marina’s mother said. “You seem more mature and self-assured lately.”

Marina smiled. It was true. Marina had felt much stronger in the past few weeks than she had ever felt in her life. She knew without a doubt that her newfound confidence was because of everything she had learned in Rogelia’s house of magic.

Twenty-seven

F
ern lived in a giddy state of bliss for the next few days. She was so excited that they had been able to heal Rogelia. Talk about a bonding experience! The doctors were baffled at Rogelia’s immediate recovery, but Fern wasn’t surprised. They had created one heck of a ritual, and she knew from the bottom of her heart that they had healed Rogelia completely on their own. A few days ago Rogelia had come home from the hospital and was now as good as new. They were taking a little break from their lessons, but Rogelia promised they would get together soon.

During the traumatic experience of Rogelia’s illness, Fern hadn’t given too much thought to Tristán, but now that all the drama was over, she could direct her attention back to him. She stayed up late night after night writing e-mails that she never sent. She had no idea what to say to smooth things over or how to explain her actions.

She rose groggily on the morning the verdict on Bolsa Chica would be announced. The Bolsa Chica Stewards were planning to gather at Kim Bradfield’s house that afternoon. She only had an hour to get ready. The lawyer would call at noon to announce the decision on the Bolsa Chica Restoration Project, which would protect the entire wetlands. Everybody involved in the fight wanted to be together for emotional support, whichever way the vote went. Fern walked to the kitchen and made herself a cup of strong black tea. As she sipped it, she thought about Tristán and hoped he would be there.

Fern lumbered back down the hall to her bedroom and, holding her tea in both hands, stared at the clothes stuffed in her closet. She set the cup on a nightstand and began pulling out skirts and matching shirts. Fern dressed in colors and styles that matched her mood. How strange that she had never noticed how colors and moods were associated. She had also come to the conclusion that colors could mean different things to different people—just like her intuition was unique to her. Right now she was nervous and intent on getting Tristán to fall for her again. So did she wear her favorite pair of cutoff jean shorts or a yellow sundress cut to impress? She wanted to be herself but at the same time felt she needed to concentrate a little more on her appearance than she normally did, if only to show Tristán she meant business.

She rifled through her cherrywood chest of drawers for shorts and tank tops. During the next half hour, Fern tried on more than fifteen outfits. A pile of discarded clothes lay at her feet while she twirled and examined each ensemble in front of the mirror. Finally, Fern decided on a violet tank dress that she felt comfy in and she knew complemented her amber eyes so perfectly they nearly popped out at people. She tied on a beaded anklet, slipped into her Rainbow sandals, and dabbed nag champa oil on her wrists. She hardly ever wore makeup but decided if she was going for it, she might as well go all the way. So she put gold sparkles on her eyelids and rose glitter gel on her lips. A little mascara and she was ready to go.

Fern walked nervously to Kim’s house. She was counting on the fact that Tristán would be there. But what if he had other ways of finding out how the vote went? Would he talk to her if he was there? What would she say to him? She could say what a great team they made. But she should start with how much she liked him and what a fool she had been.

Fern opened Kim’s front door and saw most of the stewards she saw every planting day at the Bolsa Chica. Kim’s house was kind of like a jungle. She had ivy plants hanging from the ceilings, a verdant money tree with a braided trunk in the far corner, and pictures of wildlife on every wall. Kim’s three kids ran past like wild animals themselves. Fern looked in the living room, but she couldn’t see Tristán anywhere.

“Fern!” Kim called as she approached with a platter of spanakopita and a stack of dessert napkins with
CONGRATULATIONS
printed on them.

Fern pointed to the napkins. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Kim shrugged. “Not yet, but you know me—I’m a firm believer in the power of positive thinking.” She hugged Fern even with her arms full. “I’ve been trying to call you. You did such a great job getting the word out on the event.”

“Thanks,” Fern said, peering over Kim’s shoulder at the people who had come, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tristán.

“They ran the story in all the local papers, and even the Associated Press covered it, so it appeared in a couple of big papers out of the area,” Kim continued.

“That’s so great!” Fern exclaimed, looking back at Kim. “I didn’t get a chance to check. A friend got sick, and I was preoccupied.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kim said. “I hope it’s not your friend Tristán.”

“No, it wasn’t Tristán,” Fern said. Then catching on, she added, “He’s not here?”

“No, I thought he would have come with you,” Kim said. “By the way, honey, you look fantastic.” Kim kissed her cheek before walking into the living room to offer the appetizers to the rest of the guests.

Fern followed Kim and slumped into a chair by the door so she could watch it for any sign of Tristán. There was no reason to believe that he wasn’t coming, she told herself. A few of the stewards came by and congratulated Fern on her efforts to get the event together. Most of them asked about Tristán, which was getting insufferable.

While she waited for the phone call, Fern busied herself looking at the auras of the different people in the room. She tried to discern the meaning of the colors in the auras by matching them with people’s facial expressions. Kim’s aura glowed yellow, which Fern had begun to associate with hope. Mr. Diedrich, their avid bird-watcher, had a blue glow around him, which she had begun to connect with determination. Kim’s children all had bright green auras, which Fern now linked with happiness.

Ten minutes later the phone rang and the room became silent. Fern left her post to stand in the crowd around Kim’s kitchen phone.

“Uh-huh, I see,” said Kim in flat tones. “Well, it’s something, actually something pretty good.” Kim hung up the phone. She turned to address everyone. “We saved the entire lower bench of the wetlands.”

Whoops of joy rippled around the room.

Kim held up her hand. “But they found a loophole and we’ll have to cede the upper bench.”

Groans resounded. Fern felt sorely disappointed. She’d wanted to save everything.

“They’re going to build about three hundred fifty homes there over the next three years. The eucalyptus grove will be saved, and they’ve agreed we can do some research to discover what value it has as a Native American astro-archeological site, and then it will have some serious protection.”

“That’s a victory in my book,” a familiar voice said somewhere behind Fern.

Fern spun around to find Tristán standing a few feet behind her. “Tristán!” Fern dashed over to him. “I’m so glad you came.”

“It was important to me, Fern,” Tristán said. “Like I said before, I fight for the things I believe in.”

“I know,” Fern began, “and I really like that about you. As a matter of fact, there’s a lot that I like about you. Tristán, I’m so sorry I’ve been such an ass. I should have been more trusting, but I don’t know. I was just scared. Please believe me that I won’t let anything like that happen ever again.” Fern studied Tristán’s aura, which moved close around him in a dark shade of blue.

Tristán smiled wryly. “I’d have to see it to believe it.”

“I’ll show you if you’ll give me a second chance,” Fern coaxed with her best smile.

She noticed Tristán’s aura lighten to a shade close to teal and move a bit away from his body. Even though he didn’t answer her, she took his aura as a sign that he was opening up. She took a deep breath and jumped right in. “I’ve been learning from a
curandera
who is also a
mamá
—that’s what they call women who have the spiritual abilities of a shaman. And I came to an impulsive conclusion about you. And, well, I really messed up.” Fern paused and bit her lip slightly. Could she tell him everything? Would he think it was weird? She had to tell him if she wanted to gain his trust again. “I see energy lines and colors around people and stuff. I misinterpreted your, your…”

“You mean you see auras?” Tristán offered.

“Yeah,” Fern said, relieved. “How do you know about that?”

“Someone taught a class at Four Crows,” Tristán said simply.

“Oh, did you take the class? Can you see auras?” Fern asked anxiously.

“Once I saw waving lines between my fingers, but that’s it,” Tristán said. “So do you see them all the time?”

“Not all the time. Mostly I see auras around you,” Fern admitted. “The first aura I ever saw was around you, and it was gray.”

“Ugh.” Tristán frowned.

“I know,” Fern laughed. “You looked like Eeyore with that storm cloud that always follows him around.” Fern held up her hands as if she were holding on to a cloud. She dropped her hands and shrugged. “I thought the grayness meant you were just shady, because I saw the same color aura around a guy with a bad rep, and then you were talking to those girls.”

“My cousins,” Tristán said dryly.

“Yeah. I’m a bit of a hothead and can be kinda impulsive that way. But the point is, I finally figured out that auras have more to do with my perception of colors and emotions, and that first time you had just seen me get into an accident.”

“I thought you were knocked unconscious and everyone had ignored you. They were all yelling at each other. I didn’t know if you would be bleeding or really hurt in some way.” Tristán paused as if he were seeing the accident all over again. “I’ve been at an accident scene like that before, when I had to pull someone out of a wrecked car.” Tristán looked into Fern’s eyes. “I’m really glad you were okay.”

“Yeah, it was kind of a silly accident,” Fern said.

“But it’s how we met,” Tristán said. “And that’s no accident.” Tristán took Fern’s hand. “So would you go on a date with me?” Tristán smiled sheepishly.

“Anytime,” Fern said, finding it hard not to bounce on her toes.

Tristán looked deep into Fern’s eyes. “How about right now?”

Fern nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Tristán jerked his head in the direction of the front door. He and Fern jostled through the hordes of people celebrating their victory. Fern felt as if she were riding a wave of bubbles. Kim intercepted them before they reached the door. “Where are you two off to?”

“We’re going on a date!” Fern exclaimed as she squeezed Tristán’s hand.

He pulled Fern in close. “Yeah, I’m taking my girl out.”

Fern gazed at Tristán. His aura pulsed that rosy, I’m-falling-in-love color, and suddenly he leaned over and kissed Fern tenderly. His soft lips pressed against hers for one perfect, magical moment, and then they walked out into the sunshine, holding hands.

She was by far the happiest girl in the world.