Marion E Currier Read online

He smiled. "I know I don't. But I would like to."

  My long stretch of date-free weekends reared its ugly little head and I squirmed in my seat. "Thank you," I said, feeling less self-assured than I would have liked. I looked up at him as he didn't move. This was not helping my semi-comatose relationship senses one bit. Had I missed something? Did he change his mind about paying? Maybe I should be getting out my wallet.

  Valentín cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on mine. "I get off around eight in the morning," he said. "Been a while since I've been to Utuado. What do you say I pick you up at the hotel and take you over there?"

  What? Something inside me panicked, and I wrapped my arm around my mid-section to hold myself together. "Um, sure. Why not," I heard myself say. What was I doing?

  "I'm sorry," Valentín said, momentarily contrite. "I didn't even ask if you're going with someone."

  Was my reluctance that obvious? Or maybe he just was a really good detective. Neither option made me feel any better right now.

  "No," I said, adding more firmness to my voice. "I wasn't going with anyone."

  He let out the breath I didn't realize he'd been holding. "Oh good," he said, smiling again. "I'll see you around nine then?"

  "That'd be great," I replied, hearing the words but dumbfounded they were coming out of my own mouth. "And thank you again for dinner."

  "Anytime."

  I opened my mouth, but choked on my words as he leaned down and brushed a kiss against my cheek.

  "Good night Melissa," he said, turning one more time to wave before heading out the door.

  I was left with his distractingly nice smelling cologne lingering in my nostrils and a silent scream tearing up my insides. Everything had happened so fast that it took me a moment to realize what I had done. I sank back into my seat, playing with the remaining bit of tembleque on my plate.

  It was close to 10:30 p.m. when I called Elena to lament the situation I had gotten myself into. But the sympathy I was hoping for didn't materialize.

  "You are always the one who says that you don't believe in accidents or coincidences," she said. "If this is how it's turned out, then I'm sure there's a reason for it. Just go with the flow and enjoy spending some time with a real man."

  I know Elena was trying to be helpful, but I felt a sharp twinge as she touched on the reality thing.

  "Don't worry," I said, not particularly trying to tone down the sarcastic bite in my voice. "Rafael doesn't get jealous if I go out with someone else." Not that I could say the same about me when I thought of him and Luz together. I threw myself onto my bed, wanting to scream at this whole royal mess.

  "Just see what you can unearth tomorrow without spelling the background out to this guy," Elena said. She couldn't resist a small laughing snort. "It is pretty ironic though that of all the people out there, you'd attract a detective who wants to tag along while you're out detecting."

  The irony hadn't been lost on me. "I'm glad it amuses you."

  "Sorry," Elena said, still too giggly for me to take the apology seriously. "Don't give up. It'll all work out, I'm convinced of that."

  I was beginning to have serious doubts. After we hung up, I lay watching the endless rotation of the fan blades, the persistent image of the cathedral bathed in afternoon shadows tugging at my heart. It made me want to run. Run as far away from it as I possibly could.

  "Oh Rafael!" I sighed, closing my eyes against the fan blades and unwanted image. I breathed steadily, until the last of the cathedral disappeared into a darkness from which I hoped it would never emerge again.

  I spotted Rafael, seated next to Juan Luis. We were in a room lined with wooden benches, a good-sized group of men and women filling the small space. Sunlight poured in through open windows on two sides and with it a warm breeze. Many of the women flicked Spanish lace or simple wooden fans back and forth, understandably given their heavy dresses that reached down to their ankles. The men stood or sat, more stoically putting up with the heat and only occasionally pulling out a handkerchief to wipe a glistening brow.

  A lawyer of sorts was talking, trying to downplay the necklace incident as a poor judgment call made after one too many glasses of wine.

  Juan Luis's mother was absent, probably terribly embarrassed by her son's behavior. San Juan was still known as the settlement of Puerto Rico then. It wasn't that big yet and most people knew the Aragóns. If the women hadn't bought any sugar from their plantation yet, then at least the men at one point or another had tasted some of the wine they brought in great quantities from Spain. The very liquid which now was receiving a lot of blame for what had happened.

  "With all due respect, your Honor," – the officer who had arrested Rafael rose to his feet and turned his quivering mustache toward the elderly judge – "these men are strong and healthy and certainly were lucid enough to charge the necklace and try and steal it. If we do not apply just punishment, we are telling anyone who does not feel like obeying the law that it's okay to do so if one consumes a few glasses of wine first."

  The judge, who was also a decorated general, studied first the two accused, then the young woman who was robbed and then his hands for so long that I am sure I wasn't the only one wondering if he was about to fall asleep before he finally chose to speak.

  "The Colonel is making a valid point," he said. "I sentence both of you to either three months or a monetary fine of ten doubloons, plus an additional three months or double the fine to the young man who held the stolen item in hand at the time of arrest."

  "I did not steal anything!" Rafael leaped to his feet, only to be pushed down again by strong arms. "I wanted to give the necklace back. You are going to punish me for that?"

  "If you don't like the sentence, young man, then you can pay the fine of twenty doubloons and be a free man." The judge dropped his gavel before another argument could be brought up, and I rushed to Rafael's side just as he and Juan Luis were pulled to their feet, hands still shackled, and walked back to the stockade. Of course Juan Luis didn't look worried. He knew his father would pay the fine and he'd be home before nightfall. Not so much because his father didn't agree that his son should be punished for having yet again proven his lingering sense of irresponsibility, but because he could not bear to see Juan Luis's mother cry at having to suffer the indignity and shame of having her son incarcerated.

  I settled into the cell's corner across from Rafael who looked defeated, knowing he did not possess the necessary funds to buy himself out of the sentence. I still felt partially responsible.

  "Don't look so down, Baluarte," Juan Luis said, stretching out on a straw-filled mattress. "You know I won't leave you here."

  Rafael measured his friend with the darkness of his eyes. "You're going to tell me your father is going to pay to get me out of here," he asked. "Somehow I don't think that's going to happen."

  "I said I won't leave you here," Juan Luis said. "I got it all figured out. Once I get out, I'll get a couple bottles of wine. You know, a little something to share with the guards since they were so nice to us." He chuckled. "And if then I happen to lift the key for the cell off them, so be it."

  I didn't like the idea and from the look on his face, neither did Rafael.

  Juan Luis yawned heartily. "You get out of town for a while, change your name, nobody will ever be the wiser. And in six months I can guarantee you, nobody will care anymore."

  "Change my name?" Rafael sounded doubtful.

  "Sure," Juan Luis replied. "Go by your middle name, your mother's last name. Doesn't have to be something totally different."

  "My mother didn't have a last name."

  Exasperation slipped out with a sigh as Juan Luis sat up and looked intently at his friend. "Don't be so complicated. What was your father's mother's last name then?"

  "Fontana," Rafael replied.

  "There!" Juan Luis threw out his arms. "Jagua Fontana. That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think? You go to the Otuado region for a few months, get used to the new name and by the t
ime you come back here, everyone will think you're just another jíbaro who decided that mountain life isn't where it's at after all and you can go back to making jewelry like nothing ever happened."

  I still didn't like the idea of Rafael being sprung out of jail, but I also didn't have a better plan. Guilt was a pretty loud voice inside my head as I found myself secretly rooting that Juan Luis's idea of getting the guards drunk would actually work. Wine seemed to make normally fairly reasonable men do pretty stupid things. It would be nice to see it help do something right. I was convinced that the only reason the judge had put down such a strict sentence was to keep every young guy who was in the room in line. And because he knew the Aragóns were going to pay and the camp could use the funds.

  Rafael closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, his arms draped casually over pulled-up knees. I thought he was asleep, but after letting out a long, measured breath, he spoke again.

  "Six months in the mountains, huh?"

  "Tops," Juan Luis replied.

  "You don't think they'll come after me?"

  "If you're worried, wait it out until the next attack. Somebody's bound to try and take the island again. At that point, nobody will care anymore."

  I grimaced. "Six months will be enough," I said, feeling vindicated as the words came out of Rafael's mouth at the same time. If Juan Luis's plan had involved anything more elaborate than getting someone drunk, I probably would have worried myself sick that he would just be screwing it up. But if there was one thing he knew about, it was wine. A little about how to make it and a lot about drinking it.

  Now all we had to do was wait. I moved closer to Rafael, enjoying the even sound of his breathing until I couldn't tell his and mine apart anymore.

  Chapter 6

  With the first rays of the sun creeping through the tilted blinds, I woke up. My eyes were still more closed than open, but I decided to let myself wake up gently with a long soothing shower. Mulling over last night's dream, I relaxed my muscles as the water enveloped me.

  It wasn't the first time I had dreamed about this situation. Otherwise I hardly would have picked Utuado to wander around in today. But now that the dream had reoccurred – for the seventh or eighth time in the past three decades if I remembered correctly – it struck me that I never before noticed how my reaction never varied. Why didn't I remember by the second, third or fourth time around what was going to happen so that I could pay more attention to the movement in the shadows? But it always happened as though I experienced it for the first time.

  I dried off, trying to ignore the mixed feelings that were whispering their concerns. My getting dressed was slower and of heavier movement than it should have been. Why did I want to go Utuado? I knew Rafael eventually returned to San Juan, never again to take back his full name, but also never to be bothered again by authorities. So there was no chance to…what? Catch up with him in Utuado? The sound of my heavy sigh broke the morning silence in the room.

  Every move I made was following him. I suppose the idea was to close the gap little by little, so maybe going out into the mountains would be of some value. The unknown factor that occupied my mind, however, was Detective Valentín Cardona tagging along. I could flatter myself, of course, that he found me attractive and this was somewhat akin to a date. But in my overworked mind I worried that he might only be coming along to see if I would have any more strange moments like the one at the chapel last night that would seem curiously suspicious and disturbing.

  I didn't have any more time to ponder all the possibilities as a soft rapping on the door told me Valentín was here. With my slow motion dressing process, I had not noticed the passing of time. I put on my best smile like someone would a hat before opening the door.

  "Good morning Valentín," I said, shading my eyes from the assault of sunlight.

  "Good morning, Preciosa." Another wave of his cologne filled my senses as he brushed his lips in greeting against my cheek. I grasped onto the possibility that he just found me attractive, not suspicious, which did put a lighter spring in my step.

  "Did you already eat breakfast?"

  "Not yet," I replied.

  He smiled sheepishly. "Do you want to spend money on it later or take advantage of the free one here?"

  "Free is good." We took a detour into the hotel's dining room to grab some juice and toast. I was surprised he didn't have to yawn. "Aren't you tired after working all night?"

  He shook his head. "We were doing some surveillance work last night. Only one of us needed to be awake, so we took turns sleeping. Plus I drank about half a gallon of strong coffee around seven a.m. and topped it off with a cold shower an hour ago."

  "Sounds like pretty brutal self-punishment." I smiled. "All that just to go to Utuado."

  Valentín laughed softly. "Well, I didn't really do it for Utuado. But since that's where you want to go..."

  "It is," I replied, ready for the adventure, all doubts be damned.

  It was a pleasant drive through parts of Puerto Rico so verdant that I was afraid Valentín might get tired of me exclaiming over and over how amazed I was by the many shades of green there were. Fortunately, he found it endearing.

  "Looks like old churches aren't the only things that get you excited," he said.

  We stopped near Utuado's central plaza, enjoying piraguas, as Valentín referred to the snow cones he bought. Of course, he made me visit the double-steepled Church of San Miguel Arcángel, watching me from the corner of his eye. Beautiful and historic as it was, there was no odd reaction this time, a major relief.

  "The region of Otuado is actually much bigger," Valentín said. "It's made up of about twenty-three districts."

  A thought crossed my mind. "Are there yucca plantations in any of them," I asked.

  He shrugged. "There used to be, but that was a long time ago."

  "How long?"

  "When the first settlers came out here, back in the fifteen-hundreds," he said. "I know of one that used to be near the Rio Abajo Forest Reserve, a few miles north of here. Nothing's there anymore, but the reserve is worth a visit. I can take you there if you'd like."

  The fifteen-hundreds. The number made my head spin. "I guess they still had pure Taínos on the island back then," I said, more talking to myself than Valentín, and sure that I already knew the answer.

  He looked at me wide-eyed. "Where exactly did you do your research to come up with all of these odd questions?"

  "Do you know the answer?" I asked, ignoring his inquiry.

  He slurped back the rest of his piragua. "Yes," he said. "There were; most of them slaves in the gold mines. Some of the women married Spanish settlers before either brutality or illness killed off most of the tribe. Many chose to take the lives of their young and commit suicide rather than live in slavery."

  My stomach revolted at Valentín's words as I tried to fathom how barbaric a treatment it would have to be that women would rather kill their own children than have them endure it. I thought of Guey and the tenderness with which she loved her husband and son. It made me grateful that Manuel Baluarte had fallen in love with her and that she'd escaped such a horrid ending.

  "Thank you," I said, smiling at the detective's confused face. "For sharing your knowledge with me. It brings much of what happened to life, terrible as it was. And yes, I very much would like to see the reserve."

  "Off to Rio Abajo it is," Valentín replied, rather pleased with himself.

  "So how come you know so much about the area," I asked once we were back in his midnight blue Mustang and on our way.

  He grinned. "My grandmother was from in Utuado. I spent most of my weekends and summer vacations here as a kid, listening to the stories the old folks would tell. That's my excuse. What's yours for having such a fascination with it? And with yucca?"

  "I read that the forests and mountain views around town are quite spectacular," I lied. "The yucca thing just…popped into my head as I read it in the article about the area."

  T
urning my face toward the refreshing air conditioning vents, I noticed from the corner of my eye the look Valentín gave me. I half expected him to question my reply, but he returned his attention to the road and continued sharing local history with me. While he told me of the tragic Utuado Massacre from 1950 and the golden era when coffee became the black gold, my mind wandered further back to the days of the last of the Taíno population in these mountains. Guey had been one of them, of that I was sure now. She once wondered out loud how life might have turned out for her if Manuel had not been assigned to oversee the mining and agricultural work done by the Taíno slaves before dedicating himself to creating jewelry. And whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, I knew long ago that while all of my dreams felt like the present to me, Rafael's time was suspiciously devoid of TVs, microwaveable lunches and digital anything.

  I had not always noticed it. When I was young, I wasn't nearly as observant and just like any dreamy teenager infatuated with the poster of an inaccessible pop star, I couldn't take my eyes off Rafael. I had memorized every detail of the curvature of his nose, the bump on top of his left ear that made it appear more square than the other. I knew that his mouth was slightly crooked when he smiled and that the scar on his right cheekbone came from crashing into the edge of his father's work table when all of my flailing and moving things out of the way hadn't been enough to prevent the accident.

  In recent months I had paid more attention to the difference in clothing styles, the absence of cars and modern appliances when I was with him. But of course one can choose to ignore what one doesn't want to see. Or refuse to remember when the sun comes up. Coming here, digging around in the real reality, it was making it difficult to breathe if I thought too long and hard about the seemingly insurmountable gap that kept us apart when I was awake. Yet it also made it more impossible for me to stop and simply give up. A pained smile crossed my face as I wondered if Elena had any idea what she had unleashed when she suggested I go into pursue-mode.

  "That's a bittersweet look if I've ever seen one." Valentín glanced at me.