by Diane Baumer
“Everything God doesn’t do,” he answered frankly, though he did not mean to offend anyone.
The friars did not take the comment badly – they shared a special sort of understanding and sympathy with the doctor.
They left the room with Belén. Doctor Ledesma was left alone with Lina. He never thought he would meet her one day in such terrible circumstances. The surgeon admired the woman. In his home library, there was a special place for her records. He had been so lucky to attend her concerts several times. Regrettably enough, the state of her arms and hands was truly worrisome. Another surgeon would probably have opted for amputation. However, he used to regard medicine as the victory over the impossible. Álvaro Ledesma had chosen that profession to rebel against injustice. Now, the strength of his great vocation would focus on Lina Maldonado. If there is a possibility, no matter how slight, that she recovers, I will find my way to it.
The doctor inhibited his rapture to address the patient professionally. Lina translated his imprecise diagnosis as the confirmation of a bad omen. More operations, pain, rehabilitation, too little hope...
Next, the diligent surgeon was given a slap for an answer. The woman preferred to come to terms with the fact that she would never play again, and wanted to leave the hospital sooner rather than later.
He grimaced in annoyance. What the hell was she talking about?
“You should consider yourself to be a privileged person. Refusing a gift the way you do is an offense to everyone else,” he snapped at her, in such a severe tone that, should there be the slightest hint of praise in his thought, it now became blurred.
The pianist’s face was burning with anger. You, stupid man... Who do you think you are to force on me a burden I never asked for?
“Behind that gift is a human being who has paid too high a price for the privilege.”
Why did I say that? My private life is definitely none of his business!
There was nothing more bothering to the surgeon than standing for that kind of nonsense. How could an exceptionally talented person, with such an overly comfortable life, dare to complain?
“I assure you that I’ve seen many others pay too high a price for nothing.”
If you knew what enduring hardship really means, then you would actually struggle to get ahead, Doctor Ledesma thought to himself.
Both looked away in opposite directions. Lina was furious. I’m going to need to change doctors. I shouldn’t be tolerating how much that mean, disgraceful, arrogant doctor likes to humiliate me.
“Well, anyway – this is my body, so I should have the final say, shouldn't I?”
Why did I say something as childish and stupid?
Doctor Ledesma did not hide his opinion. He never would.
“Take a walk around the terminal patient ward, and then tell them they have the final say on their bodies.”
That answer sounded so harsh to Lina Maldonado that, if she had been able to do so, she would have run away. She felt a sudden urge to cry, but restrained herself out of pride.
Doctor Ledesma realized that he had made a mistake by talking to her in such a way. Who did he think he was to treat patients like that? He was paid to heal them instead.
“Please, excuse my harsh speech. It is a flaw of mine. I’m not aware of your circumstances. Of course, it is totally up to you to decide about your life. Just give it some thought and, if you eventually dare to fight for yourself, let me know.”
Lina just wanted that man to leave. He understood that he needed to move out.
“Get some rest. We will talk tomorrow,” Doctor Ledesma said before leaving.
“Again?”
Belén reentered after a while. She had been talking to the doctor.
“How lucky you are to have this surgeon by your side! Everybody says Álvaro Ledesma is such a reputed professional – plus, he’s such a charming man...”
Back at the monastery, Brother Pedro stopped for gas. While filling up the tank, Brother Lucas entered the store.
“Excuse me. Where are the newspapers, please? Oh, never mind – I just found them.”
The news struck him like a sharp tool.
‘Missing Students’ Corpses Found.’
23. Fight
Brother Lucas was taciturnly working in the garden. The news on the murders had rekindled his intention of secretly returning to Mexico. Brother Simón will be very upset at my arrival. I promised him I would wait here.
Having no money or family to turn to, his only feasible option was to travel on a merchant ship as a stowaway. That would make him even angrier. Brother Simón always says that, when one serves God, they must either show up every morning at work with a faultless soul, or step aside to cleanse it. Sneakily fleeing and contradicting his superiors’ orders did not seem to be too virtuous an act.
Even though his head was burning, the Mexican began to shiver from an early onset of flu.
Another misfortune? Don’t I have enough already with this sorrow inside my soul? Now my body, too?
In the sky, a sinister cluster of clouds was stealthily approaching. Brother Lucas turned the hoe toward it. Even in my last breath, I will curse you, Satan. Are you trying to challenge my loyalty to God the way you did with Saint Job?
At lunchtime, in distress, the friar retired to his cell. He needed to take a break. His bones ached as if they were being drilled. Once he was alone, for the umpteenth time, the Mexican unfolded the newspaper page containing the pictures of the young students.
Cursed be he who slays his neighbor in secret!’ And all the people shall answer, “Cursed be he who accepts payment for slaying an innocent man!”20
In the picture, Diego appeared very serious. Brother Lucas realized that he had not seen him smile even once. His friend lacked cheerfulness. He was always angry about the ravages suffered by the poor because of the iniquity of the powerful. Even more than I am. Why do I keep getting the feeling that he paid for it with his own life? I need to go back and find out the truth. I can’t keep hiding here like I’m a coward.
All red in the face, he stopped and stared at the crucifix on the wall. The mere thought of offending God through his subversive behavior would spark an intense pain on his chest. Committing a premeditated unlawful act and being in open revolt would entail serious outcomes and punishments. They might even want to excommunicate him.
Please do not allow this, Lord. I know this is my path. You know, too. I just need to understand where You want me to be.
He had to take off his habit because, even though his body was freezing, still he was sweating.
And Brother Simón... If the deaths eventually turn out to be linked to the documents... Then, he will be seriously afraid of me. I can’t reveal that I am determined to return and get to the bottom of this. How disappointed he is going to be when he finds out I lied to him!
He broke down, picturing all the pain his behavior would bring to his beloved mentor. From an exile dating back to his childhood years emerged a familiar feeling of orphanhood. For a while, the Mexican succumbed to decay. However, his defenses, yet weak, made a final push to turn discouragement into burning anger. Brother Lucas did not resign to losing the battle. Blinded by his ravings, he stood up.
No, I can’t let You down! I know what You want from me, Lord! How can it be that I have been so blind? Now, I see things clearly. I must take the Beast out of its darkness and hunt it in this secluded place – no evil can do any harm from this faraway mountain if badly injured.
Storming, he went into the piano room. Here I am, Father, prepared for the fight. I just hope Satan will answer my call.
With his defiant hands on the battered out-of-tune instrument, he began to play hellish lightning-like music as his eyes remained lost on the glass.
“Be sober and vigilant. Your opponent, the Devil, is prowling around like a roaring lion looking for someone
to devour,”21 he shouted as a warning, assuming the rest of the friars were around him. However, there was no one else around.
The young friar saw it in the distance. Indeed, the evil had agreed to the challenge and was approaching. Brother Lucas heard some fellow friars hurriedly locking the monastery doors and windows to keep outside what they thought was wind. So naïve! Only he seemed to realize the truth.
Prey to the foolishness of one ruled by a feverish rage, the young friar continued to play frantically in an attempt to draw the fallen angel through the devilish sound. He was determined to confront him face to face. An inner voice warned him.
You must be carefull. Satan masquerades as an angel of light.
Brother Daniel leaned over and begged him to perform something less terrifying. However, as he saw the overwhelming scene, the friar became speechless. Brother Lucas dropped his hands on the keys, imitating the movement of blizzard gusts. His hair was drenched with sweat and his face was in a delirious expression. Brother Daniel left quietly before the young man could even notice his presence. He was completely absent-minded as he awaited the arrival of the Prince of Shadows.
He did not need to wait for too long. Suddenly, the window panes were violently hit. Friar Lucas rushed through in madness. Thank God, the window was open and not too high above ground, since he would have jumped anyway. The blow on his hip did not stop him from running. Finally, time had come to defeat the devil! After disintegrating into thousands of particles, the Prince of the Shadows rose up in a dust whirlwind to attack the eyes of the friar and blind him. The Mexican had no choice but to be guided by the sound of the air draft. Mephistopheles carried the young man to where the oaks were to flagellate him with dozens of lashings. Brother Lucas tried to stay clear of the forceful branches until his opponent managed to punch him harshly and knock him down. Beelzebub, master at the art of deceiving, turned the blood spilled into a blanket of fall leaves, thus destroying all evidence of the bloody battle which had just been fought. The shrewd devil quickly backed up. Brother Lucas’ attempts to sit up were unsuccessful. Maybe another time, Lord – I promise that, as soon as I recover, I will try again. When he felt God wrapping him in a protecting blanket, he peacefully fainted. Brother Pedro took him to the monastery.
Seven hours later, Brother Lucas reopened his eyes. The custodian was sitting next to him in the cell. The Mexican became confused as he saw the wounds in his body.
“What happened?”
“You fell off in the mountain. The friars have prepared an ointment for you. It will soon heal you.”
“All of you are so kind to me... My ingratitude is unforgivable.”
“I see nothing but nobility in your soul.”
“That means you are able to see in the gloom.”
Once more, strength had deserted the young friar again. Brother Bartolo brought in some medication and herbs. An hour later, after the fever had subsided, they left him resting and went to sleep.
At two o’clock in the morning, Brother Pedro got out of his bed to check on the patient. He found him raving.
“You are a murderer... A real murderer... You killed those poor students. Take myself instead and bring them back to life. It was my fault... Twelve innocent people, twelve apostles, twelve martyrs...”
What is he talking about? What can be tormenting him in such a way? the custodian wondered in concern.
Three days later, the young man woke up not having a temperature anymore. He wanted to get up, yet Brother Pedro answered with an emphatic “no” – it was strictly forbidden for Brother Lucas to leave his bed before he would fully regain his strength.
The custodian was aware that the Mexican’s condition was not ideal to tackle a delicate issue. However, he did not have a choice. Lately, the young friar had been consumed by murders. There was probably a connection between this and his unknown ailment.
The young man recounted the story in the hope that, given how serious the events were, the custodian would allow him to return to his country. Since the deceased Diego was no longer in need for protection, he would allow himself to be straightforward.
“One of them, an architecture student, was my friend. He was such a great person. I met him by chance. He wanted to base his final project on a socially relevant topic, so he showed up in the monastery area, one of the poorest in Mexico. Soon we started to get along. When he became aware of students’ shortages there, he brought in old computers from his university colleagues, also books for the kids… That holy soul gave so much to help those people! One day, he came in a truck loaded up with building materials and began to work on bathrooms for the schools. He was such an amazing human being...”
Friar Lucas made a saddened gesture, showing his pain.
“Do you need a break?” Brother Pedro said.
“No, it's time to ease my soul and unburden my heart.”
“Thank you for trusting me, please go on.”
“Diego was the one that handed me the documents. I promised him I would never disclose his identity. I did not even tell Brother Simón. Now I need to go back. I am concerned about the custodian in Mexico. If something happened to him, I would never be able to forgive myself. Help me return. I beg you. Send a letter to the Vatican, the Pope, whomever... They need to know about the bishop.”
The custodian’s response was not the one he had foreseen.
“No. At least, not for now. If they killed your friend for that, they will go after yourself as soon as you set foot in Mexico. We must be patient and wait.”
“Wait? What for?”
“For the police to find the murderers.”
“The police?” he asked in astonishment.
There, though, they are either corrupt or scared to death! No one will endanger their own life in exchange for a miserable salary, Brother Lucas thought to himself.
24. The doctor
Since her return from the United States, Belén had constantly remained by Lina’s side. The pianist endured her friend’s reprimands patiently. She could not contradict the physician when she would call her a stubborn mule, since that was actually true!
“I still won’t go back to Boston, no matter how much you insist. Period!”
The pianist would find it annoying when her friend used that expression.
“Period? What a nasty habit you have of deciding when a particular conversation is over!”
“If I didn’t, now we’d still be having our first conversation. I still remember the ritual I created as a child to make you believe nothing tragic would happen to me, even if we were friends.”
Lina closed her eyes drowsily. She could spend the whole day sleeping as a result of the drug doses nurses had injected her with.
“Tell me the truth – didn’t he show up or ask after me?”
Belén almost fell off her chair with a jump.
“The showy scoundrel? No, he didn’t – I give you my word on that one. He probably went far away – he may know how much he’ll suffer if I get him...”
“Maybe he didn’t hear of the accident.”
“Or maybe he’s being held hostage on board an alien ship and doesn’t have a clue about what’s happening on Earth,” she said sarcastically, and, as she gracefully imitated François, added, “Miss Alien lady, as the king I am, I own a castle back on my planet, you know? You must provide me with wealth and revere me – my human face is just so pretty.”
“Stop making me laugh with parodies of him, I beg you – you make my whole body hurt!”
Belén’s phone began to vibrate. It was Sergio, who still was her husband. She had not told him she would be in Spain, so she decided not to answer. Won’t he ever understand that I’m trying to protect myself from him? Every time I hear his voice, the wound will reopen. We’ll fix the legal issues. As far as I’m concerned, he may keep it all.
Lina regretted they had such a situa
tion.
Somebody knocked on the door. It was Álvaro Ledesma. The doctor came in, firmly determined to make up for his previous visit. Undoubtedly, it was an unforgivable blunder to react harshly to the discouragement of a patient. He was used to dealing with patients so desperate they would do anything to carry on, not the opposite. Though a man who had devoted his life to fighting misfortune, a prodigy like Lina Maldonado giving in to adversity had filled him with dismay. The patient greeted the wary surgeon unenthusiastically, unlike Belén, who gave him a big smile as she left the room.
The doctor used his best tone to inform Lina that, fortunately enough, the blood clot on the brain had harmlessly relocated to another area. Also, it had started to dissolve as a result of the medication.
The pianist nodded slightly. So, why is an orthopedic surgeon telling me this in the place of Doctor Soriano?
There was more good news. Her arm infection had virtually disappeared. That made operating feasible.
“To be honest, though, you should know that your arms and your hands require more than one surgery. We will see. You need to do your part. The final outcome will depend on how much effort you will put into rehabilitation.”
Doctor Ledesma was unsure how to read a slight movement of her head. Was that a “yes,” or is she just agreeing so I leave her alone?
“Are these from your admirers?” he asked, pointing at the letters. It sounded like a good idea to him to channel the conversation toward a nicer topic.
In response, he received some more indecipherable head swinging. I won’t leave the room until she speaks to me.
“The last time I saw you perform was in Brussels. I flew there to listen to the Iberia Suite. I get goosebumps every time I recall your masterful interpretation.”
“You flew all the way there just for my concert?” she asked in surprise.
Why am I talking to him? Now he’ll want to stay longer.
“I did. I love classical music. I collect classical vinyl records. When all of this is over, I’ll show you if you want. I have over a thousand of those – real gems. I wish we had met in different circumstances. I have all your CDs in my library. I don’t think I’m missing any. In addition to being technically perfect, your performances show a raw delicacy. It is outstanding to see the way you manage to perform the most complicated passages unaffectedly. A stirring contrast. As you see, you just crossed paths with an enthusiast. Please, fight for your recovery. I know there is an imposing, strong, great woman inside you... I know, since I happen to have seen such a woman.”