“Yes, Maria.” Lola winced as pain lanced through her tummy, the strongest one yet. She was sure to feel better soon. She picked up the towels and followed her sisters.
By the time they reached the secluded spot where they were allowed to go into the water, Enriqueta was so excited she could barely stand still enough for Dolores to unbutton all the little buttons down the back of her dress. She plopped down to take off her shoes and peel off her stockings. “I don’t know why we have to wear these hot old stockings anyway.”
“Because you’re not a Chola,” said Maria.
“Can I swim in my chemise? Bloomers take forever to dry.”
Maria laughed. “Enriqueta, you are totally shameless. Do whatever you like.”
Lola spread out a towel and sat down, hugging her knees. Her stomach was not getting better, and she was trying hard not to cry.
“Lola,” said Maria, “don’t mope and spoil the day.” Dutifully Lola stood and let Maria help her out of her dress. Enriqueta had a good idea about not getting her bloomers wet. Lola hiked up her chemise and pulled her bloomers down.
“Oh, my God!” Lola exclaimed as she saw the blood. She knew it—this wasn’t just an ordinary stomachache. She was bleeding inside and she was going to die. She yanked her bloomers back up and her knees felt weak.
“What?” Maria turned to look at her.
“Nothing.” Lola couldn’t tell Maria that she was bleeding down there. What if she wanted to see? Even a sister shouldn’t look there.
“It must be something. You look pale.”
“No. It’s nothing. I…I…I stepped on something sharp.”
“Come on,” said Maria. “I’ll hold your hand until you’re out on the sand bar.”
Lola had never known an afternoon to last so long. She tried to play and splash with Enriqueta, but she was afraid to stand in the shallower places because the blood might show. When Dolores called them for lunch, Lola said she wasn’t hungry and didn’t get out of the water. As the afternoon dragged on, the pain got worse and worse. Maybe she injured herself when she rode bareback to see Victoria, or maybe it was climbing that big tree by the back door.
The next wave of pain made her think of her own death. Lola pictured all of her sisters gathered around her bed asking to be forgiven for teasing her so much. She would forgive them all and give them her blessings, saying she would be waiting with Mama when their own time came. She felt quite sorry for herself, but was comforted by the thought that she would be so noble in the end.
“Enriqueta, Lola, it’s time to go now.”
Suddenly Lola felt cold and frightened again. She had imagined the end of her story but not how she was going to get from the river to the house. She couldn’t bear having anyone know where she was bleeding. It was better just to die quietly. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”
“Stop being silly and get out of the water. If we’re not back soon, Papa will send Jacoba to look for us!”
Lola started through the water as fast as she could. She tried to wriggle her dress over her dripping chemise, struggling and twisting to force the heavy cotton cloth over the wet undergarment. She bent this way and that, getting more and more frustrated.
“Maria, look—Lola has the curse.” Enriqueta giggled.
Maybe on her deathbed she’d forgive everyone except Enriqueta. Then the words registered. A curse? Lola gave one final yank, and her head came through into the waning sunlight. “Curses are just superstition, and it’s a sin to believe in them. I’m not cursed.” The tears she had been stifling all day burst out in uncontrollable sobs. “I’m dying. I‘m dying an agonizing death, and you taunt me with sinful superstitious words.”
“Dying?” Enriqueta’s mirth distorted her words.
“Enriqueta.” Maria’s stern voice stopped the laughter abruptly. “Look at your sister. Her lips are blue from cold. She can get seriously ill from this.” Maria called the girl who had spent the day making sure no one came near the bathing area. “Dolores, take Enriqueta and run to the house. Tell Pilar that Lola needs to have hot cocoa when she arrives and to please put some hot coals in the bed warmer for her. Also, tell Rosa that Lola is indisposed and won’t be dining with us. She’ll need a tray taken to her room.” Maria pointed toward the house. “Now run! We must get Lola warm as soon as we can.” The urgency in Maria’s voice gave wings to Enriqueta’s heels as she tugged on Dolores’ hand to make her run faster.
Maria wrapped Lola in the driest towels and held her close for a few minutes, murmuring comforting words and apologies. “Poor little Lola.” She gently told Lola she had just become a woman. “It’s a curse God put on all women to punish us for Eve’s sin.” She explained how Lola had just done the worst possible thing. She should guard against any chill, and should never bathe when bleeding. She explained what foods Lola should avoid, and how to take care of herself. Relieved that she was not dying, Lola promised to do everything Maria told her.
Two days later Lola and Enriqueta bade a tearful goodbye to Maria. They sat on the upstairs verandah exchanging dire prophesies of what life would be like without Maria in the house, expecting Jacoba to come in any moment to start haranguing them about idle hands.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” said Enriqueta after the doleful conversation ran its course.
Lola grinned at her sister. “With Papa away Pilar might not need Dolores. If we can talk her into it, Dolores can be our dueña and chaperone us as we have some fun. We could have a picnic under the guava trees or maybe ride out and visit Ernestina.” The two rushed off to talk to Pilar. To their delight, they didn’t see Jacoba at all while their father was away. There were no lessons in sewing, embroidery, crocheting, or knitting and no scolding for imperfect work or idle hands.
The day Enrique returned he asked the girls to dine with him. They were both so excited to hear the details of the wedding that it was difficult for them to act with the expected decorum until their father began the conversation.
“I was pleased not to receive any complaints of your behavior in my absence.”
Lola saw Enriqueta lean forward and begin to speak. She tried to kick her under the table, but her legs weren’t long enough so she coughed and shot her sister a warning look. Lola was certain it would not be a good idea to let their father know that Jacoba had left them alone the entire time. “Thank you, Papa. We were allowed to visit Ernestina while you were gone. She’s doing well and sends her love.”
“We tried to make you proud of us,” said Enriqueta, quickly catching the tone of Lola’s response.
Enrique smiled. “You did well. It seems that you’re too old to be treated like children. I’d like you to continue dining with me, starting tonight.” Lola smiled happily and watched Enriqueta’s face color with pleasure. This was a definite step toward adulthood.
As with most things in life, the change was a mixed blessing. Conversation at the dinner table was a little strained with only the three of them. There was only so much to say about the weather, and the litany of the day’s events soon paled with repetition. One evening after another uncomfortable silence, Lola asked how much of their sugar cane they used for the aguadiente, how much was used to make sugar, and did they sell any in the market. Enrique looked surprised, but he answered. As they learned more and more about the workings of the plantation, dining with El Patrón became the high point of the day for Lola and Enriqueta.
~ ~ ~
The priest celebrated solemn high mass to mark the anniversary of Virginia’s death, ending the official mourning period. Lola tried to remember the wonderful person the priest spoke of in his sermon, but her only clear memory was that of a beautiful woman in a big white bed. When she thought of her mother, it was the image of the portrait in the dining room that came to her mind.
~ ~ ~
“I’ll beat you to the table.” Enriqueta raced for the dining room. She stopped short at the foot of the stairs and nearly toppled as Lola ran into her from behind.
�
�That’s not—”
“Shhh.” Enriqueta stepped back and Lola saw what had stopped her—Jacoba was sitting at the foot of the table, with her back to the door. Lola saw the billowing skirt of Jacoba’s gown shimmer in the light of the candles. The rich burgundy exactly matched the color of the wine in the glasses, and set off her deep ivory shoulders, which had never been displayed before.
“Come in, ladies,” said Enrique.
“Good evening, Papa.” The girls took their seats. Enrique frowned and made an almost imperceptible motion of his head.
“Good evening, Jacoba,” said Lola softly. Her eyes went immediately to the necklace—her mother’s ruby necklace. The fire of the large stone filled her sight, and she felt unable to move.
“Good evening, Jacoba.” Enriqueta’s voice sounded very far away. After a pause during which it seemed to Lola that even time itself stopped, Enriqueta continued. “It’s a pleasure to have you join us this evening.” Enriqueta was so brave; Lola could not have spoken a word if her life depended on it.
Enrique nodded and Rosa began to serve, breaking the spell of the necklace.
“Ladies, we have good news for you,” said Enrique when Rosa had withdrawn. “The lovely Señorita Jacoba has consented to be my wife.” Lola’s mouth went dry; she couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move.
Enrique raised his glass for a toast. Only then did Lola notice the wine glass at her place with its mouthful of wine. She watched her hand move toward the glass as though it belonged to someone else. This couldn’t be happening. Her hand shook as she raised the glass.
“To the beautiful Jacoba, may she grace my life forever.” Lola tipped her glass up and touched the wine to her lips. Drinking was out of the question.
“I wish you happiness,” said Enriqueta, after a significant pause.
Lola could feel her father’s eyes on her. She forced air into her lungs. “M...May you enj...joy h...ha...happiness.” Her lips had turned to wood.
“Thank you, ladies.” Enrique picked up his fork, and Lola could turn her face to her plate. She felt a tear escape and watched it land in her food.
~ ~ ~
Lola was stiff and uncomfortable. What was she doing in Enriqueta’s bed?
“Enriqueta, wake up.” Lola shook her sister. “Did I come to sleep with you after a bad dream?”
“Wha...what?”
“Tell me I had a bad dream last night.” Enriqueta’s face confirmed Lola’s fears.
“Did you see that dress?”
“Of course, that’s what she was doing all those days she left us alone.”
“How could Papa do this to us? How could he do it to Mama?” The two girls clung together, weeping. “Oh, Enriqueta, do you think Mama looked down from her picture and saw her ruby necklace?”
“Don’t be silly. Mama’s in heaven, not in the picture.”
“I don’t know,” said Lola. “Sometimes I talk to her in the picture, and she smiles a little—or frowns a little, depending on what I say. Maybe we could just check and see how she looks this morning.”
“All right, but you’ll see. The picture always looks the same.” Enriqueta bounced off the bed. “I’m starving and I’ll bet you are, too. Let’s get something to eat and then we’ll look at the painting.”
Lola realized that her stomach was rumbling. Enriqueta was right; they hadn’t eaten much dinner. The two girls crept down the stairs, the floors cool on their bare feet. As they approached the kitchen, the yeasty odor of rising bread dough mixed with the strong aroma of fresh ground coffee welcomed them.
“And why are my downy chicks walking around the house in their nightdresses?” asked Pilar, still turning the handle of the coffee grinder.
“We aren’t downy chicks anymore,” said Enriqueta, “we’re young ladies.”
“That’s too bad because only downy chicks eat before breakfast. Everyone else has to wait.”
“Then we’re downy chicks,” said Lola. The two sat on one of the plank benches that flanked the table in the large kitchen where the house servants ate. Pilar gave a throaty chuckle as she put away the coffee grinder. She lifted the cloth that covered the mound of rising dough and pinched off a generous amount, flattening it between her hands. She grabbed a fistful of brown sugar from the bowl on the table and spread it over the dough. Then she rolled the dough into a neat roll and tucked it into the oven of the wood-burning stove where the water for coffee was heating.
“Do you want to tell Pilar why there are tear tracks down the cheeks of my downy chicks?” Pilar continued to bustle about the kitchen. The two girls looked at each other. They weren’t supposed to talk about family matters with the servants, but this could hardly be a secret.
“Papa’s going to marry Jacoba,” said Lola, unable to keep her tears from flowing again.
“Poor Lola got so pale when Papa told us that I thought she was going to be sick,” said Enriqueta.
Lola jumped up and started following Pilar around the kitchen, with Enriqueta close on her heels. They began telling Pilar all of their fears and all of Jacoba’s past transgressions against them, both real and imagined.
Pilar turned and gathered the two girls to her, almost smothering them in her ample bosom. “My poor little lambs, my poor little lambs.” Then, as rapidly as she had embraced them, she released them. “Ay! The bread!” She hurried to the oven and removed the treat. After pouring them each a mug of frothy milk, fresh from the morning milking, Pilar went back to her work, muttering under her breath.
“What’re you whispering?” asked Lola.
“I’m praying that God and the Virgin Mary will deliver us from the evil in our house. You poor little lambs, even your sainted mother wasn’t able to cast out the evil from our midst.”
“Was Mama really a saint?” A thrill ran up Lola’s spine at the thought.
“Oh, yes. We all loved your mother and would have defended her with our lives, but we were helpless against the curse of the pit viper.”
Enriqueta drew in her breath sharply. “I knew it—there are real curses. See, Lola? It’s not a superstition.” Enriqueta looked earnestly at the cook. “Pilar, tell Lola that spells and curses are real. If you tell her, she’ll know it’s true because you never lie to us.”
“Oh, my little ones, it’s a sin to lie. God sees the truth always.”
“But even if curses exist, they’re still sinful.” Lola’s conviction wavered in the face of Pilar’s words.
“Yes, it’s very sinful to make spells and curses,” said Pilar. “Now go get dressed. Your father’ll be angry if he sees you walking about in your nightdresses.”
“All right, after we look at Mama’s picture.” Lola took Enriqueta’s hand and they walked through the door to the dining room. She let out a small scream as they stared at the blank wall where the picture had hung for longer than any of the girls could remember.
Pilar put her flour-covered hands on their shoulders and drew them back into the safe haven of the kitchen.
III. August 1905: Lola age 11
The wedding was held within the month in the family chapel. Victoria and Amelia, along with their families, arrived first, followed by Ernestina and her husband. Ernestina looked pale and tired, as usual. Juana had sent word from Ecuador that she was under a doctor’s care and unable to travel. Lola overheard Amelia whisper that Juana had just lost another baby. Victoria said it must be hard for her.
“I don’t know,” whispered Amelia, “I think I’d rather be in bed bleeding to death than trying to choke out congratulations at this travesty of a wedding.”
“You know you don’t mean that,” said Ernestina softly. “Be careful what you say or God will punish you and make it happen.”
“No, of course I don’t mean it,” said Amelia. She gently kissed her sister on the cheek. Ernestina was always reminding everyone of God’s presence. Maybe her poor health made her feel closer to God.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if lightning strikes the chapel during the ceremo
ny,” said Victoria. “There weren’t this many flowers at Mama’s burial.” Lola edged closer to hear the lowered voices of her sisters.
“Pssst.” Enriqueta was gesturing wildly for her to come. Lola slipped away from the little knot of sisters and went to the door of the chapel. Enriqueta grabbed her skirt and pulled her outside. “You’re not supposed to be in the chapel yet.” She handed Lola a basket of rapidly wilting flowers. Lola picked one up and giggled as it drooped limply on the short stem.
Enriqueta sniffed. “You wait and see what happens to them after Devil Spawn Pit Viper walks over them. They’ll curl into brown death.” Lola’s eyes widened.
The bride stepped out of the carriage, her ivory gown setting off her slightly darker skin. Lola’s jaw dropped as she saw Jacoba’s long black hair falling in shining waves to below her waist. Her smile showed perfect gleaming white teeth and even her eyes sparkled. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who stormed around the house with a perpetual frown and a big ugly chignon at the base of her neck. Something in Lola began to recognize the spell Jacoba had used on her father. Before she could quite get it straight in her mind, a shove from Enriqueta made her turn and begin to walk slowly down the aisle of the chapel.
“Throw the flowers,” whispered Enriqueta. As Lola scattered flowers from her basket, she kept waiting for signs of lightning or earthquakes. She wanted to sneak a glance back up the aisle to see what had happened to the flowers, but she couldn’t see around Enriqueta.
Mass was almost over when Enriqueta nudged her and whispered, “Look at Padre.” The priest was preparing to give communion to the newly married couple, and his hands were shaking visibly. The two girls looked at each other. So Pilar was not the only one who knew what Jacoba was. Lola held her breath as Jacoba received communion—no lightning, no one was struck dead. Lola let out a sigh of relief that no natural disaster had descended upon them, but her relief was tinged with disappointment. How could God let one of His enemies receive communion?
Lola and Enriqueta were corralled by their older sisters as they left the chapel, and were told to take their nieces and nephews to the upper verandah. The nursemaids would go along to take care of the babies, but it was made clear that the older children were the responsibility of Lola and Enriqueta. Lola saw her disappointment mirrored on Enriqueta’s face. If they were inside with the nieces and nephews, they’d miss all the wonderful sweets Pilar had been baking for days. They’d probably only get a taste of wedding cake brought up on a tray.
It's Just Lola Page 2