It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  Jacoba advanced toward Filipe, her face distorted in rage. “Go back to your gutter, maggot. I’m the Señora here, and nothing can stand in my way now. If you even try, I’ll make you regret the day you were born. Get out of my way or I’ll make you pay—just like I made him pay, and others before him. No one stands in Jacoba’s way.”

  Jacoba took another step toward her brother, and Lola realized that Filipe, despite his words, was frozen in terror. “No, Jacoba, this ends now.” She reached out and grabbed Jacoba’s arm.

  Jacoba wrenched her arm from Lola’s grasp and kept moving toward Filipe. “This is all your fault, you cowardly little—“

  “Jacoba—“ Lola’s voice was as sharp as a whip. “I kept the coffee. We have proof.” Jacoba reached for Filipe’s throat. “Juan, seize her.” Before Juan could move, Jacoba whirled and ran from the room. They heard the front door slam behind her.

  It took a second for Lola to recover her wits. “We have to stop her.” Lola scrambled out the door as fast as she could. It took another second or two for Juan to start moving, but he soon passed her. Juan was almost at the stables when the black horse came out with Jacoba, riding bareback, clinging to his mane and kicking him to top speed. The horse veered to the side, but Jacoba yanked his head back and aimed it straight at Juan. Lola stopped in mid-stride, once again a ten-year-old, too frightened to move. Juan stepped aside at the last moment. There were no reins he could grab—no way to stop the already speeding animal. The horse reached a gallop, heading for the house and the road beyond.

  Lola turned and started back to the house, too upset to speak. She heard a man scream, followed by the snorting neigh of a frightened horse. She ran with the pounding of Juan’s footsteps right behind her. When they got within sight of the house, they saw Filipe staring down the road after the horse. He was standing over what looked like a pile of rags, but Lola knew it was Jacoba. Lola kept running. When she reached Jacoba, she saw that her head was twisted at an unnatural angle. Lola put her fingers on the side of Jacoba’s neck, feeling for a pulse she knew was not there.

  Filipe was babbling. “I saw the horse coming right at me, and I tried to stop it, but as usual, I was such a coward I stepped out of the way. I was so angry and frustrated with my own weakness that I threw the only thing I had—my hat. By some accident I hit the poor horse in the face and startled it.” He looked at Lola, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused. “I’m sorry, Señora, I let your horse get away.”

  Did the man not realize his sister was dead? It must be shock. “Juan, please take Filipe to your house. Tell Carmen to keep him warm, feed him and get him to sleep. Use aguadiente if you have to. I’ll check on him tomorrow.”

  “What about Jacoba? You’ll need help.”

  “I’ll get the stable hands to carry her to the house. No one can help Jacoba now, and Filipe can’t be left alone. I don’t know what he’ll do when he realizes he killed her. I don’t trust him with anyone else. You’re the only one who knows the story—and it must stay that way.”

  “Sí, Patrona.”

  ~ ~ ~

  It was nearly dawn, and Lola still had more questions than answers. The servants had been too frightened to sit vigil with Jacoba’s body, so the task fell to Lola. Pilar and Rosa said they’d take turns caring for her father. After hours of internal debate, she had finally decided not to say anything to the priest, thus allowing him to bury Jacoba on consecrated ground. Lola was convinced Jacoba was a murderer, but decided to leave it in God’s hands. Attempted murder was all she was sure of, and without testing the coffee on an animal, even that was open to debate. Lola was aware that her decision would preserve her father’s dignity as well. The greater question was the one implied by Juan’s remark. With Jacoba gone, she could come back and reclaim Yousef’s inheritance, but should she? Her mind skittered in a different direction—she hadn’t thought his English name. It was as though she erased the years since she left the plantation.

  Enrique regained consciousness the next morning and was able to drink water. Carmen sat with him while Filipe, Juan, Lola, and the house servants attended Jacoba’s short burial service. By some quirk of memory, Filipe did not connect Jacoba’s accident with his own actions. He left the plantation the same afternoon after thanking Juan for his concern and Lola for allowing his family to be buried with hers.

  For two days Enrique drifted in and out of confused consciousness. Lola gave him sweet tea and a thin gruel of chicken broth, potato, and garlic. The next afternoon, Juan arrived and told her he had seen a carriage approaching from Victoria’s house. Lola felt a touch of panic as she tried to smooth her rumpled dress. She ran to her room to comb her hair, and check the state of the other dress she had brought. To her relief, it had been pressed and was hanging in the wardrobe. “Thank you, Rosa,” she said softly as she changed. She reached the top of the stairs as Rosa was opening the door. Lola took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs.

  “Hello, Lola,” said Victoria as she and Amelia followed Lola to the parlor. “Is it true that Jacoba fell off her horse? What a tragic accident. Why weren’t we told? We could have come to the funeral.”

  The real reason was that Lola had been too preoccupied to think about them. However, the funeral was two days ago, and Lola knew the stable hands would have told everyone in the village within minutes of the accident. That news would have spread faster than fire during a drought, and the sisters would have known within hours.

  Amelia was more direct, making no attempt at sympathy for Jacoba. “We were afraid to come earlier, because of infection. It would’ve been dreadful if poor Papa contracted a disease that spread. We had to protect our own families from contagion.”

  “You should’ve known it wasn’t contagious. No one else in the house got sick.” Lola barely kept her outrage in control. They hadn’t even tried to help their father?

  “You know the Cholos resist their diseases better than we can.” Victoria’s tone of superiority goaded Lola to voice the first thing that came to her mind.

  “Yes, I did know that. The European aristocracy’s generations of inbreeding, has weakened them.” She regretted the remark as soon as it left her mouth. Would she ever learn to think before speaking?

  “That’s one problem your children won’t have to worry about,” said Victoria. “The only one with aristocratic blood is illegitimate.” Lola felt the blood rush to her face.

  Amelia spoke quickly, “We heard you’ve done wonders for Papa. We’re very grateful. Can we pay our respects?”

  “He’s still very weak, not yet well enough for visitors.”

  “But he will recover, won’t he?” asked Amelia, her eyes full of genuine concern.

  “I hope so,” said Lola truthfully. “Pray for his full recovery.” She blinked away tears as she excused herself to return to her patient.

  Lola began to talk to her father to keep herself awake. Secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t really aware of his surroundings, even when he was conscious. She talked about everything—adding thoughts and emotions that she would never reveal to anyone. It helped her clear away the cobwebs of her own thinking. Somewhere in the ensuing days Enrique gradually became part of the disjointed conversation. Lola held his hand and listened to him ramble through his early years of marriage.

  “Something about the imminent presence of death makes one want to share; maybe it’s a form of confession,” he said one afternoon. “Lola, come back to the plantation. Jacoba can’t hurt you now.”

  “How did you know—”

  “Just because a person’s eyes are closed, it doesn’t mean he can’t hear. I know I drifted and heard bits and pieces, but I don’t need any more details. It was an unfortunate story of greed—mixed, I must admit, with my own self-deception. I am grateful for the decisions you made that gave the story the best possible outcome. Won’t you come back?”

  “I’m sorry, Father. I can’t raise my children here. The price is too high.”

  “You’ll have every
comfort money can buy.”

  “But none of the comforts that money can’t buy. Don’t you see, Father? If I stay here, I’ll always live with the envy of my sisters. They think I’m taking what’s rightfully theirs. You may have forgiven me, but they haven’t. More important, Estela will never be able to escape her illegitimate birth. She’ll be indelibly branded, and I’ll never be able to escape my sisters’ sharp tongues.”

  “Do you care what they think of you?”

  “No, but I care about Estela’s opinion of herself. James put my children on his passport and gave them his name. They believe they are his children. I have friends now who’re willing to share what little they have with me. They accept us unconditionally, and they expect nothing in return. They have no knowledge of my birthright or my inheritance from James. In the name of friendship, they made it possible for me to come immediately when you needed me.”

  “And I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “Papa, as much as I’d love to ride the fields with you as long as you can sit a horse, and tend your needs after that, it wouldn’t be the right thing for my children.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m happy we had this time together, and I’m happy you’re getting stronger every day. Now I think it’s time for me to get back to my children.”

  Enrique looked at his daughter with an expression she could not identify. “You’ll find a package in the library, behind the older medical books. Bring it here.”

  Lola brought the package. Following her father’s instructions, she opened it. “What a lovely pillow. Do you want me to mend the stitching that has come loose?”

  Her father’s laughter left him weak for a few minutes. “Here,” he smoothed the bedding next to him. “Remove the stuffing.” Lola carefully pulled out the cotton, unwilling to tear the remaining stitching. The jewels that came out of the pillow made her gasp.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  “They belonged to my mother. When my father died, she sent them as a gift for your mother. My eternal regret is that they arrived too late.” There was a long pause. “There was a magnificent emerald necklace that I gave to Maria on her wedding day. I told her it wasn’t part of the dowry, but belonged to her. My only condition was that I never see her wear it.” Enrique’s voice broke. “So much like her mother it broke my heart to see her.” He pushed the jewels toward Lola. “Take what you like. Take them all if it pleases you.”

  “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, choosing a small sapphire ring. “I’ll always treasure this.”

  “That’s not enough. Take something for each of your daughters to think kindly of a grandfather they’ll never know.”

  His words made her heart ache as she chose a delicate bracelet of brilliant stones surrounded by gold. “When they’re old enough to appreciate the gift, I’ll have the stones reset as earrings.”

  “No, take something of real value for them.”

  “Father, small gifts have real value. Who knows what life has in store for them? I don’t want the gift to have enough monetary value to tempt them to sell the jewels if things get difficult—or to tempt those around them.”

  “Very well. I bow to your wisdom. Now help me pick out a piece for each of your other sisters.” They spent a pleasant hour talking about the sisters as they made up reasons to choose one piece over the other. At last there was an envelope with a short note and a single piece of jewelry each for Victoria, Amelia, Ernestina, and Juana. He scooped the remaining jewels into another envelope.

  “Take these to Enriqueta and her daughter, Blanca. She has no reason to love me, yet she saved my life by giving your address to Juan and telling him to beg you to come.” Lola couldn’t speak as she accepted the envelope. “Now go while I still have the strength to let you leave.”

  XVII. March, 1918: Lola just 24

  Lola re-read the letter from Enriqueta. She knew Enriqueta’s advice was sound, but it still bothered her.

  Dear Lola,

  Juan says Father is much improved. Carmen sits with Father much of the day, and they no longer fear for him at night. Forgive me for ever criticizing you when you wanted to work with the doctor. Your skills saved Father’s life.

  Father suggested that you contact Juana and ask her husband to help you access the resources left by Atkins. He believes Carlos is familiar with how stocks work. They are living in Lima now, and I enclose the address.

  Dearest Sister, you have no idea how many tears I shed for you when you told me that the bosun found no trace of your husband on his recent trip to San Francisco. I am sure your hopes were high that Wulf would come back with him. It must have been so hard for you—especially after all the difficulty you have had in your life.

  I am happy that at least Atkins left you with some resources. I am sure Juana she will help you—after all, she is your sister.

  With all my love,

  Enriqueta

  Lola hated asking Juana for help. It would hurt her pride to admit to Juana that Wulf had disappeared, but she had been hurt in worse places than her pride. Lola took a deep breath, got out a fresh sheet of paper, and began to compose a note to Juana.

  A week later Lola surreptitiously wiped her palms as she got out of a hired carriage in front of Juana’s house. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “Just because I don’t know what to do with those fancy papers doesn’t mean I’m stupid or ignorant. So stand tall, Lola; look her straight in the eye and tell her what happened.” Lola gave a nervous laugh. Juana was one of the few people short enough that she could look her straight in the eye. Lola lifted the brass knocker.

  “Lola, you’re as lovely as ever. Come in and tell me all about your English gentleman. You have two children? How old are they?”

  “I have four children now; you’re a bit behind with your news.” Lola forced a smile.

  “Yes, I suppose so. I thought that once we moved to Lima I’d see more of the family, but it’s been one thing after another. So what brings you to Lima? Is your English gentleman travelling on business?”

  “My English gentleman had a fatal accident more than two years ago.” Lola told Juana about Atkins’ accident and the stock certificates she had inherited. “I was hoping Carlos would be able to help me sell some stocks. We can go to the bank together, and he can tell me which ones to sell and how to do it, perhaps?”

  “I’m sure Charlie would be happy to help you, Lola.” Juana’s emphasis was on the English form of her husband’s name. “You say your husband died more than two years ago. How have you lived all that time without the money?”

  “James’ employer gave me the salary remaining on his contract, which kept us for some time.” Briefly, Lola told Juana her story. “Once I remarried, I had no need of money.”

  “It’s hard to believe you have four children.” Juana looked aside, but not before Lola caught a glimpse of the emotion on her face. Lola felt a rush of sympathy for her sister. Poor Juana had been trying to have more children and, according to the whispers of Victoria and Amelia, her frequent illnesses were difficult pregnancies ending in miscarriages or stillbirths. “How old are you now? You can’t be more than twenty.”

  “Twenty-four,” said Lola quietly.

  “If your husband is providing well, why do you need money now?”

  “He went ashore their last day in San Francisco and no one knows what happened to him.” Lola took out her handkerchief and dabbed at the tears that filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “He was probably mugged and his body dumped somewhere.” Lola sipped her coffee; the hot liquid was familiar and soothing.

  Juana picked up her cup. “You’re quite the adventurous soul, aren’t you? You’re the youngest of us all and have had almost as many husbands as the rest of us put together—ending with a common sailor.”

  Hot anger replaced Lola’s tears. “I’ve been widowed twice—probably three times. That’s not what I call an adventure. And Wulf was not a common sailor. He was an officer in the merchant marines. He
was a navigator, a skilled and valued profession that is in high demand.” Lola clamped her jaws shut. She had to calm her anger. She was here to ask Juana for help, not to argue with her. Suddenly the coffee smelled like unwashed socks.

  “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking.”

  Lola nodded and tried to smile. “Tell me about your children, Juana. How is little Isabel?” As Lola suspected, Juana could not resist talking about her beautiful and gifted children. They shared amusing anecdotes and soon it was time for Charlie to come home for the noon meal. Once he was apprised of Lola’s problem, Charlie agreed that she was wise not to trust such a task to a stranger and suggested they meet at the bank the following morning.

  When Lola walked into the bank, Señor Fernandez hurried out of his office to assist her. She explained she was waiting for her brother-in-law and was immediately ushered into the manager’s office and served coffee as she waited. When Charlie arrived, he, too, was served coffee before they opened the safety deposit box.

  Lola watched as Charlie went through the papers taking notes. She could tell he was impressed by some of the stocks and puzzled by others. He had a thoughtful expression on his face when he finished. He suggested they go to a nearby hotel for coffee. He bought a copy of the Wall Street Journal as they walked through the lobby.

  “Your husband was a very wise man,” he said when they had given the waiter their order. “He’s been investing in stocks for years and accumulated quite a large holding. Do you have any idea how much those certificates are worth?”

  Lola laughed. “Judging by the way Señor Fernandez dotes on me, I imagine it’s quite a bit. He offered to manage them, but I declined.”

  Charlie smiled. “A wise choice, I’m sure.” He opened the newspaper and showed Lola how to read the stock quotes. Then he read a few of the names he had in his notes.

  Lola looked up the stocks and multiplied by the number of shares he said she owned. The result took her breath away. “I could live for years on that much money.”