CHAPTER 29 - THE SPRITES
One sultry, moonlit night, Rosalinda's fascination with the American tourists brought her out for a walk. Before she knew it, she'd arrived at the hotel. The girl stopped at the entrance, thought for a moment, then decided not to seek out the four women immediately. Instead, she strolled around to the back and walked beside the trees along the riverbank.
The moon was full and bright, shining its dazzling light down upon her and the water. As she paused to watch the magical effect, a breeze came up, disturbing the smooth, silvery surface, making the water skip and dance as if it were alive. Rosalinda felt the breeze on her skin and saw the dancing light on the water. She heard the whispering leaves in the surrounding trees. At that moment, it seemed that ancient gods were present, and they smiled on her.
She raised her arms over her head and spread them wide, throwing back her head. The moment was so overpoweringly magical that she began to disrobe. She hung her clothes over a small bush and continued soundlessly through the woods.
At this moment, Rosalinda felt she was part of the night, the woods, the water, and the moonlight. She sensed the invisibles had chosen to protect her. This silvery night was their gift and all that was in it became her friend. She shivered deliciously in this knowledge, standing transfixed, feeling the breeze from the water caress her bare flesh, filled with the wonder of the woods.
And then her heart skipped a beat!
Someone, or something, was in the woods, only a few feet away, standing so close to a large, stately oak tree that it blended into the same dark shape. It had been there for some time. And it was watching her! Rosalinda held her breath. She cast her mind about and newly found magic about, hoping to catch the mood of her observer. To her great relief, the girl didn't detect danger. Only friendship, good wishes, and a kind of magical kinship. She relaxed and exhaled.
A dark shape detached itself from the larger mass that was the tree. It began to move toward her, gliding slowly. Rosalinda shivered deliciously. Whoever, or whatever, was much closer now and about to step into the moonlight. The girl caught her breath as the silvery moon revealed a face, illuminating it in fairy light.
The dark-haired, foreign woman, the one called Raven, now stood before Rosalinda, splendid in her natural, silvery state. Raven smiled a welcoming smile. Rosalinda, still part of this magical place, knew her new friend held a handful of aromatic herbs. The girl returned the smile. Raven held out her other hand and Rosalinda placed her own hand in the outstretched palm. The woman began to glide again, closer to the water's edge, guiding Rosalinda very gently, closer, ever closer, to the silvery water.
Raven released Rosalinda's hand, still smiling, and without a word waved one arm in a graceful gesture as if to say, "Behold the wonder!" Her fingers opened and wind caught the scent of crushed herbs, releasing their aroma into the night air. The herbs spiraled down, down to the silvery water, coming to rest on its glassy surface. Rosalinda watched and waited. Nothing happened. How disappointing, she thought, turning to Raven to voice her feelings.
Before the girl could speak, Raven clutched Rosalinda's arm and pointed to the water. The surface of the water began to move, skipping here and there as if a flurry of little, silvery creatures were scurrying about on its surface. But the wind had died. There was no breeze.
Rosalinda stared in wonder, almost forgetting to breathe. Something was there, under the water, and it was looking up at her! The girl tried to break free, but Raven's grip was too strong.
Faces and forms swirled about in the water at her feet. They smiled up at Rosalinda. Friendly smiles. The foreign woman didn't act as if there was any danger. Rosalinda tested the psychic air. No danger here! She stared down at the creatures in the water. They were friendly. They liked her. She could feel it. And their thoughts came to her.
They were water sprites! They’d come in answer to Raven’s magical summoning.
But don’t make a sound, the water sprites seemed to say.
They were speaking inside Rosalinda’s head, and this seemed to be so natural that she wasn't afraid. We are your friends for as long as you live. If you are in the water and you need us, just call to us. But never speak of us to others, the sprites cautioned.
The water fairies’ voices were fading now and Rosalinda strained forward. She held out one hand in a pleading gesture. She sent her thoughts to them, mouthing the words silently. Don’t leave! Not yet!
The scurrying motion began again on the water’s surface, small forms and faces becoming indistinct. The sprites finally faded away altogether leaving the two mortals alone by the riverbank. The two silvery women turned to one another and clasped hands. No need for words.
The magic of the moment having passed, Raven led the girl back along the path. Each collected her own garments from the bushes. They dressed in silence and Raven led the girl around to the front of the hotel.
Rosalinda allowed herself to be led up the front steps, toward the cocktail lounge. After years of wondering what people in the lounge were saying and doing, she was now actually being invited inside. She was about to be one of the lucky ones who talked, laughed, and sipped cool, iced drinks behind the wall of plants. And she was going there with her new friend. Tingling with excitement, Rosalinda crossed the threshold and looked about.
Joseph, again in the role of bartender, stood behind the bar in his bright, red jacket, polishing glasses. Robin, Cat, and Samantha were seated at one of the small, circular tables, sipping their drinks. Robin spotted Raven first and waved. "Over here," she called.
It wasn’t until Raven was halfway across the room that the group caught sight of Rosalinda. Robin froze in mid-wave. The others followed her gaze. Raven came up to the table and pulled out a chair for Rosalinda, taking another chair from an adjoining table for herself. She settled in and returned her friends’ stares.
Robin broke the silence first, deliberately speaking rapidly in English so Rosalinda wouldn’t understand. "Raven, were you where we think you were?" Raven nodded and brushed some stray leaves from her skirt. Samantha smiled at Rosalinda, who didn’t notice because she was engaged in picking leaves from her own skirt. "And you took Rosalinda?" Sam asked in English.
"Do not speak of that which should not be spoken of," cautioned Raven gravely, nodding toward the child. "Besides, she came of her own accord."
Robin interrupted, "Have you gone crazy? I’d say you’re not playing with a full deck!"
Nonsense," observed Cat, "anyone who can read Tarot, as you well know, is playing with two decks." And she popped a mango tidbit into her mouth.
Samantha held up her palm in warning. Joseph had come up behind Raven.
"Good evening, lovely ladies. May I serve you this evening?" Raven glanced up at him. Something about his manner, his eyes, belied the servility of his tone. She forced a smile.
"Yes, Joseph. Good evening. Would you bring a piña colada for me and a soft drink. A Shirley Temple with an umbrella, I think, for the young lady." Joseph nodded and limped off. Raven watched him go. For such an old man, he still appeared oddly muscular.
"There’s something phony about that one," she was about to remark to the others, but, before she could do so, Samantha interrupted her thought.
"We're on vacation, Raven. We’re supposed to be having fun. It’s not going to be much fun for any of us if you end up in a local jail."
"Yes," chimed in Robin, wagging her finger at Raven. "Third-world country lockups can be a hideous, if not fatal, experience." Turning to Samantha, she asked, "Did you see the signs on the doors of that prison we drove by on the way to Cristo?" Sam shook her head.
"Well," continued Robin, "the two entry doors didn’t say caballeros and damas, they said hombres and mujers. Understand?" A glance told her they didn’t. "Not gentlemen and ladies, but men and women. See? A demotion in social status simply by entering through the prison door. And I just know it goes downhill from there."
"And," Cat added, "your Druidic rituals, that is your sky-clad conjur
ing of woodland sprites behind the hotel after dark, is going to get us nailed by the local fuzz."
"Especially, if you take the village innocents with you to commune with nature," Samantha said, glancing at Rosalinda.
Rosalinda didn’t understand what the women were saying, but the tone of the conversation made her tense. She frowned. Samantha reached over, patted the girl’s hand, and smiled. Rosalinda smiled back just as Joseph appeared with their drinks.
"Oh," Cat exclaimed gaily to Rosalinda in Spanish, "here’s your Shirley Temple. Careful, dear! Don’t poke your eye out with the little umbrella."
Joseph served the drinks, slowly, taking an unnecessarily long time to perform this service. The four tourists waited most impatiently for him to return to the bar before continuing their conversation. As Joseph lingered on, adjusting and readjusting napkins and drinks on the little table, an unnatural silence fell over the women. Seconds ticked on by and Joseph still did not put an end to his fussing.
"Thank you, Joseph, we’re quite all right," said Raven. Joseph hesitated and stared hard at the woman. She stared back without blinking. Backing down under her gaze, he hung his head and made his way back to the bar. "What is with that man?" demanded Cat.
"It seems to me that he’s always listening to us, trying to overhear something," whispered Robin. "I get the very same feeling," agreed Samantha.
"So," Robin whispered intently to Raven, "be more careful."
Raven glanced over at Joseph, who had gone back to polishing his endless assortment of bar glasses. He shot a furtive glance toward the table. Raven looked quickly away. "Damn it, you’re right!" she exclaimed.
"So," said Samantha, switching to Spanish and beaming at Rosalinda, "let’s speak of more pleasant things. How long have you been babysitting for tourists at the hotel?"
Rosalinda blossomed visibly. "Since I was in my tenth year," she said.
"You mean tourists trusted you with their children when you were only ten years old?" Samantha asked incredulously.
"Oh, no, not at first," the girl smiled. "When I first came to the hotel to ask the ladies if they would pay me to care for their children, they would look at me hard. ‘Too young,’ they would say. ‘Too small,’ they would say. Then I would look very sad. Like this," said Rosalinda, making a pitiful face. She looked so adorable that everyone laughed out loud.
"Of course," laughed Raven, "they couldn’t resist you."
"Oh, yes, they could. They would see this little face and their hearts would melt, just a little. Then they would say, ‘How cute she is,’ and pat me on the head. And then, they would give me a peso and ask me to pose for a picture. My father would laugh and tell me every tourist in the world had a picture of me at home."
"Well, then, how did you manage to get hired," inquired Samantha.
Rosalinda smiled self-consciously. "A lady was here with children. The youngest was four years old. Certainly grown enough to run errands or, at least, carry water home so his mother could prepare dinner if he were a local boy. But Americans spoil their children so."
She paused and looked up, embarrassed, but her new friends were not offended at her remark. In fact, they seemed highly amused. "That’s what my father always says." She paused again and took a ladylike sip before continuing. "Then the little boy wandered off. The American lady was frantic. She cried. She screamed. She searched everywhere."
"I can imagine!" remarked Robin, pouncing on her pińa colada.
"She wanted everyone to help look for the boy. The guard at the front of the hotel told the woman not to worry. He pointed to village boys of the same age. He told her that many parents will wait only one more year before sending such boys off, alone, to the cities."
"Why do these parents send their children away?" asked Cat.
Rosalinda looked at her in surprise. "Why, to earn money, of course. They beg from tourists. When they make enough, they come home again," she explained.
"That’s what our friend, Susan, told us," Raven said, "but why would these families put their children at risk like that?"
"But they need the money to survive," explained Rosalinda.
The women stared at her.
"We were lucky, my brother, Luis, and I," she said proudly. "My father found some regular work at this hotel. I earn money by taking care of children. Our parents never sent us away.
The four tourists were stunned and embarrassed. They stared down at their drinks. Cat began nervously stirring hers with the straw. Finally, Samantha prompted, "Rosalinda, you were telling us how you were first hired as a sitter."
"Yes," agreed Cat, "you were telling us of the lost boy. Did they ever find him?"
"It seems that he could not be found," confided Rosalinda. "So, I sat down under that tree. The one by the water," she said pointedly to Raven.
"I thought and I thought. Where did that boy go? Where was he now? It was almost like a dream," she whispered. "I saw him wandering off, following a lizard. He went down on the side of the hotel trying to catch it. The storage door was unlocked, ajar. The lizard slipped inside and the boy went after it. The lizard went under things. The boy could not catch it and then the breeze slammed the door shut behind him. It was warm in the storage room. He was such a little boy. He just lay down and fell asleep."
"But didn’t someone go back to the storage place to get something?" Robin asked.
"Didn’t anyone hear his calling when he woke up?" Cat asked.
"No," said Rosalinda, "and there was no window and the door was of heavy metal."
"How terrible for him. He must have been terrified," said Raven.
"I could see him clearly in my head," continued Rosalinda. "He was crying and rubbing his dirty, little hands on his face, making streaks on his cheeks. So, I made my father come with me. He didn’t believe me at first, but I made such a fuss. He unlocked the door and there the boy was, in a tiny heap, blinking in the sunlight flooding in through the open door."
"I tell you," whispered Raven to Samantha, "the kid’s got talent!"
"I took him up and he didn’t cry. We went to the river nearby and I washed him clean. I brushed the dust from his clothes. Then I carried him back to his mother."
"I’ll bet she was so delighted, she wanted to turn over all her worldly goods to you!" Cat chortled.
"Well, the boy did trust me. And he clung to me when I tried to hand him to her. So, she said I had a good way with children. Then she asked me to help her watch the boy for the rest of her stay at Las Naranjas," finished Rosalinda, triumphantly.
"And so, once you were hired and did well, did other tourists ask for your services," queried Samantha. Rosalinda nodded happily.
"That’s wonderful!" exclaimed Raven.
"Yes," agreed Raven. "Now, tell us, Rosalinda, yesterday in the market, what were you telling the English lady’s children?"
"They were so fascinated," smiled Robin.
Rosalinda appeared embarrassed. "I told them stories. Just to amuse them," she whispered.
"What sort of stories? Local tales?" inquired Cat.
"No," replied Rosalinda, "stories my grandmother used to tell my mother when she was little. Stories about where she used to live."
"And where did she used to live?" asked Samantha.
"Liberte," answered Rosalinda. "Where is that?" mused Robin as she began to unfold the map she kept in her purse.
Cat peered over Robin’s shoulder at the map.
"There ain’t no such place as Liberte on this map!" proclaimed Cat.
"Well," remarked Robin sarcastically, "there ain’t no such place as Cristo on this map either, but here we sit!"
"Ha!" laughed Raven.
"That means that this little village and this hotel don’t exist either," observed Samantha.
"And our group sitting at this table sipping tropical drinks is just some sort of delusion," added Robin refolding her map.
"Can you tell us where Liberte is located?" Robin asked.
Rosalinda appeared co
nfused.
"She means to ask where Liberte is located from where we are now?" said Cat.
Rosalinda brightened. "Yes," she said and waved one hand vaguely to the northwest. "Far!" she added.
"Maybe it’s up somewhere near the Haitian border," Samantha observed.
Rosalinda nodded. "That was where my grandmother came from."
"How delicious!" remarked Cat.
"Please tell us your grandmother’s stories," begged Robin.
The four tourists fairly tingled with anticipation. Robin leaned forward and whispered, "We’d love to hear any local folk tales or legends."
Rosalinda smiled. And for the rest of the evening, she entertained them with the old folk tales.
The stories about the zombies.
Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder Page 32
