It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  “Can we take the boys down to the village? They could watch the dancing and have fun,” said Lola with sudden inspiration. “We promise to be sure they stay with us; promise, promise.”

  “We’re very responsible,” said Enriqueta. Amelia looked at Victoria and gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

  “All right,” Victoria said, “but stay out of trouble.”

  Enriqueta and Lola left quickly and found their two oldest nephews. They grabbed their hands and ran toward the Cholo village before anyone could tell them that they needed to take the next younger ones as well. The boys were excited about the prospect of visiting the village without their mothers or nursemaids around.

  “Wait,” said Lola. “One of us has to go back and find a dueña to come with us.”

  “We don’t need a dueña,” said Enriqueta. “Ricardo and Mateo’ll be with us.” The boys nodded solemnly and no one mentioned a chaperone again.

  When they reached the village, the streets looked as though they had been swept clean. There were no children playing outside. There weren’t any dogs, or cats, or even chickens. It was not what the girls had expected. They looked at each other.

  “What do you think? Should we go back?” asked Lola.

  “No,” said Enriqueta. “If we go back we’ll have to stay on the verandah. Let’s walk through the village; if no one comes out, we can turn around and go somewhere else. Maybe we can sit under the guava trees in the orchard, or even walk to the river.”

  “Are we allowed?” asked Mateo. Lola always felt an affinity for Mateo, Amelia’s eldest son. Not only had he inherited the same small stature that bothered Lola so much, but he was completely dominated by Ricardo, Victoria’s eldest.

  “Of course we are,” said Ricardo.

  “I’d much rather walk in the orchard,” said Lola quickly. She knew that taking the boys to the river would get them all in trouble. “Here comes Juan.” Lola waved, feeling much better.

  “Hola, Juan.”

  “Buenas días, señoritas y muchachos. Good day. What brings you to our village?”

  “We thought it might be fun to come and listen to your music and watch the dancing,” Lola said. It was comforting to see Juan there. She knew her father trusted him, and he was often in the main house. His powerful build and his air of authority always made Lola feel safe, although she could not have put the feeling into words. His warm smile put them all at ease.

  “You are most welcome,” he said. “Please, come and stay in my home until the party starts.”

  “Why aren’t there any children outside?” asked Enriqueta as they followed Juan to one of the larger houses in the village. It was surrounded by a neatly tended vegetable garden and there were a few flowers planted by the front door. Unlike many of the other houses, it had curtains in the windows.

  “We’re keeping them in so they stay clean and neat.”

  As they reached the house, the door was opened by Juan’s wife, Carmen. She was large and solid looking and appeared more than capable of keeping the entire village under control. Only her welcoming smile and soft words kept Lola from thinking they might’ve been better off at the river after all. Lola looked enviously at the large colorful skirts that Carmen and her daughter, Inez, were wearing. Inez was about Enriqueta’s age, but she was dressed like her mother and seemed very grown up. Lola felt like a white mouse next to beautiful jungle parrots.

  “When El Patrón and his bride arrive, everyone must greet them and wish them happiness in their marriage,” said Juan.

  Lola went rigid. “They’re coming here?”

  “Don’t worry, Señorita Lola, you can stay inside the house. They’ll only stay long enough to let us know that the food and drink are a gift, and we should be grateful.” Lola couldn’t understand the bitterness in his tone.

  The girls sipped the lemonade Juan’s wife had insisted on serving. They watched as Juan’s sons and their nephews slowly approached each other, finally disappearing into the other room, followed by the voice of the mother reminding them to stay neat and clean. Lola absently kicked her feet back and forth as she sat on the cane settee and looked around. One end of the large room held a plank table and benches like the one in their own kitchen. The furniture was mostly cane, and colorful pillows made the room look comfortable and inviting.

  Lola was impressed by how clean everything was. She glanced in the corners and under the furniture—places Maria used to scold Rosa for not cleaning. Not a speck of dust was visible. Even the leaves of the plant in the corner looked shiny and clean. Why did everyone say Cholos were dirty? Shouts came from outside.

  “They’re coming!” One of Juan’s sons ran into the main room and raced toward the door, with all the other children at his heels. Enriqueta grabbed Ricardo’s arm just as Juan’s wife put her hand on Mateo’s shoulder.

  “The treats are for the village children,” said Enriqueta.

  “Why can’t I have some, too?” Ricardo asked, struggling to get his arm away from Enriqueta. His cousin was too intimidated by Carmen to move or say a word.

  “Because your grandfather might not be pleased to see you here,” Lola said.

  The boy stopped squirming immediately. “But Mama said we could come.”

  “Yes, to watch the dancing and listen to the music,” said Lola. She, too, suspected their father might be angry to see them in the village—especially without a chaperone.

  Carmen smiled. “El Patrón will be too busy to think about you youngsters today, but it’s always better not to call attention to yourselves.” Lola nodded. That was often the best way to deal with her father. The four watched from behind the curtains as the village children came pouring out of their houses, followed by the older children and adults who stood stiffly and smiled. Lola thought they looked like Cholo dolls with smiles pasted on their faces.

  “How beautiful,” Inez said. Everything else faded from Lola’s mind as she saw her father in all his wedding finery sitting tall in the saddle of his magnificent stallion. Next to him, on a glistening black horse that Lola had never seen in the stables, rode his bride. She was sitting sidesaddle with her wedding gown spread over the hindquarters of the horse. Her own shining black hair reached the back of the horse. It looked as though horse and rider were parts of a single statue, carved from black onyx and ivory. Lola thought she heard the word diabla whispered behind her.

  The bride and groom rode slowly past the houses, the groom tossing small coins and the bride tossing candies while the children scrambled about trying to collect them.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Many years of happiness.”

  “May you have good luck.”

  Lola did not hear anyone wish God’s blessings upon the union.

  Everyone at the window gasped as a small child raced toward an unclaimed treat—heedless of the sharp hooves around it.

  “Ay, Dios mio! Oh, my God!” Carmen screamed as she raced for the door. Lola was transfixed, unable to move or even breathe. Time crawled as the black horse pranced nearer the child. Lola heard a woman scream, and then she saw Juan moving like a blur toward the horse. He jumped and slammed his own powerful shoulder into the shoulder of the horse, causing the startled animal to stumble slightly and move sideways. As Juan landed, he extended his body and his arm reached out and dealt the child a blow that knocked him well beyond the path of the horse. The bewildered toddler was hidden from Lola’s view by a clot of people who immediately surrounded him.

  Inez screamed. The black horse was on its hind legs pawing the air, and Juan was on the street under the flashing hooves. Lola glimpsed white around the frightened horse’s eyes and saw Jacoba sitting securely in the saddle, hands now buried in her mount’s mane. The smile on Jacoba’s face made Lola shudder. She tore her eyes away from her new stepmother and watched in horror as Juan struggled to escape the descending hooves. Dear God, no.

  Inez collapsed to the floor, but Lola couldn’t look away from the horse and the man. She watched Ju
an roll and the hooves land, still unsure if Juan had escaped. After an eternity of a few seconds, Juan sat up, and Lola felt the air whoosh into her lungs once more. He was alive. Men rushed to help Juan to his feet. Blood running down his face, he turned, bowed deeply to Jacoba and El Patrón, and watched them ride on before he allowed his wife to help him into the house.

  “Get some water,” said Enriqueta as she tugged on Lola’s skirt. Enriqueta was sitting on her heels, cradling Inez’s head in her lap. She was reassuring the girl that her father was well and he was coming. Lola rushed to get the water, glad to be doing something—anything to try to rid her mind of the picture of Jacoba’s face as her horse reared over the prone man.

  Lola wished she could become invisible as men poured into the small house to see how badly Juan was hurt. It looked as though every man in the village crowded into the room. She could tell the presence of the girls made some of the visitors uncomfortable, and others looked at them with pity in their eyes. She heard mutters and snatches of remarks showing that Pilar was not the only one who thought Jacoba had cast a spell over her father. After what she had just seen, she was ready to believe it herself.

  Inez, who had recovered once she saw her father walk in the door, was sent for a basin of water and a clean cloth that she tore into strips at her mother’s direction. Juan’s wife cleaned the wound and wrapped the strips of cloth tightly around his head. Juan sent one of his sons outside to look for his hat, which he put gently on top of the bandages. Satisfied, he stood and thanked his visitors. After a few minutes Carmen pulled him back to a chair. He looked pale beneath the sun-darkened skin.

  “Enough!” Juan said in a loud voice. “Go and enjoy the party. El Patrón will be angry if I disrupt the wedding, and I’ll be sad if I keep you from the good meal they sent to us. I heard there’s an entire barrel of aguadiente and more where that came from. The distillery serves us today.” There was a smattering of low laughter. “Don’t worry; we Cholos have hard heads. This is merely a scratch. Go and start the music.” Reluctantly people began to leave. “I want to hear the music.”

  Enriqueta moved toward Juan’s wife, thanking her for her hospitality and saying that they really had to leave. Juan and Carmen exchanged a glance.

  “This isn’t a good night for you to be wandering around the village without a chaperone,” said Juan gently. “Wait here until the villagers get distracted with food and drink.” The boys were happy to stay. Juan’s children had shared their treats; the boys had become good friends as soon as the sweets had come out of their pockets to be shared. They were sent to the other room to play, with instructions to keep the noise to a minimum since Juan had a big headache.

  Inez ran to bring her father a large glass of aguadiente, and then sent back with her oldest brother to bring food for the family. As soon as she was gone, Juan took off his hat. The bandages were already soaked with blood.

  Carmen removed the bloody bandages. There was a gleam of white bone as she dabbed away the blood. Lola looked around anxiously for Enriqueta. She remembered the day Dolores had cut herself while chopping vegetables, and Enriqueta had been the one who fainted. Enriqueta was sitting at the far side of the room, looking pale and shaken. They should leave as soon as possible.

  “Drink half of this,” Carmen said as she handed Juan the large glass of aguadiente. Juan took a large swallow and gasped for breath. He blinked rapidly.

  “Half? That’s enough to put a horse down,” he said.

  “Exactly,” his wife said with a smile.

  Juan did as he was told, and Carmen made him sit at the table and lay his head down on a clean cloth. She looked at the two girls and asked Enriqueta help Inez keep the boys quiet. Enriqueta escaped to the boys’ room.

  “I need to clean and stitch the wound,” said Carmen. “Lola, dear, can you keep the blood away so I can see what I’m doing?” Carmen put a basin of water on the table and wet a clean cloth and handed it to Lola.

  “I’ll try,” said Lola in a small voice. She was amazed that Carmen had chosen her to help. She was determined to do a good job, if only to prove to herself that she could do it. She took a deep breath and dabbed at the wound. Carmen began by pouring aguadiente into the gaping wound. Lola heard Juan grunt and saw his knuckles turn white where he grasped the bench. “Why’re you doing that?” Lola asked. “It hurts him and you already cleaned it.”

  “Horses’ hooves are dirty. It must be cleaner than water can make it. If it goes septic he will get very sick, perhaps even die.”

  Lola became engrossed in watching Carmen stitch the wound and tie off each stitch. Each time Carmen drew her hands back Lola mopped away blood, and she changed the water often. After she saw how it was done, she threaded a second needle for Carmen. She handed her the new needle and washed and rethreaded the old one, dipping it in what was left of the aguadiente. She had the needle ready by the time Carmen was ready for it.

  Once they established a rhythm, Carmen began to talk to Lola. “I learned about the kind of knots to make, and how to care for a lot of injuries by helping your father. Our village is very lucky that el patrón has medical knowledge. He saved a lot of lives over the years.” Clean. Stitch. Knot. Clean. “We were blessed by your mother coming to live among us. She was always here to comfort the unfortunate and lend support where it was needed. No one ever went hungry, even when blight or drought brought hardship.” Clean. Stitch. Knot. Clean. “It would be best if we keep quiet about how serious this wound is.” Lola nodded. If Juan said it was just a scratch, then that was her story, too.

  At last the job was done. Carmen did a final wash with the aguadiente and wrapped Juan’s head with clean cloths.

  “There’s almost no blood now,” said Lola proudly.

  Carmen hugged Lola, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Thank you for helping. With God’s help, it will heal with no infection.”

  Juan slowly raised his head. Moving gingerly, he turned to Lola. “I think you should all go home now.”

  “But we promised the boys we’d watch the dancing.”

  Juan frowned. “There’ll be no dancing—at least not until the men are too drunk to be angry. I suggest you go before someone notices there’s no chaperone with you.” Lola knew Juan was right.

  The four youngsters broke into a run as soon as they were out of sight of the village. As they neared the main house they slowed down, intending to melt into the small crowd of wedding guests. Amelia caught sight of them first.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you.”

  “You said we could take the boys to the village,” said Enriqueta innocently. She had a firm hold of a boy’s hand in each of her own.

  “Both Dolores and Rosa were here. Did you go off by yourselves?” Mateo burst into tears.

  “Victoria’s right. You girls are growing up too wild here without proper discipline.” Lola and Enriqueta were speechless. Without discipline? They were constantly being disciplined. The accusation was so unjust. Lola and Enriqueta were hustled toward the house as Amelia talked. “We already decided that Victoria and I will each take one of you girls to live with us for a few weeks to let Papa’s new wife adjust. That way we can be assured you’ll be brought up as young ladies should. Heaven knows, no one in this house knows anything about raising ladies.” Amelia pulled her own maid along to help them pack. They were leaving within the hour.

  Lola didn’t know whether to rejoice that she was leaving Jacoba or to grieve that she was being torn from her home and her best friend and closest sister, Enriqueta.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Why must I go to lessons?” said Lola. “I already know how to read and write, and I’m really good with arithmetic.”

  “You must learn what to write as well as how to write. A lady must know all the rules of social correspondence.”

  “I don’t know why I’d want to correspond with anyone anyway, if I have to follow a bunch of rules,” said Lola under her breath as she followed her sister to the library
to meet Señor Gomez, the tutor.

  “Once you show me a properly worded thank you note with good penmanship and no smudges or blotches, we can go to tea at Amelia’s, and visit with Enriqueta. How does that sound?”

  “Maybe I can give her the handkerchief I’m embroidering.”

  “Or maybe you can give it to Amelia as a thank you gift for inviting you,” said Victoria. “That’s your incentive for making a perfect thank you note and a lovely handkerchief.”

  The promised visit got farther away with every ink spot and knotted silk thread. Lola’s days fell into a pattern of distasteful tasks. In the mornings she was tutored along with the boys, although her writing assignments were all about things “a lady should know.” As Lola worked on her boring thank you notes, she listened enviously to the boys’ lessons. History, geography, geometry, algebra—even the names were more interesting than thank you notes. The only bright part of the routine was the French lesson, which Victoria decided she should join. Lola delighted in out-shining Victoria’s children, in spite of their head start in the language.

  After the tutor dismissed them, Lola helped the nursemaid as her lessons in child care. While the children napped, Lola worked on her embroidery. On the days Victoria asked her to dine with the adults, she was constantly told how to sit, how to hold her tableware, what to say and what not to say. There was an unending barrage of criticism and instruction.

  Lola often lay awake at night with tears streaming down her face as she thought of her home and Enriqueta.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Lola, don’t kick your feet like that. It draws attention to how short you are. And it jiggles your teacup precariously. Amelia will never forgive you if you break one of her Italian teacups.”