It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  “That’s what he says.” The older woman was now definitely looking down the length of her nose at Lola. “All we know is that the war broke out and the British sent their ships to blockade our coast; at the same time this British man turns up in our midst and travels to all parts of the country. It seems like too much of a coincidence.” The woman rose and frowned at her companion who was still seated.

  “I’m here to tell you, Señora, that you’re not welcome in our neighborhood.”

  Lola felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. She could hardly breathe. How could these women believe such horrible things about her husband? He was working for their country, trying to improve their rail system. How could they believe he was working for the British?

  As the older woman swept out of the room, the younger woman placed a hand on Lola’s shoulder, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Lola. I wish we could be friends.”

  Those words stung Lola more than the other woman’s haughty exit. She stood there, unable to reply. Now she understood the problems James was having. The pieces fell into place. The woman said the blockade started when they arrived. James must have known about it when he made them take the first ship leaving for Chile.

  “Are you all right?” Inez asked.

  “Thank you, Inez, I’ll be fine. It was just a shock.” Inez began to clear the room of the remains of the disastrous event. She soon came back with a small tray with two steaming cups of tea.

  “Cook is watching out for Estela and Joseph. Carlota’s sleeping, so this is a perfect time for you to relax.”

  The two sat in companionable silence. Lola missed the fragrance of Earl Grey tea, but now she knew why she couldn’t find any in the shops.

  “Inez, I’m sorry to have embroiled you in this ugliness—but I’m very, very grateful that you’re here. I wouldn’t survive without your friendship.” Lola drank some more tea and looked at her friend over the rim of her cup. Inez’s only relative was a married sister who lived in Lima. Now this poor woman had followed them to a country where she knew no one and was being shunned by everyone for no fault of her own. “Inez, if you wish to return to Lima,” Lola nearly choked on the words she felt compelled to say, “I’ll understand. This isn’t a situation either one of us could have anticipated. It’s not fair to you.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll stay. You need me and, to be honest, I’m not sure it’s safe for a woman to travel alone these days.” No more was said about the subject. Life went on much as it had before, but Lola no longer had the hope of making a full life for herself and her family in Chile. She would always be isolated. She’d been isolated on the plantation, but that was an isolation of space. Here in Santiago she lived in the midst of a large vibrant city, but she was only welcome where the people around her didn’t know she carried a British passport.

  Lola maintained a façade of normalcy, but some days she would catch sight of a woman crossing the street to avoid walking near her, and she would be close to tears by the time they reached home again.

  One day she saw Consuela walking toward her. She held her breath, hoping and praying she would say a pleasant “good day”—just a touch of normal human relations. To her surprise the woman stopped to look in a shop window just as Lola and her family approached.

  “Don’t look at me,” the woman said, with her back to Lola. Lola surrendered the pram to Inez and motioned her to keep walking with Joseph and the pram. Lola stopped to fuss with Estela’s shoe, careful to do so a few feet beyond Consuela.

  “Go home right away. The British destroyed the German ship Dresden while it was flying a white flag. The ship was disabled and sought shelter in a harbor at Más a Tierra, a Chilean island. The British violated Chilean neutrality. You may not be safe on the streets.” Without looking at Lola the woman walked away.

  “What was that lady talking about?” asked Estela.

  “Nothing important. She was talking to herself. Let’s catch up with the others and go home. Mommy has a headache.” Lola stopped all pretense of keeping up her daily routine. Cook was given money to buy food on her way to work each morning, and Lola waited impatiently for James to come home, but when he did come home, he was so tired and distraught that Lola hesitated to trouble him further. It took her several days to work up the courage to broach the subject of the Chilean attitude toward them.

  “Don’t worry, Lola. It’s just politics. The war won’t last forever, and then they’ll see that we’re good people. They’ll realize that my work made a difference for their country. In the meantime, just be patient with their silly rumors and suspicions.”

  “These silly rumors and suspicions are putting our lives in danger. The only woman willing to speak to me said I wasn’t safe because Britain destroyed a disabled ship flying a white flag in a Chilean harbor.”

  “I’m sure they don’t have the whole story. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t tell me not to worry. That’s what I tell Estela when she wonders why we stopped taking walks. I say that because she’s a child. I’m not a child. This isn’t gossipy women making up stories. This is war, and we’re caught on the wrong side of it.” James sat on the edge of the bed. “We came here to be safe. On the plantation we knew who our enemy was—and it was only one person. Here everyone is our enemy.”

  When James did not reply, she stopped her pacing and looked at him. His head was bowed and his shoulders were slumped. At least she had the children and Inez and the safety of her home. James was alone in a tent, surrounded by men who felt as her neighbors did. He had no safe haven except the days when he was home—and now she was making his home an unpleasant place to be. She knelt in front of him, and her voice was softer as she continued. “Please, James, find a way for us to go home. I can’t raise my children like this.”

  James stroked her hair. “Lola, you know I’d never do anything to endanger the children. You know how much you all mean to me.” Lola’s held her breath, hoping and praying that he would agree to take her home.

  “I signed a contract. I can’t go back on my word.”

  “Can’t go back on your word? What happened to your word to my father?”

  “That was different—our children were in danger there.”

  “James, our children are in danger here. This house has become a prison. How can you use the children as an excuse to break your word to my father, yet ignore their welfare to keep your word to people who are so unfriendly that they make your life miserable?”

  James’ lips thinned. “This is a question of personal honor.”

  “Damn you and your honor with you,” said Lola between her teeth as she rushed from the room. Her hands shook as she wiped her eyes and tried to calm herself. She froze, not knowing what to expect, as she heard James follow her.

  “Lola.” To her amazement, he was almost pleading. “There are forces at work here that are greater than you can imagine. The initial contract is for a year. I should be finished mapping the system in that time. I promise if things aren’t better by then, I’ll take you back to Peru.”

  “Another six months of this.”

  “It’ll be over before you know it.” Lola didn’t have the strength to reply. “I’m going to do some work on the Transandine Railway next week. If we can clear the tracks and make it operational again, perhaps we can go to Argentina by rail. Wouldn’t that be fun? The scenery is breathtaking—and you won’t get seasick.”

  “You’re leaving next week?”

  “Yes. A rock slide ruined a short stretch of track.”

  “Can’t they just send workers to clear the rocks? Why do you have to go?”

  “They want an engineer to see if something can be done to keep it from happening again. The line took years to build, and now it’s plagued by accidents. They want to know if it’s possible to build retaining walls, or maybe even reroute short sections of track. It’s a great opportunity for me.”

  A week later Lola sat on the bed with her legs tucked under her, watching
as James packed for his trip. She had his thick leather coat across her knees, running her hands across the soft fur lining of the hood. She wondered what the white snow would feel like on her face as it fell from the sky like rain.

  James got a revolver from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

  “You’re taking a gun?”

  “Yes, there are dangerous beasts in the mountains.” He looked at her and added, “all sorts of beasts: four-legged and two-legged.”

  Lola’s alarm intensified as he dismantled the gun and examined it closely. He ran an oiled rag over parts of it before putting it back together and tucking it into a shoulder holster. Lola’d never seen the gun before, and she was surprised at the ease with which he handled it.

  “It is an international border. There are always smugglers. Don’t worry. It’s just a precaution. We’ll have scouts with high-powered rifles, which are much more effective than this.”

  “What a comfort to know that even with a revolver you need a guard that’s even more heavily-armed.”

  “Yes, it is,” said James absently.

  “James, when we left Lima, did you know the British were going to blockade the entire coast of South America?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered. I mean, you made us leave so suddenly and I was...you know, not really strong.”

  James tucked the gun and holster into his pack and sat next to Lola. He took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes before speaking. “Yes, I knew the British had already sent naval vessels to form the blockade. Believe me, Lola; making you leave your home with our baby barely tasting life in this world was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” He looked down and stroked the back of her hand. “I was so worried about both of you. I was half crazy and blamed myself for not listening to them.”

  “Who didn’t you listen to?”

  “When I went to the Embassy in Lima to add Carlota to the passport, I was told a blockade was planned, and they advised me to leave my family in Lima.” His grip on Lola’s hand became almost painfully tight.

  “I couldn’t do it. The idea of leaving you in Lima and being away for so long was unbearable. Now I realize how selfish that was.

  “Can you forgive me for putting you in this situation?”

  “But if you knew it was dangerous, why did you come?”

  “It was my duty. I’d already signed a contract. Even the Secretary at the Embassy understood that. He merely suggested that I go alone.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

  “You could’ve been vague and hinted about dangers. Why didn’t you ask me?” One look at James’ expression answered her question—it never entered his mind to consult her. She didn’t remind him that he’d once valued her opinion. This wasn’t the time to start an argument. His last trip seemed to have added gray to his temples and lines to his face. He didn’t need an added burden of guilt as he set out on yet another arduous trip.

  “Never mind.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I would’ve come anyway,” she lied.

  XIV. July, 1915: Lola Age 21

  Lola breathed into her teacup, hoping the steam would rise and warm her face. She thought of poor James in the ice and snow of the Andes, and told herself to stop complaining and be thankful she had food, shelter, and healthy children. She took up her mending again. A knock on the door startled her. No one ever visited them. She opened the door and saw a man in a homburg and black topcoat. Standing slightly behind him was a larger man, more roughly dressed and carrying a huge bundle.

  “Señora Atkins?” asked the older man, removing his homburg.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m José Jimenez, from EFE, the Chilean Railway, and this is Raul.”

  “Won’t you come in?” Lola opened the door wider for them. It could only be bad news. For some reason she was not surprised.

  “Inez,” Lola called, “please ask Cook to make coffee before you come and join us. We have guests.” It was second nature to Lola to have another woman present if an unrelated man entered her house. It was obvious this was not a casual social call. Jimenez took a seat; Raul placed the bulky package on the floor and remained standing near the door. Jimenez rose as Inez entered the room and they all sat once more. Raul was looking at his feet, and Jimenez seemed stiff and uncomfortable.

  “Something’s happened to my husband,” said Lola, breaking the silence. She was again surprised by how calm she felt.

  Jimenez nodded. “I’m very sorry, Señora. There was a terrible accident—an avalanche. I’m sorry. The only consolation I can give you is that his death was mercifully swift.”

  “Can you tell me how it happened?” Lola didn’t know why she asked. Her husband was dead. What difference did it make now what had happened?

  ”Señora, it was all very sudden.” Raul spoke from his place by the door. “We were still making camp near a section of the rail that had been buried by a slide. Señor Atkins wanted to get a look at the hillside above the track. I warned him the slope could still be unstable.” Lola could picture James, impatient to get started with the work. “He said it was important to know if the rock was all on the bottom, indicating that the rock slide came first, or if the rocks were mixed with snow and ice. It was delicate work and he wanted to do it before the men began to disturb the site. He took a long pole and began working his way up the mountainside, making measurements. I watched him for a time, but once I saw how carefully he was climbing, I went back to helping get the camp ready. We were all cold and tired and there wasn’t much daylight left.” Raul paused. “We heard two shots.”

  Lola gasped and felt Inez put a hand on her arm.

  “Raul, that’s quite enough,” said Señor Jimenez. Raul fell silent and Jimenez began to explain away the last statement. “Sometimes the men get tired of canned and dried food. They sometimes hunt for rabbits and other small game in the mountains.”

  “We heard the shots,” said Raul, “and we all looked around because sometimes a loud noise can trigger an avalanche. Then we heard the roar above us and saw the snow on the side of the mountain begin to move. The men started shouting and grabbing whatever came to hand as they ran from the path of the avalanche.” Raul glanced at Jimenez. “When I looked for Señor Atkins, I saw him lying motionless in the snow. I know he was already dead.”

  “Raul.” There was no mistaking the anger in the voice. Jimenez turned to Lola. “Your husband was buried under tons of snow and rock. Everything happens so fast in such a disaster that people don’t always remember things the way they were. That region is known for its earth tremors. Even a small tremor could have caused your husband to lose his balance on such treacherous footing. It could also have started the avalanche. It was an unfortunate accident.”

  Raul continued his narrative. “We were lucky; the camp was at the very edge of the slide. We only lost three men--Señor Atkins and the two guides. The next morning we started for home because our supply tent had been carried away. Señor Atkins’s tent was one of the few that remained standing. I brought his personal effects.” He indicated the package at his feet.

  “Thank you, Raul.” Lola felt unnaturally calm, ignoring the tears that ran down her cheeks. “And thank you for bringing his belongings. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

  “Señora Atkins,” said Jimenez, “I want you to know how sorry we are for your loss. The EFE will honor the contract and pay you the salary remaining. We understand you have no family in Chile and we’ll do anything we can to help you in this trying time.” The man rose to leave.

  “Thank you, Señor Jimenez.” Lola walked the two men to the door. Raul hung back to let his employer precede him.

  “I know what I heard and what I saw, Señora,” he said softly as he turned to follow the other man.

  Inez put her arms around Lola and asked if she could do anything for her. Lola asked her to help her carry James’ things to the bedroom and give her some time alone. Sitting on
the bed, the package looked pitifully small, considering it was all that had returned from that fateful trip. It wasn’t even big enough to hold the fur-lined coat. Lola set the contents of the canvas bag out on the bed. There was a box of drawing instruments, some clothes, a razor and comb. Where was the gun? He must’ve had it with him. Strange that he thought he needed protection within sight of the camp. She started to fold up the bag and found a small book almost lost in the folds of the canvas. She took it out and flipped through the pages. They were filled with notes in James’ small, neat handwriting, interspersed with precise measurements labeling equally precise drawings. She set the book aside to read later.

  Somehow, she got through the rest of the day, and at last found herself alone with the journal. She grabbed the English/Spanish dictionary and propped herself up with pillows. The first few pages were very difficult, but she soon learned the most common words. James wrote about the land, the weather, and how these affected the rail beds. The descriptions corresponded to the trips he had taken. After each one there was a page or two with rows and rows of numbers, which Lola labeled “engineering scribbles.” And then Lola found a page that was more interesting. She slowly pieced together the meaning as she looked up unfamiliar words. James had realized that the Chileans were unfriendly because they didn’t trust him. “Raul is the only man who seems to take me at face value.” There followed more pages of engineering scribbles and drawings. She leafed through them quickly.

  The next page had a title written in block letters: Transandine Railway. James described the preparations for the trip and mentioned his pleasure that Raul would be going with him. There followed several pages of surprisingly poetic language describing the scenery as the rail line began its ascent into the Andes. There was a gap of several days, with the next entry discussing the first rack line. From there they continued their journey on foot, following the rails. There were more pages of engineering scribbles between descriptions of possible problems and their solutions. Lola’s eyelids grew heavy as she read the descriptions of the rail beds.