It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  Oh, God, it could happen now—maybe even tonight, or tomorrow night. Why had she been so blinded by greed that she refused to admit that the place could be raided?

  “Mrs. Ashton, I have to go. I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me.” Lola ran to the restaurant. She asked to see Johnny in private.

  “Hey, doll. What’re you doing here early? Did you quit your job already?”

  “No, that’s what I came here to do.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Johnny. I can’t do this.” Tears ran down her face. “I wanted to, I really did. I woke up this morning excited about it, but I just can’t.”

  “Did you really give it a chance, Lola? Why don’t you stay on for a while and think about it some more?”

  “No, it would be too much temptation for me to stand. I’m sorry, Johnny, you’ve been a good friend to me, and I appreciate it.” Lola extended her hand, expecting a handshake. He took her hand, pulled her close and kissed her.

  “If you change your mind, give me a call.” If he knew how close that kiss came to changing her mind, he would have kissed her again. It was hard, but she walked away.

  ~ ~ ~

  With two jobs, Lola had been too busy to visit the lawyer. Now she made an appointment. She prayed that he had an answer to his letter saying that Charlie was transferring the stocks back to her. If not, at least she had the money he needed to start the lawsuit. She walked into his office and knew from his face that his news was not good. Sinking into a chair, she took the letter he extended.

  Dear Mr. Brown,

  It is with deep regret that I cannot fulfill your request. Your client’s sister and her family departed for the United States several months ago to seek medical care for their daughter, Juliet. The child is being treated at the San Francisco General Hospital. The doctors here have given them no hope for her recovery. God willing, the doctors there will be more hopeful.

  I hope that you will persuade your client to give her sister comfort in her hour of need and not to pursue this matter at this time. Please, ask her to pray for them, not cause them more heartache.

  Respectfully,

  Juan Garcia, Attorney

  “He’s right. I can’t bother them about money now,” Lola said when she’d read the letter.

  “It’s your choice, Mrs. Wulf. It would be a painful time to bring legal action against your sister’s husband. However, it may be your only opportunity to force your position at a cost you can afford.”

  “I can’t do that to her,” whispered Lola. “She had so much trouble bearing children. I can’t even imagine how she must feel. This might be the only opportunity to take affordable legal steps, but it might also be the only opportunity I’ll ever have to become a real sister to Juana. In Juana’s place I would want a sister now.” She left the money and told Mr. Brown to begin drafting the papers, but not to file anything until she gave the word.

  The next day Lola asked Mrs. Ashton for a day off, explaining what she’d learned. When Lola arrived at the hospital, Juana’s face told her Juliet was not getting better. Tears filled her eyes as she ran to her sister and embraced her. “I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”

  “What? I’ve been begging you to come since we arrived. You never answered my letters.” Lola bit back her desire to say the same. Of course Juana hadn’t answered her letters—she’d been on her way here with a dying child. She explained briefly that she’d moved and the letters were probably all at Guttenberg Street. She spent the rest of the day comforting Juana and crying with her as the story of their desperate attempt to find a cure for Juliet unfolded. The quest took them from Lima to Quito, and finally to San Francisco. It was late when Lola finally left the hospital, promising to return right after work the next day. Tomorrow she’d take Charlie aside and talk to him about the stocks.

  The next day Lola went straight to the hospital from work. She was surprised to see Juliet’s room empty. A nurse directed her to the hospital chapel where she said the parents were talking to a priest. Lola ran to give what small comfort she could to her sister.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lola thought the sky itself was crying cold tears over the small funeral with its small coffin. She would wait and let them mourn before talking to Charlie. Meanwhile, she’d spend every spare minute with them to help them in their grief.

  Two days later when Lola arrived at their apartment, Charlie was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. He’d received a telegram from the manager of the mines, and he had to return to Ecuador immediately. Juana said she wasn’t going.

  “I can’t leave you alone here. How would you manage?”

  “And I can’t leave Juliet alone in that cold foreign cemetery. Don’t worry, I’m not alone now. I have Lola.”

  Lola promised Charlie she would look out for Juana. It would be wonderful to have a sister near her. The next Sunday Juana asked Lola to take her to church. Lola hesitated, but she finally told Juana of her reduced circumstances, explaining that she attended early mass to have some time with the children. She took the opportunity to beg Juana to intercede with Charlie in her next letter. Juana was shocked, of course, but agreed to help, saying she was just happy to have family around her.

  Lola introduced her sister to the children and was pleased to see that Charlotte captured Juana’s attention. The two walked around the church yard talking earnestly, leaving Lola to sit with Nellie and Harry.

  On the way home Juana asked if she could take Charlotte to live with her. “She’d make my life brighter, and she’d have the life she would’ve had if her father had lived. Do you know how miserable she is at that school?”

  Lola nodded, thinking of her weekly letters from Charlotte—pages and pages where she poured out her misery and unhappiness. It would probably be good for both of them. Charlotte would get away from the boarding school, and Juana would have someone with her. Soon Charlie would send money and Lola could bring all the children home. By then Juana would have recovered from the death of her own daughter, and Charlotte could come back.

  ~ ~ ~

  After several months with Juana, Charlotte’s letters were shorter and she seemed happier. Lola missed Charlotte dreadfully, but she consoled herself with the thought that at least Charlotte’s life had improved. Poor Estelle had come to see her only last weekend, bringing little Albert with her. It was wonderful to see her, but it broke her heart to know how unhappy her marriage was. The letters from Joe were short, infrequent, and told her almost nothing.

  The next morning she dressed with her usual care, trying to combat the dreary San Francisco day. The day seemed to last forever. Lola looked out the shop window at the endless rain. It was almost closing time, and it had been raining steadily since morning. It was unlikely there would be any more customers on a day like this, but closing time is closing time. Mrs. Ashton had gone home and left Lola to lock up.

  Lola heard the door open and gasped in surprise. “Bosun,” she said with a warm smile, “how did you find me?”

  “I didn’t have to find you. You were never lost.” He looked more like a bear than ever in the small feminine shop.

  Lola couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re wrong. I was very, very lost.”

  “We always knew where you were.” His voice was rough but low.

  “We?”

  “Yeah. We’d come sometimes when we were in port and watch you walk home after work.”

  A spark of the old anger flared. “You were spying on me?” She regretted her words as she saw the hurt surprise on the bosun’s face.

  “He only wanted to see your face and know that you were well.” Lola realized the bosun was speaking in the past tense.

  “Where is he? What happened to Wulf?” She grabbed the bosun’s coat with both hands as though she could shake the knowledge out of him.

  “NOOOO!” she screamed as she saw the bosun’s eyes fill with tears. “NOOOO!” she screamed again and beat his chest with her fists.

  ~ ~ ~

>   Lola opened her eyes and coughed. Her mouth was full of water, some running down her throat and some dripping down her chin. She swallowed and sputtered.

  “Are you all right, Miss? Is there anything I can do?” A man Lola had never seen before was bending over her with a concerned expression on his face. He was holding a glass with water. Lola looked around in a panic. She saw the familiar bulk of the bosun standing across the room.

  “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll be all right now.”

  “I’ll stay a little longer.” The man looked from Lola to the bosun and back again. “I was passing by and heard your screams,” he whispered.

  In spite of the memory that left her crushed with grief, she tried to smile at the man. She could imagine what he’d seen as he passed the shop: a large, roughly clad man holding a small woman who was beating him and screaming at him.

  “You’re a brave man to attempt a rescue against Seamus O’Neill. I truly appreciate your concern for a perfect stranger. However, I’m in no danger. He’s a friend of many years, and he brought me some bad news. I just reacted badly.” Lola’s eyes filled with tears as she said the words.

  “You see, sir, it’s just as I told you.” The bosun stepped closer.

  Lola gathered her things as the stranger kept his eye on the bosun. The two men watched as she locked the shop. They walked to the next block where the stranger, apparently satisfied, took his leave at the door of a restaurant.

  “Tell me what happened,” said Lola when they were seated.

  “Not yet. I can’t talk on an empty stomach and you need to settle your nerves.” He ordered a cup of tea for Lola and waited until it came before ordering dinner for them both. As they waited he told her that Maggie sent her love. The latest letter from Pedro said he was doing well and his wife just had a baby boy. Lola tried desperately to shut off her anxiety and choke out her congratulations for Pedro.

  Much later, after the waiter cleared away the remnants of the bosun’s meal and Lola’s soup and served them coffee, the bosun began to speak in slow quiet sentences. “I don’t know what happened between you, and I don’t need to know. Wulf only said he’d crossed a line, and he knew you’d never forgive him.”

  “It wasn’t a question of forgiveness.” Lola didn’t want the bosun to think she left from anger, but she didn’t elaborate.

  “He never talked about the time he spent in jail here, but one night he was staying at the house with Maggie and me, and he woke us all up with his screaming. I poured him a stiff drink or two and he told me more. He said the whole time he was in prison he was going crazy with thoughts of you. He’d see another prisoner and that night he’d have a nightmare that you were with that man, laughing and kissing—or worse. Some nights the man with you was one of the guards. He knew it wasn’t true because the men whose faces he saw were here and you were in Peru, but the nightmares wouldn’t stop.

  “He thought he’d be all right when he got back to Peru and you were still there waiting for him, but after a time the nightmares found him again. They came to him when he was out in the ocean, unable to reach over and feel your nearness. He knew they were only his own fears, but he couldn’t stop them. He said it was a sickness that was poisoning his mind. He told me you were right to leave him.”

  “It wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

  “After you left, he began to drink. Every time he had shore leave he’d come back to the ship with a black eye or a busted lip or something. He’d never been a brawler; he’d always turned jolly and happy with a few drinks. Now it seemed he was seeking out brawls, or even starting them himself. I bribed the first mate to give us shore leave at the same time, and I stuck to him like glue.” The bosun smiled briefly. “He asked me if I was his guardian angel or his baby sitter.

  “The last trip was an Alaska run. It was colder than a witch’s… sorry. It was really cold. Then a storm blew up out of nowhere. It got so cold your eyeballs would freeze if you faced the wind. The ice built up on the ship and men worked around the clock to keep it down. The weight of ice can change the balance of a ship. That can be dangerous in heavy seas. We’d go out on deck with axes and chop away at the ice. We could only work a few minutes and then go inside to get warm and someone else would go out. We had to keep the hatches free, too, or we’d’ve been prisoners inside a wallowing ship. The deck was slippery as glass in places. It was a living hell.

  “You go out on deck and find a place to stand, swing the ax and break off some ice, move a step, swing the ax again. The wind stings your eyes and the tears freeze on your face. The moisture in your breath freezes on your beard. All the while you have to gauge the pitch and roll of the ship to keep your balance.” Lola shuddered and cupped her hands around her warm cup as his words drew the image in her mind.

  “Wulf was in the wheelhouse with the captain. They’d given up any thought of staying on course; they were working to keep the ship headed into the wind, so she wouldn’t wallow in the troughs. The waves were like nothing I’d ever seen. Even as big as we were, the waves broke over the deck. They called us in off ice duty when that started. It was too dangerous on deck.

  “Shortly after dawn the storm seemed to blow itself out. It took me and two others just as big to force the hatch open. It was like the whole ship was made of ice and the fog was so dense you couldn’t see the surface of the sea from the deck. It was eerie.

  “The sick bay was overflowing, but no one’d been killed. We grabbed our axes and started in on the ice again. It was bitter cold but the wind had died. I guess some of the boys forgot how slippery everything was.

  “Wulf was on deck seeing how much damage we had and how much work it’d be to get the ice cleared enough to get underway again.” The bosun drained his cup and looked at it, perhaps wishing it were something stronger. “One of the new recruits yelled as he swung his ax at the ice. We all knew what he was feeling. He was taking out all his fear and anger on that piece of ice, swinging the ax with all his strength. The angle was wrong, and the ax just glanced off the ice. Between the slippery footing and the force of the blow, somehow he went over the rail with the ax. It all happened so fast...” The bosun stared into space, obviously reliving the events as he described them.

  “How dreadful.” Lola wanted him to go on, yet she was afraid to hear his next words.

  “Wulf grabbed a line and jumped in after the kid. I don’t know how, but he found the boy. Like I said, we couldn’t even see the surface through the fog. We heard Wulf yell ‘Haul!’ and we hauled in the line. The line was wrapped around the body of the boy.” The bosun’s voice broke and tears rolled down his cheeks. Lola choked on her own sobs and reached for the bosun’s hand. “We called out to Wulf and lowered boats to look for him, but…” Lola saw his chest convulse with silent sobs. “A man can only last a couple of minutes in water that cold,” he whispered.

  The two sat, drawing comfort from each other for many minutes. At last the bosun drew a deep breath and stood, heading for the bathroom. He emerged with his hair slicked back with water from washing his face. He gestured to the waiter for more coffee.

  Lola was still trying to digest what she’d just heard. She was more composed by the time the coffee came. The bosun pulled a folded paper from an inside pocket.

  “The captain gave me this after the memorial service.” He handed her the paper. He poured the coffee as she read:

  I, Herman Wulf, declare this to be my last will and testament.

  Any money that I have should go to my beloved wife, Lola. I hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me, now that I can no longer do her harm.

  The house at 233 Guttenberg Street, San Francisco, California, I leave to my best friend, Seamus Tomas O’Neill and his wife, Maggie. I leave him this house knowing that it will always be a place of shelter and comfort for my wife and children. I trust Seamus to see to their well being in a way that I was not able to do.

  I also leave my sextant and any other tools of my trade to my friend, Seamus,
in the hope that it will inspire him to gain his own certification as a navigator.

  Signed Herman A. Wulf

  Signed and witnessed by me this second day of November, 1924.

  Lola blinked tears from her eyes several times before she finished reading. The captain had witnessed it with an illegible signature.

  “Me and Maggie was going to fix up the house for you and the kids, but there was another family living there. I’m sorry, Lola, we tried but the house had been sold for taxes. Wulf wasn’t no good with things like that. I really wish we could of got it fixed up for you.”

  Lola closed her eyes and thought about the house. The vision that came to her was that of a knife quivering in the wall with blood dripping until it pooled and spread. She shuddered and opened her eyes.

  “Thank you, Seamus. You and Maggie are wonderful friends and I love you both.”

  The bosun walked Lola home. When they reached the YWCA, he took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. “There’s not much in there. I told you he was drinking a lot.” He rose to leave. “Just remember, you and yours are always welcome under our roof. You belong there. You’re one of us—now and always.”

  “Thank you,” said Lola softly, blinking away a fresh flow of tears. “Give Maggie my love.”

  “Be well.” The bosun kissed the top of her head before leaving.

  That night Lola prayed that God would find a place in heaven for Wulf’s tortured soul. She expected to dream of him, but she didn’t. The next day she felt oddly at peace, as though she had been released from a burden of guilt. She looked at the paper the bosun had left with her. Within that single sheet of his will lay her absolution. Wulf understood.

  After work Lola went to the school and Mother Superior arranged to have Nellie and Harry brought to the office. It wasn’t easy, but Lola explained that their father had done a very brave thing and saved a young man’s life, but in the process he had lost his own. She was very grateful for the support of the kind nun who comforted her as much as the children. She also told them she would not be seeing them on Sunday because she had to visit Juana and talk to Charlotte.