“Well …”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” the priest interrupted.
“It belonged to my great-grandmother, and it was a gift.”
“I see—she must have been an extraordinary woman for a cardinal to gift her this piece.” The priest had a smirk on his face, and he nodded his head. “It’s OK; we are aware within the Catholic church that some cardinals had friendships during their tenure. Nothing untoward or scandalous, by the way.”
She tried to change the topic and said, “We have come here to have it blessed today.”
“I don’t think I am worthy of that; only another cardinal or the Pope can bless it.”
“Who blessed this pellegrina originally?”
“Oh yes, all pellegrinas are blessed by the pontiff before they are issued—this one would have been no different.”
“Oh, my goodness. I had no idea.” Clarisse sighed in awe of what she had learned.
“But there is nothing wrong with saying a prayer to reconnect with God,” said the priest.
“Can we do that with you?” Clarisse asked.
“Of course you can. Why don’t we kneel here and all three of us hold the pellegrina while I make a special prayer?”
They all kneeled on the steps of the altar while the priest raised the pellegrina above his shoulders, towards the cross of Jesus Christ overlooking the altar. It was a special prayer delivered in Latin. Although Harry and Clarisse did not understand the prayer, they liked it and felt it befitting of the pellegrina.
“My dear, you have a note in your hand with a prayer written down—do you want to say those devoted words?” the priest said.
“Yes, my uncle Pablo will be happy with that,” Clarisse said. She took the paper note with the prayer and read it in her language.
“Those are gracious words, my dear, and only a cardinal could have written them,” the priest said.
Clarisse and Harry looked at one another in dismay. Had the elderly priest stumbled onto something they had missed altogether?
“Was Elena’s prayer originally written by the cardinal?” Clarisse whispered to Harry.
The elderly priest had to leave and excused himself, thanking both of them for the pleasure of touching the original pellegrina.
“Oh, and by the way—did I mention I am a religious historian for the church?”
“No,” Clarisse responded.
“The initials AJR stand for Antonio Junior Rodriguez—cardinal of South Manila. He became one of our most respected cardinals in the Vatican.” He bowed to the pellegrina and nodded to both of them before making his way to the back of the church.
They both took a seat at the front pew and reflected on what had just happened. They had come to Manila Cathedral to bless the pellegrina, and through fate, they met an elderly priest who recognised the symbolic cloth. And not only did he appreciate its significance—but he was also able to trace the initials back to the owner: a famous and well-respected cardinal noted in historical records.
Mystified by the experience and chance encounter with the priest, Clarisse kneeled before the altar and performed the sign of the cross. A tear gently rolled down her face as they walked to the entrance. They did not say anything—comfortable with the information they had received from the elderly priest. It vindicated the story of Elena and how the pellegrina fell into the family’s hands. They walked past the main entrance holding hands while Harry comforted her in the best way he could; understanding that superstition can have its foundations in real events unbeknown to anyone.
They left the church for the Spanish fort of Intramuros. The cathedral was walking distance to the fort, so they set off on foot.
“Oh, look there, a Spanish horse cart. Want to go for a ride?” Harry said.
The driver waved in their direction to encourage them. “Sure, Harry, I have not been on a kalesa since I was a child.” She took hold of his arm, tugging it so they could catch a ride.
“What is a kalesa?” Harry asked.
“It’s what we call a single horse-drawn cart, and it comes from our Spanish heritage.”
“It’s perfect for the walled city because it’s laid out in the old Spanish way.”
The streets were paved with old black stone and the houses built with the same distinct Spanish architecture of the time.
They stepped inside the kalesa and took their seats next to each other. It had two wheels and two rows of chairs that could accommodate four people. The driver was sitting on a block of wood located at the front of the cart near the horse. With the crack of his whip, the carriage started rolling at a steady pace through the Spanish street. The original stone road built was bumpy in parts, and it jolted them around the seat. Harry didn’t mind because with every bump, Clarisse was closer to him to the point they were almost cuddling.
The driver asked where they were heading. Clarisse informed him to go towards the old Spanish fort two blocks away. In the meantime, the kalesa took a tourist route through the old Spanish quarter, and it was like being in another country. The ride in the horse-drawn cart had made Clarisse forget about their encounter in the cathedral. She was looking forward to the rest of her day with Harry at the walled city.
“Here we are.” Harry gave the driver a tip, and they made their way to the old Spanish fort.
“You can see the entrance of the Pasig River,” Clarisse said.
The fort was damaged during the Second World War, and parts of it had been restored to its original architecture. However, for Harry, it was a journey through history that triggered his senses. He liked being part of the past—preferring to see it first-hand rather than reading about it in history books with flashy pictures.
“It’s like being in the middle of a Spanish town, but we are in South-East Asia,” Harry said.
“I have never been here before, and I can’t believe how nice it is.” Clarisse pointed to the Spanish guard wearing the uniform of a conquistador. He was handing out brochures to the tourists with an appealing smile. “Come to think about it, my friends have never been here; it would never have crossed their minds to visit.”
“Something only the tourist does—right?”
“Yeah, something like that. But Harry, I want to thank you for taking me here. I feel immersed in my culture and heritage.”
“It’s no problem, I’m happy to be your tour guide for the day.” They both laughed and kept walking towards the main entrance of the Spanish fort.
Harry picked up a brochure and waved to the guard at the main gate while other tourists took photos. He opened the first page of the brochure and read the introduction to Clarisse.
Fort Santiago is a citadel first built by Spanish navigator and governor Miguel López de Legazpi for the newly established city of Manila in the Philippines. The defence fortress is part of the structures of the walled city of Manila referred to as Intramuros.
The fort is one of the most important historical sites in Manila. Several lives were lost in its prisons during the Spanish Empire and World War II. José Rizal, one of the Philippine national heroes, was imprisoned here before his execution in 1896. The Rizal Shrine museum displays memorabilia of the hero in their collection and the fort features, embedded onto the ground in bronze, his footsteps representing his final walk from his cell to the location of the actual execution.
It is only a few metres away from the Manila Cathedral and the Palacio del Gobernador. (Wikipedia.org)
“I studied this at school, but I can’t say I remember it that well. It feels different being here—the way you read that makes it even more interesting.”
“Want to take a seat in that garden café, next to the souvenir shop?” Harry said. He was starting to get peckish and felt like an iced tea.
“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a drink. It’s sticky and humid today.”
“I’m not used to this weather.” He pinched his polo top to show the uncomfortable sweat that was starting to build on his back.
Clarisse laughed. “The
re is a fan in that café—it will cool you down.”
“Well, guess what? I’m going to sit right in front of it.”
They made their way to the small café and sat down next to the fan.
“Tomorrow is your last day,” Clarisse said.
“Thanks for the reminder—I’m not looking forward to leaving. I may not have a job to go back to.”
“I’m sure you’re overplaying it. It’s not the first time someone has overstayed a holiday.”
“If they want to get rid of me, that’s fine. I will catch the next flight back here, to the City of Affection.” Harry was silent and paused for a while. The possibility of losing his job was a dilemma. But nothing made him feel more anxious than the thought of leaving Clarisse behind. His affection for her had grown considerably in the last week. There was nothing about her he disliked, except for the superstitions—that was something he was going to have to live with.
“I have something from my mother; she asked me to give it to you before you leave.”
“Your mother … really?” Harry shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “I thought your mother didn’t …”
“Didn’t like you?” Clarisse placed an ornate gold cross in his hand. “It will remind you of my family.”
“Clarisse, this gold cross is too much—your mother shouldn’t have.”
“I know she was hard on you. However, she realised you’re a perfect gentleman and how you respect me.” She put the cross in the palm of his hand and gently closed it. “She wanted you to have it. Here … keep it in a safe place.”
Harry was stunned into silence and didn’t know what to say. All he could do was admire the gold cross in his hand.
“I can’t remember the last time someone gave me something special like this before. I know it came from the heart and I want you to thank your mother—tell her I will always wear it.”
Clarisse burst into tears and put her head on his chest.
“I don’t want you to leave, Harry. Stay a little longer?”
Harry paused and thought about what he was about to say. He put his arms around her. It was going to be difficult for Clarisse to let Harry go; even if it wasn’t permanently, it still made her feel sick.
“I have already overstayed my holiday, Clarisse, and could lose my job. I need to go back home—I need you to be strong.”
“I know … you have done a lot already—I should be less selfish,” Clarisse said.
“I will come back.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, it’s only an eight-hour flight away—it’s a small world.” Harry smiled and nodded.
They ordered tea and spent the next hour talking about all sorts of things. They enjoyed each other’s company and the conversation flowed naturally. That is what made their relationship work and grow freely. They liked sitting around and discussing a variety of issues—even the history lessons from Harry were entertaining and animated in the way he presented them.
After they finished the tour of the old Spanish fort, they decided to rest before meeting for dinner in Manila Bay. Clarisse wanted Harry to see the sunset over the bay that had become a popular place for lovers.
During the tour of the fort, Clarisse asked Harry to stand by one of the old original cannons overlooking the entrance to the Pasig river. It was a picturesque view overlooking the entrance to Manila Bay. Harry stepped onto the platform holding the barrel and posed with a two-finger salute. Clarisse thought it was funny—the cheeky side of him was coming out.
They moved on to the gallows where an iron-gated entrance provided a backdrop for an eerie feeling. This was the place where prisoners were incarcerated in atrocious conditions awaiting execution by firing squad. Harry walked up to the gate and grasped hold of it, looking into the blackness of the underground prison. He could imagine the screams of hundreds of people that had passed through this guardhouse incarcerated and about to die. Harry asked Clarisse to take a photo of him standing next to the iron gate, but she refused—concerned about upsetting the spirits of the dead. It was another superstition he had to accept and let be.
“I think it’s time we left,” said Clarisse.
“Yes, we should prepare for Manila Bay.”
Harry hailed down a kalesa at the front entrance of the fort. They would return to the cathedral where cabs were parked waiting for passengers. It was the same kalesa that brought them to the fort—the driver recognised them and smiled. Clarisse provided Harry with instructions on how to get to Manila Bay from his hotel by offering a Google-Maps link on his phone of the exact drop-off. It was a twenty-minute drive by cab. They would meet at five in the afternoon in front of the main entrance to the Mall of Asia—directly in front of Manila Bay Walk.
Harry managed to find his way to the Mall of Asia after deciding to use a trusted hotel driver instead of catching a cab. He stood at the entrance to the great mall and waited for Clarisse to arrive. It was a busy shopping complex with swarms of people going in and out. It was popular with foreigners, who made him feel more comfortable—that is, he was not the only one who looked different.
Clarisse arrived by cab and was ten minutes late. Harry understood what the traffic was like in Manila and did not mind waiting. They decided to walk briskly from the Mall of Asia to Manila Bay as the sun was starting to set. They probably had twenty minutes left before it got dark. Clarisse was confident they would make it in time to see the final stage of the sunset. They walked from the mall to the overpass leading directly to the bay. Harry could see the picturesque bay walk in front of him.
It was a typical warm night with a very slight sea breeze, and not a cloud in sight. The sunset was a blend of perfect red and orange rays reflecting across the bay. The colour became more intense as the sun descended further over the horizon. Harry could not get over the size of the sun; it resembled a brilliant orange hanging from a tree. Couples lined up the main pathway everywhere—some standing and holding hands while others sat under trees holding each other.
Not far from where they stood was a small barrier no more than half a metre high. It was an old stone wall that protected people from the rocky entrance to the bay. Harry jumped on the wall with one big leap and positioned himself to get a better view.
“It looks better up here,” Harry said, lifting both his arms in the air. “Here, give me your hand.”
Clarisse thought about it at first and then succumbed to his charm. “OK … don’t let go.”
He lifted her onto the stone wall, careful not to lose their footing.
“It does look better up here—don’t let go,” she said.
Other couples that looked on thought it was a good idea and followed suit. Jumping onto the stone wall was more adventurous, and it caught on quickly. All of a sudden, more than ten couples stood on the wall and raised their arms while taking selfies with their phone.
Harry held Clarisse around the shoulder while she placed her head on his chest. Nature’s beauty was doing most of the talking—the sun was drowning into the endless sea as the warm rays of orange and red protruded through the small line of clouds like a scene from heaven. Harry had never seen a sunset like this before; he did not live near the equator, and the tilt of the Earth provided a unique intensity that made Manila Bay special at this time of day.
11 The cleansing
Clarisse received a call from her mother early in the morning that Marjorie had taken ill and was in hospital. Marlita did not explain what the illness was or how Marjorie got sick. The only information she provided was that Marjorie collapsed in the backroom next to the scarlet chair.
She did not need any further clarification and could read between the lines. Marjorie had attempted to access the energy of the scarlet chair. For some unknown reason, Marjorie had had a strong feeling that something was about to happen and sought a premonition from the scarlet chair. Clarisse felt confused—Marjorie had not met her chatmate personally; they were only talking to each other on Skype. Was there something else in her
life she was not aware of? Was Marjorie keeping a secret? Why would she go to such lengths to use the negative energy of the chair after what Clarisse had already suffered? Marjorie was always out there, pushing the boundaries and taking unnecessary risks. Even though she witnessed the effects of the scarlet chair on Clarisse first-hand, it would not have prevented her from trying it out herself. Maybe she was naïve and just wanted to see if the superstition about the chair was real. With her light-hearted approach to life, one could never know what Marjorie was thinking.
Clarisse was undecided whether to take the first available bus back home to see Marjorie. However, she faced another problem—Harry was leaving at 9:30 p.m. that evening and had to be at the airport by 6 p.m. Getting back to Manila would require a quick turnaround. It depended on the bus not encountering unusual traffic delays—something that could not be guaranteed any time of the year. For Clarisse to have enough time to get to the airport with Harry meant everything had to run smoothly. That said, she would have a three-hour turnaround to see her mother and Marjorie before returning.
Clarisse picked up her mobile phone and looked up Harry’s number.
“Maybe I should say nothing to Harry about the sudden need to go home?” she said with her fingers on the dial pad. “I don’t want to cause him any worry on his last day.” They had arranged to meet in front of the hotel at 5:30 p.m. and travel to the airport together. If everything went according to plan, she would meet her deadline, and there would be no need for explanations. She knew how sceptical Harry was about the superstition.
“Damn … I can’t lie to him.” Clarisse immediately dialled Harry’s number.
“Harry, it’s me, Clarisse. I need to say something important.” Her voice cracked as she prepared to tell him the news.
“Sure, Clarisse, what is it?” Harry could sense her discomfort from the tone in her voice.
“I just got word from my mother that Marjorie is in hospital. I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean, Clarisse? She is a close friend and has done so much for you.”
The Girl in the Scarlet Chair: A New Adult and Clean Romance with Supernatural Elements (City of Affection - Book 1) Page 12
