Orchid House

by Cindy Martinusen-Coloma

  “I’m not supposed to go,” she said, and knew it was true. Grandfather Morrison had known it as well. “I will stay.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “No, you have to go back. It isn’t safe right now. But know this, Julia. I have fallen in love with you in a way that I’ve never known before.”

  She felt it too, encompassed by this love that rose so surprising and true. When had it happened exactly? she wondered. It seemed to have started the moment they met, but only in retrospect did they see it. As if their souls had found each other, but their minds didn’t realize until it was slowly revealed.

  “I am in love with you too, Mr. Santos, my attorney-at-law.”

  “As your attorney, I must advise you against falling in love with a Filipino man. Especially this particular one, who has fallen so deeply he will never want to let you go.”

  “Then don’t. Don’t send me back.”

  Markus groaned. “It doesn’t make sense for this to happen now. If you stayed and something happened to you . . . Your family received a death threat! Those are not jokes here. You must go back to the States.”

  So quickly, her happiness soured within her. How could she leave when she’d found this? “Then how do we give us a chance? Long-distance relationships are hard enough.”

  “I will wait for you, find a way for us. But what about Nathan? It doesn’t sound over between the two of you. You might change your mind when you get back.”

  “It has been over with Nathan for a long time. Just lately, when it became a possibility, I was unsure. But being here, I know for certain that he and I are finished.”

  Julia couldn’t imagine being back in California now, away from the hacienda. “I don’t want to go. And you know, if we are apart, you could be the one to change your mind.”

  “No. If I commit to you, then I’m committed, Julia. It’s just how I am. And I want to be the man . . . well, it’s crazy to say all these things so quickly, and with you going in the morning.”

  She came close to him and lifted her eyes to his. “Say them. Your words may be our chance to make it while apart. Let’s say everything, and have those words to keep us strong until we’re together again.”

  HE HEARD ABOUT IT WHEN HE WOKE. TONIGHT HE HAD PLANNED to take night duty, but instead the news kept him in his hammock with his face turned toward the wall.

  Emman couldn’t believe Miss Julia was really leaving.

  She was leaving without him.

  MARKUS LEFT WHEN THEY RETURNED FROM THEIR NIGHT WALK, saying it wasn’t good-bye yet. He’d take her to her flight, but he needed to get all the final documents ready for her to sign first.She would have dual power over the hacienda, even though she’d be in the States. But until she left, they needed to keep that information private.

  Mang Berto waited outside the car, shining the paint or windows from time to time as the engine idled smoothly. It was about six in the morning, but there was no dawn on the horizon and still no stars in the sky. Some of Julia’s baggage had already been tucked inside the car’s trunk.

  Julia walked through the courtyard and then onto the lawn. There was no movement in the dense foliage. At least three children should be there, guarding their doña with the seriousness of secret service agents. But no one came out, even to say good-bye.

  “Salamat, Emman,” she called toward the jungle. Still no movement at all.

  The Tres Lolas had packed more things for her to take home to the States than Julia knew what to do with. As Raul carried the boxes to the car, Julia saw Emman come from the trees and jog toward the house, then down the side pathway to the back. He carried the rifle on his shoulder as naturally as any army soldier. He didn’t look her way or wave his usual greeting, or grant a farewell.

  Raul closed the trunk of the car. “Are you ready, Mang Berto?”

  “Yes, we are ready,” he said, patting the door with his rag before opening the door for Julia.

  The Tres Lolas and Aling Rosa hugged her with streams of tears falling down their faces. They hadn’t spread the word far about her departure. It would cause too much attention and might compromise her safety further.

  “We never made the Orchid Cake,” Lola Gloria said sadly.

  “Make it for the cousins and for Markus. And we’ll have it again when I return,” Julia said weakly, knowing none of them had much faith in that happening any time soon.

  The car’s engine came smoothly to life, and Emman suddenly appeared in the front yard. Julia looked for a way to roll down the window to say good-bye, but he turned away without smiling. She wondered if it was too dark or if the windows were too tinted to see in. Emman ran determinedly down the road and disappeared into the jungle.

  Julia found the handle and rolled down the window, calling him too late. “What’s Emman doing?”

  “He took his job of protecting you very seriously,” Mang Berto answered simply.

  Raul, sitting beside her, had no comment.

  “Yes, I know. And he did his job well. So why won’t he say good-bye?”

  Mang Berto shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps it is too painful.”

  The car moved slowly down the driveway and through the gates to the hacienda house, then drove down the road. They approached the main iron gate to Hacienda Esperanza. Emman stood opposite the side of the security guard with a stern and worried expression.

  “Mang Berto, please stop for a moment.”

  Mang Berto pulled the car up beside the boy, and Julia stepped out.

  “Good-bye, Emman.”

  “Good-bye, Miss Julia.”

  “I hope to be back soon. Is there anything from Manila or the States that I can send back to you?”

  There came no response, no wide smile or acknowledgement of her. “Come now, Emman, don’t be that way.”

  Emman ran ahead again, his gun on his shoulder and out of sight.

  “Well, should we proceed?” Mang Berto asked.

  “In a moment.” Julia couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

  Raul watched from the car. “He’s from the Barangay. His life is here. It’s an adventure when he goes to San Pablo.”

  “I should have taken him to Manila. Maybe you or Markus could show him the city.”

  The men didn’t respond, and Julia returned to her seat in the vehicle. “Those kids should play and dream and, I don’t know . . .be children, I guess.”

  It was Mang Berto who replied. “There are no easy answers. I am sure for an American it is shocking. Even for most Filipinos it would be quite savage. But for us at the Hacienda Esperanza, it is different. Man was perhaps created equally, but he is not born equally. And each man must find his own place in his own station and take pride and honor in the life he has. Are your American children better humans or adults for living the American lifestyle?”

  Julia thought of the stereotypes that were often sweepingly true: spoiled rich kids, undisciplined children, the allure of drugs in every rung of the social ladder. How were those lives better because instead of growing up with a wooden gun on their shoulders and learning respect and honor, those children played video games and soccer?

  “I still can’t get myself to like or accept it.”

  Raul nodded. “It is understandable. Be careful with them, Miss Julia. Be careful with Emman and the others.”

  How, exactly, was she to do that?

  Julia recalled Emman standing solemnly in his cut-off pants and faded T-shirt by the hacienda gate. She tried to envision him in trendy jeans and a rock band T-shirt with a skateboard in his hand. She wondered even more what Emman would think of the skyscrapers of Manila, of an art exhibit by Picasso or Degas. The image was nearly impossible to conjure, yet it thrilled her despite her reservations.

  “I guess we should go,” she said. As they drove away she looked back and saw Emman standing in the center of the road. He began running after them, and then they turned a corner and left the boy behind.

  Just then the car halted again. Another driver com
ing toward them motioned them over. Markus.

  His car was a strange gray color, and he left it running as he came to Julia’s window. “I was afraid I would miss you.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You can’t go to Manila. The volcano has caused catastrophic damage. The city is a mess, flights are being cancelled, and there are rumors of another coup attempt.”

  Julia jumped from the car and into Markus’s arms. “I guess you can’t get rid of me so fast.”

  “As if I wanted to.”

  Julia saw someone approaching from the corner of her eye. “Emman!” she called. “Your work is not done. I’m staying.”

  “Well, until the next flight,” Markus said with regret in his tone. “But we’ll take every day we have.”

  “Oh no, I’m staying. This was the answer I was looking for.”

  Markus and Raul glanced at each other.

  “Unless my presence causes a problem or danger for anyone else?”

  “No, it will not.” It was Emman who spoke, standing proudly and biting his lip to keep from smiling. The morning was coming though it was such a strange reddish gray world; the tiny flakes started so subtly that they nearly didn’t notice.

  “Look, Emman. It’s snowing.” Julia put out her hand.

  “It’s ash from the volcano,” Markus explained. “It’s covering most of the Philippines and is expected to go across the South China Sea to Cambodia and Vietnam.”

  “First time that I see snow.” Emman copied her with his hand palm up; then he inspected his hand. “We cannot make a snow-man. Maybe an ash-man?”

  Julia laughed. “It’s Philippine snow. And the miracle of it is also the miracle of my new life at Hacienda Esperanza.”

  SHE WASN’T LEAVING. IT COMPLICATED MATTERS. AND YET HE WAS also strangely proud of her. The American did have Filipina blood in her after all.

  It was not what his superiors wanted. There would immediately come orders that Manalo would not follow, and yet someone else might. He had to tread carefully, and there was only the slightest chance for full success.

  But regardless of the outcome, in a few days, his family would be free to live as they deserved. And for that, Manalo would know his life had not been in vain.

  THEY EITHER HAD FORGOTTEN HE WAS IN THERE, OR THEY THOUGHT he was asleep. Emman heard them right outside his window. Only a mosquito netting covered the opening, so he heard every word.

  “What are they going to do about it?”

  “What are they? We shouldn’t wait for anyone. We should take care of it, since he was our friend.”

  It sounded like his cousins and their friends.

  “Tell Rigo what you told me.”

  “It was the Red Bolo group. Ka Manalo is the leader. They think Artur was probably tortured before they killed him.”

  Emman sat up. His hammock rocked, and he put out his hand to stop it from hitting the window ledge.

  “You don’t think we should wait for orders?”

  “Why should we? Would they have waited at our age?”

  “Then let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  You almost left without saying good-bye,” Amang Tenio said, walking into the room where Julia had been staring at the telephone and rehearsing how she’d tell her mother and then Nathan that she wasn’t coming home.

  “Hello,” she greeted him. “Come in—or should we go outside?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Outside sounds good.”

  As they walked through the house, she said, “I am sorry for that, for the abrupt departure that so quickly became a return.”

  They settled at the outside table, and he immediately pulled out a large pipe with deep carvings covering the dark wood.

  “I am told that you plan to remain here.”

  She paused a moment, wondering if he approved. “Yes. I would like very much to do that.”

  “Good. I was just discussing it with my friend Father Tomas, praying for ideas to make it so.”

  Julia found the combination intriguing. “You and Father Tomas are friends?”

  “We have been great friends for many years. We debate theology and the subject of peace and war. You might be surprised to discover that we hold many same beliefs. I light candles upon entering the church and ask for redemption through the Son of God. Father Tomas would like to make me a fullfledged respectable Catholic without my ‘warlock robes’ as he calls them, most lovingly of course. And I would like to get the Father a bit out of his stiff collars and onto the veranda to smoke pipes and marry him off to one of my sisters. We do disagree about some things.”

  “Where is Berdugo?” Julia asked, finding it strange to see Amang Tenio without his beloved rooster resting in his left arm. He seemed oddly thinner or missing something.

  “I think that bird of mine believes himself the king of the Barangay Mahinahon. Today he remained in his cage and gave me a look of great disdain when I told him I’d be coming to town. I didn’t mind too much, for his royal highness gets pretty heavy for an old crippled man to carry.” From around the handle of his cane, he unhooked a silver chain.

  “Julia, I have something for you,” he said. “Even though you may be staying now, I want you to have this to remember Barangay Mahinahon, the village of apes, monkeys, and most certainly guerrillas.” He handed her a small silver pendant in the shape of a square.

  “Thank you very much.” Julia felt Amang Tenio’s pleased smile all through her. She latched the hook around her neck, then held the cool silver in her hand.

  “Raul told me that Captain Morrison mentioned in his letters how sharp you are in business, how successful you were in your company.”

  Julia thought how meaningless it sounded now, compared to the heritage of this place. She’d risen up the corporate ladder until she no longer cared and fell right back down. “Yes, I was successful . . . for a while.”

  Amang Tenio reached a moment to stroke the rooster that was absent in his arms. He looked down in surprise, chuckled to him-self, and gazed a long while over the green fields.

  “You also found Elena’s orchid.”

  “Yes.”

  Amang Tenio pointed out to the land. “Iha, you have seen how the Barangay renews itself through our young, the old fighters passing their skills to their children. It was the same for the leadership of the hacienda as a whole. The times ahead belong to the new generation, to the children of its former leaders. I have talked to your cousins as much since they were children with the hope that every new generation learns from the mistakes of its predecessors. Children are always the new hope.

  “We needed the Captain; the land needed him to heal. But he did not come as we wanted. But you came, Julia,” Amang Tenio said meaningfully, looking at her sideways.

  “But—” She wanted to argue about such a grand role, but he put up his hand to keep her silent.

  “You should have known these things before. You see, the time of your elders has passed. Many have hung their hopes on you. Hoping you would take a stand. They look to you to be the person your grandfather was, or someone of similar quality. Hoping that there is enough blood of the Captain in you to make you care about the hacienda as he did. I know it’s an unfair expectation.”

  Amang Tenio’s nearly black eyes stared deeply into hers. “This is why Raul seems to have mixed emotions concerning you. One part of him wanted to believe you were the long-awaited hope, while another part felt he was only fooling himself and irritated that people were hanging their hopes on an American with no real connection to the land. And yet deep inside, he also hoped you could do something—though he doesn’t even know what.” Amang Tenio paused, deep in thought. He squinted his eyes, making more wrinkles down his cheeks.

  Julia felt the weight of his words, of a responsibility greater than she thought she could handle. Before she’d come, Julia would have cast it off outright. Now she considered it, half-wishing she could rise up for such a role even as she felt
completely ill prepared.

  “Do you like your necklace, Iha?”

  Julia held it in her hand. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

  “Father Tomas blessed it today. That was another purpose for my visit to the church. There is something written on the back of it.”

  Julia took the pendant and tried turning it around, seeing only very small writing in a unfamiliar script. “Is that Latin?”

  “Yes. From the Scripture verse of 2:10 of Pilo’s letter to the Ephesians. The translation is, ‘We are what God has made us . . .’”

  He reached for her hands and spoke with each word and sentence defined. “We are what God has made us. Created in Christ Jesus for good works. Which God prepared beforehand. To be our way of life.

  “That will be for you, as it has been for me. Each person was made for a specific purpose. The men in the village were made to be fighters. And fighters we were. But we need to fight for something. Our purpose is not for ourselves, but for others around us and for the greater purpose of God’s mysterious plans. Wherever the journey of life takes you, do not forget these things. Do not forget that verse that you now carry with you.”

  They rose and walked through the late afternoon sunlight, shining through the palms and high wide leaves of the tamarind and banyan trees.

  Amang Tenio had spoken his words to her, offering wisdom for her to hold near her heart. It felt orchestrated, this time in her life, from the emptiness at her grandfather’s death to the weeks at the hacienda. Orchestrated by a plan much greater than them both.

  MANALO THANKED TON AND SENT HIM TO BACK TO WHERE THE other men were eating around the outdoor kitchen they’d set up. They were moving frequently, knowing any one spot would eventually be unsafe.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Timeteo said.

  “Yeah, but what does it mean?”

  Amang Tenio wanted to meet. The message came from one of the men of the Barangay Mahinahon to Ton and Leo at the carinderia in town.

  The strangest part about it was that Manalo had been plotting a meeting with similar means of communication. It was easy to identify one of Amang Tenio’s men by their distinct clothing—but how did they know the twin brothers were his men?