A Circle of Time (17 page)

“You did this?”

Allison nodded, smiling. “Come, let me help you sit. I'll hold the vase on your lap while you inhale the sweet fragrance.”

Doña Ana allowed Allison to sit her up and place the vase on her lap.

“Qué olor bello,”
she said, breathing in the scent. “Isa loves roses. I have not had roses in my room since she...” Tears began to shine in Doña Ana's eyes.

“Here, let me pull one out so you can hold it while I read to you,” Allison offered, wanting to distract the woman from her sad thoughts. “What would you like me to read today? I brought a book of Emily Dickinson's poems. Shall I read a few?”

“I enjoy the sound of your voice,
mija.
It causes me to think of a whispering angel. Anything you read shall be lovely.”

Allison blushed at the compliment, briefly wondering as she began to read whether it was her voice or Becky's that the woman heard.

 

Each day, Allison encouraged Doña Ana to do a bit more. The first day of Tere's departure, Doña Ana allowed the drapes to remain open the entire morning, ordering them closed just before her afternoon nap. The next day, Allison insisted they be opened in the morning and again in the afternoon, when Doña Ana awoke from her nap. And she propped up the old woman in bed with several pillows behind her back, getting her ready to sit up on her own. She also cracked open the windows, allowing the warm afternoon breeze to bring in the pungent smell of sun-ripening grapes.

On the third day, Allison distracted the woman in such a manner that before she was aware of it, she was sitting on the edge of the bed with her thin legs dangling over the side. At first, Doña Ana complained of dizziness and weakness. But Allison wouldn't allow her to lie back down. Instead, she sat beside her and held her while the dizziness passed, entertaining the woman by telling her stories of animals and forests.

Doña Ana was so pleased with her progress that that afternoon, she allowed Allison and Nelda to carry her to a chair next to the fireplace. There she had a view of the rose garden and the vineyards beyond and at the same time could warm her legs. Allison had run out of animal stories, so she returned to the book of Emily Dickinson's poems to entertain Doña Ana.

“It is a shame you do not speak Spanish, Becky,” Doña Ana commented in a whimsical tone. “Spanish lyrics would sound heavenly coming from your lips.”

On the fourth day, Allison brazenly threw open the French doors, announcing, “I have a surprise for you, Doña Ana.”

At Allison's instruction, Nelda entered, pushing a wooden wheelchair Allison had requested her to find.

“Today, we visit the rose garden,” Allison said, wrapping a satin quilted robe around Doña Ana's shoulders.

“But I cannot,” Doña Ana protested. “I—”

“Why can't you?” Allison signaled Nelda to bring the chair to the side of the bed. “You sat in a chair for two hours yesterday. What's the difference between sitting in a regular chair and a wheelchair?”

While Doña Ana protested feebly, Allison had Nelda help her lift the woman's light form onto the wheelchair. Allison straightened the robe and tucked it around Doña Ana's ankles.

“There. Now you'll be warm and comfortable,” Allison told her. “Let's try five minutes in the sun. After that, if you still want, we'll bring you back in. Right, Nelda?”

The nurse glanced nervously at Allison, whispering, “Don Carlos, what if he—?”

Allison shook her head and nodded meaningfully at Doña Ana. “Shall we go?” she said cheerfully.

Without waiting for either woman to protest further, Allison wheeled the chair through the open doors and onto the stone path to the rose garden. The wheelchair, with its large unsteady wheels, handled awkwardly over the bumpy path. Unlike the sleek, heavy-duty chrome wheelchairs of the nineties, this chair was made of wood and woven rattan, and the wheels were attached to a wrought-iron frame.

She pushed the chair to the other side of the house, where the sun shone brightly and a gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers to the small party of women. Allison picked a partially open rosebud and offered it to Doña Ana.

The woman accepted it graciously and brought it to her nose. As she glanced around the garden, Doña Ana's eyes grew misty. “I have missed this place,” she said with a sigh. “I used to come out every morning, tend my roses, and pick a few for Isa's and Tere's rooms. But when Isa grew ill, I refused to indulge in the pleasure—not while my Isa—” She took Allison's hand and squeezed it. “My dear, you have returned to me something very precious. I see now that punishing myself will not bring Isa back to health. It has merely robbed me of mine.”

“Would you prefer to go in now, or would you like to stay longer?” Allison asked.

Doña Ana took another moment to gaze about before answering. “It is enough for today. I grow tried. But tomorrow, we shall return.
Gracias, mija,
” she said to Allison. “Thank you for more than I can ever express.”

 

The next day, Tere was due back from San Francisco. It was a warm, cloudless day, and Allison decided to wait until the afternoon to take Doña Ana for her trip to the rose garden.

Once the woman was bundled in her robe, Allison and Nelda wheeled her to the garden. Allison had found an English translation of
Don Quixote de la Mancha
next to a copy of the original Spanish version. Thinking Doña Ana might enjoy a classic novel from her country, even if it were read in English, Allison pulled it from the shelf. When Nelda was settled on a concrete bench, Allison curled on the grass at Doña Ana's feet and began to read.

Doña Ana was pleased. She explained that
Don Quixote
was a family favorite. As a child, Tere begged her mother to read her parts of it. And often in the evening, next to a crackling fire in the drawing room, Don Carlos would read their favorite passages aloud. While Tere identified with Don Quixote fighting windmills, Isa preferred stories about damsels in distress being saved by knights in shining armor. Tere would cuddle against her father, her head on his chest, listening to his rich, deep voice as he read with passion and conviction. But Isa would lie on a sofa, thoroughly bored, except for the parts about the damsel Dulcinea.

Doña Ana seemed a bit like Isa and quickly grew impatient when Allison began reading from the beginning. She instructed Allison as to which chapters to turn to and which passages to read. Never having read
Don Quixote,
Allison would have preferred to read the book as it was intended to be read, but it tickled her that Doña Ana was beginning to take enough interest in things to start issuing orders and to enjoy small pleasures.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun grew warmer; Nelda began to nod, Allison was engrossed in the passage she was reading, and Doña Ana was transported by the soft, clear voice. No one noticed a figure stride silently across the lawn toward the small group of women. Only when a shadow slid over the page Allison was reading did she realize that someone had joined them. She looked up to see Don Carlos looming over her; his expression was one of disbelief, and his eyes held an emotion she could not make out.

“Carlos,” said Doña Ana, awakened from her trance by Allison's silence. She smiled, glowing, and held out her small hands. Her husband knelt beside her and brought her hands to his lips.

“How could you ... when did this happen?” Don Carlos was obviously pleased by his wife's unexpected progress.

“Isn't it wonderful? We owe it all to this angel of a child.” Doña Ana gazed fondly at Allison.

“You mean to say Dr. Guzman has not approved this?” The man's face darkened. “Nelda, how could you have allowed such an excursion?”

“
Lo siento, señor,
but—”

Allison stood and faced the man. “Don't blame Nelda. I insisted that we start bringing Doña Ana into the garden. She needs sunlight and fresh air. It's not healthy to keep her cooped up all the time, never even opening the drapes. The sun is good for her bones—”

“Ah, so you are a doctor now, is that it?” Don Carlos rose to his full height, towering over her.

Allison refused to be intimidated. “It doesn't take a medical degree to see that a person can't thrive in a dungeonlike atmosphere. Look at her! Doña Ana's face is beginning to get some color, and she is beginning to care about life again.”

Suddenly, Doña Ana began to laugh, a delighted laugh that rose from deep in her belly. Allison and Don Carlos stopped arguing and looked down at the frail form in the wheelchair.

She covered her mouth as she tried to stop laughing. “The way Becky stands up to you, Carlos”—Doña Ana smothered another giggle—“she reminds me of our Tere.”

Don Carlos clenched his jaw. “She is an insolent child! A servant, no less.” He glared at Allison. “I would dismiss you on the spot if I didn't think my daughter would simply rehire—”

“Ah-ooo-gah! Ab-oo-gaaah!”

Around the bend of the main road to the estate appeared Tere, decked out in a tan overcoat with matching bonnet tied by a scarf beneath her chin. She was driving a brand-new convertible automobile.

Madre de Dios!
What in the Virgin Mother's name has that girl done now?” Don Carlos muttered as he watched Tere maneuver the motorcar to a halt at the edge of the lawn.

Tere grinned and waved as if she were riding a float in a parade. She hopped from the car and flew across the lawn, holding up her long skirts and exposing her slender black-stockinged legs. She swooped on them, laughing and panting and tossing her chestnut curls as she unknotted the scarf from under her chin and removed the bonnet.

“Mamá, you look wonderful!” she exclaimed, once she had caught her breath. “This must be a miracle.”

Don Carlos snorted, and Doña Ana laughed.

“Perhaps not a miracle,” she said, “but it was the work of an angel—your protégée.”

“Becky?” Tere spun around in search of Allison, who had retreated to the concrete bench beside Nelda. “Of course, it was. I knew she would be a perfect addition to our household.”

“Enough about the confounded girl,” Don Carlos snapped. “What is that—that contraption doing here?”

“It is an automobile, Papá,” Tere replied with a giggle, “a horseless carriage.”

“I know perfectly well what an automobile is! I'm not a bumbling idiot! I want to know what you are doing driving it.”

“I bought it. I ordered it last fall when we went to the city for our Christmas shopping. The man told me it would probably arrive in late March or early April. When I picked it up, he gave me four hours of driving instructions and sent me on my way. Isn't it beautiful? Mamá, perhaps when you are feeling stronger, I will take you—”

“You
bought
it?” Don Carlos had been staring at his daughter openmouthed since she announced the car's purchase. “With whose money, may I ask?”

“My trust fund. Abuelita left no instructions on how I should use it, so I—”

“So you frittered away your grandmother's trust fund on a passing fancy? Teresa, I thought you had more sense.”

“I frittered away nothing. I purchased it with part of my annual income. Anyway, Papá, a motorcar is not a passing fancy. It is a thing of the future, and, after all, this is the twentieth century.”

“Thing of the future, indeed! If you had been a good and docile child, you would be married by now and some other man's headache.” Don Carlos began to walk away, shaking his head, when he turned back, and said, “What have you done with my buggy? Teresa, if you have sold my good buggy to help pay for that—”

“Do not worry, Papá. Your buggy is safe. I hired a man to drive it back for me. He should arrive sometime tonight.”

“A man? You gave my good horse and buggy to some stranger? Why did you not simply stand in the middle of Market Street and hand out the family fortune to passing beggars?”

“Honestly, Papá, you act as if I were a child. I did not simply hand over your horse and buggy without security. We struck a bargain. The man needed a ride to this part of the country, and I needed someone to drive the buggy home. I lent him the buggy in exchange for this beautiful chain and cross.”

Tere opened her overcoat and displayed a heavy gold rope around her neck at the end of which hung a gold cross. The cross was about two inches long and studded with six large rubies.

At the sight of the cross, Doña Ana gasped and slumped back in a dead faint.

 

“Ana will be fine, Carlos. She simply had too much excitement for one day. After years confined to her bed, her body is not used to so much activity at once. She needs some rest.”

Allison and Tere stood silently in the shadows, just inside Doña Ana's bedroom door, and listened anxiously to what Dr. Guzman told Don Carlos.

“So she should not be allowed out of bed again?”

“On the contrary, Carlos,” Dr. Guzman replied. “It was never my intention that Ana become an invalid. It was
she
who shrank from the world, denying herself even the simplest pleasures. I could not even convince her to open the drapes. She claimed it hurt her eyes and brought her pain, remembering ... No, I fully support whoever was able to draw her from her self-imposed prison.”

Tere squeezed Allison's shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Did you hear, Bequita? Isn't it wonderful?”

“What else should we do, Alejandro?” said Don Carlos. “Are you leaving any medicine?”

“No, no more medicine. And stop giving her Magda's concoctions. Tomorrow morning have Nelda open up the drapes and let in some air. As soon as Ana is up to it, take her back to the rose garden. But do not overdo.”

Don Carlos threw Allison a veiled glance. Tere caught it and squeezed her hand supportively. They both knew the first battle had been won: Don Carlos would no longer stand in their way with respect to Dona Ana. Allison wondered if she would have time to win one for Isa.