Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (7 page)

He paused and considered telling Toni about Min Hee. But then again, what
could
he tell her? That he showed a tourist around for free just to prove a point? That he seemed to jump out of his skin whenever he touched her? That sounded so lame. So he just settled for halfway in between. “Met up with a friend in Boracay,” he said, taking his glasses off and massaging his temples. “Why were you looking for me?”

It turned out that she needed some advice on an Introduction to Anthropology class project. He tried to give her some pointers but he felt listless. Unfortunately for him, Toni could tell that something was distracting him. Finally he admitted to some pressure at work, without going into the details.

“Have you been taking a break?” she asked. “You don’t go out all that much anymore.”

Gio nodded. “Like I said, I was out today. Maybe I should have been home to help Mama out.”

“I know Papa didn’t have a plan when he left us, that’s why you feel that you have to be responsible for everything,” she told him. “But you know, Kuya, we’re made of sterner stuff than you think. You don’t have to be on top of things every single minute of the day. We can do it, too. You don’t have to think about us all the time.”

Her words hit home but he wanted to try and lighten the mood. “What’s that playing?” he asked, changing the topic.

If Toni was surprised at the sudden change in the conversation, she didn’t show it. “Ax1S, a Korean idol group.” She typed the name for him, but pronounced it as A.X. is.

“Huh. Do you know a lot about that kind of music?”

Now Toni looked curious. “Korean pop? Just a bit, I guess. Why are you asking? It’s not your style.”

“Nothing, I was just wondering,” he lied. “Call it cultural curiosity. So what’s new in the world of K-pop and K-drama these days?”

“Same old, same old. Just your regular round of new Hallyu series, military service farewells, rumored couples, and scandalous breakups. There’s this new melo that aired a month or so ago—melodrama—that I can’t wait to get my hands on! Think of a group of young wives and twentysomethings in the eighties. The cast isn’t popular, but it sounds pretty exciting,” Toni said. “Interested in Korean stuff now?”

Gio thought it safer to change the subject, before his sister stumbled on a theory. Turned out he wasn’t ready to talk about
that
yet. “Did you get the allowance I had transferred to your account?”

“Yup! Thanks, Kuya!” she said. “I can make it last a bit. Mama says you mentioned something about getting a motorcycle.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he told her seriously. “It’ll be tiring to go all that distance in just a motorcycle. Plus it must be safer if I stick to the van. Besides, you need the money more than I do.” As long as his sister and the rest of the family were happy, Gio was fine with that.

It was good that everything stayed safe. Gio nodded to himself. No complications, no surprises. Just the way he liked it.

Chapter Eight

BUT MIN HEE was a distraction that he couldn’t easily drop. Gio woke up very early the next day so that he could be in Boracay to pick her up. He had planned a busy day for them and after Toni’s video call, he had spent the rest of the previous night making arrangements. The good thing was that everyone else was also awake by then, so he didn’t need to worry about breakfast. His mother mercifully didn’t bring up her concerns about him going out again. Meanwhile, Lola Lising just went about dunking her
pan de sal
into her sweetened coffee and didn’t seem to mind at all.

So over breakfast, Gio brought up something else that had intrigued him yesterday. “Lola Lising,” he began, “did you know of Papang Anding Torres’ girlfriends before Mamang Pilar?”

His grandmother looked thoughtful. “I suppose I’ve heard of a couple. There was that young nurse from Manila.”

“Anyone else who was a little more local?” he pressed. Genrose had mentioned that the woman knew the dialect. “Did you know if he was linked with a Melchor?”

“Gossip now?” Lola Lising commented. “I didn’t think historians did that.”

Gio laughed, embarrassed. “Call it preliminary research then.”

“I knew of a Caridad Melchor once. Society girl or pageant queen or some such, who got involved in a scandal. Never married,” Lola Lising mused. “I don’t know if she was ever associated with Anding Torres when he was younger, but they should be of an age.”

Gio took a sip of his coffee, already a bit excited. He had a name. It could just be a coincidence—but it could also be the very break he needed.

“You’re probably in a better position to find out if they had been sweethearts,” Lola Lising continued. “Haven’t you gone through Anding’s things already?”

Gio gave a start. How could he have missed that? He had forever been complaining about Ex-Governor Torres’ hoarding tendencies. The bottle caps had been found in boxes of knickknacks and other items: papers and photographs and letters that were never sent.

“You’re a genius, Lola,” he told his grandmother.

She looked a little smug. “I know.”

There was a soft beep of a car horn just outside their front gate. “Who could that be so early in the morning?” Lola Lising said, peering through the window.

“What’s your cousin Carlos doing here?” Mama asked.

Gio stood up. “He promised to lend me his car. I’ve got a few errands.” He bent down to give both of them farewell kisses, his mother first, then his grandmother last.

Lola Lising gripped his arm tightly. “Bring her over next time,” she whispered to him.

Gio was surprised. “What do you mean?”

His grandmother laughed and patted his arm. “I haven’t seen you drive in years,
hijo
, not much after your father died. Trust me. I know when a girl’s involved.” She sniffed his hair. “No pomade. That’s good.”

* * * *

“So where to now?” Min Hee said, coming through the museum door.

He had asked to meet her there. Despite all her grumbling, she had arrived early. He glanced up from his desk as she came in, wearing a large straw hat and oversized aviator sunglasses. She was also wearing a white tank top and loose flowing batik pants, a good fit for today’s itinerary. It showed off her trim body but Gio pushed those thoughts aside. He was going to be all business today.

“I was thinking we could cross to the mainland instead of staying on the island,” he suggested, going through the boxes of discarded bottle caps. He had his gloves on, just to make sure that he didn’t damage anything while searching. “I promised you a cultural trip, remember? But just give me two minutes.”

“You said I needed to be early and you’re not ready yet?” she complained.

“I’ll be quick, I just needed to check something,” he said distractedly. “Ah, here they are.”

He pulled out a few pieces of paper and skimmed. They were half-finished love letters all right. Only one was signed, though all were written in the former governor’s neat hand. Gio had seen enough of it to know.

Dear stranger—

To the pianist at the Dela Torre party—

To one who is a mystery—

I am hoping this letter finds you well. I am placing my trust in my cousin Victorio,
who said that he is acquainted with your uncle
, to send this and with it, my admiration and my good intentions.

Dear Caridad,

Why have you not written back? I am sorry that we parted on such terms. You know that I only have the utmost regard for your
hobby
talent
art

I am leaving Bacolod in April. If it is not too forward of me, may I be permitted to visit you at your home in Ibajay? I also wish to extend an invitation for you and a chaperone to accompany me on a sailing trip. It should be a welcome change
from all your suitors.

Dear Caring,

I just received the piña shawl that you sent. Did you really weave this? It is quite exquisite. I must add it to your growing list of talents.

Same time, same place?

Anding

Min Hee peered over his shoulder. “What’s that?” she asked.

“I think I know the name of the artist whose sketches we saw yesterday,” Gio told her. “Caridad Melchor. She might not be too hard to trace.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

Gio carefully placed the letters in an envelope. “I hope so.” He looked at his watch. “Sorry about that. Not quite two minutes, but I’m ready now. Shall we go?”

In response, Min Hee handed him a small paper bag. “What’s this?” Gio asked, but opening it just the same.

Inside was the white lizard button-down that he had tried on last night.  “You didn’t have to.”

“My way of thanking you,” she said simply. 

“Thank you,” Gio told her seriously.

“This way every time you have a severe need to wear that ratty 25
th
Reunion shirt, you can wear this instead.” She laughed, the twinkle back in her eye. “Come on, Mr. Museum. The day’s waiting.”

* * * *

After they had crossed to the mainland on the pump boat, the two of them walked to a nearby lot where Gio had parked Carlos’ car. The first on Gio’s agenda was a pineapple plantation that was about two hours from the Caticlan Jetty Port. It was a long drive, even further than his house, but he decided it was better to visit the furthest spots first and then slowly make their way back to Boracay.

“So these pineapples get processed and sold in cans?” Min Hee asked as they drove off.

“No, this variety is called the Spanish Red. It’s the only pineapple plant grown for its fibers,” Gio replied. He glanced at Min Hee and grinned at her puzzled expression. “Do you remember the paintings and photographs in the museum? Most of the men and women there wore clothes made of pineapple fiber, mostly because those photos were taken at special occasions. It’s also what Anding Torres mentioned in one of the letters we read this morning. The shawl the artist made for him was woven from pineapple.”

On the way to the plantation, Gio continued to share a lot of information about piña cloth while Min Hee asked question after question. He had grown used to it by now, and the nice thing was, she was also letting him finish each answer, as if she was really interested in what he had to say. He’d point out interesting spots along the way: “This town is famous for their cold springs” or “There’s a cave there that they say ends at a totally different province” or “There are waterfalls there with seven basins.” (The latter was a mistake, because Min Hee insisted on taking a detour.) It made him realize that it wasn’t that she was flighty, as he had assumed when they first met, but that she just had about ten thousand things on her mind.

“It must be crazy to live inside your head,” he noted.

Min Hee blushed unexpectedly, as if he had caught her off-guard. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Just that you jump from topic to topic so quickly. I feel like I’d be constantly reorganizing your brain if I lived there.”

“Oh, that.” She looked relieved, although Gio couldn’t figure out why. Then she stuck her tongue out at him. “Stay away from my brain.”

It was late morning when they finally arrived at their destination. They were welcomed by one of the farmers, whom Gio had met while working for the Torreses. The farmer showed them the even rows of pineapple, muted reddish-purple fruits bursting from the ground. Gio kept up the commentary as Min Hee took some photos.

“You know, I pegged you for someone who’d take a lot of selfies, not nature shots,” Gio mentioned, watching her straighten up from taking a photo of a plant up close.

“Selfie?” Min Hee looked confused.

“Pictures of yourself on your camera phone,” he explained. He instantly regretted how judgmental that sounded. “I’ve heard my sister and her friends use it.”

Min Hee laughed. “We call it selca. And no, sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t really do that much. I think I like being behind the camera for a change. Being the center of attention can be more tiring than you think.”

“Watch your step there,” Gio said. They moved to a shed where the farmer demonstrated how they extracted fiber from the leaves. In quick strokes, he scraped off one side of the pineapple leaf using a ceramic shard, revealing greenish-yellow strands.

Min Hee touched it gently. “That’s so few! How can this be woven into any kind of cloth?”

Gio grinned. “It takes about a hundred of these leaves to make one bundle.” He pointed to a house near the road. “Let’s head there. There’s a weaver there who can show you how they do it.”

This was something that Gio had seen hundreds of times before, but watching Min Hee experience piña weaving for the first time made it seem new to him. She looked amazed at how the fibers from the leaves would be washed and dried, then eventually strung together. When they formed long strands, they would be fitted onto large wooden looms. It was also the first time he saw her refuse something. When the weaver offered Min Hee the chance to weave a bit, she balked, saying she didn’t want to break the delicate fibers. Later when she was shown an actual piña shawl, she touched it with a gentle hand. They munched on pineapple slices (another variety) and sweet mangoes after, cool treats under the harsh tropical sun.

“Why are they wrapping that stone with fibers?” Min Hee asked, pointing.

“
Talimad-on
,” the farmer replied then turned to Gio for help.

“You could call it a planting superstition,” Gio translated. “Folks believe that if you put a stone with piña fibers in the planting hole before planting a pineapple on it, then the plant will grow to have smooth and rich fibers. Or that anything planted during the high tide will grow healthy and strong.”

Min Hee turned to the farmer. “Can I do it?”

The farmer shrugged and led them back out to the field. In Aklanon, he told Gio that they really weren’t planting yet and it would be a while before they planted anything on that spot.

Gio smiled. “It’s okay. She doesn’t need to know.”

“It’s hard to say no to your girlfriend,” the farmer laughed.

“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” Gio protested.

But the farmer just patted his shoulder, almost sympathetically. Then he pointed Min Hee to a spot on the ground. He scraped the ground a bit then instructed Min Hee to put the stone in the shallow hole. Min Hee patted some soil over the rock, looking proud of herself.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she confessed to Gio with a shy smile. She patted the ground again. “Grow well. Grow strong and healthy,” she murmured. “I’ll come back soon.” Gio was surprised that part of him wished that she would.