Orchid House (23 page)

When she didn't respond, Nathan asked, “Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“And? Don't leave a guy hanging.”

“If I answer that right now, then I will have to say no.”

He laughed, taking it as a joke. “No? Then perhaps don't answer me until you return.”

“Nathan, what has suddenly made you so attached to me?”

“It's not attachment, Jules.”

“Then what is it?”

He paused, then said with confidence. “I'm still in love with you. I've always been in love with you. Or at the very least, I'm falling back in love with you.”

They were the words she had once longed to hear. Closing her eyes, they wove through her. So he loved her after all, or still, or again. It had been the life she'd desired, the life she knew, the life that made her safe. Julia could have that again, but this time she wanted to do it right. Stand up for her wants, grow and become the woman she was meant to be. But had she been in love with Nathan, or with the life with Nathan? Probably both. And yet that life now appeared a colorless dream.

“Julia, listen. I'm here. We made mistakes in the past. But the time apart and the few days before you left confirmed in me that without a doubt you are the woman for me. We were meant to be together. If you aren't sure, that's okay. Take your time; figure out what you want. But I know it's going to be me. I'll wait for you, but don't make me wait too long. No man can wait forever.”

“I can't talk about this right now,” Julia said.

The Tres Lolas kept glancing at her as she talked. Lola Sita had answered the phone, and though she couldn't speak a lot of English, she certainly knew that a man from the States had called for her.

“Okay,” he responded with an edge of annoyance.

“Did you get the phone number from my mother?”

“Yes. She didn't sound happy that you're over there.”

“She's not. I need to call her.”

“Are there people around? Is that why you can't talk about us right now?” he persisted. Nathan always persisted until he got what he wanted. It was a gift that helped him to snag clients, to build a business, and to gather friends and associates that he chose.

Julia knew she might regret what she now said. “If you want to know, then I'll tell you. I've waited too long to hear those words. You always want what you can't have, Nathan, and you work until you get it. Being here, it's changed me. Even in this short amount of time. I don't know what the future holds, but I know the past is behind me, and I won't go back to it.”

“Wow. You really are finding the Julia I first fell in love with. Listen, I'm not put off by this. You take your time. When you get back, I'm taking you to dinner—on your terms, of course. You choose the place, the time, and whatever you want. When is the funeral?”

“The wake begins tomorrow. But, Nathan—”

“We'll talk when you get back,” he said.

After she hung up the telephone, Lola Gloria motioned for Julia to sit at the table as she set a cup of hot tea before her.

“How did you know this was just what I needed?” Julia asked.

“Lolas always know,” the older woman said with a gentle pat on Julia's shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Julia did want to talk about it. Lola Gloria nodded with interest as she told how she and Nathan had met eight years earlier, brought together as friends of friends, and how they slowly fell in love. Then the many years together, mostly smooth and uneventful. Good years, good memories. They were right for each other; it was obvious to everyone. And then their breakup and the two years apart.

Julia found herself reciting the facts without emotion, and it felt more like a story she'd once heard than her own. Strangely, those memories were like a black-and-white world, while life here felt vivid with color. And yet this didn't feel like home to her either.

When she had told these things, Lola Gloria sat for a time, then responded. “Julia, be careful following what
feels
right in a day. Our feelings change with a moment, or a word.” She added sugar to her own tea and stirred it slowly. “You must find the answer to such questions in life. Not ignore them or go off the momentary emotion. First, seek God in these things. Ask for His guidance. The heart itself is a fickle organ. Then seek your purpose, and once you find it, be dedicated to those things God instilled within you even through the bad feelings.” The older woman smiled gently.

“I pray for everyone and all the situations that I know on the hacienda and for our country. I pray our dear Raul will hurry up and court Mara before another man steals her away. A woman shouldn't have to wait that long. And I will pray for you too, little
hija
, that God would guide you in all these matters of heart and life.”

“Thank you, Lola Gloria.”

“May I ask you about something other than Nathan?”

Julia nodded, expecting to be queried about her feelings for Markus.

“You mentioned your mother while on the phone. Why haven't you called her since arriving?”

Julia knew her mother would be anxious and irritated that she'd been gone so many days without sending word back home. “Well, I've been busy, and when I think of it and calculate the time, it's always the middle of the night.”

Lola Gloria gave her a maternal frown.

“That's the truth. But okay, it's also that I dread talking to her. I know how the conversation will go. She won't want to hear anything about how things are here—kind of like Nathan, actually—and she'll just be anxious—anxious that I'm here, anxious for me to return, anxious about everything.”

Lola Gloria took her time and stirred her tea. “Before the Captain died, did they reconcile?”

“My mother spent some time with him before his death. I think whatever they discussed brought a measure of peace to my grandfather. But I think my mother still can't quite forgive him. She blames all her life problems on him. Her divorce, her lack of trust in men. I think she even blamed my failed relationship with Nathan on my grandfather—though I'm not sure why.”

Lola Gloria nodded in thought and then said, “Another person to pray for—your mother.”

After talking to Lola Gloria, Julia left the house and walked through the hacienda gate and down the main road. She thought she'd buy some treats for the children and had an idea in mind. Tomorrow her grandfather's remains would arrive, and she'd been banished from all housework despite her continued attempts to join in and help. Lola Gloria explained that it was insulting to the hacienda to have a guest, their doña no less, doing the housework. Julia left with some guilt, but soon enjoyed the walk and time to think.

Hacienda Esperanza was discovery, layer upon layer.

And strangely, Julia felt that God was easier to reach in this place than in her busy existence in the States. She envisioned returning once a year to recover this solace and peace that soothed her spirit. She felt strong again—in only days—ready to sow ideas, push hope into faith by resurrecting old dreams and having the courage of pursuit.

At the hacienda gate, three security guards smiled and greeted her cordially while remaining at their posts—one on each side and another inside a covered shelter. Julia noticed the firearms on their belts; and instead of casual clothing, they wore crisp uniforms of black pants, white starched shirts, and black shoulder straps with M-16s and the seal of the hacienda on the front pocket.

She waved a greeting, though the assault rifles sent a shiver of fear through her. She increased her pace, swinging a basket at her side, until soon the men were behind her. Julia recalled the daily transformations around the hacienda. The extra trips to buy food, the renewed cleaning and airing out of rooms, the increase of staff working the gardens and courtyards. Preparations made for the return of the last don of the hacienda.

She turned down the road Lola Gloria had directed her to, where she could catch a jeepney into the larger town of San Pablo. Before long a jeepney approached, and Julia put out a hand to wave it down, acting braver than she felt.

“Is this going to San Pablo?” she asked, leaning through the passenger window.

Three men and two children were squeezed together in the front of the jeep. The passengers simply stared at her.

“San Juan. Yes,” said the driver.

She walked to the back, bent low, and climbed inside, squeezing into an opening of passengers on the bench running along the side. The dark eyes stared at her curiously. Julia took some Philippine pesos, unsure of the amount. As she wondered whom to pay and if she should do it now or once arriving in San Juan, one of the passengers reached out to take the coins. At first she thought the old woman in the blue dress was soliciting money, until she gave a respectful nod toward the driver and Julia understood. Her bus fare was passed hand to hand by the passengers until the bus driver reached out and took it. A moment later his hand reappeared, and the change was passed hand to hand back to her.

The jeepney made other stops with passengers squeezing in closer or getting off; each time, the fare passed hand to hand up and the change back.

Two girls in school uniforms giggled from the corner and pulled out a celebrity magazine. One pointed to a picture, and they looked up to Julia and then back to the magazine. She smiled at their interest.

“No, she is family of Captain Morrison.”

Julia leaned forward to see the speaker, an attractive man in the front corner.

“Yes, I am. How did you—” Then she realized how foolish her question was. If he knew of her grandfather, it was obvious that a Caucasian in the area would most likely be a relative. “I am his granddaughter.”

A few others seemed to have already guessed who she was by their knowing nods and smiles. One young woman leaned toward her. “Our family comes tomorrow to wake of Captain Morrison. We see you tomorrow.”

“Good, very nice,” Julia said as the jeepney decelerated roughly and made a stop near a busy intersection.

“This is San Pablo,” the woman said, picking up a briefcase between her feet.

“Thank you,” Julia said and followed her. A plume of black exhaust blew around them as the jeepney took off again.

“Do you need assistance here?” the woman asked.

“No, I'm just buying a few things. Thank you.”

“Okay. Here is calling card if you need assistance or a ride back to Hacienda Esperanza or anything at all. If not, my family will see you at the wake.” The woman shook Julia's hand before leaving and gave her a business card.

People brushed by her along the roadside market. Julia paused a moment to feel their touch, even when jostled a bit, or the current of air at a passing. Many would stare at her curiously, the only white woman around. She thought of all these human entities, each with an individual design and inner machine working to keep on existing. Their thoughts and memories and plans like energy in the air. Children playing, women looking at fruits or flowers. Men standing together watching a television set on a table. Julia had the strangest impulse, wishing to stretch out her arms and gather them all into her. Of course, she kept walking as if unaware of the miracle of life and community and humanity right in this little piece of earth.

The girl at the roadside sari-sari store had set her tables beneath the covered canvas porch of a wooden shack. She put out breads, candies, and snacks in individual containers. A large blue ice chest was filled with glass bottles of Coca-Cola and a few cans of various colas. Julia bought a drink and picked out goodies for the children of the hacienda and Barangay.

In the wooden shack beside them, a middleaged man smoked and held a water hose, filling up tanks in a wooden cart. Another man had a wide cart filled with buckets of fish where several women gathered around. A woman in a purple skirt and yellow apron pointed inside a bucket. Two large silver fish were set on a scale. They were discussed; the man took them off and then put them back on to be weighed again. Finally, one fish was chosen and rolled in a brown paper wrapping. Sounds of cocks crowing and the zoom of cars and tricycles coming up and down the street mixed with the hum of air conditioners from the larger buildings and homes.

Julia bought the basketful of surprises for the children and then returned to the jeepney stop, hoping for as easy of a journey home.

Back at the hacienda, Mang Berto was napping on the lawn beside a Model T Ford. He hopped up quickly when Julia approached. He rubbed his eyes and set his hands firmly on his hips. “There you are. I was told you ventured out without me.”

“The exercise was invigorating.”

“In-vigor-a-ting is not a word I know, but I guess it is a good thing?”

“Yes, very good.”

“Miss Julia, you must be careful. Let Mang Berto drive you to town if you must go.”

“Why? Was it not safe?”

“Philippines is very safe for visitors. Filipinos most hospitable people of the world—at least I hear this said. I do not know the world so well. But this week especially. Your grandfather's return. You are important person to many. And to some, you might be seen as a danger. If they believe you are a danger, then they might be dangerous to you. Do you understand this?”

“Not fully. But I will trust you. Except I rode in a jeepney, and all by myself.”

Mang Berto laughed. “What a big girl you've become.”

“I needed to go,” she said, “to see if I could do it. I felt like a local.”

“Yes, okay, fine. But be careful from now until funeral done. Let me drive you.”

The outer grounds of the hacienda had come alive since the evening before. Workers were rearranging furniture, cleaning windows, airing out the house, preparing food. The outer courtyards were covered in folding chairs and tables.

Visitors with offerings of food and flowers arrived to meet Julia or stood talking in circles around the house and yard. Bouquets of tropical flowers—birds-of-paradise, orchids, the tubular rose, and others—mixed aromas with the foods being prepared continually in the kitchen. The sleepy veins of the house and outside grounds pulsed with life.