Orchid House (24 page)

E
MMAN TRIED TYING THE THIN BLACK TIE AROUND HIS NECK
for the fifth time. It was so aggravating! It had been one of those days, one of those he heard the men talk about in exasperation. Now he was having them. And woman trouble . . . oh boy, was he.

She was beautiful and nice, the American, but Miss Julia was not the most cooperative person to guard. While Emman slept during the day, the boys and Grace had lost her. They thought she was out for a walk and followed her unseen in the jungle, never expecting her to hop on a jeepney and disappear into town. By they time they got to town, she was missing, and then finally they found her back at the hacienda.

Groan.

Emman could not have such lack of discipline in his ranks.Especially since he probed the boys and Grace until Kiko finally confessed that he had caught a green snake that distracted them all, even though Grace kept telling them to focus.

He chewed them out—except for Grace, who was looking strangely less like a boy lately—and had them do calisthenics as well as clean out Bok's family's chicken coop. Plus they'd be feeding the chickens for a week—that was Bok's idea, so that he didn't have to do it. His sister was too upset by her boyfriend's disappearance to do much work lately.

Emman's cousins said women were more trouble than their worth, and all the men agreed. But even Emman knew they didn't mean it. And he didn't mean it toward Miss Julia either.

Emman decided to change the schedule now, so he'd be near Miss Julia during the day, though he'd miss the nights with Bok and the ones alone with his yo-yo. For the wake and funeral, he'd been assigned to inside the house—he'd done that assigning himself. At last, he'd get to see the inside of the hacienda house. He couldn't wait!

Maybe he needed to talk to Miss Julia about her wandering off so carelessly. He'd been told of more fights among the field-workers, brawls in the bars in town, and the rumors that a major insurgent action was building up as sure as Mount Pinatubo kept letting off signals of a catastrophic eruption.

Tying the tie in a basic knot at his neck, he hoped Miss Julia might see it and decide to tie it for him like he'd seen on the movies. She'd come close and he'd smell her perfume, feel the briefest touch of her hand brush his neck. Maybe she'd give him a peck on the forehead or cheek. He closed his eyes and envisioned it.

Abner burst into the room. “Come on, Emman, what are you doing? Get your head out of the clouds, or is it in the gutter? We have to get to the wake—have some respect.”

Emman hurried to slip on his shoes, noticing how short his pants were—his lack of socks showed for all to see—and the sleeves of the black jacket he'd worn for his mother's funeral were partway up his wrists. He was a man now, a bodyguard to an American, and he still had to wear such clothing. Talk about no respect.

FIFTEEN

W
here did they all come from?” Julia asked Raul as they walked outside the open front doors dressed in their funeral attire. It appeared that hundreds of people were gathered on the front lawn as more vehicles drove down the road to search for parking along the already packed driveway. Some carried more flowers or prayer books, and many of the women held red or white candles that flickered in the descending light.

“The villages all over Batangas and beyond. As I said, your grandfather was a respected man.”

The people lined the road like spectators awaiting a parade.Some elderly sat in lawn chairs and held small American or Philippine flags in their hands. The gathering hushed in a solemn respect, even the children who had been weaving and playing around the adults. The only sound beyond the tropical birds calling in the jungle was the sound of vehicles coming far down the hacienda road.

The chrome-covered jeepney gleamed brightly, catching the low evening light as it came slowly down the drive. Her grand-father had requested such a return instead of a grand hearse that most rich men would be carried in. A painted sign over the windshield read “Praise Be to God.” Flowers were draped along the front grill, tucked into side mirrors, and tied along the roof all the way to the back to the bumper. As people stood, more flowers were tossed over the vehicle. Behind the jeepney followed a line of vehicles including expensive luxury cars, horse drawn carts, and several tricycles that filled the air with their high-pitched whines.

Julia followed Raul down the walkway. She gathered with the others along the edge of the driveway. She recognized many in the lines of faces, some she'd met that day as well as the hacienda workers she'd seen in the fields or gardens and house. The cousins were mixed together with their extended families. Julia saw her cousin Mara, who was close to her age and someone she thought could become a very close friend. Mara stood with an older couple beside two other cousins, Francis and Othaniel.

Julia felt the rustle of the children of the Barangay come behind her, surrounding her, instead of peering from the bushes as usual. They were easy to distinguish from the other children by their tattered clothing and necklaces strung around their necks. A few smaller ones she hadn't met before looked younger than age five, and they touched her dress and gave her worried smiles. The boys' hair was slicked and pressed to their heads, and the girl had brushed her matted mess and pulled it into a ponytail again. Brown eyes looked up at her in proud expectation.

“You all look fine, so very fine,” she said to them, knowing few understood her at all.

Raul stepped from the crowd as the jeepney slowed to a stop. He leaned into the window and pointed forward to the driver. The jeepney turned and backed toward the front walkway. A number of men gathered and the back was opened, giving Julia her first glimpse of her grandfather's casket. She now saw that Markus was standing with Francis and Othaniel; she hadn't realized he had arrived already. More people pressed in close, with some still arriving and those who had lined the driveway gathering around the jeepney. The deeper silence of voices amplified the shuffle of footsteps, every car door closing, the tropical birds and some rooster crowing in the distance.

Then the pathway parted like the opening of the Red Sea from the jeepney to the house. Raul motioned for Julia and the Tres Lolas, who came behind her, and they walked to the vehicle as Raul, Markus, Francis, Othaniel, and two others from the hacienda lifted out the black casket draped with an American flag.

Lola Sita took Julia's hand and gave her some flowers. The three women put their hands on the casket, and Julia as well felt compelled to touch the smooth, black wood. Grandpa Morrison was inside, having journeyed across the sea to return to his beloved Hacienda Esperanza.

Together with Lola Amor and Lola Gloria, Julia and Lola Sita walked in front of the casket as it was carried toward the house. Mang Berto stood at the open double doors like a butler receiving them.

Julia turned back at the top step and saw Amang Tenio, dressed in a bright red robe. His red rooster was missing from his arms today; instead he held what appeared to be a long rooster tail with a leather strap wrapped around his wrist. He followed the casket, and his voice rose in a chanting cry. He tapped the rooster tail in the air and took heavy, defined steps with his eyes nearly closed. The children of the Barangay came behind Amang Tenio, holding their amulets against their chests as they bent their heads as if in prayer.

Their footsteps on the hardwood floor and the low chants of Amang Tenio were the only sounds inside the house as they proceeded between the flowers through the entryway and down into the great room. The men carried the coffin to a long heavy table covered in a lace cloth and surrounded by flowers and dozens of candles. Othaniel adjusted the American flag. Around the room against the wall were benches and chairs set in rows. In the back were tables with cookies and carafes of coffee. Instead of entering the great room, Julia saw Amang Tenio and the children of the Barangay standing close at the open double doors. After a few moments, they disappeared from view.

Julia sat on a chair close to the coffin with the Tres Lolas in a row beside her. She'd been told of the schedule of events for the wake and funeral, but mostly her role was to greet extended family and citizens who had come to pay their respects. She thought of her grandfather again, that here was his body just inches from her inside the polished wooden coffin. A shiver of eeriness passed through her; she couldn't help but wonder what his corpse looked like after traveling across the sea from California. The strangeness of death here beside them, so close and acceptable, was something harder for Americans, she'd been told. There was the sense of a more primitive world in the abundance of ceremony for the dead man inside this very box.

The dramatic entrance of an old Filipino priest, walking with his robe just brushing the wood floor, further amplified her thoughts. He carried a censor on a metal chain, spewing incensed smoke as it swung with his steps. He chanted in Latin, and suddenly the mourners in line behind him began to sing. The voices were like dominoes through the house, and soon the song was heard through the windows from outside as well. The room was quickly filled with people standing or sitting, swaying in their song, sniffling and crying, serious expressions carved into faces.

Julia was the only one silent.

From her place beside the coffin, she saw the glistening tears on the priest's weathered cheeks as he touched the coffin with something more than reverence, holding his hand on the American flag for the longest time. She'd been told of Father Tomas but had yet to meet him, as Raul had made the arrangements with the priest of San Pablo and the hacienda. Julia wondered what the priest and Amang Tenio thought of one another, and what place each held in such an occasion.

After a prayer and the sign of the cross, the priest touched his eyes and turned to her. He smiled as he knelt before her, taking her hands in his. The tenderness in his expression brought unexpected emotion into her chest, and she realized for all the emotion around her she'd had none until now.

“I am Father Tomas. I grieve with you and your family.”

For a moment she could hardly speak. Finally she said simply, “Thank you.”

The priest held her hands firmly and nodded in understanding. “Your grandfather was great man. He was highly respected here. For his body to be returned to our land holds great meaning. We are grateful and honored to have his granddaughter here as well. It is as if he sent you to us, and we thank him.”

The singing rose to a crescendo, and Julia thought of the spirit of the man inside that coffin—she wondered if he indeed knew he'd come home and that she had come with him.

Home. A plot of land, a place of birth, a house, another human being. Perhaps even a faith or a future. Where was her home? Perhaps somewhere in his charts and plans, her grandfather had tried to make Hacienda Esperanza her home as well.

Father Tomas smiled softly. “Tomorrow we talk more of the funeral Mass, okay?”

Julia nodded, and the priest moved on to greet the Tres Lolas. The song ended, and Julia was greeted by an elderly woman who walked with her arms interlocked with a younger version of herself.

“Nakikiramay po kami.”

Julia understood their condolences without need for translation. A line formed, extending through the great room and beyond her view. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up to Markus, who then moved a chair beside her and translated the soft words of an old man with scars on his cheeks.

“This man says he fought beside your grandfather.”

“He fought in the war with him?”

The man was the size of a tall child, and his nodding smile revealed three missing front teeth.

“Yes, and he says your grandfather was very brave and also a joking man.”

Markus listened to the elderly man who kept talking to her and smiling; then Markus laughed.

“What did he say?”

“Your grandfather told him and the younger soldiers a legend of the Old West. He said it was a known fact that if a man wore a green ribbon in his hair that the man's enemy would never be able to take his life. He was so convincing that all the younger men wore their hair pulled back or tied even a small piece of it with a green ribbon, even though it seemed a very feminine thing to do.

“Only several days later, one of the soldiers was caught by the Japanese in the jungles and put into some barracks with a group to be executed for being guerilla fighters. The night before the execution, he walked straight up to the Japanese soldier guarding the prisoners and told him that he wore the green ribbon and would not die in the morning. Just then there was a huge explosion in the tent of ammunition. The Japanese thought they were being attacked and in the confusion this man, whose name is Simon, slipped through a hole in the rock wall and opened the front door, allowing the other prisoners to escape.

“When he found Captain Morrison, he told your grandfather about being saved by the green ribbon. Captain Morrison burst into such great laughter that he cried. He admitted that he'd made a bet with Diego, his second in command and, incidentally, grandfather of Raul, that he could convince those men of anything. Diego hatched the idea of the green ribbon, thinking there was too much pride in the men to wear something so womanly. But your grandfather's elaborate story worked, and after that, the green ribbon became a symbol of the group! To this day, many of the men in town wear green ribbons in their hair or around their necks.”