Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [110]
“Let me make myself clear, Fuentes. She’s never to forget what dangers lie beyond the boundaries of Los Gemelos, and she’s to have whatever she needs so that she doesn’t want to leave.”
“I see,” Severo said.
“You’ll write to me regularly and let me know how she’s doing. Las mujeres son caprichosas.”
“Sí, señor.”
“I want no surprises from her, do you understand?”
“I believe I do, don Eugenio.”
“I hope so,” the older man said. “But she might need some coaxing. I know you won’t disappoint me.…”
“No, Colonel, I’m your servant.”
“And you can be sure that you’ll be well rewarded.”
“I know you to be a generous man, Colonel,” Severo said with a bow that Eugenio later thought was too ceremonious and studied to have been sincere.
CONCIENCIA LA JOROBÁ
Elena had been unable to spend time alone with Ana since their arrival. It was partly her own fault: doña Leonor needed her. Since Ramón’s death, Leonor had expressed only two emotions, sorrow and anger at Ana. When doña Leonor was sad, Elena listened, consoled her, prayed with her. When she was angry, Elena placed herself between the two women, interpreting for or defending one to the other.
Earlier that morning, don Eugenio had told them they were leaving in two days, and Miguel would go with them.
“And Ana?”
“She stays.”
Elena couldn’t believe it. She’d assumed that they would all return to Spain, and she’d dared to imagine that she and Ana would now live together.
Later, when doña Leonor and Miguel went to feed the ducks in the pond, Elena found Ana in the garden, talking to Severo Fuentes.
“Sí, señora. I’ll accompany them as far as Guares and pick up the supplies.” He touched his hat brim when he passed. “Buenos días, señorita.”
She barely acknowledged him. “Do you have a moment, Ana?”
“Walk with me.” Ana closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Have you ever smelled anything so sweet?”
“Lavender?”
“A particularly fragrant variety. The honeybees love it. It’s not native to Puerto Rico.”
“But here it grows wild?”
“Some of these herbs can be found nowhere else on the island, but Severo has brought me the most extraordinary seeds.” She walked further into the garden. “I’ve put in every plant here, and every one is useful. This is aloe, to treat burns and scratches.” Ana picked a needlelike leaf from a shrub. “Smell this. Delicious, isn’t it? Rosemary, a cooking herb, but I make a liniment to relieve aches and pains.”
“So all these plants are medicinal?”
“Medicinal and, well, they heal ailments in the body but also in the spirit.”
“Ana! That sounds like witchcraft.” Elena crossed herself.
“I used to think that, but I soon learned that Flora and Damita and the others could teach me many things. You’d be surprised how much nuestra gente know.”
Elena raised her eyebrows. Our people?
“Look at the rosemary,” Ana continued. “Its leaves look like fingers reaching for the sky.”
“One could describe it that way,” Elena said.
“Its fragrance lifts your spirits, invigorates the body and mind. It makes you happy and clears negative thoughts.”
“That’s a lot to ask of one plant,” Elena said.
“I suppose, but so far every remedy I’ve learned from our people has been effective. The slaves and the campesinos who live nearby come to me with questions that have nothing to do with aches, pain, or injuries. They ask for love potions—”
“Ana, we’re Catholic. The church forbids—”
“God gave us nature’s bounty to make our lives bearable.” She twirled a flower under Elena’s nose. “If I believe that a bath with rose and geranium petals will make a man love me, I’m not discounting the power of prayer. The truth is that such a bath will make me smell good, and others will notice. I will truly be more attractive.”
“That’s different from claiming that rosemary can make you happy.”
“How is it different? A scent is a sensual experience that awakens other senses.”
As they walked, Ana pointed to this or that herb or flower, delighting in the colors, the fragrances, the infinite shapes of leaves, the butterflies and moths skidding in erratic patterns around them.