The ends of the earth! She understood! More than anyone else, she understood how I felt. I turned to Manuel, whose head was lowered.
“I’m so sorry,” Rosa was saying. “This is all our fault. We had no right to impose on your hospitality and disrupt your evening in such a manner.”
My mouth dropped open. What did we have to be sorry for?
But when Professor Garcia finally turned his eyes to Rosa, they were brimming with tears. “No, no, my dear. Not at all,” he said, his voice breaking. “You must forgive me. I have hardened in my old age, and I often forget my own manners. You, like my daughter,” he paused and glanced toward the door, “have been through a great deal of suffering, and I am forgetting myself . . . forgetting the man I aspire to be. Perdóname por favor.” He rose slowly from his chair. “Please sit and enjoy the birds. They will soon be bedding down for the night. They are most vocal at this hour. It’s a delight to behold.” With that, he ambled to the door, then turned and added, “Just relax, and we will be right with you.”
As soon as the door closed, Manuel said, “I think we should leave.”
I looked from Manuel to Rosa.
“We all need a good night’s sleep,” Rosa said, then added, “We will talk in the morning. What else can we do?”
“She’s right,” I said to an anxious Manuel. “Please give it the night,” then softly I added, “You are in no danger. Está bien. They are good people.”
Though clearly not convinced, he did help us clear the table and move into the kitchen. Since there was just room for Rosa and me, Manuel hung back and watched as we carefully washed and dried each dish, gingerly placing them on open oak shelves that lined a wall beside a small table and chairs. The kitchen walls were covered in red and yellow tiles, and above the sparkling white sink that had running hot water was a shelf with a large vase filled with red and yellow calla lilies. I touched them to see if they were real. They were! We then finished up with the other items: pots, bowls, glasses, and utensils. Mesmerized, I gently opened and closed each cupboard and drawer, my fingers gliding over the treasures inside, until I found where each item belonged. I could not imagine living like this every day.
The sun was beginning to set as we wiped the garden table and straightened the chairs. Manuel spoke of taking a walk when the door opened and both Professor and Señorita Garcia stood in the doorway. “Please come in and let’s talk.”
Whatever had transpired between father and daughter, there was now a tenderness as they each apologized and put us at ease. Then her father spoke, “As with any dispute, we have reached a compromise. One that I believe will be of some help to you.” He paused, and then turning to his daughter seated on the sofa beside him, he simply nodded his head. With some effort, he rose and slowly made his way into an adjoining room, leaving the door partway opened.
Señorita Garcia cleared her throat and, clasping her hands together, leaned forward. “My brother, Orlando,” she glanced at the partly opened door and lowered her voice slightly. “Orlando drives a bus.” She said these words gingerly, giving each word equal weight. They hung in the air like thick fog. She exhaled with the effort, then continued, “I will call him tonight and see what we can arrange. We believe we can get you close to the border of Arizona or California, but beyond that we can do no more.”
“Close to the border!” I gasped. “That’s at least three thousand kilometers or more!” I turned to Rosa, whose face looked more puzzled than overjoyed. “Rosa! You are right. It is meant to be! Don’t you see?” She swallowed hard, but her eyes softened, as I said, “Maybe he is alive, Rosa. Maybe he is waiting for us to find him somewhere.”
Without a word, she nodded and folded me in a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, I saw Manuel’s face, his eyes wide with fear.
“A bus the length of Mexico? ¿Estás loca?” Manuel exclaimed, once we were out the door and walking in the cool night air. “They might ask for papers, for identification perhaps, as we cross state lines!”
“Maestra will ask her brother about that. We will be careful. Let’s wait and see what he says.” I pushed his hair back so I could see his eyes, but as always it stubbornly fell forward. “Please stay with me until we know more. Please don’t leave.”
He stroked my face and then took it between his hands and kissed me. We stood by the side of the road for several minutes, my face pressed against his chest. I wished we could stay like that forever.
When we returned to the house, Maestra, perhaps sensing Manuel’s concern, asked to speak to him alone in the garden. She gave me an encouraging smile as she closed the door. I stood there for a moment, then walked toward the hallway to find Rosa. As I approached the room that Professor Garcia had entered, I noticed it was brightly lit. Peeking in, I saw an office, lined with books, of course, with a large desk on one side and two upholstered chairs on the other, where Professor Garcia sat reading. He lifted his head and said simply, “¿Sí?”
He sounded annoyed, so I stammered, “I’m sorry . . . I’m disturbing you.”
“Well, that depends. If you were going to ask me to lift a heavy object or drive into the city, yes, I’d be
