“Hmm, I guess if you think we need help.”
“My belongings are due to arrive tomorrow from LA. Conchita can help you unpack the boxes, sort things and put them away. Maybe she can also teach you some local recipes, you know, things like that.”
“Okay, whatever you say.”
That’s right, whatever I say.
While swirling my wine, I gaze at the sliding door and see spots of water dotting the glass. There’s a rumbling, a cracking of thunder and then a sharp bolt of lightning flashes in the sky. Within moments the water droplets turn into streaks as the rain pelts down.
I glance over at Val, a look of unease spreading across her face as she stares out into the darkness.
“You okay over there.”
“This place is kind of spooky at night. You can't see out.”
“You're right, you can’t. But if someone were outside, they could see in.”
“They could? If someone were outside right now, they could see us?”
“Yeah, they could see into the house. Someone could be watching us,” I wiggle my brows.
“That's a frightful thought.” She quivers.
“Think of it this way. In the daytime, when you are inside, you can see out. But when the sun is shining, with the reflection of light, if someone was outside, they’d have a hard time seeing in.”
“So at night, it’s reversed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because at night, when it’s dark and there’s a light on inside, you can see in, but you can’t see out.”
21
Valerie
I had just stepped out of the shower and was drying off when Max started growling and barking. In between his loud woofs, I heard a soft knocking at the front door.
“David, can you get that?” I called out.
There was no reply.
Wondering where he was, I quickly threw on a T-shirt and shorts and rushed into the kitchen. When I opened the door, a petite woman in a red dress with a long braid of black hair stood before me. A look of terror filled her eyes as they widened at the sight of Max. I immediately grasped Max’s collar, holding it tight, but he lunged toward her, pulling my arm and throwing me off balance.
“Tengo miedo a los perros,” she screamed as she bolted from the house. I had no idea what she was saying but figured it had something to do with Max.
I stood in the doorway and watched the woman run toward David as he came strolling up the driveway, his machete swinging by his side. After tucking the machete into its leather sheath attached to his belt, he reached out his arms to give her a hug. Still holding onto Max’s collar, we jogged to the side of the house where I secured him on the dog run.
Speaking of being terrified, those darn machetes scare me to death. It seemed everyone in town had them and each time I saw one, horrible pictures filled my mind. I imagined a deranged killer roaming the jungle, slicing and chopping up people.
David would laugh and call me crazy, telling me I had an overactive imagination. He assured me people only used them as tools—to prepare fruit and clear the thick underbrush that grew wildly everywhere. Some of the plants and tree leaves were so huge you could hide a child behind them, or a small woman who was now back at our doorstep.
David had his arm draped around her trembling shoulder to comfort her. “Val, I’d like you to meet Conchita.”
“Hola,” she spoke softly, afraid to look at me.
“Nice to meet you.” Smiling, I reached out to shake her hand. “Please come in.”
“¿Dónde está el perro?” she asked, her head swiveling left and right.
“She’s asking where the dog is,” David translated for me.
“Oh, I tied him to his run,” I pointed. “The coast is clear.”
“Está atado ahora,” David explained, winking at her. “I told her he’s tied up now.”
I admit that not knowing the language was challenging. Despite practicing an hour a day, I was having a difficult time getting up to speed. If David were to talk to her about me, I wouldn't have a clue about what they were saying.
“Why don't you make us some coffee?” David asked as he pulled out a chair for Conchita.
“¿Quieres un café?” he turned to her.
“No, no,” she mumbled, reaching inside her pocket. “Té, por favor.”
She placed a small cotton sack on the table pointing to it. “Una taza de agua caliente.”
“Of course, a cup of hot water,” he nodded. “Val, please boil some water. We’re having tea instead.” He leaned in closer to her and they began talking under their breath and sharing laughs. I guessed there was something funny about the tea.
As I stood at the sink filling the kettle, I could feel her stare boring into me. I wondered what she thought of me, the Americana who didn't speak a shred of Spanish. Dreading the thought of David having to translate for me continuously, I promised myself I’d study more.
After placing the kettle on the stove, I took a seat at the table next to David. He reached for the cotton sack, untied it, and took a long whiff. He then pulled out three teabags that appeared to be homemade. They had colorful strings stapled to them with tiny handwritten tags at the end.
“¿Que tipo?” he questioned while holding one. “What kind?”
“Tranquilo,” Conchita softly replied, pointing to the tag.
“Ahh, like chamomile tea to calm the nerves, relieve stress.”
“Sí, sí.” She smiled.
“Hey Val, you could use a few of these.” He chuckled, waving the bag in the air.
“Very funny,” I quipped.
I rose from my chair to retrieve the kettle and teacups, returning to the table with them. The moment I set a cup in front of Conchita, she dropped a teabag into the steaming water.
David casually conversed with her while stirring and sipping his tea between sentences. I sat back and listened, testing myself while trying to understand a word here and there. Off in the distance, I heard the low hum of an
