How about I borrow Abuela’s car and drive into Caracas for dinner tomorrow night?”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Isabel met Manuel at the door and took one of the boxes he carried in his arms. “Follow me,” she said, smiling. “ Abuela and I set up one of the guest rooms for you to sleep in, and an office for our work. Where do these boxes go?”
“To the office, if you don’t mind.” He followed her through the elegantly appointed hallways and into a study furnished with a desk, a large table, a couch and several comfortable-looking chairs. “Wow, this is great, Isabel. I really appreciate your invitation to stay here at the hacienda. Are you sure your grandmother doesn’t mind storing my possessions for a while? If we decide to go hunt for the pearls, we may be gone a few months.”
“She doesn’t mind. She lives in this big old house by herself, so there’s plenty of room.” They set their boxes in a corner and returned to the car for another load.
Manuel handed her a box, but he didn’t let go immediately. She looked up at him, wondering why he hadn’t released her.
“Isabel, thank you for inviting me here. You probably don’t know this, but I was about to lose my apartment. Your invitation was an answer to prayer.”
The reference to prayer snagged Isabel’s attention. He’d never hinted he believed in God or practiced any sort of religion. She wondered if he actually prayed, or if he’d said it for her benefit. “I’m glad to help out, Manuel, but you should know my reasons for inviting you were purely selfish. I don’t have a car. Abuela probably could have loaned me hers, but I had no desire to make the hour’s drive into Caracas every day to work with you. Bringing you here seemed more convenient.”
Manuel glanced out over the groves of avocado trees and fields that would yield a bountiful harvest. “This is beautiful land. I think I’ll enjoy my stay.”
Isabel laughed and turned toward the house with her box. “Wait until you taste Maria’s cooking. You will never want to leave.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
An hour later, Isabel and Manuel settled into the study to continue their translating efforts. The fire had disrupted their work for nearly a week, and Manuel felt eager to resume. They worked side-by-side at the large table, the journal open between them. Isabel studied the Spanish text and wrote a rough translation on her notepad. Occasionally, she would point out an Indian word or phrase to Manuel, and he would jot them on his tablet. He’d volunteered for the more difficult job of translating the Pachacamac words. They fell into a rhythm, working silently for over an hour before combining their work and reading the next journal entry.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
July 10, 1505
Today, I killed a man. I suspect he followed me to the hut and spied on Karwa and me for a time before showing himself. His face registered disgust and hatred as he stepped into the open and confronted me for hiding a savage. Assessing her with a leering gaze, he offered to keep my secret if I would agree to share her with him. His attitude and vile suggestion rankled, and my fear turned to anger.
She whimpered when he stepped forward and grabbed hold of her, and though he did not harm her, I beat him soundly for touching her at all. With his body and pride wounded, he staggered away from the hut, threatening to bring back reinforcements. I watched him retreat into the vegetation, knowing he would make good on his threat. My superiors would not hesitate to hang me for my treason, and Karwa would suffer a fate worse than death. I could not bear to imagine her subject to the Spaniards’ cruelty.
Since the moment I’d whisked her away to safety, I’d known this dreaded day might come. I stared into her eyes as I struggled with the most difficult choice of my life. From my youth I dreamed of a career with the Spanish navy, rising to a position of power and authority, as had my father and his father before him. Yet my
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Isabel met Manuel at the door and took one of the boxes he carried in his arms. “Follow me,” she said, smiling. “ Abuela and I set up one of the guest rooms for you to sleep in, and an office for our work. Where do these boxes go?”
“To the office, if you don’t mind.” He followed her through the elegantly appointed hallways and into a study furnished with a desk, a large table, a couch and several comfortable-looking chairs. “Wow, this is great, Isabel. I really appreciate your invitation to stay here at the hacienda. Are you sure your grandmother doesn’t mind storing my possessions for a while? If we decide to go hunt for the pearls, we may be gone a few months.”
“She doesn’t mind. She lives in this big old house by herself, so there’s plenty of room.” They set their boxes in a corner and returned to the car for another load.
Manuel handed her a box, but he didn’t let go immediately. She looked up at him, wondering why he hadn’t released her.
“Isabel, thank you for inviting me here. You probably don’t know this, but I was about to lose my apartment. Your invitation was an answer to prayer.”
The reference to prayer snagged Isabel’s attention. He’d never hinted he believed in God or practiced any sort of religion. She wondered if he actually prayed, or if he’d said it for her benefit. “I’m glad to help out, Manuel, but you should know my reasons for inviting you were purely selfish. I don’t have a car. Abuela probably could have loaned me hers, but I had no desire to make the hour’s drive into Caracas every day to work with you. Bringing you here seemed more convenient.”
Manuel glanced out over the groves of avocado trees and fields that would yield a bountiful harvest. “This is beautiful land. I think I’ll enjoy my stay.”
Isabel laughed and turned toward the house with her box. “Wait until you taste Maria’s cooking. You will never want to leave.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
An hour later, Isabel and Manuel settled into the study to continue their translating efforts. The fire had disrupted their work for nearly a week, and Manuel felt eager to resume. They worked side-by-side at the large table, the journal open between them. Isabel studied the Spanish text and wrote a rough translation on her notepad. Occasionally, she would point out an Indian word or phrase to Manuel, and he would jot them on his tablet. He’d volunteered for the more difficult job of translating the Pachacamac words. They fell into a rhythm, working silently for over an hour before combining their work and reading the next journal entry.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
July 10, 1505
Today, I killed a man. I suspect he followed me to the hut and spied on Karwa and me for a time before showing himself. His face registered disgust and hatred as he stepped into the open and confronted me for hiding a savage. Assessing her with a leering gaze, he offered to keep my secret if I would agree to share her with him. His attitude and vile suggestion rankled, and my fear turned to anger.
She whimpered when he stepped forward and grabbed hold of her, and though he did not harm her, I beat him soundly for touching her at all. With his body and pride wounded, he staggered away from the hut, threatening to bring back reinforcements. I watched him retreat into the vegetation, knowing he would make good on his threat. My superiors would not hesitate to hang me for my treason, and Karwa would suffer a fate worse than death. I could not bear to imagine her subject to the Spaniards’ cruelty.
Since the moment I’d whisked her away to safety, I’d known this dreaded day might come. I stared into her eyes as I struggled with the most difficult choice of my life. From my youth I dreamed of a career with the Spanish navy, rising to a position of power and authority, as had my father and his father before him. Yet my
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