Before they set off for Los Angeles though, Diego took out his ever present sketchbook and a piece of charcoal and sat Felipe down in front of him.
"I will make a portrait of you," he told the boy. "Then we can give that to the padre at the orphanage we saw yesterday."
Startled, and half panicked, Felipe shook his head and signed something urgent.
"No, I'm not going to leave you at the orphanage. You are coming back with us to my pueblo," Diego reassured him. "But if someone is still looking for you, we wouldn't want them to think you are dead. And the first place they will look for you is an orphanage. So we will leave a portrait of you with the padre, with your name, and where they can find you."
Felipe seemed satisfied with his explanation, and patiently posed for him. For a few minutes, that is, for then his curiosity took over and he crawled closer to see what Diego was doing.
His eyes widened at the sight of the half finished sketch. "It's me!" he motioned excitedly, eliciting a chuckle from Diego.
"Yes, it's you. Now sit down there again, will you? So I can finish the portrait and we can finally go home!"
Felipe's portrait with the contact details of the De la Vegas was left with padre Juan at the orphanage, who promised to show it to anyone who came to inquire about a Felipe, and then the trio finally resumed their northbound heading. And now that they didn't have to stop to ask around all the time, they could travel much faster.
Felipe, too, had gotten more confident riding on a horse. He now rode proudly facing front, as an illustration of his looking forward to his new life in Los Angeles. Enveloped in Diego's arms, he seemed the happiest when Diego let him hold the reins, even if of course the young caballero was still the one who was really in charge of Esperanza.
All in all, it took them a mere two days to leave the warzone behind them, and two more days to reach the border with California. And that night, for the first time in two weeks, they slept in a real bed again at the local inn.
Or... again? Felipe had never slept on a mattress, let alone in a bed before. Once they had brought their belongings up to their room, it was near impossible to get him to come down for a hearty (and warm!) supper – the boy would much rather have gone straight to bed!
Diego smiled indulgently at his enthusiasm, and promised to come straight to bed with him as soon as they had finished their supper. Unfortunately, the soft mattress did nothing to help keep Felipe's continuing nightmares at bay. Still, the realization that he was lying on a mattress, in a real bed, in a real inn certainly did help in calming him down again afterwards.
They decided to stay over a day in San Diego. And while Salvador went out to replenish their practically depleted food supply, Diego sat down at a table in the tavern to write a long letter to his father, explaining why the return journey from Guadalajara was taking them so long, and telling him all about little Felipe. With a bit of luck, the letter would reach Don Alejandro before they got back to Los Angeles themselves.
Felipe sat at his elbow, silently observing the progress of the letter, until at last he touched Diego's arm.
"What is it, Felipe?"
Felipe made a general gesture of inquiry.
"What am I doing?" He looked back at what he had written. "I'm telling my father why we are so late. We should have been home days ago, so I'm sure he is worried."
Felipe made no reply, so he finished his letter in mutual silence. But once he signed his name and put down his quill, Felipe asked his attention again.
"Is my father alone at home? Yes, he is. Well, sort of. There are still servants in the house."
"Does he miss your mamà?"
Diego had a sad smile. "Yes, I'm sure he still misses my mother. I miss her, too."
Felipe signed something.
"Did she die in the war?" Diego shook his head. "No. She got very sick. So sick that she died from it."
Felipe regarded him gravely for a moment, almost as if he tried to read his thoughts. And then he asked, "How old were you when she died?"
"How old I was? I was twelve when she died." He heaved a sigh as memories came rushing back to him. "She had been sick for a long time. And I knew she had been getting worse and that she might even die – my father had told me that. But somehow I didn't believe she could die. She was my mother – she couldn't just die. But one day when I came home for dinner after playing with my friends the whole afternoon, my father came staggering towards me and told me that she had died."
Felipe nodded his understanding. "Were you sad?" he asked.
"Yes, of course I was sad. And I felt guilty, too – that I had been having such fun with my friends while my mother had died." Another sigh. "But you know what? In the beginning it's terrible. You can hardly think of anything else. But after some time, you get used to the new situation. Lots of new things happen, and suddenly you realize one evening that you haven't really thought about your mother all day." He put his arm around Felipe's shoulders and pulled him close. "You will always miss your mamà and papà, Felipe. And that's good, because they are a part of you. But I can promise you from experience that things will get better. You will be happy again; you won't be sad forever. And I don't think your mamà and papà would want you to be sad for the rest of your life either."
Felipe nodded, and signed something complicated that made Diego frown.
"Try again, please. I don't understand."
So Felipe went through the signs again, slower this time, to give Diego a chance to translate his question in bits and pieces.
"Do I think my mother... and your mamà and papà... are sitting together now... in heaven... watching over us as we talk here?" He smiled, and ruffled the boy's hair. "I sure hope so, Felipe."
Later that day, Diego also got Felipe a new set of clothes, as well as new sandals. The boy was in seventh heaven with his new outfit, even though it took the combined persuasion of Don Diego and Salvador to convince him that it was really for him, and for keeps.
"You ought to look your best when you arrive in your new hometown," Salvador teased him.
Although practically all communication went through Diego, Felipe had become more at ease with Salvador as well now. But it was only Diego he still didn't trust out of his sight. Diego found it a bit stifling on one hand, but on the other hand, Felipe's blind reliance on him made him feel really grown up. Almost as if he were the boy's father, he thought. That is of course, if the age difference had been a little bigger. Felipe was probably more like a baby-brother – the baby-brother he had always wished for and often even had asked for before his mother got sick.
Yes. It felt incredibly good to be a big brother at last.
They took their time in riding from San Diego to Los Angeles, and so it was halfway the afternoon of the third day that they finally approached the De la Vega hacienda – although Felipe didn't seem to realize it was their destination until the horses halted in front of the gate and Diego slid out of the saddle with Felipe in his arms.
The boy turned back to him as soon as he stood on his own feet and made an inquiring gesture.
"This is my home," Diego said and signed.
Felipe's jaw dropped, and he turned around for a better look. "All of it?" he signed incredulously.
"Yes. All of it."
"You must be a king!" Felipe signed in awe.
"No." Diego chuckled. "I'm not a king. Just the son of a wealthy caballero."
And there was the wealthy caballero himself. "Diego!"
"Father!" He ran forward to hug his father, before stepping back and giving him a critical once-over. "You look a lot better than when I left. I'm so glad to see you up and about again!"
"No more glad than I am, I'm sure. And you look good, too. I believe you've grown even taller, son. Where is this going to stop?"
It was an old joke between father and son ever since Diego had surpassed his father in height, so he just smiled, and shrugged good-naturedly.
Don Alejandro slapped his son on the back, and turned to the others. "Salvador," he greeted the trusted servant. "It's good to see you again. I hope Diego didn't give you too much trouble?"
Salvador smiled. "Nothing I couldn't handle, señor."
"Good. Good." And then he turned his attention to the little boy hanging back by the horses. "And you must be Felipe," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "Diego has written me all about you."
Intimidated, Felipe took a step back.
Diego saw it. "Come," he gestured to the boy. "It's okay."
But Felipe stayed where he was, so Diego walked over to him and squatted down. "Felipe, this man is my father. My papà. I told you about him, remember?"
Felipe cast an uncertain glance in the direction of the elder caballero, and then thrust his arms around Diego's neck.
And Diego sighed in a smile. "It's okay. I'm here. Come on, let's get inside." He lifted the boy up in his arms and followed his father into the hacienda, while Salvador went to the stables with the two horses.
"Ah, it's good to be home," Diego sighed as he entered the sala.
"It's good to have you home," his father emphasized. "But first tell me." A cloud came over his face. "How are things in Guadalajara?"
"As well as can be expected when we left." Diego lowered himself onto one of the chairs in the library, and gratefully accepted the cool glass of lemonade that Maria offered him. The lemonade even got Felipe to lift his head from Diego's shoulder long enough to empty his glass, but all in all he seemed rather overwhelmed by the home he had just been brought into.
Diego let him be. He just kept his arms protectively around the boy, and occasionally rubbed his back in reassurance.
"And what about little Felipe?" his father asked once the topic of his brother's death and its aftermath had been dealt with. "From what I gathered from your letter, you did the right thing in taking him under your wings, Diego. But was it really a good idea to bring him here? If any of his relatives are still looking for him, they'll never find him now."
Diego sighed. "I know. And I realized that, father. But you haven't seen the... the devastation of the country there. Most pueblos have been totally destroyed, the people have fled..." He closed his eyes at the memory. "We've asked around for days if anyone knew Felipe. But even in his hometown – his pretty much eradicated hometown – there was only one lady who remembered him. But she was no relative or friend, and flatly refused to take him in, even when I offered to pay for his keep. And under the circumstances they were living there, I cannot possibly blame her. But since nobody seemed to know anything about relatives, and the one orphanage we came across was more than overcrowded..."
"So you took him home with you," Don Alejandro concluded.
"Yes, although we did leave a message at the orphanage. But actually we let Felipe choose himself. If he had wanted to keep looking for relatives, we would have done so. But it seemed all he wanted was to get away and forget about the horrors he'd seen. He knows his parents are dead, and to be honest, it's never become clear to me whether he even has other relatives."
His father nodded.
"And, well, to be honest..." Diego had a bashful little grin. "I confess I've grown rather fond of him myself."
His father chuckled. "Yes, I can see that, son. And apparently, the feeling is mutual." He slapped his thighs and got up. "Well, as an orphan with no known relatives, the boy will be a ward of the Church in any case. But we can go and see the padre about that tomorrow – for tonight, your little protégé will be our guest."
Once Felipe had realized that Diego's father had left the room, he lifted his head off Diego's shoulder and looked at him inquiringly.
"What now?" Diego translated.
Felipe nodded.
"Well, tonight we are going to stay here, at my father's house," he explained with gestures. "For this is my home. I have lived in this house all my life."
"The house is big," Felipe interjected.
"Yes, it is big. So we will eat here, and sleep here tonight. And tomorrow, we will take you to the padre in the pueblo. He is a very nice man, and he will be happy to take care of you in the orphanage with the other children."
Felipe asked something.
"Is it far to the pueblo? No," Diego assured him. "It's very close. I'll come and visit you every day – I promise."
Still, Felipe looked a bit dejected, and his next question made Diego chuckle. "If I can come and live at the orphanage, too? I'm afraid I'm a bit too old for that, my boy!" He pulled him tight against his chest, and Felipe wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Diego's neck in an attempt to hide his sudden tears.
"Yes, my friend," Diego whispered. "I'm going to miss you, too."
The afternoon passed with exploring the hacienda together, a visit to the stables, and Felipe taking a bath in a real bath tub.
Don Alejandro watched his son and his little protégé with interest. He was proud of his son, the way he took care of the poor orphan boy. No doubt he would make a great father one day!
And on top of that, he was more than a little amazed to see how easily the two communicated when no one else (himself included) seemed to be able to make much sense of the boy's gestures. The kid sure wasn't going to have it easy without Diego by his side...
"Father," Diego said as he entered the sala again hand in hand with a squeaky clean Felipe. "I hope you don't mind, but I think Felipe would be far more at ease if he could eat in the kitchen tonight. He does seem a bit overwhelmed by our... 'grandeur'." He chuckled. "And of course I'd rather not leave him by himself in these strange surroundings – if he would even let me. So would you mind very much...?"
His father smiled. "To dine alone one more time? No, son. It's alright. You stay with him."
Back when he was a child, Diego had often got to eat in the kitchen whenever his parents were away. His father had felt it would help him to see the family's servants as people instead of inferiors, and he had made friends with the hacienda's personnel as easily as he had with anyone he met. It would be nice to revisit that childhood memory with Felipe at his side.
Maria the cook was already bustling about when Diego and Felipe entered the large kitchen. "Ah! Don Diego! Just in time. Can you please finish setting the table for me?"
Diego grinned. Yep. It was just like old times.
He guided Felipe to the large kitchen table, where all the plates and glasses and cutlery had just been dumped in a pile. "Come," he told Felipe. "We can set the table together to help Maria. I'll show you."
In this, too, Felipe turned out to be a quick and eager learner, and Maria gave him a friendly pat on the head in thanks.
Soon, the other servants began to trickle in, and once they had said grace together, Maria served them all a generous portion.
Diego didn't mind that their talk and table manners were somewhat less refined than his own, and in return, the servants totally accepted him in their midst. In contrast, on the bench between Diego and Salvador, Felipe looked as if he very much felt the outsider. When they were camping out these past weeks, and even at the inn in San Diego, it had been totally normal to eat with his fingers as he always had. But at this table, literally everyone was using a knife and a fork to eat. Maybe he should try that, too...
Shyly, he picked up his own knife and fork. Immediately, he felt Diego smiling at him, and he glanced up.
"Good!" the young Don seemed to say. Unobtrusively, he showed the boy how to hold and use the utensils. Felipe did his best to copy him. The result was quite a bit messier than that on Diego's plate, but both Diego and Maria made sure to compliment him.
"With some more practice, you'll soon have impeccable table manners!" Maria predicted, and Diego translated her words as best he could.
But as the meal (and Felipe's battle with fork and knife) progressed, Felipe seemed to withdraw more and more into himself. Diego saw it with growing concern, and he patted Felipe's shoulder to get his attention. "What is wrong?" he asked with gestures when those dark eyes looked up at him.
Felipe gulped visibly. "What are they saying?"
Diego glanced at the others, and back at Felipe. "They are talking about the horses," he told the boy.
Felipe lowered his eyes to his plate, and slowly took another bite.
And Diego understood. While they had been underway, there had been only the three of them. And even if Felipe didn't understand everything, he had been very much a part of their social interaction. But in a larger group like this, everything just gulfed around him, denying him any opportunity for interaction.
He bit his lip. Would it really be such a good idea to leave the boy at the orphanage? Constantly surrounded by some fifteen other children, would he not feel equally left out as he did here?
But if not the orphanage, what other option was there?