Sorry I took a while before posting this chapter, I was caught up in moving to another place, and the whole living-in-boxes lifestyle just killed my inspiration for a while. This chapter was partly written before and after I moved, I hope its sections are not too disconnected, though this is how felt when I had to finish writing it :-) I usually write chapters in a day, that's why this one felt strange to me.
"The day is rather hot for this time of the year, is it not?"
"Oh, shush, Tomás, you're not wearing a corset! You have absolutely no reason to complain!"
The Don laughed at his wife's pout, and distractedly wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief as they kept on walking leisurely across the small pueblo's plaza. The lively energy of Imelda was always contagious, and he could not help but wonder what she found so interesting in an older man such as he. Whatever her reasons were, he could not help but thank the heavens such a beautiful woman had chosen to spend the rest of her life with him. The last two years had been a blissful, lasting moment.
"You're doing it again, Tomás!"
"Doing what?"
"You're staring at me with a dumb look, Señor," she teased with a wink.
"My deepest excuses, Señora, but your beauty enraptures me," he said, bowing to Imelda in a royal manner, as he would have at the Spanish Court.
His wife giggled, and her laughter reminded him of how their one year old son Mateo laughed. He had definitely inherited her cheerful attitude.
"My, what is going on here? Is the most influent of the Dons bowing to a citizen of this pueblo?" a familiar voice said from behind.
Don Tomás turned around and instantly recognized his good friend Don Alejandro.
"Alejandro, are you and my wife into some sort of conspiracy to tease me all the time?"
"That depends, we might keep on doing it while we can. After all, you're not Alcalde yet!" he replied with a chuckle.
"I know I have your vote of confidence, Alejandro, but Jose Vanegas' tenure is not over until another year! Speaking of such things is premature and uncalled for," Tomás replied, feeling uneasy with the topic of his likely nomination as Los Angeles' next mayor. After all, this young pueblo's first alcalde was doing a good job so far, even though talks of him being replaced by Don Tomás had been circulating among the Dons for quite some time now.
"If it can make you feel better, Tomás, I invite you and your wife for some refreshing wine at the tavern," he chuckled, distractedly playing with the tip of his fine mustache.
"Don Alejandro, you are spoiling us again!" Imelda said with a nod, already accepting the invitation.
"I believe that would be an acceptable excuse, dear friend," Tomás acknowledged with a smile, grateful for the opportunity to get out of the afternoon's sun for a moment. "It does feel like it's getting hotter by the second out here."
"Hot? It's a rather perfect and refreshing sunny day I would say, February is always so rainy," replied Don Alejandro as they headed towards the building at the other side of the plaza.
"Do you men plan on talking politics again?" Imelda asked pitifully. "I think we should rather discuss about—"
"I... really don't feel... like..." interrupted Tomás through clenched teeth as a sudden, uncomfortable pressure grabbed the center of his chest. He tried his best not to look disturbed by the pain, knowing it would go away in a few minutes, as it had the other times before.
"Oh, Tomás, instead you and Don Alejandro can talk politics tonight, we could have dinner together! He could bring little Diego over and..." Imelda trailed off, her cheerful face now darkened with concern as she stared at him. "Tomás? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, querida," he lied with a weak smile. Her sudden concern seemed to have worried Don Alejandro as well, who grabbed him by the arm and scrutinized his eyes.
"Señora, I think we should bring your husband home," he finally declared.
"Alejandro, I feel perfectly fine, this is just a momentary... dizziness," Tomás said angrily to Alejandro, pulling away from his grasp. He found the overt worry of his wife and friend most annoying.
"Tomás, you really don't look well. Let's go home, I'll make you some herb tea," Imelda said in a distressed manner.
"Really, I'm fine, no need to—"
Suddenly, Tomás moaned and grabbed his chest, involuntarily squeezing his vest as if to rip it off. The pain was so great he could not withstand it, and he fell to his knees.
"Tomás!" Imelda screamed.
"Help, someone! We need water!" yelled Alejandro.
The old don's vision suddenly blurred and he heard a buzzing noise in his ears. Everything his wife and Alejandro said seemed to come from afar as his senses slowly shut down. He felt his arms become numb, and he could barely feel his body being lied down on the ground. All he wanted to do was to lift his hand up and stroke his wife's cheek to calm her, but even that had become the most difficult of things to accomplish.
Tomás blinked a few times to try and focus in the blinding sunlight. He realized someone else was now looking over him, palpating his neck, and now ripping open his shirt. He thought he had seen the young, bearded man before, though he could not quite figure out where or when he had met him.
"Don't move, Señor, I am Doctor Garat, I will take care of you."
"... love... you..." Tomás managed to say with a rasp, trying to keep his eyes focused on his beautiful wife.
The doctor with a strange accent seemed to pause his frantic gestures for a moment, visibly disturbed by something. The last thing Tomás saw was his wife staring at the bearded man. He could not understand why she was not looking at him. Was it... adoration he saw in her lovely eyes? He wanted her to look at him, but he could not find the strength to speak up and get her attention.
As the pain was finally starting to recede, Don Tomás Escudero Manrique let darkness overcome his vision, and sighed his last breath.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Bernardo readied himself for whatever words Antoine would feel throwing at him. However, his friend remained silent as he readied himself for a bath. Since hot water had already been prepared by the house servants, courtesy of Diego who knew his friend was in town, he went out for a moment to fetch it, hoping to come across Diego to get their stories straight before dinner. He had no such luck however, so he came back with the bucket of hot water, hoping he would be able to handle whatever would happen in the next minutes.
Though he was not looking directly at Antoine as he poured the water in the bath, Bernardo felt the weight of the soldier's gaze on his back, and he smiled to himself. He knew Antoine was too smart not to have noticed the problem with his apparent deafness. The young man was probably expecting his mute friend to offer some sign about what was going on, but he would not give him the satisfaction of an explanation before he could ask it out loud.
"Now, where was I with my guesses after I woke up from my two days of unasked for induced sleep? Ah, yes. You were yelled at so much that you became deaf," thought the soldier out loud. "No, wait, it's probably too much sand from the area that clogged your ears. Ah, you ate some strange Californian fruit that made you deaf. Or maybe you got so tired of hearing Diego's boring stories that you stopped listening to everything altogether... Oh oui, that's probably it!"
Antoine finished his deductive train of thought by clasping his friend's shoulders emphatically, while Bernardo continued preparing the bath, doing the best he could to hide the smile on his face.
"Whatever it is," he continued in a lowered tone, "I don't really understand why people think you're deaf. Don Alejandro and Mateo both believe so, and I did notice you made no effort to let them think otherwise. We pulled enough tricks together in Madrid for me to guess something is going on here..."
Antoine paused a moment, but Bernardo resisted the urge to turn around.
"I was kind enough not to question your behavior in front of them, Bernardo, but if you don't tell me something, you're in for a bath, dear friend," he finally whispered menacingly, tightening his grasp slightly.
On those words, Bernardo put the bucket down and turned around, putting on the best frightened expression he could muster up. Upon seeing his face, Antoine's curled lips became a large smile which made Bernardo laugh along.
"You sneaky little fox!" he exclaimed. "What are you and Diego up to this time?"
Bernardo's eyes widened at the choice of words from Antoine, but he decided that it was too haphazard to have been said on purpose.
To answer his friend's question, he started by building up a fictive crowd with his fingers, and imitated them chattering among themselves. He then pointed himself and started walking around these people while emphatically making the gesture of listening to them.
"Er... Bernardo? I don't know what you mean... I know you can hear people talking."
The mute man shook his head and tried to explain again. Sometimes he wished he could speak, it would makes things so much easier, and faster. After a moment of thinking, he decided to point each invisible person with his fingers, and then pointed to himself, and made the familiar gesture of shaking his head after pointing to his mouth and ears.
Then he mimicked himself walking toward Antoine to tell a secret in his ear while pointing someone out.
On this, Antoine laughed out loud and patted his friend on the shoulder again.
"Bernardo... I can't believe it! You... a spy!" he whispered with excitement. "This means Diego now collects gossip?! It makes sense though. Everyone believes you are deaf so they won't be too careful around you. But... Don Alejandro? Do you and Diego both need to lie to him?"
Bernardo shrugged and made a somewhat pitiful face, unsure of how to react to that fact. He had no explanation he could honestly offer to Antoine without revealing too much about his and Diego's big secret.
"Well, I hope you will fill me in on all the juicy details of this pueblo. I guess it is as boring as I had expected," he chuckled as he offhandedly threw his pants in Bernardo's face. "Gossip must me the only amusing thing around."
As he entered the bath, Antoine sighed with pleasure. Bernardo removed the stinky piece of clothing from his face, pulling his tongue with disgust.
"I don't have much, but I do have some clean clothes somewhere in my bag. And don't even think of burning my uniform, Bernardo. You did it once in Madrid and it's not happening ever again! I'm going to clean it up."
Bernardo smiled at the memory, remembering very well how once, unable to properly wash Antoine and Diego's clothes, he had simply thrown them in the fireplace, after the young men had dueled and ended up shoving each other into a farmer's cart full of—
"Merde! I really let that guy escape!" Antoine suddenly cursed out of the blue, making Bernardo jump. Water spilled from the bath to the floor in small waves, reminiscent of the turmoil and anger of the person sitting in it.
"That Zorro! He seems to be quite the arrogant bandit. Insulting a commanding officer, playing the hero and such, and not even getting off his horse to fight. He's even hiding behind a mask! I... Such a bad impression I must have made, I could not even slow him down. The Comandante was furious!"
The mute man knew better than to reason with his angry friend. Antoine would calm down in a matter of minutes as he usually did. In the meantime, Bernardo ignored him as he pulled out the only suit he found in the bag. While he shook and straightened its folds, his nimble fingers suddenly felt something odd in the vest.
Out of curiosity, he reached into the inside chest pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief carefully folded into an intricate square shape. The dark green cloth was so silky to the touch that its folds could not hold the shape together, and the object which had been wrapped in it fell to the ground with a metallic sound.
The coin rolled for a moment on the uneven floor, refusing to settle down. Bernardo knelt down and caught it, a puzzled look on his face. The silver was all tarnished, but the inscription was still readable: FERDND VI D G HISPAN ET IND REX. Bernardo flipped the coin around to read the date. 1753. This was old money indeed.
"What are you doing?" Antoine asked.
Bernardo brought the coin to his friend, who picked it up with a smile, his bad mood suddenly a thing of the past as he had predicted.
"My lucky coin!" he happily exclaimed. "Where did you find it? I thought I had lost it! Been looking for it since I left Bayonne. Wait—what's that?"
Antoine quickly snatched the handkerchief from Bernardo's hand, who shrugged and shook his head, mimicking himself picking it up from his own vest to explain where he had found it.
"Qu'est-ce que...?" he muttered to himself, examining the cloth and cursing in French under his breath. Antoine was decidedly into changing tempers tonight.
"My damn father just won't leave me alone..." he finally said. "Look at this, Bernardo."
The soldier help up the handkerchief by the corners, and did not seem to mind the water dripping on it from his wet hands. Bernardo moved closer to examine the object, and noticed at the bottom the white embroidered initials JG. As his eyes continued their scrutiny, he opened his mouth in surprise. Something had been written, or rather, bleached, around the edges. What could be mistaken for a fancy color pattern was in fact strange words which Bernardo could not understand.
"Why, oh why, was my father just not straightforward about this whole California thing? What's the big deal about this place, do you know, Bernardo?" asked the soldier in a rhetorical manner, shaking his head with a desperate sigh.
"This and the—where's my pocket watch?"
Bernardo shrugged. He had not seen any watch.
Waiting was not something Imelda was reluctant to do. The predictable outcome was inescapable, and the passing of time with Comandante Monastario was not in itself unpleasant. Rather, the unfocused, inward look that the man had been wearing for the better part of the dinner had aroused her curiosity. He would probably share his thoughts when his impatience could no longer be held in check, and would make him speak up.
In the meantime, Imelda was staring at the deep streaks of red highlighting the sky. It would soon be dark, the moment where people became more intimate, where whispers were born and died between a mouth and an ear. The lively sounds of the Californian night life were already singing, and, half inspired by the scenery, Imelda started humming a rhythmic tune she had not heard in a long time.
"Sounds like a song from the natives," Monastario commented.
Imelda turned her eyes to him, and stopped humming to smile faintly. "Really, dear Comandante, I would not have thought you so... sensitive to be able to make such a determination. What happened to the ruthless leading figure of the pueblo?"
"Oh, stop that," he simply replied.
"Hmm? You don't like this song?"
"Stop teasing me, it will not work anymore."
"All right, no more 'teasing'," Imelda answered with a wink. She was able to hide the slight surprise she felt at his rather honest request.
The Comandante, his eyes fixed on hers as if he tried to see her soul through them, sipped on his glass of wine, unaware of the substance Imelda had discreetly poured into it a little earlier. The innocent gesture brought back the faint smile to her face, but she remained silent, patiently waiting for the words that were burning his lips.
"I have been Comandante of Los Angeles for some time now, Señora. I know most, if not all, of the influent people in the pueblo and the nearby area, yet I find it most strange that I can't remember seeing the remarkable Señora Escudero ever, until very recently," said Monastario, thinking out loud. He then slowly stood up and started pacing, as if it would help making his thoughts more coherent.
Imelda kept quiet, wondering which question he would ask first.
"In fact, I took the liberty of investigating the names Escudero and Garat, and could only find scarce information in the Chuch's documents. Don Tomás Escudero Manrique, whom you married more than twenty years ago, passed away a few years later, after the birth of your only son Mateo. Doctor Jacques Garat, married to Deiña Elejalde de la Ybarra, who also passed away more than fifteen years ago. The Garat family left California not long after her death..."
Monastario paused and distractedly scratched his chin. He seemed to become more and more focused, and did not even look at Imelda anymore.
"I would hardly call this useful information," he continued. "Maybe the death of Don Tomás could explain your moving away from Los Angeles, perhaps to forget the pain of your loss, or to go back to your family. Still, a Doña such as yourself does not simply disappear from society. And you still own the family hacienda, so your ties to Los Angeles have never really been broken."
The Comandante's pace seemed to increase slightly as his deductive skills were at work. Imelda was surprised that Monastario had gone to such lengths to find information about her past.
"In fact, what I find most strange... I was wondering how you could have learned that Corporal Garat was coming over to serve in Los Angeles. No one would really have been able to know, except myself, through the Army's correspondence. I doubt you could have read it from the documents on my desk. You either have a very, very good spy, or ties back in Europe that would have given you some tips about it... or Corporal Garat wrote to you personally, though I doubt he did, as he did not seem to recognize you today.
"That cursed treasure story of yours is also intriguing. You may have stolen that earring, or it was given to you perhaps. No matter, as I believe the only important thing is that you have not found this treasure, and I have a feeling only Corporal Garat may lead you to it. Still, a wealthy and smart woman such a you would not divulge this type of information openly, if she were greedy. Sharing a treasure with someone who's likely to cause more trouble than he's worth... is improbable.
"No... Greed cannot be your main motivation, Señora, though I suspect you knew it would be mine. Something else is going on."
Monastario paused again, and turned to Imelda. The candlelight reflected in his eyes, giving their blue color a new intensity she had never seen in them.
The light then flickered, and Monastario suddenly blinked at it. He grabbed the back of his chair with two strong hands. His knuckles were white from the strength of his grip.
"Señora Escudero... Why... did you involve me?"
The silence between them spoke volumes about the meaning of this one question. Imelda was speechless for a moment. She felt almost excited that the Comandante was not as impetuous with his thinking as he was with his emotions.
Keeping a neutral face, she slowly stood up and walked up close to the Comandante. She could tell he was boiling inside, but he was patiently waiting for her to answer his legitimate question.
"Enrique Sanchez Monastario, your deductive skills are rather impressive. I do admit to having another... motivation for involving you in this treasure hunt," Imelda said, playing on purpose with a curl of her hair.
"...What?" he blurted out, probably not expecting a confession. His back stiffened as he suddenly became self-conscious about their rather improper proximity.
Imelda slowly brought her hands to his chest, stroking his uniform with the tip of her fingers until she reached his neck. The Comandante surprisingly did not move away, though she could feel his uneasiness through the thick fabric, and his rapid, controlled breathing which tickled the skin of her cheeks.
As he opened his mouth to protest, Imelda sealed his lips with hers. Monastario tried to pull away, but his vain efforts were overcome by her fervent embrace and he finally gave in, returning the passionate kiss with an equal eagerness.
Next: Diego and Antoine finally get a chance to discuss alone. And more Monastario of course. We all love him, right?
p.s. That kiss was totally inspired by one of Valdhery's comments. For some reason it just fit into my plot, ahah :)
edit: shame! IcyWaters found another mistake that slipped by (my my you have scrutinizing eyes!) Tomás and Imelda did have 2 great years together, according to Tomás of course :) I removed the wrong words (I started writing something and then changed my sentence halfway through and never saw the wrong wording). Geez, should I ask for a beta reader now? :)
Just to satisfy your curiosity, the inscription on the coin is an "acronymed" text for FERDINANDUS VI DEI GRATIA HISPANIARUM ET INDIARUM REX; in English: "Ferdinand VI, by the Grace of God, King of the Spains and the Indies"