CHAPTER SEVEN – Practical Inventions

Later that afternoon, Felipe came in with the crutches he'd made. He had wrapped them in the linen that Carlos, the linen merchant had brought for that very purpose. It cushioned the underarms so that they wouldn't get too sore. Diego tried them out, but some adjustments had to be made. After sawing off another half inch from each crutch, and sanding the edges until they were smooth and somewhat rounded – but with a flat surface – Diego tried them again. A perfect fit. Felipe used the remnants of the linen to wrap around the wooden edge to create a buffer between the wooden crutch and the marble or carpet floor.

Now, I can get around when I need to, without asking for Felipe and Father to help me all the time, he thought. Now that he could at least move from room to room on the crutches, his mood did lighten up a bit, as he got used to clunking around on them throughout the house. He knew he had to make sure he wasn't on his left leg too long at one time, so he wouldn't overwork it, but he still needed to exercise it. As soon as his broken leg was well, he would need to get back in shape – in case Zorro would be needed, and on general principles.

After dinner, Felipe went to the cave to work with Toronado. Alejandro came in to have another talk with Diego, hoping he could get some answers to a few questions that had been bothering him. He hoped Diego would be in the mood to talk. Now that Diego had crutches, Alejandro hoped his son would be in a better humor. He found Diego in the Library reading Ivanhoe.

"You seem to be enjoying that book, Diego. Would you like to take a break from reading? Are you up for a game of chess?" Alejandro asked.

"Not tonight, Father. Felipe and I played half the afternoon. He still beats me three times out of four. He's an amazing chess genius." Diego placed his bookmark in the book, then put the book on his lap.

"Son, may I ask you something?" Alejandro used the least provocative tone of voice he possessed.

"Certainly." Diego turned his full attention to his father.

"The day of the – uh – incident – you said something that made me curious. You said that Sir Edmund had taught you to use whatever you could find as a weapon, when threatened. Something like that? What I want to know is how did you remember that? You don't seem have remembered any other fighting or self-defense strategies. I'm just curious. I don't want to upset you. I know this is hard on you."

Diego bristled a bit while his father talked. He wasn't sure how much or what to tell Alejandro. He wasn't concentrating or paying attention. All he heard was the 'remember' part. "Sorry, how did I remember what, Father?"

"How did you remember what Sir Edmund said about being threatened?"

Diego thought a moment again, before responding. Watch what you say… "Oh, I don't know. I can't explain it. Maybe it was because it was an emergency situation. It just came to mind, and I acted on it. It was a crisis, and I knew something had to be done."

"I don't want to irritate or upset you, but some things just don't make sense to me, Son."

Diego bristled and fidgeted. He thought, how can I deflect this? I guess I'll just have to go along and see what he's thinking. Maybe something will come up and I'll be able to deflect any suspicions. I don't feel ready to share my secret yet. I want to do it on my terms. Already two people have told me they know. I've got to shut things down. I can't let things get out of hand like this.

Out loud, he asked, as calmly as he could, "What things, Father?"

Alejandro could see his son was uncomfortable, and he suspected it wasn't all due to physical discomfort.

"For one thing, I'd like to continue the conversation we started the other evening, when you were tired. It seems to me you are very angry with yourself for what happened. Can you explain this to me – this anger – towards yourself for being hurt?"

Ah, so that's his curiosity – whew – that's what this is about, thought Diego. I think I might have an answer for that, now that I've talked with Padre Benites.

"You know, Father, until Padre Benites visited me earlier today, I don't know if I could have told you without stirring up a lot of negative emotions. The padre helped me to realize that I need to be who I am – not who I think I should be. He said I was comparing myself to Zorro, and I suppose I was…"

Diego paused a moment, trying to gauge Alejandro's expression. Alejandro responded.

"You aren't the only one, son. I too have been guilty of comparing you to Zorro. I thought that if you could model yourself after someone, it would be him. But I'm beginning to see that may not have been helpful…you said you had a talk with Padre Benites today. Does that mean you are no longer angry at yourself for this accident?"

Diego's head moved from side to side. "Let's just say that at least I have a beginning to an understanding about my feelings that I didn't have yesterday."

"That's good, son, that's good. May I ask you another question? "

"Certainly, Father."

"Diego, all your life, you have never been clumsy. You have always been very graceful, even your walk is smooth. You seem to glide. Why then, would you call yourself clumsy? I watched you the other day. You were anything but clumsy. You moved with a gracefulness I haven't seen in a long time. The way you avoided the bull for all that time…what are you doing Diego? Why do you try to hide your agility?"

Diego gulped. "Well, Father, I don't how graceful I was when I fell after the bull threw me."

"That's different, Diego. You were not in control when his horns caught and threw you. But when you were in control…you were like the toreadors in Spain and Mexico…lithe, graceful, agile. You were amazing to watch. You reminded me of the very person we have all compared you to…Zorro. How can someone who purports to be so clumsy, evade a bull for 10 minutes in the same manner as a professional toreador? Is there anything you haven't told me, Diego?"

Oh Dios, thought Diego. Don't tell me Father's now figured out my secret. Madre de Dios, my whole life is out of control! Now what? I'll deflect again. It is getting late. I'll just say I'm tired, which is true. I'm not ready to tell him yet. I want to do it on my own terms, not his. I think he's fishing. I'm not gonna bite.

Looking out of the corner of his eye to see how his father would react, Diego put his hand to his head and acted like he was going to fall off the couch, but caught himself just in time. Ivanhoe dropped to the floor with a small thud. I've performed fake falls and fake accidents before in order to establish my 'clumsy' character. I really don't want to do that anymore, but this seems an appropriate use of the technique, he thought. He thought back to the time he 'fell' and sprained his ankle to get out of fighting Sir Miles Thackery, and the 'fall' from the ladder at Christmastime while putting up decorations in the tavern.

"I'm sorry, Father. It seems I've overdone it today. I probably should have rested more. I've been up most of the day. I think I may have only had one short nap. I'm exhausted." Diego looked at Alejandro as though he was barely able to keep his eyes open a moment longer. He didn't want to give Alejandro more anxiety than was necessary, but he needed to get out of this conversation, and right now, he couldn't think of any other way to do it without arousing undo suspicion.

Alejandro saw the deflection. He realized Diego wasn't ready to talk anymore, so he allowed it, and decided to say one last thing he hoped would help Diego understand his true feelings.

"Well – there are many things I could say, son – but I just want you to know that I am very proud of you. You did what needed to be done, and that's all a man can ask of his son. You were a man of action that day, and I couldn't be prouder of you. But I want you to know that I am always proud of you, my son. Now – off to bed with you. Do you need help?" Alejandro's expression was reflected in his words.

Diego reached for his crutches, then looked at his father and smiled. "I'm sorry I've been in such a rotten humor since this happened. I wasn't prepared for something like this to happen, I guess. I'll be all right. If you could help me up…" Alejandro rose from his chair and together, they got Diego off the couch. As they did so, Alejandro spoke.

"Well son, no one prepares to have their leg broken…and no one prepares to try to fight a bull with a broomstick. It was a brave thing you did, but you should be proud that you saved many lives and valuable commercial property. Your quick thinking enabled the merchants and the people to get out of the way. And that's another reason why I'm proud of you, my son."

Diego could see the sincerity in his father's eyes. "Thank you, Father. I – that – means a lot to me…more than you could ever know."

Z

Alejandro went to the drawing room after Diego went to bed, hoping to finish up some bookwork, but found he couldn't concentrate.

He's done it again, Alejandro thought. That's twice he's cut off the conversation when it got uncomfortable for him. Why does he do that? Is he hiding something from me? What could it be?

A thought struck Alejandro, but he shrugged it off as an old man's imagination.

Z

Diego spent most of his days the first week on the couch with his leg propped up on pillows in the Library, drawing sketches or reading – except for the two days a week he went to the pueblo to work on The Los Angeles Guardian. The newspaper office wasn't real comfortable or conducive to healing, but it did afford more sitting time in one way or another to Diego. At the newspaper, he propped his leg up on a stool with a pillow he'd borrowed from Victoria's tavern. That didn't really provide him with enough cushioning, however, so he tried to work as quickly as he could.

Other days at home, he would read, while his leg was propped up on a stack of pillows on the couch. One such day, Felipe found him sketching something on top of a book.

He signed a question.

Diego held up the sketch for Felipe to see. "What am I doing? I have an idea of something to make that might make it easier to read or write or sketch while sitting. I'm almost done with it. Want to take a look?"

Felipe looked, but he couldn't figure it out. Diego continued. "I'm calling it a lap-table…because it will be a table-top that sits on my lap, similar to a miniature version of the top of a pulpit, only with a lid. A hinged lid will enable me to keep pencils and paper inside…it will be slanted so I won't have to bend my knees just to balance it. And – uh – I think I'll put a pillow underneath so it will be more comfortable. What do you think of it?"

Felipe's eyes widened and he grinned. His head bobbed up and down as he looked at the sketch and understood the concept. He gave the sketch back to Diego.

Alejandro came in at that moment. "What are you up to, Diego? Felipe looks happier than a clam on the ocean floor."

Diego held out his sketch. "Father, I think I might need your help with this." Alejandro came over and took the paper from him. "What is this, Diego?"

Diego replied, "I'm calling it a lap-table, for lack of a better term. It's so I can read, write or sketch while sitting. I've got to keep my leg fairly immobile, but I'm finding that hard to do by using a book as a table. I'm going to need you and Felipe to build this for me."

Alejandro looked at the sketch. "That's very inventive, and practical. I'll have our carpenter begin work on it tomorrow morning. Will that be soon enough?"

Diego smiled. "Absolutely. Gracias, Father. I appreciate your help."

Diego drew a lot of other sketches that week as well – sketches that he could use later for painting. He drew sketches of the rose garden, and sketches of some of the decorative plates. He put together several still life displays of bowls, fruits, and flowers. He drew 'secret' sketches of Toronado, Victoria, the cave, and the laboratory from memory.

A week later, Diego tried putting weight on his leg. He expected pain. He was trying it out to see how much pain there was. Within two seconds, he still felt severe pain. Felipe stood nearby in case Diego needed him.

"Yes, it still hurts a lot when I put weight on it. I'll try again next week," he said as he hobbled on his crutches back to the couch in the Library. As he 'walked,' he had to hold his leg off the floor, keeping his knee bent, holding his leg up by using his thigh muscles, while relaxing his calf muscles.

He hobbled on his crutches to the cave to see Toronado. It was difficult to bend over and not bump his head to get through the fireplace. Felipe had to help him by shielding Diego's head, because the crutches were too tall, but once he was through, Diego found he could move around fairly easy. He was thankful there weren't too many stairs.

Diego hobbled over and petted the tall, but somewhat temperamental black stallion, putting his crutches under his arms so he could use both hands, but only from the elbow so he wouldn't lose his crutches. He spoke calmly to Toronado.

"Hey boy, did you miss me? I've sure missed you." Toronado whinnied, snorted, then nuzzled his nose in Diego's outstretched hand. Diego petted the horse's nose with one hand, and his neck with the other. He reached into his pocket for a carrot he'd brought, and handed it to Toronado, who eagerly snatched it up. The sound of his chomping filled that corner of the cave.

Diego said, "Maybe in another week or so, boy, we can go for a short ride."

Felipe pointed to Diego and signed "wish." He silently snickered at Diego.

"I know I wish." He nearly fell over and lost a crutch by trying to do a playful whack up the side of Felipe's head.

Felipe signed, "Feeling better?"

Diego knew Felipe meant his attitude. The worst of the physical pain was behind him. Now if he could only reconcile the accident in his mind. He knew there was nothing that could have prevented it, but he still felt somewhat embarrassed…embarrassed that it had happened at all, embarrassed at the attention he got, and embarrassed at his own feelings about it. His talk with Father Benites had helped. He knew perspective was coming; it just hadn't quite gotten there yet.

"Yes, I'm feeling better. The pain is pretty much gone, except when I move it funny or put weight on it. I just have to get over my negative feelings about it. I'm sure I'll be able to joke about this someday soon."

Felipe smiled and nodded. He'll be all right. This may drive him crazy for a while, but he'll be all right, Felipe thought.

TBC