Diego left the old world and the old man behind him. The door before him shifted, and parted from the frame, bathing his face a stream of glorious, golden light. It seemed to fall not only upon him but through him, touching at the furthest corners of his mind, pushing all thought and all senses aside until only the brilliance remained.
Then, a gentle timbre, like the rippling undulations of water touched at Diego's ears and at once, it was as if he had awakened from a deep sleep. In the blinking of an eye, the light seemed to diffuse and the familiar, cool plasters and dark furnishing of Luis's stoic office resolved in its place.
Beyond, framed within the open doorway, the unmistakable golden epaulets of Jamie's uniform had caught in the fading sunlight, undulating now with the rise and fall of his shoulders. At his feet, stood an ancient wash bucket into which the man seemed to be driving a heavy stick. Somehow alerted to Diego's arrival, he turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder.
"Good Morning, Don Diego!"
The friendly jovial voice brought an instant smile to Diego's face and an answering greeting to his lips. Then, suddenly, dislodged by Jamie's efforts, a puff of sanguine foam and a spatter of dark, reddened droplets rained downward on the boards of the flooring.
Alarmed, Diego's eyes narrowed in observation, and in that instant, the stick, now stained dark, was lifted fully from the bucket. Suspended from its end, a dripping bundle trailed scarlet from a cascade of elegant ruffles.
Gasping, Diego's hand lifted to his mouth in horrified recognition, and at once, Jamie's dark eyes seemed to soften.
Todo está bien, Diego
"Don Luis is very sorry that he could not be here to greet you, but we had a couple of troublemakers in the pueblo this morning."
Then, gesturing, he rotated the stick to display a small rip in the fabric. "One of the men, he cut Don Luis a little bit, but he is fine."
Don Diego, lo prometo. Él está bien.
Diego's breath released in a sudden exhiliation and at once, he simply knew that Jamie was utterly sincere. Now, more relaxed and intensely curious, he turned his attention from the ugly work before him.
"Is there often trouble, Jamie?"
"Oh si, Don Diego," and again, Mendoza's dark eyes softened and then grew deeply introspective. "Many of those who come here, they do not rest easy."
Frowning at the odd statement, Diego realised that their conversation had lapsed from English to Spanish, and given his somewhat obscure grasp of the tongue, he imagined that something in Jamie's words had been lost to his translation.
Considering his reply, Diego's lips parted to speak, but in that moment, Jamie's chin suddenly lifted, and he gathered a breath through his nose. At once, his reverie lifted and the jovial smile returned.
"Madre de Dios, those frijoles! Senorita Victoria has been cooking since last night. She is so excited that you are here, Don Diego."
Victoria
"Era tan hermosa, tan triste."
Inexplicably, Diego's heartbeat quickened at the sound, the word and again, the longing touched at his breast.
"She was here last night when I..." Diego's words trailed off as his cheeks slightly colored in embarrassment at the memory.
Mendoza's eyes widened and he nodded in acknowledgement, then seemed to pause in a kind of attentive attunement as Diego gathered his thoughts and words.
"When I made my rather abrupt introduction. I expect that I must have made a very poor first impression. Please forgive my intrusions."
"No, Don Diego!" Jamie's eyes were warm and assuring, and again, Diego knew has was utterly sincere. " We are all very happy that you are here, and no one is more happy than Victoria."
Then, Jamie's chin again lifted as he scented the air and his stomach growled loudly, prompting both men to chuckle.