A Circle of Time (11 page)

Allison watched Joshua's face as he took in what she'd said. He stood and walked to the edge of the pool to gaze into the water. After a few minutes he said, “It's time, Allison. Tell me what happens to us.”

 

At Magda's cottage that evening, the three of them discussed Allison's options.

“The last time,” Allison said to Magda, “you said I had to follow in Becky's footsteps to find out what the danger was and what Becky wanted from me. But now that I know what she wants, I think I'm free to do things my way—to try to change the past. I just don't know where to begin or how to keep away from Sadie in the meantime.”

“Then perhaps,” said Magda, “you should stay here with me.”

“But what about Sadie? Won't she come here?”

Joshua jumped up. “She'd better not. If she hurts you again, I'll kill her!”

Magda and Allison stared at Joshua, horrified.

Realizing what he'd said, Joshua sank back in his chair. “You think I ... could I have...?”

Allison shook her head. “I don't know. I looked for you in your cave that night, but you were gone. Your bed hadn't been slept in. Sometime later, I stumbled onto Sadie's body.” She shuddered at the memory.

“I've known you since you were a small child, Joshua,” said Magda. “You are hotheaded sometimes but never violent.”

Allison agreed. “You want to help people, not hurt them. I don't believe you are capable of—”

“Murder?” said Joshua.

Allison looked away, nodding.

“But what if it isn't murder? What if I find her hurting you again, and I try to defend you?”

“It doesn't happen that way. I didn't see Sadie that night while she was still alive. At least I didn't last time, and I don't think Becky did, either. I think Sadie didn't come home, and Becky got scared and went looking for her or for you—to talk to you or to get you to help her find Sadie. Then she stumbled on her dead body.”

Joshua shrugged. “Maybe it's an accident, then. Maybe we're arguing, and I push her back and she falls and hits her head. ”

“Or maybe it is not you at all, Joshua,” Magda said. “There is the man—the man who chases Allison. Or maybe someone else is in the woods that night.”

“Do you know the man who chases me?” Allison asked Joshua.

“Describe him again.”

“He was ragged and hairy, and he looked like a savage, or an escaped convict, or a lunatic. His eyes were wild, and he wheezed. ”

“We get a few drifters around here, looking for work at the estate or for a handout as they pass through, but I haven't seen anybody like that.”

“Remember, Joshua,” said Allison, “none of this has happened yet. It's only April first, the earthquake is on April eighteenth. He still has more than two weeks to arrive, whoever he is. But whenever he does arrive, he's in the woods when I—Becky—trip over Sadie's dead body. And the thing is, wherever
you
are that night—”

“Probably walking through the woods,” Joshua said. “I like to do that when I can't sleep, or when I've got something on my mind.”

“Well, wherever you are, you're close enough to hear my—Becky's—screams for help because, somehow, you manage to follow her to the cliff and fight the man off. Then you try to save Becky when she”—the last moments of Becky's life filled Allison's mind, chilling her so she had to rub her arms to warm them—“falls.”

Joshua winced, then shook his head. “This has to be the most peculiar thing I ever heard in my life. We're talking about things that are gonna happen in the future like they already happened.”

“I know what you mean,” said Allison. “Most of this has been like a nightmare for me. But I have to prevent these things from happening if I ever expect to go back home.”

“That's easy enough,” said Joshua. “Now that we know what happens, why can't we just stay together that night and not go into the woods? That way neither of us gets chased or goes near the cliff.”

“I don't know...,” said Allison. “I can't believe it's that easy.”

“I am afraid Allison's right,” Magda said. “You also need to keep Sadie from being murdered. I sense she should not die this way ... If she does, it could adversely affect Becky's destiny.”

The next morning, a tap at the cottage door awoke Allison. The door creaked open, and a head of chestnut curls peeked inside.

“Magda?
¿Puedo entrar?
” The lilting musical voice was unmistakable. It was Teresa Cardona Pomales.

“Tere! But of course you may enter.” Magda limped toward the door.

“Why are you speaking English?” Teresa gave a delighted laugh. “Are you practicing again?”

Magda embraced her friend and motioned for her to sit. “I am always practicing. But that is not it—I have a guest.” Magda pointed to Allison, who was still sitting in her makeshift bed.

“Bequita, how delightful to see you again so soon. But”—Teresa eyed the comforter and her brow puckered—“you did not go home last night?”

Allison stood and began folding the comforter. “No, I was afraid to go back, so I stayed here with Magda. Sa—Mama sounded very angry yesterday, and—”

“Ha! If she was angry last night, she will be fit to be tied today.” Tere set the basket she was carrying on the table and sat down. “What were you thinking,
niña?
”

Magda sat down. “Much has happened, Tere. Sadie seems out of control these days. When Joshua brought Becky to me last night, she was quite shaken.”

“I know how Sadie treats Becky,” said Tere, shaking her head. “
¡Es una poca vergüenza!
That woman should be ashamed of herself, beating a child the way she does. But I still don't understand. Sadie has acted like this many times before. Why was yesterday different?”

Allison recalled the previous afternoon, when she and Joshua had heard Sadie calling for Becky. She remembered the rage in Sadie's voice and the terror she'd felt the first time she had relived that particular incident in Becky's life.

“I decided I'd had enough. I refuse to be the scapegoat for her rage any longer. So I came back here.”

Tere's eyebrows flew up, and her clear blue eyes opened wide. “I've never seen you like this, Bequita. You seem so ... different somehow. Well, then!” Tere shook her pretty curls behind her. “What shall you do now?”

Allison shrugged. “I really don't know. I can't go back home. Joshua said we'd talk about it today, but I haven't seen him yet. Come to think of it, I don't know where he is.”

Tere laughed. “That boy awakes each day before it is decent. I saw him heading toward the stables as I left the house. He had probably been working for hours.”

Allison tried to hide her disappointment by inspecting her fingernails. Tere and Magda laughed.

“Certainly one thing hasn't changed about you, Bequita,” said Tere. “Your heart still belongs to Joshua.”

Allison's face grew warm. Apparently guessing the girl's discomfort, Magda said, “I am a terrible hostess. Look how I have forgotten to offer you something to drink, Tere. You must be thirsty after your long walk.”

“
Gracias,
Magda, but I almost forgot.” Tere opened the basket she had brought and began to empty its contents onto the table. “Here is some fresh goat's milk and cheese, and bread still warm from Lolita's oven. The three of us can have breakfast. Come, Bequita, sit here beside me.”

Magda smiled. “You're always so thoughtful, Tere. What would I do without you?”

“You will never have to find out, Magda dear. You've been like a sister to me since Isa's illness, and then Mamá...Well”—Tere tossed her head, pushing her curls away from her face—“back to the question of thirst. I would love some of your hot goat's milk with cinnamon and honey. It will help take the chill from my bones. Early morning is cool and wet in the forest. But I adore the walk. It gives me time to think and to be free of responsibilities.”

Magda raised an eyebrow. “Mmm, how is Don Carlos these days?”

Tere's laughter tinkled like a crystal chandelier in a passing breeze. “Oh, Papá, Papá! He's as much of an old bear as ever. Since I turned eighteen, he's been lining up rich old coots to court me. Four years of parading
viejos
in front of me. I stand them up, and Papá and I argue. But I can never stay angry at him for long. Anyway, I am not ready to marry.”

“And your other responsibilities? Isa and Doña Ana?”

Tere stepped to the tiny window at the front of the cottage. “Isa breaks my heart. She's like one of your dried roses. A mere ghost of her former beauty remains, and she's liable to crumble and disintegrate to nothing if she is not properly handled. Now she's insisting—

“Oh, Magda!” Tere turned, her eyes glistening with tears. “She escaped last week when the nurse fell asleep, and she wandered into her old room. She found a baby doll of hers and began to scream, ‘My baby, my baby! My baby's alive!'

“Papá heard her and took her back to the west wing, but he couldn't pry the doll from her arms. She's insisting it is her baby—that her baby is alive. Magda, I don't know what's worse—when Isa sits for months in a stupor, staring straight ahead, not speaking or recognizing anyone, unable even to feed herself, or when she's in these mad frenzies, screaming and crying and accusing people of stealing her baby. Whenever I visit her lately, she asks me, ‘Have you seen my baby, Tere, have you seen my baby?' Then she remembers the doll on her lap and begins to sing to it while she rocks it in her arms.

“I was only seven when Isa and your brother eloped, but I still remember how beautiful and happy she looked that day. And when Papá brought her back, how her agonizing screams filled the house and ripped through my heart.”

“Ay, qué pena,
Tere.” Magda hugged her friend and led her back to the table. “What a terrible tragedy has befallen our families.”

“And Mamá—
ay,
Magda,
pobre
Mamá! She lies in her bed, withering away, living more and more in the past, still believing her beautiful Isa is young and happy and well. I'm surprised she's lasted these past years. If it weren't for your wonderful herbs and potions, and the titrations you make to calm Isa—I do not know...”

As she sat back down, Tere's tears finally fell. She pulled a lacy linen handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. “Isa takes after Mamá. All they had was their beauty. No inner strength. Nothing but flowers in the wind, vulnerable to any passing storm.”

Magda playfully tugged one of Tere's curls and let it bounce back. “Thankfully, you have much more than your beauty. You are the graceful willow that bends and yields in the storm, only to remain steadfast in its aftermath. You are tougher than Don Carlos and his crusty old
papá
put together.”

The two friends laughed, and Magda changed the subject. “Becky, you must be hungry. Would you like some warm goat's milk with Lolita's special bread and cheese?”

“The bread and cheese sound good. I'm not craz—partial to goat's milk.”

Tere turned her attention to Allison. “So, Bequita, let's talk about you. Where shall you stay?”

Allison shook her head. “Magda offered to let me stay with her as long as I like, but it's too much of an imposition. If I could only find a job, something that would help me pay for room and board somewhere...”

“Oh! A job!” Tere's slender fingers flew to her mouth. “I know exactly what you can do.”

Magda cocked an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind, Tere?”

“Becky can come home with me.” Tere clapped her hands and spun around the tiny room as she talked. “We have more than enough room. And I need someone I can trust to help me with Mamá and Isa. Becky can also be our live-in seamstress. What do you think, Bequita?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn't be imposing?”

“Ay,
Bequita, if you only knew. You'd be doing me more of a favor than I would be doing you. I desperately need help—someone I can truly trust ... and talk to sometimes. Please, say yes.”

“But, your father ... He doesn't like me very much.”

“Oh, Papá! Don't worry about him. I can handle Papá. So,
¿qué dices?
What do you say?”

Allison turned to Magda. “What do you think? Would that be all right?”

Magda nodded and gave Allison a meaningful look. “It is a wonderful idea, Becky. It may be exactly what you need.”

I have the perfect room for you, Becky,” said Tere, as she led Allison through the maze of corridors that made up the family mansion. “You shall stay on the first floor, overlooking the rose garden.”

Teresa opened a door and stood back. “Well, what do you think?”

Allison stepped into a sunny bedroom suite. Two sets of French doors, on either side of the four-poster bed, opened onto a private balcony. A small stone fireplace stood near the hall door, in front of which squatted two plush chairs and a low table.

Allison's jaw dropped. Her living room at home wasn't this big. “Oh, I couldn't—this is too much! I'm just a kid and a ... servant.”

“You may be but fourteen, Bequita, but you have great maturity. I know few people as trustworthy. And I would never consider you a servant. However, you shall be well compensated for your work.”

“You mean in addition to room and board?”

“Of course, only a slave would be expected to work solely for room and board. You shall be a valued employee.”

Allison turned to Tere. “Thank you, Ter—I mean, Miss Teresa. I am very grateful for everything.”

“I'll have none of this ‘Miss Teresa.' My friends call me Tere. And we shall be very good friends, you and I.” Tere stepped back into the hallway. “Come. Now you must meet Mamá. She's been bedridden for so many years, I do not believe you have ever met. ”