It's Just Lola (23 page)

“Something must
’
ve happened to make Mehmet miss the ship.  Maybe he had an accident as he was going to the pier.  Maybe he was in a hospital.”

Enriqueta hugged her sister as she blinked back tears.  “This is the last paper.  It
’
s the list of passengers—and here is Mehmet Osman.”

“Maybe they
thought
he was on board.  They must
’
ve been busy.”

“Lola, look how short the list is.  It was a cargo vessel with very few passengers. 
T
hey
probably
all took their meals together.  What you say is so
very
unlikely
.
”

“But possible.” 

“
I don’t think so
.”  Enriqueta rose and kissed her sister on the top of her head.  “Please be sensible.  Just think about it.” 

The next morning Lola appeared
at breakfast
with dark circles under her eyes.  “Enriqueta, have you ever been to the cathedral?”

“No.  I haven’t been inside a church since we left home.”

“Neither have I.  Will you come with me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I was thinking all night, and I can’t find the answer in my heart.  I was so sure that Mehmet was alive, but I don’t know what to think now.  I don’t know if God will answer, but I’m going to pray for guidance.”

“I
’
ll be glad to go and pray with you.”

In spite of her swirling emotions, Lola was filled with wonder and awe as they entered the cathedral. 
She’
d never attended any church other than the small one in the village or the family chapel.  She held Enriqueta’s hand as they walked slowly up the center aisle, admiring the statues and the lifelike paintings on the Stations of the Cross.  The morning sun was coming through the magnificent stained glass windows on one side of the church
, and
the effect was stunning.  Lola hesitated to approach the altar and slid into a pew before reaching it.

“Do you think He
’
ll listen?” she whispered to Enriqueta.

“He listens to everyone, even sinners.”  The girls knelt in prayer.

“What am I praying for?” whispered Enriqueta.

“For a sign.  I need a sign that Mehmet is no longer with us.”

“What kind of sign?”

“How do I know?”

The two bowed their heads again.  After a short
while,
Enriqueta sat back and rubbed her knees.  “I
’
d
never
have made it as a nun,” she whispered.  “I can pray sitting as well as kneeling.” 

“Enriqueta, can we go and light a candle?”

Lola walked toward the altar with Enriqueta right behind her.  She put a coin in a slot and lit a candle.  She glanced toward the statue of the crucifixion above the altar and stepped closer for a better look. 
The figure on the cross looked so lifelike and familiar.  She had to get closer.  “N
O
Ooo
.
”  She scream
ed
, but the
re was no
sound.
  She grabbed the altar rail and sank to her knees, not because she wanted to kneel, but because her
legs
would no longer hold her weight.  She clutched the rail tighter as the floor began to tilt
, and darkness threatened to swallow her
.

“Lola
—
” 
She heard
Enriqueta’s voice echo
through
the cathedral.  There were running
footsteps
.

“
Are you all right
?”
It was
a male voice. 

“
I think she fainted, Father
.” 

Lola struggled to bring the world back into focus. 
“I saw him
.
”
  She wasn’t sure she was speaking aloud.
Enriqueta and an old priest were bending over her.  “I saw him,” she repeated.

Enriqueta and the priest helped Lola to the parish house.  As they walked,
Enriqueta
told
the priest why she and Lola were
there
.

“Surely as a sailor’s wife she would have accepted the fact that her husband faced the prospect of death at sea every time he left port.”

“Her husba
nd was a merchant, not a sailor,” said Enriqueta.  “His death was sudden and unexpected.”

“I see
, a merchant in charge of business far away?”

“Yes, Father, he
’d just bought
a large shipment of automobiles to sell in Peru.”
 

“
What made
your sister
collapse
?”

“I saw
him
,” said Lola
, having recovered enough to speak
.  “I
was
looking at
the
figure of Jesus
Christ
on the cross
above the altar. 
When
I look
ed
closer,
it was
the face of my husband looking down on me.”

“
God brought you to me in your hour of sorrow, and I
’
ll do what I can to help you, my child.” The priest took Lola’s hand.  “
Your vision of your husband’s face on the cross was a gift from God
—a private miracle
. 
You are truly blessed to receive such a gift. 
I believe God
led you to the cathedral to be our patroness.  God
allowed you to see
your husband on the cross to show you that he
was
sacrificed so that his money would no longer be dedicated to the accumulation of wealth, but to the greater good of our mother the Church.
”  He paused and patted Lola’s hand.
 
“
Your husband is hanging on the cross in agony, waiting for your good deeds to release him to join Our Heavenly Father.
”  He paused
again
. 
“The fact that
God let your husband take
the
place
of His Son
on the cross
shows how your beloved husband is suffering as he waits for
you
to
help him
find his heavenly peace
with prayer and charity
.”

Lola thanked the priest for his wisdom
,
and
the sisters began their walk home
.
 
As soon as the door
closed behind them
, Lola
rolled her eyes and
said,
“
What a
fool
.”

“Lola, don’t be blasphemous.”

“I’m not.  It’s the priest I’m talking about.  T
he Church stopped selling indulgences centuries ago.  W
hat
would
that
fool
have said had he known that every penny we had went down with that ship—or that his ‘truly blessed’ miracle receiver had a child out of wedlock
—or that Mehmet wasn’t a Christian
?
” 

“You shouldn’t talk that way.
  God will punish you for not believing.”

“
But I
do
believe—now more than ever.  How could I not believe after receiving such a clear sign? 
Mehmet
’
s in heaven because
he
was a good man—regardless of the name he put on his religion.
  God wouldn
’
t have given me a sign if he didn
’
t have Mehmet with him in heaven.
”

“Lola,
I
’
m relieved to see you accept Mehmet’s death so calmly. 
I loved Mehmet as a brother,
and I mourn him deeply,
but I was very
worried about you.
”

“I’m not calm.  I just hurt so bad inside that I can hardly breathe.  No tears can wash away that hurt.”

~ ~ ~

“Lola, wh
y
are you
sleeping
on the settee?” 

“I can’t sleep on the bed we once shared
n
ow that he
’
s gone.”

“Give it time, Lola.  You can sleep with me until you feel better.”

Lola began sleeping with Enriqueta, but she often got up in the night and moved to the settee
,
afraid her restlessness would keep her sister awake.  At the end of each day she felt a small sense of triumph that she had lived through one more day.  Life became focused on getting through the day
, and
each morning defined life as another day.  She dressed in black
, not because she was supposed to, but because it was the only way she could express her sorrow
.

One morning she left the house before
dawn
, leaving a short note.  She walked to the cathedral
,
and searched her memory for the way to the station. 
T
his should be the day Juan
came to town
.  She wasn’t sure why she wanted to see Juan.  Maybe she wanted to share her grief; maybe she wanted someone to tell her that life would go on—that the pain would go away.

T
he elderly gentleman at the
information
desk knew Juan and
expected him soon
.  Lola sat
to wait, letting
her mind wander as she watched the people around her.

“Señorita Lola, how nice to see you.”  Lola was
pulled from
her reverie by the familiar voice.

“Oh, Juan
.
”
S
he grasped his hand
.  There was so much to tell him
, but she
was speechless.
  “Oh, Juan,” she
said again,
and
s
uddenly she was sobbing uncontrollably. 

Juan sat and let her cry.  He produced a large snowy white handkerchief from somewhere and Lola took it gratefully.  She tried several times to talk, but the wracking sobs were relentless.  After what seemed like a small eternity, the sobs slowed enough for Juan to get a glass of water for her. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said after she drank the water and was breathing almost normally.  Lola nodded and started at the end.  She told first of her husband’s death and her desolation at his loss.  Gradually she told the story of their marriage.

“I knew he was a good man,” Juan said solemnly.

“You knew him?”  Lola was astonished.

“He traced me through
the
cousin that sewed uniforms.  He wanted to know more about you.  He assured me his inten
t
ions were honorable and I believed him.  I
said
I had known you all your life and would vouch for your good character.  He knew you had a child, and was concerned that perhaps there was a husband somewhere that would prevent you from marriage.  It worried me to say
there wasn’t one,
because I feared he might think you were something you weren
’
t, but he took it as good news.  He then said he wanted to contact your father and ask for your hand.  Of course that was impossible.  I adopted you as a niece again, and gave him my permission to court you.”  Juan smiled.  “I
’
m glad that my judgment of him was not mistaken.”

“He was wonderful, Juan.  Now that he
’
s gone I feel like a tree that
’
s been cut down and thrown into the river.  Even when Enriqueta and I first came to the city I didn’t feel so lost.
I can’t eat. 
I can’t sleep in my bed.  Everything I see rem
inds me of when I was happy. 
It hurts me to live—my soul is in pain.”

“I
’
m so sorry, Señorita Lola.  No,
now
it
’
s Señora…”

“Señora Osman
.
”
Lola
tried to
smile
. 

“I
’
m pleased you came.  Can you come again next week?  I
’
d like to talk more but, as you know, the produce doesn
’
t stay fresh very long.  Please, come again next week.”