It's Just Lola (33 page)

“Don
’
t look at me,” the woman said, with her back to Lola.  Lola surrendered the pram to Inez and motioned her to keep walking with Joseph and the pram.  Lola stopped to fuss with Estela’s shoe, careful to do so a few feet beyond Consuela.

“Go home right away.  The British destroyed the German ship
Dresden
while it was flying a white flag.  The ship was disabled and sought shelter in a harbor at Más a Tierra, a Chilean island.  The
British violated Chilean neutrality.  You may not be safe on the streets.”  Without looking at Lola the woman walked away.

“What was that lady talking about?” asked Estela.

“Nothing important.  She was talking to herself. Let’s catch up with the others and go home.  Mommy has a headache.”  Lola stopped all pretense of keeping up her daily routine.  Cook was given money to buy food on her way to work each morning, and Lola waited impatiently for James to come home
, but w
hen he did come home, he was so tired and distraught that Lola hesitated to trouble him further.  It took her several days to work up the courage to broach the subject of the Chilean attitude toward them.

“Don’t worry, Lola.  It’s just politics.  The war won’t last forever, and then they
’
ll see that we
’
re good people.  They
’
ll realize that my work made a difference for their country.  In the meantime, just be patient with their silly rumors and suspicions.”

“
These
silly rumors and suspicions
are putting our lives in danger
.
The only woman willing to speak to me
said
I wasn’t safe because Britain destroyed a disabled ship flying a white flag in a Chilean harbor
.
”

“I’m sure they don’t have the whole story.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry.  That
’
s what I tell Estela when she wonders why we stopped taking walks.  I
say
that because she
’
s a child. 
I
’m
not a child.  This isn
’
t gossipy women making up stories.  This is war, and we
’
re caught on the wrong side of it.”  James s
a
t on the edge of the bed. 
“We came here to be safe. 
O
n the plantation we knew who our enemy was—and it was only one person.  Here everyone is our enemy.”

When James did not reply, she stopped her pacing and looked at him.  His
head was bowed and his
shoulders were slumped. 
At least she had the children and Inez and the safety of her home.  James was alone in a tent, surrounded by men who felt as her neighbors did.  He had no safe haven except the days when he was home—and now she was making his home an unpleasant place to be.  She knelt in front of him,
and h
er voice was softer as she continued.
 
“Please, James, find a way for us to go home.  I can
’
t raise my children like this.”

James stroked her hair.  “Lola, you know I
’
d never do anything to endanger the children.  You know how much you all mean to me.”  Lola’s held her breath, hoping and praying that he would agree to take her home. 

“I signed a contract.  I can
’
t go back on my word.”

“Can’t go back on your word?  What happened to your word to my father?”

“That was different—our children were in danger there.”

“James, our children are in danger
here
. 
T
his
house
has become a prison.  How can you use the children as an excuse to break your word to my father, yet ignore their welfare to keep your word to people who are so unfriendly that they make your life miserable?” 

James’ lips thinned.  “
T
his is a question of personal honor.”

“Damn you and your honor with you,” said Lola between her teeth as she rushed from the room.  Her hands shook as she wiped her eyes and tried to calm herself.  She froze, not knowing what to expect, as she heard James follow her. 

“Lola.”  To her amazement,
he
was almost pleading.  “There are forces at work here that are greater than you can imagine.  The initial contract is for a year.  I should be finished mapping the system in that time.  I promise if things aren
’
t better by
then
, I
’
ll take you back to Peru.”

“Another six months of this.”

“
It
’
ll be over before you know it.”  Lola didn’t have the strength to reply.
 
“I
’
m going to do some work on the Transandine Railway next week.  If we can clear the tracks and make it operational again, perhaps we can go to Argentina by rail.  Wouldn’t that be fun?  The scenery is breathtaking—and you
won’t get sea
sick.”

“You’re leaving next week?”

“Yes.  A rock slide ruined a short stretch of track.”

“Can’t they just send workers to clear the rocks?  Why do you have to go?”

“They want an engineer to see if something can be done to keep it from happening again.  The line took years to build, and now it’s plagued by accidents.  They want to know if it
’
s possible to build retaining walls, or maybe even reroute short sections of track.  It
’
s a great opportunity for me.”

A week later Lola sat on the bed with her legs tucked under her, watching as James packed for his trip.  She had his thick leather coat across her knees, running her hands across the soft fur lining of the hood. 
She
wonder
ed
what the white snow would feel like on her face as it fell from the sky like rain.

James g
o
t a revolver from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

“You’re taking a gun?”

“Yes, there are dangerous beasts in the mountains.”  He looked at her and added, “all sorts of beasts: four-legged and two-legged.”

Lola
’s alarm intensified
as
he
dismantle
d
the gun and examine
d
it closely.  He ran an oiled rag over parts of it before putting it back together and tucking it into a shoulder holster.  Lola
’
d never seen the gun before, and she was surprised at the ease with which he handled it.

“It
is
an international border.  There are always smugglers.  Don’t worry.  It
’
s just a precaution.  We
’
ll have scouts
with
high
-
powered rifles
,
which are much more effective than this.”

“
What a
comfort
to kno
w that even with a revolver you
need
a guard that’s even more heavily-armed
.”

“Yes, it is,” said James
absently
.

“James, when we left Lima, did you know the British were going to blockade the entire coast of South America?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered.  I mean, you made us leave so suddenly and I was...you know, not really strong.”

James tucked the gun and holster into his pack and sat next to Lola.  He took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes before speaking.  “Yes, I knew the British had already sent naval vessels to form the blockade.  Believe me, Lola; making you leave your home with our baby barely tasting life in this world was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”  He looked down and stroked the back of her hand.
 
“I was so worried about both of you.  I was half crazy and blamed myself for not listening to them.”

“Who didn’t you listen to?”

“When I went to the Embassy in Lima to add Carlota to the passport, I was told a blockade was planned, and they advised me to leave my family in Lima.”  His grip on Lola’s hand became almost painfully tight.

“I couldn’t do it.  The idea of leaving you in Lima and being away for so long was unbearable.  Now I realize how selfish that was.

“Can you forgive me for putting you in this situation?”

“But if you knew it was dangerous, why did you come?”

“It was my duty.
 
I
’
d already signed a contract.  Even the Secretary at the Embassy understood that.  He
merely
suggested that I go alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn
’
t my secret to tell.”

“You could
’
ve been vague and
hinted about
dangers.  Why didn’t you ask me?”  One look at James’ expression answered her question
—
it never entered his mind to consult her.  She didn
’
t remind him that
he
’d
once
valued
her opinion
.  This wasn
’
t
the
time to start an argument.  His last trip seemed to have added gr
a
y to his temples and lines to his face.  He didn
’
t need an added burden of guilt as he set out on yet another arduous trip.

“Never mind
.
”
S
he kiss
ed
him on the cheek.  “I would
’
ve come anyway,” she lied.

L
ola
breathed into
her teacup
,
hoping
the steam
would
rise and warm her face.  She thought of poor James
in the
ice and snow of the
Andes
, and
told herself to s
top complaining
and be thankful she had
food
,
shelter,
and healthy
children. 
S
he took up her mending again.
 
A knock on the door
startled
her.  No one ever visit
ed
them.  She opened the door and saw
a
man in a
homburg and black topcoat
.  Standing slightly behind him was a larger man,
more roughly dressed and carrying
a huge bundle.

“Señora
Atkins
?”
asked the
older
man
, removing his
homburg.

“Yes.”

“I
’
m José Jimenez,
from
EFE, the Chilean Railway
,
and this is Raul.
”

“Won’t you come in?”  Lola opened the door wider for them. 
It could only be bad news. 
For some reason she was not surprised.

“Inez,” Lola called, “please ask Cook to make coffee before you come and join us.  We have guests.”  It was second nature to Lola to have another woman present if an unrelated man entered her house. 
It was obvious t
his was not a casual social call.
 
Jimenez took a seat
;
Raul placed the bulky package on the floor and remained standing near
the door
. 
Jimenez
rose as Inez entered the room and they all sat once more.
  Raul was looking at his feet, and Jimenez seemed stiff and uncomfortable.

“Something
’
s happened to my husband,” said Lola, breaking the silence.  She was
again
surprised
by
how calm she felt. 

Jimenez
nodded.  “I
’
m very sorry, Señora.  There was a terrible accident—an avalanche.  I
’
m sorry.  The only consolation I can give you is that his death was mercifully swift.”

“Can you tell me how it happened?”  Lola
didn’t know why she asked
.  Her husband was dead.  What difference did it make now what had happened?

”
Señora, it was all very sudden.”  Raul spoke from his place by the door.  “We were still making camp near
a
section of the rail
that
had been buried by a slide
.  Señor
Atkins
wanted to get a look at the hillside above the track.  I warned him the slope could still be unstable.”
 
Lola could picture James, impatient to get started with the work.  “He said
i
t was important to know if the rock was all on the bottom, indicating that the rock slide came first, or if the rocks were mixed with snow and ice.  It was delicate work and he wanted to do it before the men began to disturb the site.  He took a long pole and began working his way up the mount
ainside, making measurements. 
I watched him
for a time, but o
nce I saw how carefully he was climbing, I went back to helping get the camp ready.  We were all cold and tired and there wasn’t much daylight left.
”  Raul paused. 
“We heard two shots.”  

Lola gasp
ed and felt Inez put a hand on her arm
.

“Raul, that
’
s quite enough,” said Señor Jimenez.  Raul
fell silent
and Jimenez began to explain away the last statement.  “Sometimes the men get tired of canned and dried food
.  They sometimes
hunt for
rabbits and other small game in the mountains.”

“W
e heard the shots
,”
said
Raul
,
“
and
we all
looked around
because sometimes a loud noise can trigger an avalanche. 
Then we heard the roar above us and saw the snow on the side of the mountain begin to
move
. 
The men
started
shouting and
grabbing whatever came to hand
as they
ran
from the path of the avalanche.
”  Raul glanced at Jimenez. 
“
When
I looked
for
Señor
Atkins
, I saw him lying motionless in the snow.  I know he was already dead.”

“Raul
.
”  There was no mistaking the anger in the voice.  Jimenez turned to Lola.  “Your husband was buried under tons of snow and rock.  Everything happens
so
fast
in such a disaster
that p
eople don
’
t always remember things the way they were.  That region is known for its earth tremors.  Even a small tremor could have caused your husband to lose his balance on such treacherous footing. 
It
could also
have started
the avalanche.  It was an unfortunate accident.”

Raul
continued his narrative
.  “
We
were lucky
; the camp was at the very
edge of the slide
.
  We only
lost
three men
--
Señor
Atkins
and the two guides.
 
The next morning w
e started for home
because o
ur supply tent had been carried away.  Señor
Atkins
’s tent was one of the few that remained standing.  I brought his personal effects.”  He indicated the package at his feet.

“Thank you, Raul.”  Lola felt unnaturally calm
,
ignor
ing
the tears
that ran
down her cheeks.  “And thank you for bringing his belongings.  I
’
m sure it wasn
’
t easy.”

“Señora
Atkins
,” said Jimenez, “I want you to know how sorry we are for your loss.  The EFE will honor the contract and pay you the salary remaining.  We understand you have no family in Chile and we
’
ll do anything we can to help you in this trying time.”  The man rose to leave.

“Thank you, Señor Jimenez.”  Lola walked the two men to the door.  Raul hung back to let his employer precede him.

“I know what I heard and what I saw, Señora,” he said softly as he turned to follow the other man.

Inez put her arms around Lola and asked if she could do anything for her.  Lola
asked her to help her carry
James’ things
to the bedroom
and give her some time alone
. 
Sitting on the bed, the
package looked pitifully small, considering it was all that had returned from that fateful trip.
 
It
wa
sn’t even big enough to hold the fur-lined coat
.
Lola
set the contents
of
the canvas bag
out on the bed.  There was a box of drawing instruments, some clothes, a razor and comb.  Where was the gun?  He must
’
ve had
i
t with him. 
S
trange that he thought he needed protection
with
in sight of the camp.  She started to fold up the bag and found a small book almost lost in the folds of the canvas.  She took it out and flipped through the pages.  They were filled with notes in James’ small, neat handwriting, interspersed with precise measurements labeling equally precise drawings.  She set the book
aside to read later.
 

Somehow, she got through the rest of the day, and at last found herself alone with the journal.  She grabbed the English/Spanish dictionary and propped herself up with pillows.  The first few pages were very difficult, but she soon learned the most common words.  James wrote about the land
,
the weather
,
and how these affected the rail beds.  The descriptions corresponded to the trips he had taken.  After each one there was a page or two
with
rows and rows of numbers, which Lola labeled “engineering
scribbles
.”  And then Lola found a page that was more interesting.  She slowly pieced together the meaning as she looked up unfamiliar words.  James had realized that the Chileans were unfriendly
because they did
n
’
t trust him.  “Raul is the only man who seems to take me at face value.”
  There followed more pages of
engineering
scribbles
and drawings.  She leafed through them quickly. 

The next page had
a title written in block letters:
Transandine Railway
.  James described the preparations for the trip and mentioned his pleasure that Raul would be going with him.  There followed several pages of surprisingly poetic language describing the scenery as the rail line began its ascent into the Andes.  There was
a gap of several days, with the next entry discussing
the
first rack line. 
From there t
hey continued their journey on foot, following the rails.  There
were
more pages of engineering
scribbles
between descriptions of
possible problems and their solutions.  Lola
’s
eyelids gr
e
w heavy as she read
the
description
s
of the rail beds.

She sat up straight, fully awake when he
questioned
the addition of two guides to their expedition.  “Why did the EFE hire guides?  We can’t get lost following the rails.  They
’
re dark unsmiling men who speak a strange mixture of Spanish and their native tongue. They eat alone and cast furtive glances in my direction.  Maybe it’s just my imagination.  I
must
begin
carrying my revolver.”  That was the last entry in the journal.

Lola
tucked the book under her pillow and turned off the light, but sleep refused to come. 
The next morning
she
dressed carefully.  Not having a black dress, she wore
dark blue
.  Telling Inez she might be gone for several hours, she found a carriage for hire and directed the driver to take her to the
busiest hotel in Santiago. 
When she arrived, she asked to see the manager.

“Señor, thank you for seeing me.  I know you’re a busy man, and I’ll get straight to the point.  I need
to get
myself and my children
to Lima
.  Since you deal with international travelers, I was hoping
you’d be able to tell me how to find transportation
.”

“I’m sorry, Señora, but this is a hotel.  We don
’
t involve ourselves in travel plans.”

Lola’s eyes clouded with tears.  This was her best idea, and it failed.  She blinked and the tears rolled down her cheeks.  She took a handkerchief out of her handbag.  “
I’m sorry
, it’s
just that I’m recently widowed and don’t have any experience in making
travel arrangements.  I have no relatives in Chile and...”  She ran out of words. 

“I’ll make some inquiries.  Wait here.”  Within five minutes someone brought her coffee.  It was another fift
een before the manager returned and handed her a piece of paper.  “This is the address of a
travel agency.
  They arrange tours for groups, but they might
have a tour you could join, or know about ships
.
”

Lola thanked him profusely and
left the hotel feeling almost cheerful.  Who would’ve guessed there was such a thing as a travel agency?
 

When she reached the address
the bottom dropped out of her good spirits
. 
A sign on the door said the office was
closed. 
Her logic deserted her. 
She looked up and down the street
—maybe
s
h
e
’d
see
someone
running to open up
.  She
knocked and tried the door in the foolish hope that someone was inside.