Sisterchicks in Sombreros (14 page)

Y
ou know, it’s going to be dark soon
.”
I said to Joanne, looking in the rearview mirror to gauge how much time we had before the sunlight evaporated behind us.

“Are you tired of driving?” Joanne yawned and looked around.

I’d only been behind the wheel for a little over an hour and wasn’t tired yet. Joanne drove the first hour and a half of our trek. Our sombreros had come off when I started to drive and the sun moved behind us instead of over us.

The road had been fairly easy to navigate, but every so often we would hit a portion that was in need of repair, and I’d have to slow down and carefully swerve around potholes big enough for a pig to fall into them.

I told Joanne I didn’t mind driving. “I just wish we had more daylight left. I’m not looking forward to the unknown
road conditions ahead. Who knows what it will be like to drive in the dark?”

“How far do you think we are?” Joanne asked.

“More than halfway, I’m sure. Maybe three-fourths. It sure has taken longer than I thought it would.”

“I know. It’s getting chilly. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Are you? We should have stocked up on supplies before hitting the road,” I said.

When we had approached the town of Ojos Negros earlier, we passed a small store that advertised on the outside of the building it carried beer and cigarettes. We briefly discussed if we should stop to buy bottled water but agreed that we weren’t dying of thirst, so we kept driving.

“We have cake.” Joanne turned around in the passenger seat and reached into the back, fumbling under the Mexican blanket to pull out the pastry box with the remains of our decorated cake.

“Wow!” she suddenly called out. “What a gorgeous sunset. Can you pull off the road, Mel? We can eat our cake and watch the sun go down.”

I put on my turn signal, even though we hadn’t seen another car for the past ten minutes. The side of the road was narrow and sandy, so I stopped mostly in the middle of a level stretch of highway and put on the emergency flashers. I hoped no one would come roaring out of nowhere and run into us.

A moment after I had that thought, a Volkswagen beetle with a tall antenna sticking out the back sputtered past us
going in the opposite direction. I guessed we must be close to the area where the tour book mentioned the popular off-road races because that was the second car we had seen that looked like it could do some serious hill climbing and desert driving.

Joanne pulled the smashed cake box out of the back and opened it to view the less-than-stellar-looking prize cake. “I’m sure it will still taste good.”

“It’s food.” I got out of the car and stretched my legs. I loved the dry, fresh air and drew in a deep breath. A hint of sage and something that reminded me of eucalyptus floated in the air. I was so used to moist, chilled air that this contrasting atmosphere was invigorating.

Handing me the open cake box, Joanne said, “After you.”

I took a pinch of cake and dropped it into my mouth. “Still tastes good.”

“Just look at the peach colors in those clouds against the pale blue sky.” Joanne leaned against the back of the Jeep. “It’s so gorgeous! What’s that old saying? ‘Red sky at night, sailors’ delight’?”

“Only we’re not sailing with the rest of the ship,” I reminded her. “They’re probably pulling up anchor right about now. I hope we’re doing the right thing, driving to San Felipe like this.” I broke off another wedge of the gooey cake and let it melt on my tongue.

“I wish I’d brought a camera with me,” Joanne said. “This would be a moment to remember. Chocolate cake at sunset in the middle of nowhere. Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. If we
were on the ship right now, we wouldn’t have had this experience.”

“True.” I reached into the backseat for my coat. “It’s going to get cold fast. I’m glad we have the Mexican blankets and our winter coats.”

“We’ll be okay,” Joanne said. “Look at those colors, will you? Incredible.”

While I noticed that the peach and blue had deepened to orange and periwinkle, in the distance we heard a faint howling.

“Did that sound like a coyote to you?” I moved closer to Joanne.

“It sure did. We probably shouldn’t be standing around like this with food,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”

I was about to say yes when I heard another sound coming toward us. It was the sound of a sputtering car, not a wild animal. I guessed this would be another off-road vehicle coming from the opposite direction of the one that had passed us a few moments earlier.

“We should get in,” I told Joanne. “Just in case they don’t see us in the twilight and run into the back of our Jeep.”

Joanne squinted into the sunset to see the car. “They have their lights on. They should be able to see us. No, wait. Their lights just went out. No, they’re back on. Do you think they’re trying to signal us? Are they blinking at us?”

“I don’t know.” I jumped into the driver’s seat. “But let’s not stand here waiting to find out. Come on!”

As soon as Joanne closed her door, I said, “I’ll wait until they pass us, and then I’ll pull back on the road.”

The gray Volkswagen beetle with a long antenna continued to blink its headlights at us. As we waited, it sputtered to a halt only a hundred yards or so behind us. The driver turned off the engine, and the only sound Joanne and I heard was a rattling of metal upon metal, as if pieces of silverware were being tossed at a spinning fan.

“We should see if they need help,” Joanne said. “It sounds as if their engine isn’t cooperating.”

“That’s not a good idea, Joanne. You are far too trusting of strangers. We can drive to the next village and try to alert someone of the problem, but we shouldn’t stay here and wait for trouble to overtake us.”

“What trouble? They’re the ones with the car that won’t start. They’re probably tourists like us,” Joanne said. “How would you feel if we were the ones sitting in a car that wouldn’t start out here in Nowhere Land?”

“How do you know they’re tourists?” I turned on the engine, released the emergency brake, and put on my turn signal, prepared to bolt out of there.

“They’re in a Baja bug. Isn’t that what those cars are called? They probably rented it to go off-road racing around here like the tour book said, and now they have engine trouble. We can’t leave them, Melanie.”

“Yes we can. It’s not safe to try to assist strangers on deserted roads in the middle of Mexico! Didn’t the tour book
say anything about that? Come on, Joanne, don’t make this a big deal. We need to be safe; we’re leaving.”

“Just wait!” she yelled at me. “Stop being so paranoid and pushy and wait one stinking minute! If someone gets out of the car and comes toward us, and we don’t feel safe, we can bolt. But what if it’s two women stranded out here in the dark?”

“What would two women be doing out here?” I snapped.

Joanne lowered her chin and gave me that all-knowing big-sister look. “Maybe they’ve inherited beachfront property and are trying to drive to San Felipe. Maybe they went to a car rental place that didn’t fill their tank with gas or maybe—”

“Okay, okay,” I muttered. “I got your point.”

The driver’s door and the passenger’s door opened at the same time. “If you see that they have guns,” I crouched to get a good view in the side mirror, “you holler, and I’ll punch the gas pedal, and we’ll scream out of here.”

“It’s a little boy,” Joanne said.

“A child is driving the car?” I turned to look over my shoulder just as a tall man approached. The boy had popped out of the passenger’s side and was waving his hands over his head, trying to get our attention. In the darkening light around us, it was difficult to make out any of the man’s or the boy’s features. Clearly, though, they had nothing in their hands. Specifically, no weapons.

“Hello!” the man called out, waving at us as he approached. “¡Hola!”

“I’m still going to bolt, if I think for one second that we’re not safe,” I told Joanne.

“Fine! But just give the guy a second. We can’t leave him stranded here with a little boy.”

Something inside me wanted to say, “Haven’t you filled your quota for saving lives for one day, Mother Joanna?” But I could see now in the glow of our taillights that this guy wasn’t a local. Joanne probably was right; they were stranded tourists. We should help them.

“Hello,” the man said breathlessly as he jogged up to my side of the car. “I was hoping to catch you. We passed you earlier, but when the car started to go out on us, I turned around hoping you hadn’t gone too far.”

As soon as he said the word
out
, Joanne and I knew he was Canadian.

“I have to get to one of the ranches about five kilometers from here, but my car isn’t going to make it. We received a call that one of the workers broke his leg.”

“Oh!” Joanne responded like the trained medical professional she was by jumping out of the passenger’s side, pushing back our luggage, and motioning for this stranger and the boy to hop right in.

“I need a few things out of our car,” the man said.

“Melanie, turn us around.”

I complied but shot Joanne a stern look. I did not like this predicament. She appeared as confident and in control as if this twilight rendezvous were planned.

Grabbing a small duffel bag and with the car keys in his hand, the man directed me to continue west, back toward Ensenada.

We are never going to make it to San Felipe the way we keep going forward then turning around and going backward!

“Watch for a dirt road that intersects with this main road on the right side. It should be about a kilometer or less up here.”

“I’m Joanne,” my cruise director sister said. “This is my sister, Melanie. What part of Canada are you from?”

“Vancouver. Is it that obvious?”

“To another Canadian, yes. I’m from Toronto. Melanie lives in Langley.”

“No kidding. We’re neighbors then. I’m Matthew Henderson. This is Cal. I apologize for putting you out.”

“It’s no problem.” Joanne spoke freely for herself but not for me. I wanted to pinch her. If she started to share private information with this man the way she had when I left the dinner table the night before, I definitely would pinch her.

“How did you find out about the rancher with the broken leg?” Joanne turned toward our hitchhikers and seemed to study them intently.

“I come down a couple of times a year to volunteer at the clinic in San Felipe. One of the ranchers called in on the radio. I was the only one available to come. The details were sketchy, but it seemed they weren’t able to transport the guy to the clinic.”

“I’m a nurse-practitioner,” Joanne said. “So please, if I can be of any assistance, let me know.”

“You’re serious? You’re a nurse-practitioner?”

“Yes.”

“Slow down, slow down.” Matthew grabbed the back of my seat. “I think the turnoff is right up here. It comes fast. There it is. Turn right.”

The Jeep took the bump onto the uneven dirt road like a champ, but I had my mouth open and bit my tongue when we took the dip. The taste of blood mingled with the last bits of chocolate cake, and tears welled up in my eyes.

Don’t cry, you big baby! Keep your eyes on the road
.

We rambled over what felt like ten miles of rough dirt road with only the headlights to guide the way. Matthew directed me, encouraging me for doing such a great driving job. All I could think of was how Joanne and I would have to drive back over this in the dark alone and then make the rest of the trek to San Felipe in the deep darkness. At the core of my being I was more frightened than I’d ever been in my life.

Matthew directed me to slow down, and we inched along, using the headlights as feelers until we came to a gravel road that led about half a mile to a ranch house. Two lanterns hung from wooden beams that jutted out from under the adobe roof. Matthew said he had been here two years ago and was grateful he remembered the approximate location, because otherwise it would have been easy to pass it by.

The sound of our wheels on the gravel roused the occupants,
and a man and woman rushed out to greet us, speaking rapid Spanish.

Matthew answered them in Spanish and then instructed Cal to go into the house with Señora Valdepariso while he went out to the ranch hand’s quarters with Señor Valdepariso.

“I could use your help,” Matthew said to Joanne.

“Sure.” Joanne turned to me. “Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded, trying to hide my fear. “I’ll wait with Cal in the house.”

Joanne fell in step with Matthew and Mr. Valdepariso, who took one of the lanterns. The señora motioned graciously for Cal and me to follow her into the humble dwelling. She wore a dress covered by a full apron. Her graying hair was wrapped in a thick coil on the back of her head. Reaching for the other lantern, the gracious woman spoke to Cal and me in Spanish.

“I’m sorry; I don’t understand,” I said.

“I think she asked if we’re hungry,” Cal said. “
Hambre
means ‘hungry.’
Hombre
is ‘man.’ I learned that yesterday. I think she said
hambre
.”

“Sí? Hambre?” She said a few more words.

“
¡Yo!
” the boy answered. I thought that was a rather disrespectful way to respond to someone who had just offered him food, but then I realized
yo
was Spanish for “me,” and he was indicating he was hungry.

By the lantern light, I could see the young boy’s distinctive features. I guessed him to be about eight or nine. He had sandy red hair that stuck straight up in front.

“Cal, did you see that white box on the Jeep’s backseat?”

“The one with the cake in it?”

He obviously had looked while we bumped down the road.

“Yes, could you bring it in?” I was thinking we could share the cake, but I also was thinking of wild animals that might be attracted to the food, if we left it in the open car.

Cal jetted back to the Jeep, retrieved the box, and handed the mangled gift to our slender hostess. I guessed her to be in her early fifties. Maybe older. It was hard to tell. Her face was weathered with as many wrinkles as the peach-tinted streaks we had watched in the western sky only an hour or so earlier. But her skin wasn’t peach toned. It was a rich reddish brown hue that looked warm in the glow of the lantern. She was smiling at us as if we were old friends who had stopped by for a scheduled visit.