Page 51 of The Hacienda
But part of me saw Paloma’s back shuddering with sobs and saw myself.
I cleared my throat. “I think Paloma requires privacy,” I said. Murmurs quieted as Andrés stepped out of the doorway behind me. He held up a hand to shade his eyes.
“Funeral Mass in an hour,” he said. “Burial after. I require volunteer gravediggers. May God bless you.”
Despite the grimness of this pronouncement, the tightness in my shoulders eased. I had the sensation that all of us around Ana Luisa’s door responded as one to the soft authority in his voice. Something in the air shifted; relaxed.I am here, his presence said.And if I am here, all will be well.
A few voices repeated the words back to him, and the people dispersed, retreating to their homes or moving to other parts of the hacienda to begin the day’s work.
Andrés let loose a long sigh.
“What on earth happened?”
“My aunt had a weak heart,” he said, keeping his voice low. Paloma’s sobs had waned but were still audible. “A number of people in my family do. It might have been natural, but...”
The terror on her face caused both of us to think otherwise.
“Did you see the cross?” I murmured.
Andrés nodded slowly, carefully, as if his head were made of blown glass and shaking it too hard would cause it to shatter. He had not lowered the hand that shaded his face.
“What if when we broke the circle—”
“You broke the circle?” he interrupted.
I stared at him. Was this a joke? “Last night. You broke it first, and then I followed.”
The crease between his brows deepened. A shadow of fear passed behind his eyes.“What?”
“Do you not remember?”
“I...” He chewed his bottom lip. “No.” His voice wavered close to cracking over the word. “I know we began the ritual. And then... Paloma was pounding on the door.”
A long pause stretched between us. How could he not remember? He looked just as panicked by this thought as I felt. “What happened?”
I dropped my voice to a whisper, as dry and raspy as my mouth felt. “The thing—whatever you drew from the house—it hurt you. It threw you against the wall. Your head... you were hurt, so I ran after you, and it—”
“It’s loose,” Andrés finished grimly. What little color remained in his face drained completely. “It must have been here last night.”
My gut twisted. I knew he was right. A wild, unfettered darkness was roaming free beyond the walls of the house. I had felt it last night as I drew water from the pump. “Do you think that’s why she was pointing at—”
He nodded, the movement slow and ginger. “Itmusthave been here.”
“Andrés.” Paloma’s voice snapped through the air with the finality of a book being shut. Andrés jumped; winced at the sudden movement. She was right behind him, her eyes bloodshot, her hands curled into fists. “What are you talking about?” she accused.
“The rain,” Andrés said quickly. “It will rain this afternoon. Two hours before sunset.” Then he paused, as if weighing whether or not to continue. “I was wondering... did you hear anything unusual last night?”
For a moment Paloma stared at him blankly. Understanding, then frustration, blossomed over her features.
“Stop.Enough.” Her voice cracked in exasperation over the words. “Why can’t you be a normal priest? Sometimes that’s what this family needs.”
She turned on her heel and disappeared back inside the house.
Andrés watched her go, looking as wounded as a pup that had been kicked. Then his hands rose to his temples and he closed his eyes. He swayed gently where he stood. Was he going to be ill again?
“Are you all right?” I said softly. My hand strayed to his arm; I drew it back quickly.
“I need to go back inside,” he murmured. He was ghastly pale.
