Page 65 of The Virgin's Dance
The man looked like he had stepped out of a picture book. He had a long black beard and was wearing a red bandana around his neck and was carrying a water jug on his back.
He was not someone you could ever have imagined walking into a city bank or dancing at a nightclub. He looked like he was from a completely different time.
She had an impulse to hide herself from his view, and quickly backed into the undergrowth until he had disappeared around the corner.
The sun was high in the sky and as she passed between the gap in the trees, she felt a wave of excitement at her little solo adventure. She’d told José that she was simply going for another walk on the beach, knowing that he wouldn’t approve of her little recon mission.
On the other side the path was a winding route up to what looked like a little encampment. In the midday sun, Donna trailed the path until she came to a set of doors in the hillside. These were cave houses, just as José had described, their protruding stones painted bright white.
There were numbers above each little door, which all seemed to be closed and locked. She looked at the address on the ticket. She was trying to find number 19.
The dirt path curled around again and finally, closed up, was a slightly larger door than the rest. The number was painted in deep purple on the door: No. 19
She paused at the door and looked down at the address, before looking up at her surroundings. There was not a soul in sight, and she couldn’t account for the sudden feeling of giddiness that came over her. Maybe it was just the heat of the sun finally getting to her.
The ticket read 10:30 p.m., hours away.
She walked back down into the town in a daze, not quite able to rationalize her excitement over this little adventure. All she knew was that it was very real, and that she couldn’t wait to come back.
Chapter 5
“You know, Donna, when I first heard about you, I was a little zealous … no, yealous …” Maria let out a little grunt of frustration, knowing that she didn’t have the right word, but soldiering on nonetheless. “You know, with you being so close in the States, I didn’t know what to think.”
Donna laughed nervously, hoping this next bit of her sentence would go in a different direction than it seemed to be heading.
“But now I have met you, I am happy you are here. You are like a little sister to José.”
Maria had driven them into the next town to do some shopping for the day, just the two of them. José had wanted them to bond, and this had seemed like the best idea to him.
“You know, Donna, I wouldn’t be upset if you do have feelings for each other. It is normal. So much time together, but a—”
Donna was no longer listening. She was looking at her watch anxiously and wondering how long it would take them to get home.
She had decided she would go to the show—even though she still had no idea what kind of show it was—that night. All day she had been summoning up the courage to walk back to the hillside by moonlight. But now, looking at the time, she thought her plan might be thwarted.
Fortunately, the journey was quicker than she expected, and by nine thirty she was on the outskirts of the town again, walking up the narrow little dirt path.
The place looked different at night. Light from campfires and the cave buildings twinkled across the hillside, which was now almost invisible in the dark, illuminated only by these tiny bits of light and the stars in the sky.
The scents of the Spanish hillside were stronger, too, in the night. Lemons and hibiscus flowers, hash and smoke from the fires fused together and wafted across the air.
Any trepidation she might have felt had left her by the lemon trees, and she walked briskly up the hill with that odd feeling of excitement she’d experienced the last time she’d made this trek. She could hear the faint sound of music as she climbed higher—haunting melodies full of passion, pain, and heartbreak, with peculiar rhythms behind them. She could hear the sounds of drums and hands clapping along to the music, seeming to contradict the heartbreak of the music and demanding energy and joy instead of tears and melancholy.
Enchanted by these sounds she had never heard before, she followed the music.
The cave doors were all open now and there were people around, showing signs of life that had been missing before. Men and women were hanging around outside the caves, washing, chatting, smoking, and watching her. As she walked past one of the caves, a plump toddler with a muddy face and marble black eyes, wearing nothing but a diaper, ran towards her with a squeal and grabbed her leg.
More children followed out of the doors, joking and laughing. When they saw her, they stopped in their tracks.
Here, she was a stranger, in a place where strangers did not usually venture.
Despite the stares, she was intent on finding the musicians. Her ears were attuned to the music now, intrigued, drawn in as if in a trance.
With 100 eyes on her, she finally reached cave number 19. She wasn’t surprised to learn that this was where the music was coming from.
The doors were open but there was a thick red curtain pulled across the doorway.
A man stood at the doorway, smoking. She recognized the black-bearded man from her first trip earlier in the week. Now he was dressed in a fine silk shirt, and stood as a watchman over the door.
