Chapter 18
The storm hit the area so hard that the wooden shutters slamming against the ranch sounded like constant gunfire. Solono couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning, he peaked out the room down the hallway. In the next room Louis loudly snored as Juan sat, dozing, at a wooden desk just outside. Juan was a very light sleeper. Any unexpected noise could result in Juan's silver revolver aimed at his head. He opened the door slow enough that it squeaked. Juan jerked to attention and quickly placed his hand on his gun but relaxed after he saw Solono.
"What the hell are you doing? It's three o'clock in the morning," Juan said.
"I can't sleep."
Juan rubbed his eyes and sipped the cold coffee that failed at keeping him awake.
"The rain helps me sleep." Juan said. "Would you prefer to switch spots? I go to bed and you sit on this hard chair?"
Solono smiled. "I'll pass."
Juan enjoyed Solono's company. For the next few minutes the two engaged in irrelevant conversation about things like the Paraguayan futbol team and what they needed to do to beat Mexico, an accomplishment that they were yet to achieve. They also discussed the prettiest actress in South America. They both agreed that Maria Felix held that spot.
"I'm going to walk around until I get sleepy or this storm stops."
Juan said, "Be my guest! I'll be sitting here, drinking this cold coffee and listening to the President snore."
"Enjoy!" Solono headed down the hall towards the living room.
He passed through the kitchen grabbing an apple from the fruit basket that sat on the counter. Lightening periodically brightened the sky. He could still hear the shutters slamming against the ranch. Twigs and leaves flew past the window. He made his way through the foyer and into the living room and was happily shocked when he saw Milagro comfortably sprawled across the brown leather sectional, ensconced in a red knitted blanket, scribbling in her notepad. The crackling of the wood in the fireplace drowned Solono's footsteps.
"It's a little too late to be writing in your diary don't you think?" Solono said.
Milagro propped herself up, placed her notepad on her lap, and patted the sofa next to her. Without hesitation, Solono sat. He attempted to remain relaxed but the heat from the fireplace caused his skin to moisten immediately. He began to perspire harder once the nervousness began to settle in.
Milagro said, "This isn't my diary. For your information, I'm writing a novel."
"A novel?" Solono said.
"Yes. I happen to write better at night when everyone is asleep and there aren't any distractions. Hint, hint!"
"You haven't lived long enough to write a novel. What could you possibly be writing about? Vampires? Oh, let me guess, a magical horse?"
"This happens to be my third book."
"You've written three novels?"
"Yes, and this might be my best one."
"What is it about?" Solono reached for her notepad.
Milagro yanked her notepad out of reach and hid it behind her back. "My writing is very personal and I'm very protective of it. I don't let just anyone read it."
"I apologize! My sister loves to read so I've read a few of her novels. She has a closet full of books, mostly romance. At first, I thought I would not like those types of books, but I find some very interesting. My favorite is The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas."
"I've never heard of that one. What it is about?"
"It's historical fiction, based in France. It is about a man who is wrongfully imprisoned who escapes jail, acquires wealth, and gets revenge on those responsible for his imprisonment. However, his plans have devastating consequences for the innocent as well as the guilty."
"It sounds very interesting. I will definitely add it to my to-read list."
Milagro gazed at the fireplace.
"My book is about a young woman who falls in love at first sight, with an older man."
She looked him straight in his eyes. "She believes he's in love with her, too, but won't act on his feelings."
Solono blinked. "How does it end?"
"He lives with regret for the rest of his life."
Solono had known nothing about the opposite sex. This made him gravitate towards her even more.
"Milagro, I think you are absolutely breathtaking. Any man in his right mind would jump at the opportunity to be with you. But my father is the President of Paraguay and your father is the Minister of Uruguay and our being involved could cause conflict at a time when our countries are trying to create peace."
"Who said I was talking about you?"
Solono turned red. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me. I just thought...oh never mind!"
"It's ok!" Milagro inched her way closer to him and grabbed his knee. "You're absolutely adorable. Plus, I never said I wasn't talking about you."
Solono tried to conceal his embarrassment.
"Now do we know each other well enough for me to ask you why you call your father 'Father Louis'? I've never heard of such. Seems odd."
"It's just what I've always called him."
"Seems a little weird, but if it works for you, it's ok with me."
They smiled. The next two hours seemed like seconds as they shared countless stories, and jokes. Milagro told him her dreams of becoming a famous novelist and her fear of her father dying. Solono described his love for animals and how he had a better connection with them than with most humans. Before they realized it, the sun was creeping its beautiful head above the Cerro Negro. The scent of freshly cooked churros and brewed coffee alerted them that the maidservants were busy in the kitchen.
Minister Gobrio entered the room, his hair still damp from his shower, wearing a white robe and slippers. He plopped down on a wooden rocking chair directly across from Milagro and Solono. They could smell the strong scent of soap and cologne on his body.
"How is your book coming along?" he asked Milagro.
"It's coming along great, Father! Solono and I were just discussing --"
"Good. Breakfast awaits in the kitchen. Help yourself!" the Minister said.
"Thank you, sir!" Solono rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, feeling the Minister's eyes on him.
The storm passed, and the sky was blue and inviting again. Juan advised Solono that they would be leaving Uruguay in the next hour. Solono scarfed down his breakfast and headed to his room to gather his belongings. As he packed, Milagro appeared at his door.
"I hear you are leaving shortly," Milagro said.
He was surprised to see her. After the Minister's intervention, he didn't think he would ever lay eyes on her again.
"Your family has a knack for startling entrances," Solono said.
"I just wanted to say goodbye. I had a really nice time chatting with you last night. And I apologize about my father. Please don't mind him."
"No apologies necessary. I'd be protective of you too." Milagro smiled.
"Good luck with your book," Solono said. "When it's complete I'd be honored to read it."
Milagro extended her hand. As they shook hands, she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.
"Good bye, Solono!" she said.
He hesitated for a brief second then embraced her back, inhaling her strawberry scented hair. They could feel each other's hearts beating rapidly. Against his better judgment, Solono gave Milagro a gentle peck on her lips followed by a kiss on her forehead.
"Good bye," he whispered back.
Louis and Minister Gobrio had come to an agreement that the two countries would import and export goods. Meat, wool, and skins were the main products Uruguay offered. Louis offered electricity and cotton at an inflated rate. Both considered the agreement a victory.
As they approached the airstrip for departure, Juan handed the tablets to Louis.
"Thank you, Juan! I almost forgot to take these damn pills."
Juan reached for a jug of water that sat in a compartment of the limo door, but Louis pulled his flask from his pocket.
"I'd rather wash it down with this," Louis jokingly said as he tossed the pills in his mouth and chased it with whiskey.
Solono frowned.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand, this is a drink for men." Louis said.
"You mean the kind of men who are afraid to fly?" thought Solono.
The turbulence from the flight was so forceful that Louis screamed. Solono, like always, grabbed Louis' hand and reassured him everything would be ok. Once they were back in Paraguay and safely on the ground, Louis stared at the pilot. On one hand, he wanted to thank him for returning him home safely, but on the other hand he wanted to kill him for a hair- raising experience. He chose neither.
"Fire that pilot. He's never to fly again!" Louis instructed Juan. "If I see him anywhere near a plane, I'll make sure he gets tossed from it."
"Yes, Mr. President," Juan said as he held the rear door open to the limo that was waiting to take them back to the Presidential Palace.
A green jeep careened toward them carrying four men wearing masks and holding machine guns. Rapid gunshots rang out and riddled the limo with bullets. The pilot who was standing nearby was shot in the torso and died instantly. Solono tackled Louis to the ground and shielded him with his body. They crawled as fast as they could to the limo for shelter. Gunfire hitting the dirt nearby raised a heavy red cloud of smoke that made it almost impossible to see. Juan fired back a few times with his 9mm, but the bullets were coming in so heavy all he could do was take cover.
"Stay down!" Juan yelled.
Solono lay on top of Louis as bullets pierced the car's metal and shattered the windows. Hissing sounds emanated from the penetrated tires. Bullets ripped apart the trees that were twenty feet behind them. The driver of the limo was shot in the head and died. Solono felt a brief pain near his calf; he was too afraid to look.
Just as fast as the four masked men arrived, they fled. The entire ordeal was over in a matter of seconds. Juan darted over to Louis and Solono.
"Are you two ok?" Juan asked. "I am," Louis said. "Solono?"
Solono nodded but Louis panicked when he saw blood on his leg.
"Are you hit?"
Louis quickly grabbed Solono's pants and ripped the area where he saw blood. He was relieved it was just a graze.
"What just happened?" Solono said as he examined the wound on his leg.
"An ambush!" Juan said as he rapidly scanned the area checking for other threats.
"From who?" Solono asked.
"Alfonso Gomez!" Louis said as he stood and brushed as much of the red dirt from his clothes as he could. The odor from the gun smoke hung thick in the air. Louis closed his eyes and inhaled.
"Don't you just love that smell?" he said.
Solono and Juan stared at Louis.
"It's something about the smell of gun smoke that's enchanting."
"Mr. President, we need to get out of here. A second attack could be planned."
"Everybody calm down. We don't know if we were the intended targets," said Louis.
Juan wasn't sure if Louis was suffering from shock or still feeling the effects from the medicine he had taken for the flight.
"Juan's right," Solono said. "What just happened wasn't an accident. We need to get you out of here now."
Louis contemplated the bullet-riddled limo. "Maybe you're right," he said. "What's the game plan, Juan?"
"Solono, we passed a village on our flight about eight kilometers out. I'll stay with the President and you go see if you can locate transportation. Don't identify who we are, just offer to compensate them upon our safe arrival. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Solono said.
"Go, hurry."
Solono tried to ignore the pain from the wound as he limped along the road. He wondered who would help a stranger whose clothing was soiled with dirt and blood. Scanning his surroundings for an escape route in case the men returned, he spied tall, trees, and thick high grass in which he could hide. Occasionally he glanced behind him to see if he left a trail of blood; he didn't. Before he realized it, Louis and Juan were no longer in sight.
A clear stream ran along the side of the road. He watched as the water gently beat against the rocks. He walked over, removed his shoe, and brushed the water up and down along his leg to remove any trace of his injury. Chills shot throughout his body from the cold water.
After a few seconds, the temperature wasn't a bother. He sat for a moment and watched as a flock of birds crowded the tree branches above. They scattered as he tossed rocks in their direction. He stood and continued his journey.
Solono questioned Juan's judgment. After nine kilometers, just when he was about to give up and head back, he saw an elderly woman sitting on a wooden stool picking red berries from a bush about fifty yards off the road.
She sat next to straw basket that was filled to the rim with fruit. No one else was nearby. "A woman her age couldn't have strayed too far from home," he thought.
She hummed a beautiful melody to herself while tossing berries into the basket. He stepped on a twig, which snapped loudly. The woman reached down and grabbed a sharpened blade. She yelled at Solono in a language he didn't understand, but it was obvious that she was telling him to leave. Solono stood still and raised his hands.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I need help."
Her yells of distress alerted others and soon Solono was surrounded. Men and young boys, dressed in nothing but a brown cloth that covered their crotches, slowly inched their way closer to him. One man had three white horizontal strips painted across his chest; Solono assumed he was an authority figure.
"In our village, displaying your palms above your head means you welcome battle," the man said. "I'm hoping you aren't here for that. Am I correct?" Solono's eyes widened as he shook his head.
The others examined Solono from a safe distance. They noticed how his clothing was made from different material and covered more of his body than they thought reasonable. One of the men pointed at Solono's pants and laughed that one leg was ripped while the other wasn't. To him it looked weird that anyone would wear something so absurd.
"I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle her. I come looking for help," Solono said.
"Because of our past encounters with outsiders, we are very reluctant to interact with anyone we are not familiar with."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
The man gripped Solono's forearm so tight it made him grimace. "This is how we greet each other. My name is Alejo."
"Solono," he said as he reached for Alejo's arm. "Are you the only one who can understand me?"
"There is one other, but he speaks only when absolutely necessary. What brings you here?"
"I need help. Myself and two other gentlemen are stranded a few kilometers up the road. They sent me to seek help. We're trying to get back to Asunción."
Alejo eyeballed Solono from head to toe. His clothing wasn't that of a peasant. He grabbed Solono's hand and examined his fingernails -- they lacked earth.
"Asunción?" Alejo said. "What business do you have there?" "I live there."
Alejo stared at Solono.
"My people are the Tobas. My blood has been on this land for hundreds of years. Our ancestors are buried right where you stand. President Silvay wants to take our land. Do you know him?"
Solono paused. He figured the Tobas were going to find out one way or the other. It would only make matters worse if he lied. "Yes, I know him."
"Is this the same gentleman that is requesting our assistance?" Alejo asked.
"Yes. We were attacked the second we exited our plane. Our car was shredded to pieces. We have no way to get home."
Alejo turned to the other men and spoke in their tongue. The men immediately became upset. One villager pointed and kicked dirt in Solono's direction. After a few minutes Alejo turned back to Solono.
"We will help you."
Several villagers walked away upset, but not before giving Solono a piercing look.
"As you can see, everyone doesn't agree with my decision." Alejo said.
A loud knocking sound caught Solono's attention. An old, rusty, blue pickup truck with a cloud of black smoke firing out the rear appeared. A popping sound, that reminded Solono of gunfire, came from underneath the hood. The villagers laughed as Solono jerked with fear. All but one of
the tires were missing hubcaps. One of the men who had stormed off earlier exited and tossed the keys to Alejo.
"It's probably not what you are used to traveling in, but it serves its purpose."
"You'll hear no complaints from me."
"It's going to take about 20 minutes to get it ready for travel. In the meantime, make yourself at home.
Solono took refuge from the villagers' dirty looks under a broad flowering tree with long leaves drooping inches from the ground nearby. The coolness the shade provided was pleasant as he sat with his back against the tree trunk examining his wound. "A half-inch to the right and that bullet could have done more harm," he thought. A few inches to the left and Louis would have been struck, possibly in the head.
The elderly woman reappeared with a jug of water and a few berries. He hadn't had a drink since leaving Uruguay. She slowly sat the items near Solono and kneeled down directly in front of him. He was surprised a woman of her age could move so effortlessly. Her cold and clammy hands, hard from years of work, examined his forehead, his eyes, then and lips. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands in a circular motion over his head.
"Tau biei muh." The woman stood. "Tau biei muh."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're saying."
She gestured for him to follow her as she walked towards a hut.
"You want me to come with you?"
"Tau biei muh!"
Immediately upon entering the hut he was smacked with a strong smell of incense. A small wooden altar table sat in the middle of the dirt floor between two wooden chairs. Burning candles and five feathers sat atop the altar. Wind chimes made of bones hung from the ceiling, gently knocking against each other. In the corner sitting on the floor was a young boy bearing two white horizontal stripes, similar to the stripes he'd seen on Alejo. The woman sat in one of the chairs and pointed at the other. After he sat, she closed her eyes.
"Tagu misi kuy bi," she said.
"Choose a feather," the boy sitting in the corner translated for Solono.
"You must be the other whom Alejo spoke of," Solono said.
"Tagu misi kuy bi." She pointed to the feathers.
"Ok!" After examining the feathers for a few seconds, he selected the yellow one.
"Nactu," she said as she watched his selection. "Nactu," she repeated.
He looked at the boy. "What does that mean?" "Nactu means father. She is speaking to your father."
Solono leaped from his chair. "What do you mean she spoke to my father?" The chimes began to move faster.
The elderly woman motioned for Solono to return to his seat, which he did. She continued to talk, and the young boy translated.
"He says the best way to handle hurt is forgiveness. If you don't, it controls you. Let it go."
Solono felt the temperature in his body shift.
"He said that he's been with you since the day he left, and he wants you to let it go."
"Let what go?"
In mid-sentence the woman stopped speaking. The wind chimes danced furiously. The woman never took her eyes off Solono who tried his best to keep his composure. He began to inhale and exhale rapidly.
"What happened? Why did she stop?" Solono asked the boy.
The woman slowly got up from her seat and walked towards Solono with a gentle grin. Her scent, which was tolerable moments ago, was now foul, but her skin surprisingly looked smoother. He could feel her warm breath as she leaned down and whispered in his father's voice, "Hate!"
The only time he looked back was to see how far he had run. He darted from the hut so fast that he had forgotten that he was running on an injured leg. He could still hear the woman laughing uncontrollably. He didn't stop running till he reached the truck. Climbing in the rear, he dropped his head in his hands and shut his eyes tight.
"That wasn't real." He thought to himself.
"You ready back there?" Alejo yelled. When Solono didn't respond, Alejo peeked his head out of the passenger side window. "Solono, are you ready?"
"Sorry! Yes, I am ready." "Where exactly are we going?
"It's about nine or ten kilometers north up the road." Solono instructed.
Alejo nodded to the driver. Ten minutes and a hundred potholes later, they pulled up to Louis and Juan.