Las Dos Marias

Chapter 18: Unexpected Turn

Don Arnulfo wiped the sweat sliding down his temple as the Guardia Civil made their presence known. It had been a peaceful afternoon, but their arrival made his muscles tense with curiosity.

"We are looking for someone suspected of being involved in the rising rebellion," one of the officers declared. Murmurs instantly spread among the guests upon hearing the declaration.

"This has been a glorious celebration of friendship, officers. Are you certain the person you're looking for is just lurking among us?" said Padre Enrique.

Don Arnulfo, having gathered his composure, also stepped forward and asked in the most honorable voice he could muster, "Gentlemen, may you disclose the name of the person of interest?"

The officers exchanged a glance before handing him a piece of paper. He unfolded it, scanning the familiar name written in black ink. "I see," was all he managed, handing the paper back.

"Well, who is it?" his wife pressed, the crowd behind them growing restless as they waited for the name to be announced. The same question hung in their heads as they restlessly gazed at one another, wrapped up in the idea that a rebel had been blending in with them for hours.

Clearing his throat, Don Arnulfo spoke. "This person's father died under suspicion of rebellion. It's only routine they question the family." His voice faltered as his gaze landed on his daughter, who was just emerging from the hut where she had been speaking with her new friend after the ruckus caused by the friar at lunch time.

Just then, the officer finally stepped forward to declare the suspected rebel. "Maria Isabela Ramos," he announced in a deep, clear voice. "You are to come with us to the cuartel."

Don Arnulfo moved quickly toward his daughter. Trinidad's face was pale with shock as the officers bound Isabela like a common criminal.

"Papa, what's happening? Why are they taking her?" Trinidad demanded, panic was seen on her face.

Don Arnulfo wanted to answer his daughter, but no words came. Instead, he was plagued by a distant memory from a few months ago.

He could still remember the same question coming from Constancia, the town healer, when they discovered the remains of her husband, Jose Ramos, lying in the cornfield.

"Why did this happen, Alcalde Mayor... why?"

But even with his position, he had no control over these misfortunes. San Felipe had always been a peaceful town, but rumors of rebellion had been stirring the peace.

Until now, he could not provide answers.

As Isabela was led away, she remained calm. She said nothing, only exchanged a look with Trinidad before disappearing with the officers.

"Well, that was unfortunate," said the priest.

And yet, Don Arnulfo knew better to not recognize the subtle jovial tone in his voice, as if the priest had already anticipated this scene. The Alcalde Mayor had always had mixed feelings about the friar, and he especially disapproved of his earlier behavior toward Isabela.

Straightening his posture, Don Arnulfo made up his mind. "I must say, this has been an interesting afternoon, Doña Ynez, but I'm afraid my family and I must leave early."

"What do you mean?" his wife snapped, clearly irritated by his sudden announcement.

"We enjoyed the afternoon, but I'm afraid matters require my immediate attention. It seems like this talk of rebellion is becoming more troubling. Your Alcalde Mayor must now attend to his official duties."

Just then, Padre Enrique rose from his chair, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I, too, feel the burden of this town. I must return to the chapel to offer prayers for the safety of all, and for the soul of that poor girl taken to the cuartel." Clasping his hands, he scanned the now forlorn faces of the guests. "May the Lord protect us through these trying times."

And yet, Don Arnulfo couldn't help but notice the glint of sinister satisfaction in the friar's eyes as he looked in the direction where Isabela and the Guardia Civil had gone.

***

Back at the mansion, Trinidad kept on replaying the events that ensued that afternoon—Isabela's confession about her jealousy, her arrest—everything was spinning in her head and she could not think straight. And now, as she sat beside her father, she contemplated how she could ask him to help Isabela.

"Surely, Papa, there is something we can do to help Isabela," she began.

But her father only looked at her, his face unreadable.

"Why do you keep bringing up that woman?" her mother snapped. "Everyone thinks she's a criminal, just like her father."

"Mama, she's my friend!" Trinidad shot back. "Por favor... don't say that about her."

"And when did you learn to speak to me like that, young lady? Did the convent teach you to disrespect your mother? And who do you call your amiga? That rebel? We let that criminal sleep under our roof and perform that witchcraft she calls healing! Amiga— eres estúpida?!"

"Enough, Esperanza," Don Arnulfo said firmly. "The girl was only taken for questioning... no verdict has been reached yet."

Scoffing, Doña Esperanza glared at them. "Rebel or not, I won't have that mujer's shadow lingering in this house any longer. Tell that to your mother and daughter!" she said, as though Doña Alma and Trinidad were not in the room with them.

Meanwhile, Doña Alma was unusually quiet in the corner. And whether she heard her daughter-in-law's harsh words, she did not show any indication. She just simply stared out the window, watching the rustling leaves and listening to the usual noises outside. Noticing that, Trinidad joined her grandmother. "Are you alright, Lola?"

"Indeed, Mama. You've been awfully quiet," Don Arnulfo added.

The Doña blinked slowly, as if she had just woken up from a dream. "I was just thinking of that poor girl. I like her. She cares deeply. But it's her mother I feel for most—Constancia doesn't deserve this."

Trinidad could hear her mother's disdainful retort from where she sat, but she chose to ignore it. Instead, she looked at her father and intended to be more convincing this time. "Papa, there must be something you can do."

Don Arnulfo sighed. "Alright. I will talk to the Teniente Mayor to help sort this out. I shall go to the cuartel."

"I'm coming with you, Papa," Trinidad quickly said. She couldn't bear the thought of Isabela locked away in a cold, empty cell. She had never been to the cuartel, but she could imagine the stench and decay in those corners. Besides, she needed to let Isabela know she was doing everything she could to help. "Por favor, Papa..." she pleaded. "Let me come with you."

"Have you gone crazy, Trinidad?" her mother shouted. "And you, Arnulfo, are you really going to involve yourself in this?"

"She's my friend," Trinidad said again, her voice firmer this time. "I need to see her."

Seeing the determination in his daughter's eyes, Don Arnulfo finally conceded, despite his wife's outbursts in the background. "All right, let's go see your friend."

By the time father and daughter climbed into the calesa, twilight had settled over San Felipe. And yet, Trinidad's heart felt glad as she sat across from her father.

"Gracias, Papa..." she managed to say.

Don Arnulfo simply patted her clasped hands; the warmth of his touch instantly coursed through her veins, offering comfort—but not enough to stop herself from worrying about Isabela.