Chapter 3

Three

The cab, driven by the same man as yesterday pulled into the yard at 8:04 a.m. Mari pecked Jade on the cheek and squeezed her arm. An image shot into her head—of Mari bundled in a thick fur coat, red hair squashed under a fuzzy Cossack-style hat. The picture came with a deep feeling of estrangement that made her stomach turn over. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Mari said, popping Jade’s bubble of emotion.

“S-sure,” was all she could push between her lips.

The cab surged away.

It was sad to see Mari leave. Sadder still was the thought that they might never see each other again. Jade shook off the sensation. There was no validity to it, as she had plans to return home for Christmas.

Before Jade had a chance to go back inside, a newish blue flatbed truck loaded with boxes and lumber materialized through the cloud of dust raised by the taxi. Immediately behind it came a white pickup truck. A sign on the door said Pérez Contractors, Chi’país. When here before, Jade interviewed reputable contractors—well, she’d tried to hire people. Juan Pérez had been awarded the job of rejuvenating the hotel solely because he’d been the only one to show up to give a bid.

He exited his truck, carrying toolbox and metal coffee cup. “Ready to go to work, Missus.” Thank goodness his English was decent. 

“Thank you, Mr. Pérez.”

“Juan. I am Juan.” She shook his hand and did likewise with his two crewmembers, who headed into the house hauling a large hand-truck. “And this is Miguel.”

Jade hadn’t noticed the adorable dark-eyed boy standing in his father’s shadow. She reached out to shake his hand. He gave a toothy grin then shoved his small fingers eagerly into hers. Jade rattled his hand. “Nice to m—”

Miguel jumped away as if she’d bitten off a chunk of his flesh. He scurried back into the shadows behind the truck. What was that all about?

“We are here to work on kitchen.” Juan watched his son’s retreat. His face was unreadable, but he acted as if he wanted to go after the boy.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes. He is fine.”

“Do you still estimate it will take a month?”

He scrunched his eyes as if considering. “Maybe a few days longer. No more than a week.” He pointed toward the flatbed truck. “Floor tiles and, how you say—appliances? They are here. We will place them today and tomorrow. Cabinets not here yet.”

“Okay,” she said. “By the way, do you know anyone who can fix my water heater?”

“I turn it on yesterday same time as refrigerator. Is it not working?” He laughed, showing many white teeth. “I guess it is not or you would not ask. I will look at it.”

“Thank you.” She went inside. No more time to lament the departures of Mariette Anderson and the strange little boy. Jade grabbed a bottle of water, then made use of the sunshine and cool morning ocean breeze to work in the backyard. 

By lunchtime, sore all over, she started back to the house. The rest of the day would be spent doing small, not-so-physical tasks like ordering new linens, drapes, and dishes. Though her grandfather had operated a prosperous hotel, things had gotten a bit run down in the past few years while he was ill. Besides, the place could use updating along with the new paint Juan would apply.

Jade jumped at the sight of Miguel seated on a fallen palm trunk next to the path, elbows on the thighs of his light green shorts, chin in his hands.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

He raised his face and tipped his head as if confused. 

Then it dawned on her that he might not speak English. Jade tapped into her meager recollection of high school Spanish. “Tienes sed?” 

He gave a vigorous nod. 

She wiggled two fingers and he stepped in place behind her. Jade stopped at the hose spigot to wash her hands. He kept going into the house, as if he’d been there many times before. She followed him inside.

Right now, the contents of the refrigerator sat on the floor near the door. She raised the heavy blanket that had been placed over the things to keep them cold, and selected a bottle of lemonade. Jade filled two glasses and handed one to him.

“Gracias, señora.”

“Cuantos años tienes?”

Miguel held up eight fingers. “Ocho.”

She made two tuna fish sandwiches and carried them outside. Miguel was already clearing one of the small tables. He brushed off a chair for her, then one for himself. What a little gentleman. She laid his food on a paper towel then pushed the glass toward him. At the same time, he reached for it. 

Their fingers touched.

He jerked away, leaped out of the chair, and ran into the house. Just then her cell rang—Mari calling to say she arrived safely at the airport. They spoke for a few moments with Jade only halfway paying attention. Where had the boy gone? What spooked him? 

After saying goodbye, Jade rose to go looking for Miguel. Before she got inside, he appeared in the kitchen, bypassed her, and went back to his chair.

What a strange child.

“Si.”

Which Jade translated as being about a black-tailed lizard.

This she didn’t understand, and said so. Miguel pointed to the remaining half of her sandwich, then to the creature. She shook her head. It probably wasn’t a good idea to encourage the feeding of beasts that might come around. 

Once the ice was broken, it seemed there was no end to the chatter that came from the little boy. She only understood a word here and there but he didn’t seem to mind. It left her free to wonder why he reacted the way he did when they touched. Maybe he had a phobia—what was the fear of touching called? She didn’t know, but other than that, he acted like a normal eight-year-old kid.

Miguel finished eating. He stood and took both glasses and paper towels inside. She went back to work in the yard wondering what had happened to the plan to do small chores for the rest of the day. No answer came—just a renewed burst of energy, so she set about heaving lopped-off pieces of plants and trees in a pile on the walkway. By dinnertime, she could barely pull herself erect. All she wanted was to go in and take a hot bath. Before that could happen, she needed to haul the stack of debris out front with the stuff she and Mari discarded last night. She hated leaving tasks undone.

The walkway was empty. 

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out her new friend had been working as hard as she. But he was nowhere in sight. And neither was his father’s truck. Tomorrow she would thank Miguel for his help.

Jade dug around the kitchen that looked like a bomb had gone off—cabinets had disappeared from the walls, the old appliances were gone. Somehow, she located a wineglass. As she uncorked the heavy bottle, she found a handwritten note on the table. All it said was, Water heater working.

Oh heaven! What a wonderful man.

Before a long relaxing bubble bath, there was one thing to do, change the light bulbs in the foyer’s chandelier—a beautiful fixture with scrolled wrought iron and a dozen bulbs, none of which were working. It was a simple job to change them, especially since Juan had left his open ladder in the middle of the hallway beside the stairway. Perhaps he had intended to change them and she should leave the job till morning. But no, it would be easy enough to do herself. She located a large package of bulbs in a hall closet and scaled the ladder to the top. Then realized she’d forgotten to turn on the fixture. Hard to know if they’re working with it turned off.

She climbed down, flipped the switch, and went back up six rungs. On the seventh, her toe hit the side bar, the ladder wobbled. 

Jade held on, waiting for the legs to steady themselves. And they did, but she lost her balance anyway. It’s said that in these situations, a person’s life flashes before their eyes. Not so. All that flashed before her eyes was: wall, bannister, wall, bannister, wall, and then blackness.

Jade returned to awareness amidst a bombardment of dark alternating with hurt so bad she wished unconsciousness would suck her under again. 

Okay, okay. Focus.

How long had she lain here? The fact that it was dark meant that night had arrived—no need for much calculation there. And since she had no familiarity with the sunset/nighttime lighting in this part of the world, that particular information was moot. The nearest her muddled brain could recall: she’d climbed the ladder around five p.m. And last night, when she and Mari quit working in the yard around nine, it was just growing dark. Therefore, she’d been here at least four hours. What difference did this information make? None right now. 

The only thing that mattered was that she needed help. Which was another bit of fact that was no good for anything. First, there was no cell service out this far. Even if there had been, her phone was in the kitchen. Or was it on the patio table outdoors? Again. Moot. 

She was smart enough to know her brain was using all this as a diversion from the all-encompassing pain rocketing through her body. Pain that once her brain got into focus-on-it mode, seemed to be coming from her left ankle. It was too dark for a visual inspection so she settled for touching. A humble fingertip inspection brought knowledge of a quite broken left ankle…and another lapse of consciousness.

Jade didn’t know how long she was out this time, but when she awoke, thirst caused almost as much discomfort as the ankle, which was swelled to at least three times its normal size. She’d seen movies with people in these types of dilemmas, and they survived. But those were movi— 

She cut off the thought before it could take hold in her head—and commanded her brain to come up with information that could be of help.

She waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

A few well-chosen curse words put her brain on notice that once this problem was solved, they would be having a serious conversation. Gosh, was she thirsty. So parched that an itch began in her throat. And grew. The more she ignored it, the more it grew. Until she had to cough.

Which jiggled her ankle. This time, she didn’t pass out, but suffered the pain with dignity borne of a desperation to survive—until morning when Juan returned. 

Jade concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In and out again. And reciting, There is no pain. There is no pain.

You are doing great. Keep going, came a whispered voice.

Jade jerked alert. But as she strained to hear the voice, and stopped thinking about breathing, the pain returned.

Keep going, said the voice.

“Who are you?”

Breathe.

“Who?”

Silence.

Okay, okay. In. Out. In…