Schooled by the best tutors in the Philippines, instructed by an etiquette coach, and dressed in the finest linens imported from Paris and Madrid, Elena was raised in sophisticated fashion. Her fiesta to celebrate her coming out was the grandest affair with guests coming from as far away as Manila, and seven of her father’s business associates from China. No one had seen such an extravagant party, which was exactly what Elena’s mother intended.
“Elena’s father kept a stressful watch of the books and crunched the finances to accommodate his wife’s profligacy. One year an entire field of sugarcane went to her own clothing expenses, and Elena’s father was forced to cut the wages of the field-workers. The wife’s expenses and debts were taking their toll, and Elena’s father was unsure what else he could cut to save them from ruin.
“A docile child, Elena did not rebel against her mother’s rule. An excellent student, a cherished girl of the servants, she had a quiet gentleness that some mistook for lack of intelligence. But she was anything but that. Her features were plain, but held such warmth as to seem beautiful to those who observed her.
“Elena’s younger sister, Alexa, was much more beautiful, but a great frustration to their mother. A renegade child—oh, I will tell of that girl’s story on another day. Alexa was a child of the wilderness, running with the children of the jungle and visiting the squatters, fishing and hunting with the boys, diving from the rocks and bringing home abalone and sometimes a few oysters with rare pearls, which are very hard to find.
“Elena loved her sister greatly. She, how you say, covered up what their mother would consider grave indiscretions. Alexa enjoyed infuriating their mother and endured punishment, even the harshest beatings, with a smile. Elena would cry, but her sister hid her tears behind laughter that only caused the beatings to increase. So this was the household in which Elena grew up.
“What nobody knew was that since childhood, Elena had a secret.” Lola Gloria leaned forward, and the hush in the room amplified the dramatic pause.
Julia glanced at Markus, who by now was as engrossed with the story as she was. His expression asked, What? What was the secret?, though Julia knew he must have already heard this story, and more than once.
“This secret,” Lola Gloria continued, “was something the young woman could not express, not even to herself. Now, Julia. You may not believe me when I tell you this at first. But it is true. And even if you don’t believe now, you will eventually. You have the blood of Elena within you, and you will not doubt any of this.”
Lola Gloria’s eyes held her intently.
“So what was Elena’s secret?” Julia asked.
The older woman nodded as if seeing that Julia was duly prepared. “The secret was actually a gift. As a child, Elena could not have guessed that it was unique only unto herself. Alexa was the one who told her not to tell others about it, that it was rare and unique. Just as Alexa understood the ways of the wild and had her own gifts—that will be told another day.
“Her secret was this: whenever Elena came near another person, she could capture a great sense of them, an understanding that could not be defined.”
“A sense of them?” Julia asked.
“It was greater than just knowing if, let’s say, a cheerful visitor was inwardly sad. Instead, this knowing came in the form of smells and colors. When young men courted Elena, this instinct of people, though unrefined, would distinguish character in an individual. From the men who came for her family money, she caught scents of bitter herbs, rotting fruit, or even once of a type of fish whose smell curled the hairs of the nose. Those young men who came out of duty, around them Elena could distinguish something missing that she could only equate to drinking tea without enough sugar. Others with major character flaws had a heightened odor that overpowered the good scents, as if the chicken adobo had too much garlic.
“There was one young man who loved her quickly for the peace of her presence. He reminded Elena of wood smoke and honey. But the boy was of low standing, and so her mother refused him outright. After that, Elena rebelled for the first time by disregarding every wealthy suitor that her mother was excited about. As a finely groomed man took her through the gardens, Elena would give her refusal outright, much to her parents’ utter frustration.
“The full magic of Elena remained dormant for many years. Its release happened quite by accident. An honored guest had come to the family table—a diplomat from Manila, who had journeyed the day to discuss a business proposition with Elena’s father. No one knew of the hacienda’s financial difficulties, and her father hoped the senator might help him in a business venture that might save their finances.”
Julia noticed Markus watching her with interest as the story unfolded.
“The table was lavished with the best hacienda recipes, but much to the distress of Elena’s mother, the poor politician enjoyed very little. Señor Emory had been gravely ill for some months and had not yet recovered. His political position was in jeopardy and demanded that he work harder. He had come to Hacienda Esperanza seeking support and partnership with one of the most powerful families in the lower provinces.
“The long journey had proven a great strain, and more than food or conversation, Señor Emory wished for a thick blanket and warm bed. But manners prevailed, and he struggled to remain focused on business wrangling and polite conversation. Elena’s father talked endlessly of a new type of ship that could open new exports to more distant locations while Elena’s mother fidgeted endlessly, watching every bite the senator took while deciding how to reprimand the cook without her temper costing the house-hold another member of their staff. Elena sat docile and quiet, observing them all.
“In the midst of the dinner tension between the bone-weary senator and the distraught mother, the house butler entered the formal dining room practically on tiptoe. It was critical, he said, that he speak to the don at once. And yet it was Elena’s mother who recognized the urgency upon the butler’s face. Perhaps the cook had used spoiled meat or sullied herbs. She excused herself from the table and motioned the butler to meet her outside the room.
“‘Alexa,’ the butler whispered, and the mother’s face drained to a gray pallor.
“The girl had been diving off the rocks above the cove. She’d collected as large a basket of oysters as had ever been seen. In the back courtyard, she and the boys of a jungle village were opening each giant oyster and discovering a treasury of shimmering pearls. The hacienda workers had gathered and cheered each little find. Even the kitchen staff had rushed to the yard to join the spontaneous fiesta.
“While the butler knew Elena’s father might find relief in such unexpected fortune, he suspected that the distinguished senator might look unkindly upon a family with such a renegade female.
“At the dining table, Elena had long been aware of the senator’s suffering. She’d thought to ask the kitchen staff to bring the gentlemen some coffee or tea, but as yet, none had returned to clear away the dishes or offer after-dinner beverages. Elena herself fidgeted more and more as the scent of overripe fruit grew strong in the room. Finally, she could take the senator’s discomfort no longer.
“She interrupted in the middle of her father’s description of the fastest ships on the South Pacific. ‘Sir, our honored guest, may I get you some coffee as you and my father retire to the study?’
“Elena’s father gave her a surprised and disapproving expression, but the senator’s relief was quite evident even to him. The older man sighed and relaxed his formal stance as if taking off a heavy pack from his shoulders.
“‘Dearest child, some coffee would be quite soothing. I have not been well, I’m afraid. It is with effort that I come here this day, though I am most grateful for the gracious welcome. Please give your mother and your cook my deepest apology. My appetite has long suffered. I sadly recall the days of enjoying such a feast as this.’
“‘There is an afghan in a basket beside the sofa couch, if you wish, sir,’ Elena said in a manner that would not offend.
“And then for the first time in her life, except to pass through to the back or pass an instruction from her mother to the house staff, Elena entered the kitchen. She stood at the doorway, over-whelmed and awed by what she saw. The baskets, canisters, drying herbs hanging from long hooks beside the pots. There was no one else there, and Elena didn’t know how to make coffee or even where the coffee was stored.
“She opened cupboards, clay pots, and gunny sacks. The colors and smells of the different foods, like the earthy smell from a bag of beans, the quickened rush of cane vinegar, the brilliance of ground yellow turmeric, the scent of the sea from the clam shells in buckets on the floor, all delighted her. For several minutes Elena forgot the task that brought her there as she explored the scents and flavors, the answers to what she sensed in people and had rarely distinguished individually. No wonder she was so often drawn to the gardens, smelling and exploring. With the different smells, different people came to mind.
“When she came across a jar of ground cinnamon, Elena remembered the ailing senator. Upon the stove, she found the coffee kettle already percolating and steaming hot, and she knew the kitchen staff had not long been absent.
“As she checked the percolating coffee, that feeling of the older man came over her. Elena dropped in a pinch of the cinnamon, then searched the spices for something else. She touched her fingertip into the dark powder of the red pepper, then stirred her finger into some cream from the ice box.
“‘Why would I do such a thing?’ she asked herself, but somehow she knew that he would greatly enjoy it. One more pinch of cinnamon, the cream added to the black brew, then a single drop of citrus juice and two dashes from other unknown spices.
“Elena gave the grateful politician his cup and saucer, noticing the blanket over his lap as her father continued his monologue, now on Australian traders. Then the face of her mother appeared in the open window behind the senator’s head. She motioned for Elena to have her father come outside.
“Over an hour passed before they thought again of Señor Emory. To their distress, they learned that he had returned to Manila. Elena’s mother vowed to lock Alexa up, send her to the convent, or ship her away to a foreign country and marry her off to the first man who saw her arrival.
“The next day, the politician was back at their door with his wife.
“‘I awoke with the dawn and felt a youth about me that I haven’t felt in years. What kind of coffee did your marvelous daughter serve? I believe it cured my ailment at once. From the first sip to the last drop, I felt a strength and cure come over me. Could your daughter make more of that coffee? My wife has suffered from an ailment of the womb since the stillbirth of our son, and she is in pain quite often.’
“It was a turning point for Elena and for the entire hacienda. The senator’s wife also felt improvement after drinking a lemonade with a surprising dash of yellow curry that Elena chose to make instead of coffee. Word spread. Her mother had no choice but to allow Elena into the kitchen. She trained beneath the hacienda chef until the old woman happily turned the kitchen over to the younger woman’s able hands.
“Her fame grew until the hacienda staff would drive away people and require appointments. They were paid in chickens, fruits, livestock, and sometimes actual money. Elena’s healing powers were not always completely effective, but none left her kitchen without some sense of renewal. The family’s debts were soon repaid, and the hacienda gained capital through gifts and payment.
“And then Elena met Amerel.”
“Amerel?” Julia asked. “I thought the story was about Elena the Cook and Cortinez.”
“So it is. But perhaps this is a tragic tale. . . .”
THEY TEASED HIM AS IF HE WERE ONE OF THEM. AND FOR THE first time in a long, long time—at least two weeks—Emman enjoyed every bit of it.
He was their leader now, and that fact had not yet sunk in—at least not with his friends. Emman was a man, a leader, and he’d kissed the hand of the beautiful Miss Julia.
The joy rushed through him, made his legs want to run so fast or make him laugh or shout. And so their teasing made him laugh as he hadn’t done for some time. They were on duty for the night, and a game of hide-and-seek became part of that duty. Emman joined in, happy to run and hide and search out captives.
Miss Julia was safely inside the house, right on the other side of the courtyard and hacienda walls, so they could play in the waning moonlight. He had kissed her hand, and her skin was, well, it was a little sticky, he had to admit. It tasted a little like mango from the work he’d watched her do all evening with the other women. That sissy, cityboy Markus had worked with her, but surely Miss Julia—
“You’re supposed to come looking for us!” Grace said, arms crossed at her chest.
“I am, I was giving extra time.”
“No, you were thinking about Miss Julia again. Everyone knows you’re in love with her.” Grace’s dirty face was scrunched in disgust and accusation.
“Oh, what does everyone know? I was put in charge of protecting her, that’s all.” But Emman realized the words were exactly right.
He was in love with Miss Julia.