Most of Elena’s driving lesson was on freeways. And during that lesson, her problems were definitely forgotten. She thought of nothing but the car she was driving, her speed, the other cars and their speed, and, in between, her teacher’s instructions.
When, at last, she brought the car to a stop on Gray Ridge Drive, she was not sure what was first in her mind: a sense of accomplishment or a desperate craving for a shower. Her clothes had felt damp and sticky ever since she had killed the motor on an on-ramp, and one by one a line of angry motorists had formed behind her car, a line that stretched all the way to the street below.
The instructor, a husky man named Petersen, sat placidly while she struggled to start the car. “No, it’s not flooded,” he reassured her in a cool, quiet voice. “You’re just not used to all these buttons.” But she had continued to have trouble, and the horns of the impatient motorists started blaring. Petersen stuck his head out the window and his voice had been neither cool nor quiet as he gave some unique instructions to the driver of the car behind them.
Now, as Elena climbed the stairs to her room, the sense of satisfaction from what Petersen had said was a job well done faded. All the worries of the night and morning sprang up on the staircase before her like hideous ghosts. But there was nothing she could do until four-thirty. Except see Sara, perhaps. And she had decided to let that go for a bit; the letters might still turn up. As for Luisa, the thought of the phone call to be made later that afternoon filled her with a mixture of anger and eagerness.
After lunch the eagerness began to fade. She was in the plant room with Ana answering correspondence when she recognized the shift in her feelings. She should not have to pay for information about her father. That was blackmail. She would have no part in it. No, she muttered to herself and looked up from the letter she was writing, afraid that she might have spoken aloud. Ana was looking out the window. If she noticed Elena’s uneasiness, she said nothing about it.
By mid-afternoon, once Elena was alone and able to think more clearly, she had made a firm decision. She would not give in to Luisa’s demands. No matter that she had borrowed the money from Doctor Montalvo. That was simple: she would return it. But the problem that remained was not simple: how to find out what Luisa knew.
At four-thirty she stood by the telephone in the upstairs hall, still without a plan. She stared out the window. Beyond the gates a soft afternoon breeze blew across the little meadow, and the yellow blossoms quivered. A bird, small and light as a wafted leaf, drifted over the meadow and then disappeared in the trees on the far side. All seemed at peace out there, while in here with her… She drew in a breath that was only a small part determination and reached for the phone. I’ll sink or I’ll swim, she told herself and hoped that inspiration would come and bail her out. She dialed the restaurant’s number. The phone rang several times before it was answered.
“La Fonda.” It was Luisa’s voice.
“Hello, Luisa. This is Elena.”
“Right on time. Did you get the money?”
“Actually, yes, but…”
“Well, how soon can you get down here?”
“No, Luisa, I’m not going…” Elena bit back the rest of her words. Go slowly, she told herself, you don’t want to alienate her at this point. “Down to the restaurant? I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Where’s the guy? He can bring you.”
“He’s not here. But that’s not the point. I’ve been thinking it over. I’m not going to give you any money.”
“Oh, yes, you are. Wait till you see what I’ve got.”
“You’re playing games again. Tell me now. What is it?” There was a long silence at the other end of the line, broken by the distant sounds of clattering dishes, voices and laughter. “Luisa,” Elena said irritably, “is it something about my father?”
“Come and see.”
“I can’t. I have no way to get there.”
The short, sharp words were a cry of frustration. Luisa was about to have a tantrum. Elena thought for a few moments. “Why don’t you borrow your parents’ car?” she said. “Maybe we could meet somewhere.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Luisa said sullenly. “I’d already figured that one out.”
“That’s good.”
A sound like a hiss came over the wire before Elena heard Luisa’s next words. “I’ll be there in half an hour. You be waiting at the front door. Then you can show me around that fancy joint.”
“No,” Elena said quickly. “Absolutely not. It has to be somewhere else.”
“Yeah? Where? In the middle of the road?”
“No, Luisa, not on the road. Let me think.” Something tugged at her memory—perhaps the inspiration she had hoped for—and she said, “Remember the place we passed just below Gray Ridge Drive? The place called The China Cup?”
“Yeah, I remember it,” Luisa said. “But it’ll be crowded with people. No way.”
“It closes at five. The people will be gone. I didn’t mean inside, anyway. I noticed a bench near the back. We can sit there.”
“If that’s the best you can do, okay. But don’t keep me waiting. And, Elena, don’t forget the cash.”
Elena put the phone down. She stood for a moment staring at a hunting scene on the wallpaper above the telephone table, wondering what she would do when she saw Luisa. Then, frowning, she went to Mario’s bedroom door. Mario and Carlos were sprawled on the floor of the room, the television blaring.
“You two are supposed to be studying,” she said.
Mario looked up and shrugged. Carlos rolled over on his back and nudged Mario. “Elena,” he said in Spanish, “can you not see? That is what we are doing. I am learning English.”
“Maybe you are,” she answered him, “but Mario doesn’t need to.” Then in English she said to both of them, “Look, boys, be good and do your work. I have to be gone for about half an hour.”
Carlos sat up. “Where are you going?”
“On an errand.”
“Let me go with you.”
“Not this time.” From the door she called, “I won’t be long.”
Although a late sun was still shining, twilight gloom filled the woods as Elena hurried on the short-cut path toward the road. She paused at the sycamore and stared at the patterned sunlight in the open space. And what she saw in her imagination was David. David, sitting with her on the fallen tree trunk, looking with her at the Luisa thing, planning together how to get her to talk. But David wasn’t here; she was on her own. A quick glance at the view of the coastline and she returned to the path, trudging firmly toward The China Cup.
As she neared the road, she heard the sound of a motor turning over and the screech of tires as it pulled away. A woman called something in a shrill voice. Then there was quiet. She climbed down the log steps, crossed the road, and waited for Luisa under the redwood sign. She was early, she knew, but as the minutes went by she began to wonder if Luisa would show up at all. Maybe Luisa had thought it over and come to the conclusion that Elena meant it, that she would give her no money. And without a payoff, Elena was sure that she would hear no more from Luisa.
She looked up eagerly each time she heard an automobile rounding the curve, only to slump back against the tree when a stranger’s car went by. She was disappointed. To satisfy her ethical self she had told Luisa the truth about not giving her money. But underlying her words had been the not-too-ethical hope that Luisa would hear only what she wanted, that her arrogance and greed would win out. After all, Luisa held her only clues; she had to keep in touch with her.
Tires sounded on the asphalt again, and this time it was the Oteros’ blue Mustang. It screeched to a halt at the side of the road, and Luisa, in a yellow sweat shirt with “Las Brujas” printed on it, got out of the driver’s side. Elena straightened her shoulders, as if fortifying herself for the encounter, and walked toward her.
Luisa scanned the clearing around the building and said, “What a sleazy place.”
“Hello, Luisa,” Elena said pleasantly. She had to start out on the right foot; she had to make this meeting work.
It was clear that Luisa had no such thought. Manners, good or bad, were obviously not in her design. “What a sleazy place,” she repeated.
Elena pointed to a bench near the back of the building. “We can sit there.”
“It’ll have to do,” Luisa said. At the bench she turned her back and circled away from Elena. Then she whipped around, waving a white envelope in the air. “Do you know who wrote this?”
Elena shook her head. “No. How could I?”
“Guess.”
“Stop playing games! Just let me see it.”
Luisa moved closer, her arm extended. “Only a quick look—so you’ll know.”
Elena leaned forward. Luisa’s long fingernails were bright red against the white of the envelope. It was addressed to Juan Otero. And the writing, the fancy capital “J” and the fancy “O,” was her father’s!
Luisa said, “Give me the money and I’ll give you the letter.”
“That letter isn’t yours to give, much less sell. Besides, your father will tell me what it says.”
Luisa grunted crudely. “My old man never saw this letter. I keep a lot of them. That’s how I get even with him, watching him sweat out the letters that never come, watching him chase after the mailman and call the post office. He never figures I’ve got ‘em.”
“You’re inhuman,” Elena said. “What could he possibly have done to you to make you act that way?”
“That’s my business.” Luisa waved the letter and smiled. “And this one came in handy. I’ll take the money now.”
“What money? I said no money. I didn’t bring any.”
For one brief moment the smile remained on Luisa’s lips, and then she snarled, “You bitch! You got me up here for nothing!” She hurtled toward Elena, the envelope still in her left hand, her right aimed at Elena’s face.
Elena swerved, but Luisa’s hand raked her cheek. She felt a hot, biting pain. She stepped back. “Stop it, you little fool!”
But Luisa pressed in, both hands flying. One hand hit hard over Elena’s mouth, and she tasted blood. She swung her head away and kicked Luisa in the shinbone. With a curse, Luisa lunged forward. Elena was ready for her this time. She bent over and rammed her shoulder against Luisa’s middle, then pulled back, dug her feet into the ground and shoved, sending Luisa sprawling. But with that shove she lost her balance and fell, too. Her hands felt the scraping burn of fine gravel as she hit the ground. She pushed herself up, waiting for another attack. None came. Luisa was still on the ground, stretching and reaching under the bench for a patch of white that lay under it. The letter!
Elena dove toward the bench and pulled at the envelope just as Luisa’s fingers reached it. There was a tearing sound and Luisa was left with a small corner of the envelope. The rest was in Elena’s hand. She grasped it tightly and started to crawl away. Luisa twisted herself upward and, with the leverage of the wooden bench at her back, grabbed Elena’s hair and gave it a sharp pull. Elena’s head yanked forward and she found herself half-kneeling, half-sprawling on the ground.
“Let go!” she yelled. Luisa pulled harder. Hot tears squeezed from Elena’s eyes as she swung at Luisa’s hands. Luisa hung on. Elena thrust herself forward and with all the strength she could muster jabbed her fist into Luisa’s stomach.
Luisa pulled in her breath in a loud gasp, moaned, and doubled over.
With one great push Elena was up from the ground. She shot across the road, the envelope rolled tightly in her hand. As she scrambled up the log steps, she heard Luisa’s angry calls and, in a few seconds, her footsteps on the asphalt. Elena’s heart hammered as she ran into the woods. Luisa was a street fighter. She would claw her into shreds if she had a chance. Remembering, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. It was smeared with blood. She shuddered at the thought of Luisa’s long fingernails. When she came to the place where the two paths met, she didn’t hesitate. She took the one that led through the denser woods.
Birds hurtled noisily out of the pine branches, disappearing into the thick growth above. The sun had not yet set, but no light filtered through the trees. The dark shadows were filled with movement, but the only sound she heard was the sharp cracking of dry twigs beneath her feet. In a few minutes she was breathing hard. Panting, she stopped to listen, hoping that Luisa had given up. But Luisa had not. Her running footsteps sounded a short distance behind her.
Elena forced herself to keep moving. Hurry! Hurry! Her breathing was coming in short, painful bursts when she felt the ground give way beneath her left foot. She groaned and fell to her knees. Her ankle throbbed as she plunged into a tangle of scrub growth beside the path. The shrubs parted and then closed behind her. She flattened herself on the ground, willing her breathing to be still.
In a matter of seconds, a blurry spot of yellow came into sight. Elena buried her head. She heard the sound of Luisa’s labored breathing directly above her, but Luisa didn’t stop. Her footsteps pushed upward on the trail.
For a few minutes after Luisa went by, Elena did not move. Then she took a quick look around her. She could make out that behind her the ground dropped gently to a creek, then rose again. The highway, she figured, had to be beyond the far embankment. She rubbed her pulsing ankle and slid carefully down the incline. Every yard or so, she stopped to listen. She was halfway down when she heard the crackling of underbrush and footsteps once more on the trail. Cautiously, she edged her head around the trunk of a tree and saw a flash of yellow moving above her. Luisa was going back the way she had come, kicking up dirt and muttering as she pounded down the trail.
Elena closed her eyes and expelled her breath in grateful relief. She relaxed her fingers around the envelope. After a while, she got up. She stepped gingerly on her left foot. Her ankle was painful, but she could walk. Carefully, she waded through the creek and climbed the slope on the other side. Her guess had been right. She was standing above the highway, maybe half a mile away from The China Cup. There was a thicket of young trees on a little knoll near the edge of the asphalt. She huddled behind it to watch the road. A car or two went by and then, at last, she saw the blue Mustang. It was heading down the hill toward the ocean. She could go back now. As she rose, her hands started to tremble; her body, to quiver. The tension that had been holding her together was gone, leaving her limp and ragged. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. Then she turned and started back toward the path.