6

 

My internal time clock was completely out of whack. I woke up at 4:23 AM, padded into the kitchen, and flicked on the light. There it was again. A shadow in my peripheral vision streaked out of sight. I was sure this time my critter sighting wasn’t part of a dream. I wasn’t one to give a girly shriek when spying a bug or a spider—unless it was big and hairy—but I still wanted to know who—or what—was living with me.

Parched, I poured a glass of the fruity juice. Now what? I dropped down on the couch and switched on the TV hoping to find something more interesting than an infomercial.

On the way from the airport, Danilo had informed me most of the country was bilingual, Tagalog and English. On the talk show I happened upon, the more animated a guest became, the more they lapsed into a hybrid of both languages. I put my feet up and watched a man interview an Asian actress, able to follow most of the conversation.

After the show, it occurred to me I hadn’t had any contact with Brianna since I’d landed. Firing up my laptop, I checked my social media account. There were several messages from friends, but nothing from Brianna. I wrote back a few replies. As I prepared to sign-off, an instant message from my baby sister popped up on the screen.

“Hey. What are you doing up? Isn’t it mighty early over there?”

“Yep. The joys of jet lag. My body’s confused.”

“How’s Dr. Dreamy? Set a date yet?”

“Dreamy, he is. Wedding out of the question. He’s as stiff as a cardboard cut-out.”

“LOL. Do you think it’s possible you don’t know the real man yet? I’m betting you’re making your typical snap judgment and selling him short.”

“Possible, but I don’t think so.”

“Hey, I need to get back to work soon.” Brianna continued typing. “Gotta git, but write and tell me more about your trip. And the Fabulous Flynn. While I’m slaving away, I’m picturing you promenading arm in arm beneath a canopy of coconut trees.”

“Cute. Get back to work. Bye.”

“Bye.”

 

~*~

 

Breakfast time came and went with no trace of Timothy. I didn’t know where he was staying or how to get in touch with him. After I ate, I lounged on the couch with my book and then enjoyed a long hot shower. I was sure I could find his office again, so I changed into the lightest weight clothing I could find and stepped out into the steamy sauna that was Metro Manila. With careful steps, I made my way down all of those confounded apartment stairs and headed toward the Student Center.

Up ahead, Danilo disappeared into the building.

Not wanting to lose him, I sped off, tripped on a banana tree root, and landed in a heap.

Of course, at that exact second, morning classes let out. In no time, curious students surrounded me. Tittering students.

Pushing the hair back from my face, I adjusted my dignity and raised my head to see a large man’s hand reaching down to help me. Timothy. Did he always have to see me at my worst?

“You all right?” I’d have to give him credit. Timothy didn’t laugh outright, although I did notice twitchy lips.

“I’m just peachy.” I grabbed his hand, stood, and brushed the dirt off. “My pride might be battered and bruised, but the rest of me is undamaged.” I seized the opportunity to curtsy to the crowd.

“Hey, I was coming to get you soon. Dr. Kyun, our theology professor is ill. I subbed for his class this morning. Right now I have an errand to run, but then I wondered if you might want to go on that field trip with me?”

Another errand? Sure, he’d abandoned me all morning, but how could I be mad with an invitation like that? He had me at field trip. “I’m game. So, where are we going?”

“A cemetery. You up for it?”

Is that what they did for entertainment here in the islands? I’d been hoping for something a bit more exhilarating, or at least, a little less depressing. I’d never been much good at being subtle, and I’m afraid my fallen face mirrored my dismay. “Gee, that sounds exciting.”

Timothy made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and then something incredible happened. He actually laughed, right out loud. “I know it may not seem to be a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, but I think you should see it. Every red-blooded American should.”

“OK—if we must.” I wasn’t much for “shoulds” but he appeared to be so earnest I let it slide. Besides, I’d have him trapped at a cemetery, and we could have that much-awaited talk. “As a history teacher, I’m sure that kind of thing gives you goose bumps.”

This time I received a hearty snort. “Goose bumps? Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Do I get to see some of the local color?”

“I suppose we could take the scenic route. In the meantime, I’ll find Danny, and he can give you a tour of the campus while I attend to business. We’ll meet in my office in half an hour, and then we’re good to go. I’ll drive.” Timothy squeezed my hand and turned to go.

I rolled my eyes. “There’s no question you’ll be the one driving.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder and cocked his head, all straight-up innocence.

I wasn’t crazy enough to get behind the wheel in this country full of speed demons.

Danilo showed up out of nowhere and escorted me in grand style around the seminary. The grounds were magical with leafy, exotic fruit trees, a picturesque bridge spanning a bubbling creek, and several wooden benches placed in strategic shady glades. The extensive library was impressive and the computer lab more high-tech than I would have expected, both important to a geek like me.

As we strolled, it appeared I’d attained celebrity status. Students froze in mid-stride to gape, some waving, others giggling, a few pointing and whispering. The dormitory areas were set into a steep hill toward the back of the grounds with plenty of those insufferable steps going up and down.

On our return to Timothy’s office, we paused to visit some of the other faculty. One of the other professors, Jemma Villanueva, impressed me with her delicate Asian beauty and quiet demeanor. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, forty tops. She was far prettier than I was and showed that certain soft-spoken deference Timothy favored. Had he already judged and eliminated her as marriage material?

As we passed each other by, I detected a strange vibe. Did she know why I was here? Now there was an idea. It hadn’t occurred to me I might have “competition.” Did her answers to his questionnaire reveal she was gluten-free—an unfathomable cause for disqualification? Or what if her favorite movie was not up to his standards, or heaven forbid, what if she’d also neglected to submit a picture of her mother? I had “placed ahead of the rest of the applicants.”

As if it mattered.