[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Then, when Isa and her mother were occupied clearing out the closet and
bathroom, I searched through the pockets.
I could only find one item. Stuck in the bottom of an inside pocket was a
stub of a ticket of some kind. It didn t look like a ticket to a film or an
attraction. Bus or train ticket, I would guess, although I wasn t sure. The
last letters o-l-i-d were all that was left of the destination, if a transport
ticket it was.
Did Don Hernan travel much, outside of Merida, I mean? I asked the Ortiz
women in what I hoped was a casual tone of voice.
Not much lately, I don t think, Francesca replied. He used to, of course,
all over the world. He was always disappearing on us. But when I think of it,
the only trips I can recall his taking in the last couple of years are buying
trips with you, and a trip to Mexico City a month or two ago to receive some
kind of award from the university there.
Otherwise, he stuck fairly close to home. He occasionally stayed overnight
at the museum. He d fall asleep in his office, and when he woke up in the
middle of the night, he would sleep on the couch in the staff room rather than
come back here in the dark.
Digesting this information, I stuck the stub in the pocket of my jeans and
went on helping clear out the room. It was a very sad task for Francesca, who
broke down often while we worked.
Later that day Isa came to me and said, We re thinking of getting this all
over with at once. Are you up for helping us clear out Dona Josefina s room,
too? The hospital has said it is unlikely she will ever return here.
I said I thought I was. Still, Dona Josefina s room was a shock. First off,
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
it was very dark. The shutters were closed. Isa said they always were. It also
seemed like a little museum, somehow, a room from a different era. Dona
Josefina had brought a few items of her own to furnish the room, a small chair
with embroidered cushions, a lady s writing desk.
What was truly bizarre was the chest of drawers at one end of the room. This
had been set up like a little shrine. The top of it was covered with a length
of black velvet. A very old sepia-toned photograph of a young boy, presumably
her lost son, rested in a silver frame on the velvet, along with a small
silver baby spoon, a silver cup, and a bronzed baby shoe. The photograph was
draped in black crepe. The remains of votive candles were stuck in a
candelabra to one side of the photograph.
In the top drawer of the dresser wrapped in tissue was a yellowing
christening dress and bonnet and some old wooden toys. It was as if the child
had died, and perhaps he had, for all I knew. It was very, very sad.
While we were working Isa asked me if I had heard that there had been an
intruder at the hospital where Dona Josefina lay. I remembered the police car
from the night before but said nothing.
Apparently someone was prowling the halls, looking in patients rooms, Isa
said. The sisters didn t like the look of him, so they chased him away. Or
rather the mother superior did. I imagine being chased by her would be quite
the experience!
The thought of this brought a hint of a smile to Francesca s face.
Isa cleared out the rest of the chest of drawers, which contained no more
children s items, but Dona Josefina s black mantillas, fans and gloves, and
what Isa described as some very extravagant black silk underwear.
I was assigned the task of clearing out the closet. Dona Josefina s taste in
clothing was fairly consistent. The closet was filled with black dresses,
several long black skirts, and blouses in an old-fashioned Spanish style.
There were two boxes on the closet shelf. One contained a couple of very
beautiful antique lace mantillas, both white, and some beautiful white lace
gloves. And a gorgeous black lace mask, perfect for a masquerade ball.
The other held a scrapbook.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Does anyone think Dona Josefina would mind if I looked at her scrapbook? I
asked as we finished packing up the room, this time for storage in the hotel,
since Francesca said she had a feeling in her bones that Josefina would be
back.
I can t imagine that she could care now, Francesca said, so I took the book
with me to the sitting room downstairs. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
Then, when Isa and her mother were occupied clearing out the closet and
bathroom, I searched through the pockets.
I could only find one item. Stuck in the bottom of an inside pocket was a
stub of a ticket of some kind. It didn t look like a ticket to a film or an
attraction. Bus or train ticket, I would guess, although I wasn t sure. The
last letters o-l-i-d were all that was left of the destination, if a transport
ticket it was.
Did Don Hernan travel much, outside of Merida, I mean? I asked the Ortiz
women in what I hoped was a casual tone of voice.
Not much lately, I don t think, Francesca replied. He used to, of course,
all over the world. He was always disappearing on us. But when I think of it,
the only trips I can recall his taking in the last couple of years are buying
trips with you, and a trip to Mexico City a month or two ago to receive some
kind of award from the university there.
Otherwise, he stuck fairly close to home. He occasionally stayed overnight
at the museum. He d fall asleep in his office, and when he woke up in the
middle of the night, he would sleep on the couch in the staff room rather than
come back here in the dark.
Digesting this information, I stuck the stub in the pocket of my jeans and
went on helping clear out the room. It was a very sad task for Francesca, who
broke down often while we worked.
Later that day Isa came to me and said, We re thinking of getting this all
over with at once. Are you up for helping us clear out Dona Josefina s room,
too? The hospital has said it is unlikely she will ever return here.
I said I thought I was. Still, Dona Josefina s room was a shock. First off,
Page 152
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
it was very dark. The shutters were closed. Isa said they always were. It also
seemed like a little museum, somehow, a room from a different era. Dona
Josefina had brought a few items of her own to furnish the room, a small chair
with embroidered cushions, a lady s writing desk.
What was truly bizarre was the chest of drawers at one end of the room. This
had been set up like a little shrine. The top of it was covered with a length
of black velvet. A very old sepia-toned photograph of a young boy, presumably
her lost son, rested in a silver frame on the velvet, along with a small
silver baby spoon, a silver cup, and a bronzed baby shoe. The photograph was
draped in black crepe. The remains of votive candles were stuck in a
candelabra to one side of the photograph.
In the top drawer of the dresser wrapped in tissue was a yellowing
christening dress and bonnet and some old wooden toys. It was as if the child
had died, and perhaps he had, for all I knew. It was very, very sad.
While we were working Isa asked me if I had heard that there had been an
intruder at the hospital where Dona Josefina lay. I remembered the police car
from the night before but said nothing.
Apparently someone was prowling the halls, looking in patients rooms, Isa
said. The sisters didn t like the look of him, so they chased him away. Or
rather the mother superior did. I imagine being chased by her would be quite
the experience!
The thought of this brought a hint of a smile to Francesca s face.
Isa cleared out the rest of the chest of drawers, which contained no more
children s items, but Dona Josefina s black mantillas, fans and gloves, and
what Isa described as some very extravagant black silk underwear.
I was assigned the task of clearing out the closet. Dona Josefina s taste in
clothing was fairly consistent. The closet was filled with black dresses,
several long black skirts, and blouses in an old-fashioned Spanish style.
There were two boxes on the closet shelf. One contained a couple of very
beautiful antique lace mantillas, both white, and some beautiful white lace
gloves. And a gorgeous black lace mask, perfect for a masquerade ball.
The other held a scrapbook.
Page 153
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Does anyone think Dona Josefina would mind if I looked at her scrapbook? I
asked as we finished packing up the room, this time for storage in the hotel,
since Francesca said she had a feeling in her bones that Josefina would be
back.
I can t imagine that she could care now, Francesca said, so I took the book
with me to the sitting room downstairs. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]