Bless Me, Ultima(42)

He held the door open for Ultima and said, “Gracias.” She nodded and we got in. He started the truck and turned on the lights. The two headlights cut slices into the lonely night.

“Do you know the grove of trees where Lucas saw the brujas dance?” Ultima asked.

“Sí,” my uncle said.

“Take us there,” Ultima said.

My uncle Pedro sighed and shrugged. “You have performed a miracle,” he said, “were it not for that I would not visit that cursed spot for all the money in the world—” The truck leaped forward. We crossed the ancient wooden bridge and turned right. The truck bounced along the cow path. On either side of us the dark brush of the bosque closed in.

Finally we came to the end of the rutty trail. My uncle stopped the truck. We seemed swamped by the thick brush of the river. Strange bird cries cut into the swampy night air. “We can go no farther,” my uncle said. “The clearing of the witches is straight ahead.”

“Wait here,” Ultima said. She shouldered the sack that contained all the dirty linen and the evil ball of hair. She disappeared into the thick brush.

“Ay, what courage that old woman has!” my uncle exclaimed. I felt him shiver next to me, and I saw him make the sign of the cross to ward off the evil of this forsaken ground. Around us the trees rose like giant skeletons. They had no green on them, but were bare and white.

“Uncle,” I asked, “how long were we in the room with my uncle Lucas?”

“Three days,” he answered. “Do you feel well, Tony?” he rubbed my head. Next to Ultima it seemed the first human contact I had felt in a long time.

“Yes,” I answered.

Up ahead we saw a fire burst out. It was Ultima burning the evil load of the sack exactly where the three witches had danced when my uncle saw them. A trace of the smell of sulfur touched the foul, damp air. Again my uncle crossed himself.

“We are indebted to her forever,” he said, “for saving the life of my brother. Ay, what courage to approach the evil place alone!” he added.

The burst of flames in the bush died down and smouldered to ashes. We waited for Ultima. It was very quiet in the cab of the truck. There was a knock and we were startled by Ultima’s brown face at the window. She got in and said to my uncle, “Our work is done. Now take us home, for we are tired and must sleep.”





Once


Hey Toni-eeeeee. Huloooooo Antonioforous!”

A voice called.

At first I thought I was dreaming. I was fishing, and sitting on a rock; the sun beating on my back had made me sleepy. I had been thinking how Ultima’s medicine had cured my uncle and how he was well and could work again. I had been thinking how the medicine of the doctors and of the priest had failed. In my mind I could not understand how the power of God could fail. But it had.

“Toni-eeeeee!” the voice called again.

I opened my eyes and peered into the green brush of the river. Silently, like a deer, the figure of Cico emerged. He was barefoot, he made no noise. He moved to the rock and squatted in front of me. I guess it was then that he decided to trust me with the secret of the golden carp.

“Cico?” I said. He nodded his dark, freckled face.

“Samuel told you about the golden carp,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Have you ever fished for carp?” he asked. “Here in the river, or anywhere?”

“No,” I shook my head. I felt as if I was making a solemn oath.

“Do you want to see the golden carp?” he whispered.

“I have hoped to see him all summer,” I said breathlessly.

“Do you believe the golden carp is a god?” he asked.

The commandment of the Lord said, Thou shalt have no other gods before me…

I could not lie. I knew he would find the lie in my eyes if I did. But maybe there were other gods? Why had the power of God failed to cure my uncle?

“I am a Catholic,” I stuttered, “I can believe only in the God of the church—” I looked down. I was sorry because now he would not take me to see the golden carp. For a long time Cico did not speak.

“At least you are truthful, Tony,” he said. He stood up. The quiet waters of the river washed gently southward. “We have never taken a non-believer to see him,” he said solemnly.

“But I want to believe,” I looked up and pleaded, “it’s just that I have to believe in Him?” I pointed across the river to where the cross of the church showed above the tree tops.

“Perhaps—” he mused for a long time. “Will you make an oath?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. But the commandment said, Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.