Part 1: "The Padre's Request"
The de la Vegas trudged wearily into their elegant drawing room. It was late afternoon of December 11, and they had just returned from taking Felipe to every doctor in California, in the hopes of finding one who could cure the servant boy's deafness. To their sorrow, but not their surprise, not one of the doctors they had seen during the last two weeks had been able to do so.
"Well, Diego, we've done all we can. For now, anyway." Don Alejandro wiped his face with his soft linen handkerchief and glanced out the window. The sunshine poured through the windowpane and formed a square of reflected light on the floor.
Diego nodded. He gazed at the seven-year-old boy, who stood toying with the ivory piano keys, even though he couldn't hear the musical notes they made. "Father, isn't there an eminent physician in Mexico City you once knew?"
"Dr. Vasquez?" Don Alejandro inclined his head. "Si, I knew him--I still do. We exchange letters regularly. He's done a study on deaf people, as I recall, and he's treated quite a number of them."
His son smiled. "With your permission, Father, I'd like to write to him. Tell him about Felipe."
Don Alejandro laid a hand on Diego's shoulder. "I'll do it. After Epiphany. But don't get your hopes up, son. Dr. Vasquez may not be able to cure Felipe's deafness, either."
Don Diego nodded. His father was right. As Felipe slowly approached them, Diego smiled at him tenderly. "Felipe, would you tell Maria my father and I are thirsty, por favor?" Acquiescing, Felipe scampered out of the room, his woven-leather sandals clicking on the gleaming marble floor.
Standing erect, as always, with his shoulders held back, Don Alejandro turned to his son. "Diego, Guadalupe Day is tomorrow, and the posadas will be starting soon. Christmas is approaching, and Rafael will be coming to visit us. We need to start getting ready."
Diego sighed. "Yes. I've been so focused on finding a doctor for Felipe, I've forgotten all about that."
"Si. We both have." The elderly caballero chuckled. "It's fortunate we made and ordered the family's gifts months ago."
"Yes. And since Rafael's going to join us, we'll need to include his presents with our own." The aged don agreed.
Don Diego gazed at a painting that hung above the wall over the desk. "Will Señor Spencer return from his vacation soon?" Jonathan Spencer was Diego's tutor.
His father laughed. "He'll return the day after Epiphany, as he alway does." He paused. "And when he does, you're going to have to work very hard, my son, to catch up on your lessons. You missed a lot of days this year, and you have less than a year, now, to prepare for your studies at Madrid University."
Don Diego smiled wryly. He certainly did. As an awful thought came to him, the young caballero frowned. "Felipe!" he exclaimed. "What are we going to do about him?" He scratched his head as he spoke.
"What do you mean?" Don Alejandro furrowed his eyebrows.
"The other servants will be with their families on Christmas Day." Diego shook his head. "But Felipe won't. He's going to be all alone."
Don Alejandro glanced toward the foyer. "I've been worried about that, too." He shook his head, concern etching his face. "Christmas is a time to be with family, and poor Felipe has none to spend it with."
He paused. "Son, we need to go to town anyway. Why don't we visit Padre Bernardo and ask his advice?"
Don Diego smiled. "Good idea. Are you going to invite Señorita Escalante to spend Christmas Day and Epiphany with us?"
Don Alejandro nodded. At that moment, a maid brought an ornate silver tray containing two crystal goblets of wine. Don Alejandro took one and Diego took the other.
ZZZZZ
"What to do about Felipe, this Christmas? That's a good question, my son." The elderly priest gazed at the two caballeros, as the three men perched on hard, unyielding pews facing the ambo, where the priest preached his sermons during Mass. The de la Vegas had just come from a brief stop at the Escalante tavern. Felipe had stayed outside so the men could talk privately.
"Indeed, it is." Don Diego sighed. "Felipe misses his parents terribly. This is his first Christmas without them, and he feels it keenly." He scratched his nose as he spoke.
Padre Bernardo fingered his rosary for a long moment, pondering their question. "I'm sure he does. And as you said, he does need a family to celebrate with. I had planned to bring him here to spend the holiday season."
"Is there a problem with that, Padre?" Don Alejandro furrowed his eyebrows.
"I'm afraid there is." The padre shook his head. "Lack of room." He shifted his weight. "As you gentlemen know, I couldn't give Felipe a home here at the church because there were too many children here already. That problem will be even greater during the holiday season. As you know, tomorrow is Guadalupe Day, and the first day of the posadas is just five days from now. Most of the church wards who have been placed in apprenticeships or farmed out to local families will be coming here for the holiday season tomorrow, and will stay till the end of Epiphany."
Father and son frowned. "What do you suggest, then?" Diego asked.
"I have an idea, if your father approves."
Glancing at each other, the de la Vegas leaned forward as the priest began to explain. Don Diego beamed at his father, relieved to see the pleased expression on Don Alejandro's face. It might work!
ZZZZZ
Felipe Cortez leaned against the church wall and choked back a silent sob. A breeze ruffled his brown hair, and the smooth adobe bricks pressed his blue-and-white cotton shirt against his back as he squatted on the bare ground. Only that afternoon, at the tavern, Victoria Escalante had reminded him that Christmas was approaching. Since then, he'd been unable to stop thinking about his parents and godparents. If only they could be with him now! He gazed at the crowded vendor stands without really seeing them. His focus was on something else entirely.
Christmas won't be no fun without mi mamá and papá, he thought. Or my godparents. Or Rafael! Felipe bit his lower lip. I've never had to celebrate Christmas without my mamá and papá. Never, never, never! He gazed down at the wooden rosary dangling from his fingers. His mother had given it to him before she died.
Paco Lopez, his wife, Alicia, and their nephew, Rafael, had lived on a farm adjoining the one Felipe's father had rented, two miles from San Miguel de Bajio. The two families had always celebrated Christmas and other special events together. They would eat together and spend Christmas Day celebrating. On Guadalupe Day, they would take part in the village festivities. Also, for nine days, Felipe and his best friend, Rafael Lopez, would take part in the posadas in town; as part of the festivities, they would take their turns breaking the piñata and then get their shares of the candy that cascaded on the floor. On Epiphany, Felipe would wake up to find his sandals filled with candy.
Rubbing his fingers over the smooth, well-worn beads, Felipe thought about the fun he'd had during previous Christmases. He remembered the sweet, delicious taste of the candy he had popped into his mouth...swinging his stick at the piñata as the blindfolded boy had tried to break it...and the clatter the candy had made as it scattered all over the cobblestones in the church patio.
More images filled his mind: laying his woven-leather sandals in front of the doorway on the night before Epiphany, fully expecting the Three Wise Men to stop by and fill them...and the pretty flowers decorating the church as Padre Pablo had officiated the yearly Christmas mass. His previous Christmases had all been joyous occasions. With his loved ones gone, could he ever hope to have a feliz Navidad again?
It's gonna be awful lonely! Felipe sighed. The cool breeze caressed his cheek, as if to attempt to comfort the grief-stricken boy.
A hand rested on his shoulder. Turning around, Felipe found the de la Vegas standing behind him. "Are you ready to go home, amigo?" Don Diego smiled. The little boy nodded and scrambled to his feet.
Back at the hacienda, Don Diego reclined in a silk-brocade armchair and drew Felipe into his lap. "My father and I had a serious talk with the padre," he explained. "We're concerned about you. Christmas is coming up, and we want it to be a happy occasion for our new boy." Felipe nodded, glancing at the polished mahogany highboy that stood behind the blue couch. Maybe soon, Don Alejandro would let him explore its locked drawers again, as he sometimes did.
Diego kissed the little boy's soft cheek. "Padre Bernardo was going to keep you at the mission during the holidays, but because it's going to be so crowded with other children, he feels he cannot do that. So he has suggested a different arrangement."
Felipe gazed at the patrón's face with a questioning look on his own. Don Diego smiled affectionately.
"You're going to stay here at the hacienda throughout the holiday season, Felipe. And on Christmas Day and Epiphany, my father and I are going to stand in as your parents--as substitute guardians." Diego paused, tracing the outline of the boy's face with his fingertips. "On those two days, you'll still sleep with the Gomezes, and you'll eat breakfast and supper in the kitchen as you normally do. But when we have Christmas dinner--and Epiphany dinner, on January 6th--you will eat with us instead of in the kitchen. All the other servants will be eating elsewhere, you see, so you would be all alone, and we don't want that."
Diego paused. "Also, you will open your presents with us on Christmas morning and the morning of Epiphany. That will be the arrangement every year, for as long as you work for us." He paused. "You see, amigo, we not only exchange gifts on January 6, we also exchange them on Christmas morning. That's been our custom ever since before I was born. Since you're going to celebrate with us, Felipe, you're going to share in that custom."
Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "Victoria Escalante is going to eat with us, too, amigo, on those two days. I asked her today."
A broad smile spread across Felipe's face. That would be wonderful! At least, Christmas wouldn't be so lonely that way. And to receive presents twice--on Christmas Day as well as Epiphany! He hugged Don Diego tightly.
Laughing, Diego clasped Felipe to his chest, then disengaged the little boy's grip around his neck. "De nada, my friend. As I said, we want you to have a feliz Navidad. A truly happy one." He paused. "And don't forget—Guadalupe Day is tomorrow, and it's only a few more days, now, until the first posada is held. So we're going to be quite busy for the next few weeks. Oh, and remember this, too: my cousin Rafael is coming to spend the holidays. He will eat dinner with us, as well as Señorita Escalante. We normally have dinner in the evenings, at suppertime, but on days like Christmas and Epiphany, we have it at lunchtime."
Felipe bounced up and down on Diego's thighs. He had met Don Rafael the month before, when the gentleman had come from Santa Barbara to visit; it would be wonderful to have him come back. I can't wait, he thought. Hurry up, posada! Hurry up, Guadalupe Day! Hurry up, Christmas Day! Hurry up, Epiphany!
Don Diego winced and restrained the boy. "All right, Felipe, enough! You're hurting my poor legs." Contrite, Felipe ceased bouncing. "That's all right. Just be gentle." Diego rubbed his left leg. "Amigo, listen to me. I've got to talk to my father about something, so why don't you run along? Stay close by in case one of us needs you." Nodding, Felipe slid off the caballero's lap.
In the front garden, the little boy pretended to fence. Until he'd met the de la Vegas, he had never seen swordsmanship; since he'd started working for the de la Vegas, he had seen it done twice. Felipe was fascinated by the practice, and by the stories Don Alejandro often told him of great swordsmen he knew of.
When I grow up, I'm goin' to learn to fence, he thought.
At last, exhausted, the servant boy plopped into one of the wicket chairs surrounding the round table that stood outside. For a long moment, he just slouched there. Without realizing it, he inserted his finger into his mouth, then pulled it out. Only babies did that sort of thing, Don Diego and Don Alejandro said.
Mommy and Papá never said I couldn't suck my finger, Felipe thought ruefully. He gazed up at the gathering gray clouds overhead. It's awful cloudy. Maybe it'll rain. It rained a lot at home. It rained last Christmas, too. It was nice on Epiphany, though.
Memories of last year's Christmas filled his mind...
"Felipe, it's bedtime." Consuela Cortez bent over the boy and touched his shoulder, as he squatted in a corner of the wattle-and-daub hut, playing with a twig he had found outside.
All evening, since doing his barn chores, the six-year-old boy had sat cross-legged in that spot, getting up only to pray the rosary with his mother. He usually sat quietly in the corner when his father was home. Felipe didn't dare chatter or move around at those times; he might accidentally make his papá angry, and then his papá would get violent. It was the night before Epiphany, and this night, of all nights, just had to go well!
"Si, Mamá."
Felipe jumped to his feet and loped toward the other corner, where the rolled-up sleeping mats leaned against the wall. Silently, he unrolled his reed mat and spread it on the hard-packed dirt floor. He removed his white cotton shirt, his matching cotton trousers, and his wool sash, and hung them up on nails. He had already set his sandals on the hard-packed dirt floor underneath those nails, as usual. Now he shoved the sandals directly under his dangling clothes.
"Mijo."
The little boy whirled around. His mother gazed at him with an amused expression etched on her face. Next to her, Juan crouched on a reed sitting mat, gulping the rest of his pulque. The flames dancing in the firepit made flickering beams of light on the walls. Consuela had draped her yellow woolen shawl around her shoulders; their edges trailed on the floor as she leaned forward.
"Felipe, hijo mio, aren't you forgettin' somethin'?"
Felipe giggled. He sure had--his sandals! He picked them up, trotted across the one-room hut, and laid them in front of the doorway. The reed hanging dangled as it always did at night. Overhead, the thick thatch of straw that formed the roof rested on the low ceiling's rafters.
"The Three Wise Men won't know where to find your sandals if you don't put 'em in the doorway, my son." Laughing, his mother rose to her feet and kissed Felipe on his soft cheek. "Buenos noches, niño."
"Buenos noches, Mommy. Buenos noches, Papá." Juan grunted a response.
With a broad smile, Felipe lay huddled on his mat and said his bedtime prayers. He could hardly wait for morning to come!...
Intense grief surged in the boy's heart. Mommy! his heart cried out. Papá!
Trembling, he snuffled. His mother would never again sing him to sleep when he had a bad dream. His godfather would never again tell him a story or play him a song on his mandolin. The two families would never again take their boys to the posadas or the Guadalupe fiestas, nor would they attend Christmas mass together. Felipe would never again get to share his candy with his mother.
For a long moment, he bit his trembling lip. Silently, he prayed that he wouldn't start crying.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a caballero stroll through the gate. He whirled around, ready to escort the visitor to his patróns, then froze. The visiting caballero was Don Diego's cousin, Rafael!
Smiling broadly, Felipe raced toward the visiting don, who laughed and hugged him tightly. "Buenos tardes, Felipe!" He ruffled the boy's brown hair. "I just thought I'd surprise you all by arriving early. Tell me, are my uncle and cousin home?" Felipe nodded.
Don Rafael furrowed his eyes in concern. "You've been crying, amigo." Felipe glanced at the bare ground and nodded. Cupping his fingers under Felipe's chin, Rafael drew the little boy's face upward till it faced his. "Want to tell me about it? I've have some experience as of late, struggling with tears myself."
For a long moment, Felipe hesitated. Then, with signs, he explained to Don Rafael the sorrow he felt that his loved ones weren't going to be with him for Christmas.
Nodding, Don Rafael led the boy toward the table. Perching on the hard, unyielding bench, he drew Felipe onto his lap. "Felipe, a long time ago, my father told me that the first Christmas after a loved one's death is always the hardest."
He traced the boy's face with his index finger. "I never really understood what that meant till now, because I'd never lost someone I loved before. I do understand now--all too well. What makes it worse for me is that not only is my own papá dead, I can't even be with my mother or older brother this Christmas. And because of that, I'm feeling very lonely. As I suspect you are."
Felipe smiled ruefully. That was just how he felt.
The young, bearded don sighed. Sadness filled his eyes. "We managed to comfort ourselves and each other when I visited this hacienda last month, didn't we?" Felipe nodded agreement. They had. "We'll just have to try very hard to do that again, during this visit. Let's see what you and I can do, to make this Christmas joyous in spite of our grief. How's that?" Felipe acquiesced.
Don Rafael gave him a little shove; Felipe slid off the gentleman's lap. "All right, Felipe, now let's go inside. I'm eager to see Uncle Alejandro and Cousin Diego." Rafael took the boy's hand as he spoke.
A few minutes later, in the foyer, Don Alejandro and Diego took turns embracing the young man while Felipe watched. Servants were in the process of taking Don Rafael's bags to his guestroom. "This is a most welcome surprise, nephew!" Don Alejandro laughed. "It's fortunate you did not time your surprise early arrival any sooner, or you would have come to an empty house. Diego, Felipe, and I only just got back today."
Don Rafael nodded. "Did you find a doctor to cure Felipe's deafness?" Sighing, his uncle shook his head.
"Rafael, on Padre Bernardo's advice, Diego and I are going to stand in as guardians for Felipe this Christmas. On Christmas Day and Epiphany." He folded his arms across his chest and glanced down at the servant boy.
Diego agreed. "On those two days, Felipe's going to eat dinner with us and open his gifts when we do. We're hoping that'll make his first Christmas here less lonely and sorrowful. We're going to do this for him every year, for as long as he works for us." He smiled affectionately at the boy as he spoke.
Don Rafael concurred. "I'm sure that'll help. I've suggested to him already that we comfort each other as we did last month."
"Excellent idea, nephew." Don Alejandro patted the young man's shoulder. "That will help ease your grief. For both of you." The aged don sighed. "It will ease mine, too, I trust. I miss your father terribly. We're all in grief, and we all need comforting this holiday season."
He smiled at Felipe as he spoke. Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's shoulder and hugged the boy to his side. The little boy smiled wanly.
The three men suddenly looked startled. Felipe turned around just in time to see the butler approach the front door. A second later, he waved the padre into the drawing room.
"Padre Bernardo!" Don Alejandro shook his hand, then gestured toward the couch. "Won't you have a seat?"
The priest shook his head. "Gracias, but no. I can only stay a minute." He acknowledged Rafael. "It's good to see you again, my son. Did you just get here?" Nodding, the young don inserted the fingers of his left hand into his silk vest pocket.
Padre Bernardo cleared his throat. "I've got rounds to make, so I'll come right to the point. I'm having considerable trouble finding people to host this year's posadas. Everyone I've talked to has begged off, saying they're too busy or they've got an emergency that won't let them do it. Señorita Escalante will host the final posada on Christmas Eve, but I need someone to host the others."
The de la Vegas frowned at each other. Felipe gazed up at the padre, who smiled down at him before looking back at the de la Vegas.
"Would you gentlemen be willing to host the first eight?"
Don Diego glanced down at the little boy, then at Rafael. "You know, Father, this might be just the medicine Felipe and Rafael need. They're both in grief, as you know." He clasped his hands behind his back.
Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "Nephew, would you be willing to help with the preparations?"
Don Rafael smiled. "Yes."
The by-now-familiar surge of grief welled up in Felipe's heart again. Without his family to help him celebrate it, he wasn't at all sure he could enjoy it. Seeing the little boy's morose expression, Don Diego knelt before him and gave him a sympathetic smile.
"You know, Felipe, these other orphans are in the same predicament as you." He brushed the boy's brown hair out of his eyes. "They don't have any loved ones to celebrate Christmas with, either. What's more, some of them are having to spend their first Christmas without their parents, same as you are. Imagine how they must be feeling! You can help there, amigo; you know first-hand what they're going through. You can help us make a feliz Navidad for them."
Felipe silently accepted. With an approving smile, Don Rafael put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "We'll both do all we can to help, Felipe. Both of us. As Diego said, it'll be good medicine, and I need a dose of it as much as you do."
Felipe stared up at him, puzzled. With gestures, the boy asked if the medicine would taste bad. He hated the foul-tasting potions his mother had made him swallow when sick. Don Rafael chuckled.
"No, Felipe, not that kind of medicine." He knelt in front of the servant boy. "The medicine Don Diego was talking about cannot be swallowed as a powder or potion. It's a very different kind of cure for a very different kind of sickness. You and I are very sad, Felipe; you miss your parents and I miss my father. Our hearts--our souls--are sick, and have been for months now; it will take time for them to heal. The medicine Diego's talking about is helping someone else. Knowing that we've made someone else's Christmas merrier will make us feel better. Happier. That's the kind of medicine Diego was talking about."
Don Diego nodded agreement. "And just the fun of participating in the celebrations will also help, Felipe. Rafael used to really enjoy the posadas when he was a boy, and I know he will enjoy helping host these upcoming ones."
Don Rafael chuckled. "My favorite part of the posada was always breaking the piñata," he told Felipe, who smiled.
Diego laughed. "It was my favorite part, too." He paused. "However, my parents saw to it that Christmas be a time of celebrating the birth of our Lord." He glanced at Don Alejandro. "Father, here, was always concerned that I understand the true meaning of Christmas. He never failed to help someone who needed it, or to enlist my aid in doing so. He set me a great example in that respect, as did my mother."
The priest nodded. "He certainly did. And for that, I commend him." Bending over, he cupped his hands under Felipe's chin. "Amigo, will you help us make this year's posadas merry for the orphans I'll be bringing here?" Felipe acquiesced.
"Gracias, my son! I knew I could count on you." The priest patted his cheek, then made the sign of the cross on the boy's forehead. "Will you all take part in tomorrow's festivities?" The de la Vegas nodded; watching them, Felipe followed suit.
"Good. Uh, one more thing." Padre Bernardo knelt in front of the little boy. "Felipe, the boy who was going to serve at the altar tomorrow is being disciplined, so I need someone to take his place. Will you act as my altar boy during Mass, in the morning?" Felipe nodded.
"Good. Come to the church an hour early so you can rehearse your duties." Patting Felipe's cheek, the priest rose to his feet. "I'll see you all tomorrow, then." With a smile, he lumbered out the front door.
Don Alejandro glanced at his gold timepiece. "Well, everyone, we've got much work to do and only five days to do it. And that doesn't even count getting ready for tomorrow's celebration. So let's get started, shall we?" He glanced down at the little boy. "First, I've got to give the servants their orders. Felipe, you come with me; that includes you."
As the aged don strode toward the kitchen, Felipe trotted after him. Silently, the little boy wondered what the days and weeks ahead were going to hold. Would this medicine really help to heal his grieving heart? Or Don Rafael's?
END OF PART 1