CHAPTER 19: "Rejection"
In the weeks that followed, the answer to Jonathan's question appeared to be a firm "no."
After exhausting the pueblos and missions south of Los Angeles, they went straight to Monterey, camping at night along the way. Once there, they visited the church, the orphanage, and every poor person who lived there. They didn't bother to visit any of the caballeros, because they hoped to get Felipe a family of his own, and the best he could hope for in a caballero's home was to work as a servant.
As had been the case in San Diego and the other southern villages, the church and the orphanage had no room, and none of the poor families wanted the responsibility, even though Don Diego offered each one he spoke to a stipend to cover Felipe's expenses. At one point during their stay in Monterey, Don Diego paid a call on the governor.
The men and the little war refugee then slowly traveled southward, stopping at each town or mission. They would stay for a few days at each one, to make inquiries and to have their clothes washed, including Felipe's. While they were there, they would also ask the local priest to send word to Mexico that Felipe was in California, in case he did, in fact, have any living relatives left who would come to get him.
At each place they visited, the results were the same: no one would take Felipe in. No one wanted to be responsible for a strange, sickly, deaf-mute boy, no matter how sweet or appealing or well-behaved he was. Not even Diego's offer to provide them money to support the little boy changed their minds.
All the while, he and the others talked with Felipe on a regular basis. Not a day went by when they didn't take turns engaging him in conversation. They were determined not to let his budding communication skills wither through neglect. Felipe's communication skills continued to slowly improve.
Every night, the four of them would gather for prayer. Felipe would silently pray with his rosary, as would Diego and Jose; all three would examine their consciences as they did so. Unfortunately, not even their combined prayers could soften any of the people Felipe's guardians approached on his behalf, nor could they stop the incessant nightmares and flashbacks Felipe continued to suffer.
The terrifying nightmares plagued Felipe every night. Each time he had one, Diego would wake him up and hold him tightly until the terror had passed. Whenever the boy had a flashback, Diego followed the same procedure.
Don Diego refused to give up. He was bound and determined to find the little boy a home with someone who would love him and raise him and care for him. Felipe, on the other hand, was growing steadily more discouraged. He did not fail to see that no one wanted to raise him, and he began to question whether anybody ever would. Concerned about his morale, the men did their best to bolster his spirits and his determination.
"Felipe, you're a sweet, fine boy," Don Diego would tell him. "Someone will want you; I promise you that. I guarantee it! We will not give up until you have someone to love you and look after you."
He would hug Felipe at that point, and kiss him on the cheek or the forehead. Felipe would nestle against him.
One day, the group arrived at the Mission San Fernando. Jonathan sighed. "Well, Diego, it's been two months, now, since we arrived in California." He glanced at the mission and sighed. "November has just started, and we still haven't found Felipe a home."
"I know." Diego glanced at his gold pocket timepiece as it gleamed in the sunlight. "This is our last stop before going to Los Angeles. You may as well come inside with us, Jose. The horses are safe."
The three men took Felipe inside the church, where a priest approached them. Diego glanced at the two rows of high-backed wooden benches that stretched the length of the sanctuary. At the other end of the room, a gold statue of Mary shone in the candlelight.
"What can I do for you, my children?" The priest smiled.
Don Diego smiled back. "I'm Diego de la Vega, and this is my tutor, Jonathan Spencer. Perhaps you don't remember me, Padre; I've been here before with my father, Don Alejandro."
The priest smiled broadly as recognition lit up his eyes. "Si, I remember you, now. How is your good father?"
"By now, he should be back in his usual excellent health. He was recovering from a serious illness when my tutor, our driver, and I left for Guadalajara last spring."
"Your tutor, you say?" The priest glanced at Jonathan.
Diego nodded. "Si. He came from England to take charge of my education, when I was the same age as this little boy, here. Señor Spencer is an excellent tutor, and he has taught me well." Jonathan nodded with a smile.
The priest smiled back. "I'm sure he has. What can I help you with, Diego?"
Diego and Jonathan told him about Felipe's predicament. The priest listened attentively until they finished.
"God bless you, my sons, for caring so much for this child's welfare." The priest smiled down at Felipe. He then sighed, as sadness crossed his face. "And don't I wish I could do as you've asked!"
He ruffled the boy's hair. "There's no room here." Felipe hung his head. "My church is overflowing with children who have been orphaned. I have to find apprenticeships for many of them, because I've got more than I can decently care for. This boy needs someone who can care for him properly and see that he continues to develop his communication skills. My assistant priest and I don't have time to do that."
Don Diego and Señor Spencer glanced at each other and sighed. "Gracias, Padre." Diego paused. "In every place we've stopped, we've asked the priest there to send word to Mexico. It's just possible he has relatives we don't know about. If anybody comes here asking for him, would you refer that person to my father and me?"
"Certainly." The priest nodded. "Vaya con Dios."
The padre made the sign of the cross over each man's forehead, then smiled encouragingly at Felipe and blessed him. Felipe did not smile back.
A morass of misery had welled up in Felipe when the priest had spoken those hateful words: "There's no room here." As he trudged out the door, he wiped a tear from his eye. The gentlemen took him away. As he read their lips, the men decided to move the wagon elsewhere, take their siesta on the desert, then go on to Los Angeles.
Felipe paid no further attention to their plans. He was too miserable, too depressed. He just couldn't take any more. He had been taken to every village, every church, and every orphanage in California. No one wanted him, and no one would ever want him!
He leaned against the side of the wagon and gazed for a long moment at the three men. They were too deep in discussion to pay any attention to him. Suddenly, he wandered away. He couldn't bear any more rejection. He'd had enough.
The little boy paid no attention to his surroundings. He slowed down after a time, engrossed in his own inner turmoil. As the hours passed, he just trudged on and on. He didn't stop. Repeatedly, he raised his arm to take a swipe at the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
No one wants me, he thought. No one!
Finally, he was too exhausted to keep walking. His limbs felt heavy and sore. He stopped next to a huge boulder, slid down its side, and plopped to the ground. The little boy buried his face in his hands and wept.
At last, his sobs subsided. He raised his head and wiped his face with the back of his hand, sniffling. As he glanced down at his sandals, he froze.
A snake lay in rows of coils next to his left foot, poised to strike. It had raised its head above its body, and it didn't move. Felipe had been taught that some snakes were poisonous, and would kill if they bit.
What will I do if it bites me? he thought, as beads of cold sweat rolled down his face. Will I die?!
Minute after agonizing minute passed, as he sat frozen. Until that snake left him, he didn't dare move. Por favor, God, make it go away, he prayed silently. Please, please, please!
Suddenly, the snake's head exploded in pieces. A musket ball bounced into the sand. The terrified boy squeezed his eyes shut.
Hands grabbed him by the waist and lifted him into the air. Arms clasped him against a chest and hugged him tightly; the by-now-familiar scent of men's cologne wafted toward his nostrils, mixed with the clean spicy scent and the smell of fragrant soap. When the hands let go and set him on the ground, Felipe opened his eyes and gazed into Don Diego's. The caballero's face looked haggard and deeply worried, yet relieved. Felipe glanced to his side. Jonathan Spencer stood next to him, and his expression looked the same. His right hand grasped a smoking pistol.
"Felipe, you had us worried sick!" Kneeling before Felipe, Don Diego hugged the little boy tightly, then leaned back. "Don't ever run off like that again! It's not safe for a little boy to be alone on the desert. There are all kinds of beasts that roam on it, including poisonous snakes."
He gripped Felipe's shoulder. "Pay attention, por favor. I know you're discouraged and you think that no one will ever want you. Believe me, someone will. You will have a home, come what may. I promise you that."
Reluctantly, Felipe nodded. He didn't really believe it anymore, but he knew they were determined to keep on trying. Don Diego lifted him up again and carried him back to the wagon. Slowly, as the weary men hiked back to camp, the sun dipped toward the horizon.
When they had arrived the wagon, they saw that Jose had made camp. The wagon, Felipe noticed, had been moved some distance from the mission; he couldn't even see the church now. "Gracias, Jose." Señor Spencer glanced at the darkening sky. "It's too late to travel any further today, and you and I are too tired, Diego. We'll sleep here, then go to Los Angeles in the morning."
Don Diego set Felipe down. "We've got much to talk about," he told his tutor. He felt so tired; every muscle ached. He could see that Señor Spencer felt just as exhausted.
Jonathan nodded. "We certainly do. But not tonight. Right now, we're tired and hungry. Let's eat now, say our prayers, and get some rest tonight, all right? We'll discuss the situation tomorrow." Diego nodded his acquiescence.
The cultured British tutor turned to the driver. "Jose, prepare our supper, por favor."
Jose nodded and lifted the food crate out of the wagon. As he opened it, Señor Spencer rose to his feet to help him. Don Diego knelt on the ground and held Felipe in his lap.
END OF CHAPTER 19