Solimar, p.5
Solimar, page 5
A parade of muñecas de trapo wearing bright skirts and lacy blouses decorated the mantel, their hair topped with ribbon loops, and their felt monarch wings quilted with gold thread. Did one just wink at her?
“Abuela?” Solimar murmured. “What’s happening here?”
“Shh.” Abuela patted Solimar’s shoulder to reassure her and smiled. She did not seem the least bit surprised at anything in Doña Flor’s house.
Solimar looked at her grandmother as if she’d never seen her before. Why wasn’t she alarmed at all the oddities? She clutched Abuela’s hand, her eyes sweeping the house as they followed Doña Flor into the kitchen.
The table was crowded with baskets of grotesque roots, pods, and withered bulbs, which looked like little goblins with gnashing teeth. Rows of jars filled with herbs lined narrow shelves. Upside-down bouquets of dried plants dangled from the ceiling. Solimar ducked to avoid a few long finger-like vines that seemed to reach for her.
Solimar’s eyes darted from one unusual thing to another. She had been in Abuela’s greenhouse, but it was nothing like this. Abuela grew herbs in clay pots and crushed leaves in a molcajete with a tejolote. There was far more going on in this kitchen than a simple mortar and pestle. But what?
“You’re wondering why I have all these things,” said Doña Flor.
Solimar’s mouth dropped open. “How did you…?”
Doña Flor smiled. “Your face said it all. Allow me to explain my apothecary.” She went to the stove to stir the chocolate. “Aloe vera for a scrape or burn. Mesquite tea when the stomach churns. A basil steep to calm the system. Camphor poultice for rheumatism. Branches of cedar before the eyes alleviates susto, or frightful cries. Elm bark water for a clear complexion. Eucalyptus for sound digestion.” She smiled at Solimar. “I could go on. There are many more verses. You see, it’s how we remember the purpose for everything. And it ends with…”
Abuela chimed in, and together they said, “Hot chocolate to calm the soul!”
Doña Flor lifted a spoonful from the pan, blew on it, and carefully tasted it. “It’s perfect!” She ladled the warm chocolate into three cups and set them on a small tray. She took a pinch of something from a ramekin and sprinkled it on their drinks.
“What’s that?” asked Solimar.
“Just a little something for relaxation,” said Doña Flor. “Come along.” She headed back to the front room and put the tray on the table between the chairs. “Please, sit down. Drink.”
Abuela sat in one of the yellow chairs and patted the other for Solimar.
While Doña Flor lit candles around the room, Solimar leaned toward Abuela and whispered, “She put something in our chocolate. We shouldn’t drink it.”
Abuela rolled her eyes, picked up a cup, and sipped. “Doña Flor, the sprinkling of cayenne pepper on top is delicious.”
Doña Flor lowered herself into the rocker, the chair limbs creaking. “Thank you. I find that a little cayenne makes the room and the company feel warmer—and a little friendlier.”
Solimar picked up a cup and sniffed the most delectable aroma of chocolate. Feeling a little ashamed of her presumption, she smiled and took a sip, the drink sending a wave of warmth and serenity through her body.
“Solimar,” said Doña Flor, “let’s talk about the circumstances that brought you here today.”
Any reservations Solimar had about Doña Flor seemed to disappear. As she looked around the room, the masks looked kindly and concerned. And the dolls seemed to lean forward, as if interested in what she had to say. In the glow of the candles, with Abuela at her side and Doña Flor’s kind eyes encouraging her, Solimar felt improbably…safe.
She took a deep breath and began. “It all started with the butterflies.”
After Solimar had exhausted the story with every remembered detail, she slipped the red rebozo from her shoulders and spread it across her lap, exposing the orange shimmering.
Doña Flor leaned forward and carefully studied the fabric. After a few minutes, she nodded. “Finish your chocolate.”
Solimar looked at Abuela and shrugged.
Abuela gave her a reassuring smile.
Doña Flor stood and paced with her hands pressed together and touching her lips, as if she were whispering a prayer.
She stopped and plucked a few leaves from one of the dried bouquets hanging from the ceiling and tossed them on the fire. A crisp fragrance, like a muddle of pine and mint, filled the room. Doña Flor waved the vapors toward her and inhaled deeply.
Solimar leaned toward Abuela. “What is she doing?”
Abuela shushed her. “The strong scent of eucalyptus helps with remembering.”
Doña Flor lowered herself back into the rocker and nodded. “I recall…although I’ve never seen it in my lifetime. When I was a young girl about Solimar’s age, my great-grandmother, a far more powerful curandera than me, once talked about this very phenomenon. When the monarchs migrate, there are sometimes those fliers who struggle and are often too young or too weak to continue on. The monarchs are diminishing, so every butterfly counts and is needed to reproduce. If the frail can’t cluster together with the others, they are vulnerable to wasps and grosbeaks who will eat them. On those occasions, the ancestral spirits of the monarchs choose a benevolent courier to protect the stragglers until they are strong enough to join the others.”
Solimar put a hand on her chest. “I was chosen?”
Doña Flor nodded. “And your rebozo is the swaddle for the butterflies. You are now their protector and are inseparably connected to them.”
“Inseparable. That’s an understatement,” said Solimar. She looked closely at the rebozo. “I can’t detect a live butterfly, though. I see only the flat design and the shimmering.”
“They are safely embedded,” said Doña Flor. “It’s part of the magic, as is the ability for you alone to bear their intuition about the near future and what lies ahead.”
“This intuition,” said Abuela. “Why does it work only when she is in the sun?”
“Butterflies are active in sunshine and become inactive after sunset, or when it is cloudy or shady,” said Doña Flor. “So their magic only works in the sunshine. But I must warn you, Solimar. The sun has become a double-edged sword.”
“Double-edged sword? I don’t understand,” said Solimar.
“Each day that it is sunny, you must open the rebozo to warm and strengthen those you carry. Otherwise they will never have the stamina to take leave and cluster in the trees. Yet, when you are in the sun and someone asks a question, you cannot—”
“—answer fast enough,” said Solimar.
“And therein lies the burden,” said Doña Flor. “For every question you answer, it drains a little of their strength. If they lose too much, they will surely die.”
“But I’ve already accidentally answered some questions.”
“More sun will return their strength. The sun is the solution and the problem,” said Doña Flor.
Solimar frowned. “I must stay out of the sun when people are around, or they might ask questions of me, which would diminish the butterflies’ strength and could lead to their demise.”
“You’ve got it! Now, I advise you to tell no one about the gift unless you trust them implicitly. Or else, within a few days there will be a line of villagers wrapped around the castle who want to know the near future. Soon, you would not be able to go outside without a crowd following and barking questions at you. And then, when the magic is drained, you’d be accused of trickery and deception. You would be disgraced.”
Badgered and pursued. Irrational and foolish. That’s what María had said, too. The weight of Doña Flor’s words crowded the room, making it feel smaller.
“How will I know when they are strong enough to leave?” asked Solimar.
“You will know. Others will come for them.”
“How long will this last?” asked Abuela.
Doña Flor pointed to the rebozo. “Until the last butterfly departs. Then, the gift of seeing the near future and the need to protect the rebozo will disappear as well.”
Solimar’s face brightened. “So it is only temporary. For the next few weeks, I will stay inside the castle during the day. And I’ll warm the rebozo on my balcony when no one is around so the butterflies will grow stronger. If I must go out, I’ll take a sombrilla to protect me from the sun. Then, when they return to the forest, I’ll be back to normal again. And no one, except us, will be the wiser. It’s simple.”
“It’s a worthy plan,” said Doña Flor, though her face clouded. “But remember, nothing is ever as simple as it seems.”
From the back of the house came the sounds of a crash, the goats bleating, bells clanging, and the chickens cackling.
“I’ve had a fox snooping around of late,” said Doña Flor. “I hope it hasn’t invaded my egg boxes.” She hurried toward the coop.
Solimar and Abuela followed. But no eggs had been taken, and there was no fox in sight. The chickens were still agitated and flapping their wings. Doña Flor tossed a few corncobs on the ground to calm them. After much petting, the goats settled, too. Doña Flor looked around suspiciously. “Strange.”
Solimar nodded. Everything she’d seen and heard today was strange.
They walked back into the house. As they prepared to leave, Doña Flor gave Abuela a small bag of herbs and roots.
“One more question,” said Abuela. “What if someone tries to steal the rebozo? Or it falls into the wrong hands?”
“Anyone who tries to break the bond would suffer the wrath of the ancestral spirits,” said Doña Flor.
Solimar gulped. “What does that mean?”
The dolls on the mantel began to chatter.
“Rage, madness, impending doom.”
“It’s not nice to anger the departed.”
“No, sireee.”
“Wrath is no picnic!”
Solimar jumped away from the mantel and pointed at the animated dolls. “They…they talk!”
“Of course we do,” said one of the dolls.
“In many languages.”
“Oh yes, quite fluent.”
Doña Flor nodded. “They talk a little too much. It’s very difficult to keep them quiet. But there’s no reason to be afraid. Their enchantment is strong, yet they are generous souls and very helpful.”
Solimar walked closer, reached out, and touched the tummy of the doll who had winked at her earlier.
It giggled!
“She likes you,” said Doña Flor. “Her name is Zarita. I have a feeling”—she closed her eyes and nodded—“that you two will be great friends someday.”
Adoringly, Zarita blinked and smiled at Solimar.
As Doña Flor and Abuela said their good-byes, Solimar gave Zarita a weak smile and a small wave, then stepped closer to Abuela. She was eager to get home to the safety and normalcy of the castle.
On the hike back to the tunnel, Solimar and Abuela were both quiet and caught up in their own thoughts. Solimar’s mind spun with all that she’d seen and heard. When they had almost reached the passageway, Solimar asked, “Abuela, why have you never said anything about Doña Flor and all her enchantments?”
Abuela smiled. “Would you or anyone else have believed me? I am Queen Rosalinda’s mother and King Sebastián’s mother-in-law. If I admitted to believing in more than my herbs and teas, I would be an embarrassment to the kingdom.”
Solimar shook her head. “You’d never be an embarrassment to me.”
Abuela smiled and took her hand. “I’m proud of you, Solimar, for listening and not overreacting at Doña Flor’s.”
“Abuela, what magic do you possess?”
“Nothing that compares. I tried a love potion on Serafina and the stable cat, hoping to make them compatible. But I wasn’t exactly successful. I put a drop in their food to make them receptive to love. Then, when they were together, I rang a bell to trigger the response. But instead of falling in love with each other, they fell in love with the first inanimate object they touched. In Serafina’s case, it happened to be that green woolen sock she carries everywhere. And the stable cat is now smitten with a curry brush. The effect should only last a few weeks. But I’d say the recipe needs some refinement.”
Solimar laughed.
Abuela chanted, “Curative lotions. Various potions. All conjured up by a healing barista. Such is the life of the herbalista.”
A small voice joined in, “Wave eggs ’round the body to displace spells. Lady’s slipper mash for ingrown nails. Houseleek halts a wound from bleeding. Camphor stops the hair from receding.”
Solimar spun around. “Who’s there?”
Abuela pointed. “Your pocket!”
Solimar peeked inside. “Zarita!”
The doll giggled.
Solimar picked her up so they were eye to eye.
Zarita flapped her felt wings and grinned.
Abuela shrugged and laughed. “Doña Flor did say you two would be great friends someday.”
Solimar stammered, “I—I didn’t think she meant today!”
The next morning when Solimar woke, she pulled a blanket over her head.
Any other day she would have dressed and rushed outside, even before breakfast. But after everything that happened yesterday, she was happy for the solitude and protection of the castle walls. Besides, she was determined to stick to her plan to avoid the sunshine and anyone who might accidentally ask her a question.
She stretched but sat up abruptly when she heard talking coming from her balcony. Who could be out there? She was on the second floor! Flinging the covers off, she tiptoed to the door and peeked out.
Zarita chattered. “No, I can’t fly even though I have wings. I’m a doll, remember?”
Lázaro nodded and gurgled.
“Good question. I came from the house of Doña Flor Espinoza. She is the curandera.”
Lázaro yelped.
“No, no. It wasn’t frightening at all to live with her. She may be powerful, but she’s very kind. She slipped me into Solimar’s pocket to give her moral support during this unusual and challenging time. By the way, where did you come from? I don’t think I’ve seen a resplendent quetzal around here before. Or one as big as you.”
Lázaro cooed and cheeped.
“Really? You’re Guatemalan? Interesting!” said Zarita.
Solimar stepped onto the balcony.
Zarita turned to her. “Láz just told me that he was a gift from another kingdom to your family on the occasion of your birth.”
Surprised, Solimar looked from Lázaro to Zarita. “You understand each other?”
“You can’t?” asked Zarita.
Solimar shrugged. “Well, I talk to him and he seems to know what I’m saying and I sometimes presume what he’s saying back to me based on his body language, but I’m only guessing, so…no. Not really.”
“Well, luckily I speak bird and the dialect of quetzal, among other things,” said Zarita. “And by the way, he said he doesn’t really care for seed pods. He’s more of a fruit-and-berry guy. And avocados are his favorite.”
“I’ll remember that. What, exactly, did you do to him?”
Lázaro strutted and chirped as he showed off his long tail feathers, which were braided and looped with brightly colored ribbons.
“He said that he loves the look. Not for every day, of course, but for special occasions,” said Zarita. She sighed, dreamy-eyed. “Like a quinceañera. Láz told me that soon your court will come to the castle to try on the gowns and the suits.”
Solimar smiled. “Yes. Tuesday for those wearing gowns.” Solimar didn’t know who was more excited, her court or their parents. She suspected the parents. And now Zarita.
Solimar peered over the banister into the vast garden below, where the busy palace staff came and went. She sighed.
Lázaro shook his head and made a clicking sound.
Zarita nodded. “That’s right. When others are around, sun is your enemy.”
“I know. Don’t worry,” said Solimar. “I’m staying in.” She stepped to a corner of the balcony where there was a splash of sun and opened the rebozo to warm it. “This is only temporary, remember? Until they’re strong enough to fly away.”
Lázaro and Zarita nodded.
Solimar read all morning, and after lunch, she cleaned out her closet, then, pressed for something to do, alphabetized the books in her room. That night before bed, as Zarita undid Lázaro’s ribbons, Solimar said, “See how much I accomplished today? There’s a benefit to staying indoors! It’s not so bad.”
Saturday, when her mother invited her to walk to the village, Solimar pretended she wanted to stay inside and make bread with Señor Batista. When the sun made an appearance, she stood on her balcony and held the rebozo open. It pulsed and shimmered. But nothing of consequence happened.
Sunday it stormed, and except for a stroll beneath the covered patios, Solimar and María worked on a jigsaw puzzle in the library for most of the day. That night in her room, Solimar tried to sound cheerful. “At least with the dreary weather, I didn’t mind being stuck inside. Really. I didn’t.”
Zarita rolled her eyes. “Right.”
Monday, the skies cleared and Solimar’s enthusiasm for her plan waned. First, she had to feign a headache instead of going to the stables with María for her riding lesson. Then she had hoped to convince Señora Batista her headache was gone so she could help in the kitchen again, but the chef was on her way out—to the market with Abuela.
Even though she felt sorry for herself and out of sorts, she spent the day alone in her room. This time, though, when she stepped onto the balcony and held out the rebozo, allowing the sun to illuminate it, several large butterflies flew toward her from the forest. As they drew closer, the mysterious chanting echoed.
Others will come. It was just as Doña Flor had said.
“Are you here for them?” whispered Solimar.
As the butterflies hovered in front of her, the rebozo trembled. One butterfly, then another, followed by half a dozen emerged from the fabric, flitting around her in a joyous dance. Several landed on her face for the briefest moment, their wings brushing her cheeks before they trailed away in the sky. She had saved at least a few! Were they saying thank you? The responsibility and affection she felt for the monarchs filled her with the desire to make sure the others remained safe. “I’ll protect you,” she whispered.
