“Yes . . . Another favor, Father. When leaving the plantation, tell Yeremías that he or Waldo should tell Dimas that Gustavo is here. They know how to find him.”
Seconds later, they entered the main ward, a large room with a dozen beds laid out in two rows, which was almost empty. They had placed the man in one of the beds at the far end, separated by a thin white curtain that was tied back against the wall. From a few paces away, Kilian and Julia understood the seriousness of the situation. Gustavo’s body was a shredded mass of bloodied clothes. Julia covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a sob. Gustavo’s face was completely disfigured from the blackened swelling of the bruises. Whoever had done this had the perverse idea of placing his big square glasses, with the lenses broken, back on his nose to give him an even more grotesque appearance.
With her eyes filled with tears, Julia bent down to his ear. “Gustavo, can you hear me? I’m Emilio’s daughter.”
The man let out a moan.
“Don’t worry. We’ll look after you here. You’ll get better, I promise.” She stood back up and murmured between her teeth, “And Manuel in the city!”
Bisila came over.
“First we’ll take off his clothes to wash and disinfect the wounds . . . If you wouldn’t mind, you could sit beside him and talk to him to keep him calm.”
During the whole process, Julia avoided looking directly at Gustavo’s lacerated body. Kilian noticed that she grew pale. That man had received the most awful beating. On more than one occasion, Kilian had to make a serious effort to stop himself from retching. In front of them, Bisila cleaned the wounds with an exquisite gentleness. Kilian marveled at her composure. She alternated her ministrations with expressions in Bubi that appeared to comfort the injured man, who tried to smile.
“I wish I knew your language,” murmured Kilian, leaning toward her. “You must have said something very special for someone in his state to smile.”
Bisila raised her sparkling eyes toward him. “I told him that he is so ugly that the spirits won’t want him, and when I finish fixing him up, he’ll feel so well that then it will be him who won’t want to go.”
“Do you think he can be saved?”
“It will take him time to recover, but I don’t see any life-threatening wound.”
“Who did this to you, Gustavo?” whispered Julia.
“The ones who turn up like this,” Bisila commented, “thrown at the side of the road like dogs, are normally penal prisoners.”
“You couldn’t be satisfied with your job as a teacher?” Julia asked, and Gustavo let out a grunt. “Well, if you survive this, I don’t think you’ll want to continue with your liberation crusade.”
“How could this have happened to him?” Kilian asked. “He’s now a Spanish citizen.”
Bisila snorted, and Kilian looked at her, perplexed.
“How are we meant to understand if those in Spain can’t agree about it either?” Julia said. “According to my father, the Spanish government is divided. On the one side, there are the moderates, who, like the foreign minister Castiella, think that we should favor a gradual path toward independence for the provinces. And on the other side, there are those who think like the minister to the presidency, Carrero Blanco, who is in favor of a tough colonial policy and tight control of local indigenous leaders.”
“I’m afraid our governor is of the same opinion,” Bisila commented ironically.
“Mistress!” Oba’s voice resounded from the other end of the ward. “Are you there? I have to go now.”
Julia stood up. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to continue without me.”
Kilian and Bisila remained in silence for several minutes after Julia left. Gustavo was in a deep sleep thanks to the tranquilizers the nurse had given him. For the first time in their lives, Kilian and Bisila were alone, and neither one of them really knew what to say. Gustavo’s body was finally clean of blood. The only thing left was to stitch some deep cuts in one leg. Kilian’s presence was no longer necessary. But he had not gotten up to go, and she had not suggested it. For a good long while, they enjoyed each other’s company in silence, as they had done that day when she extracted the chigger.
“You’ve done an excellent job,” he said finally when she cut the thread of the last suture stitch. “I’m in awe.”
“You were also a great help.” Bisila stood and stretched her back.
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Not anyone.”
Kilian felt a little guilty. To what point had his answer been honest? If instead of Bisila, another person had been in charge of looking after Gustavo, would he have been so helpful? Despite the seriousness of the situation, he had enjoyed each gesture, look, and breath she had made.
“Now we’ll let him rest,” said Bisila. “Until the doctor comes, I’ll watch over him. Come, let’s go and wash ourselves.” She pointed to his hands. “You can’t go back to the dryers like that. You look like a butcher.”
Bisila guided him to a small washroom beside the infirmary, where there were two basins. They washed their hands, faces, and necks. When they were finished, she took a towel, dampened a corner, and brought it to his face.
“There are still a couple of spots.”
Kilian closed his eyes and squeezed his fists together to resist the temptation of putting his arms around her waist and drawing her to him. He was certain that she wouldn’t stop him, because she was taking longer than necessary in removing whatever had been on his face. A small voice inside him reminded him that Bisila was married to another man with whom she had a child. But his attraction to her went beyond all common sense.
“That’s it,” she said, with her faltering breathing only a few centimeters from his chest. “But you’ll have to put on another shirt.”
“Bisila! Are you there?”
She gave a start. “Yes, Doctor,” she said out loud. “Beside the infirmary.”
She took the towel and made as if she were finishing drying her hands while going out to meet Manuel, followed by Kilian.
Manuel approached, accompanied by a sturdy man with very marked features. Two deep wrinkles scored his cheeks.
“Hello, Kilian.” Manuel shook his hand. “Julia just told me everything. Thanks very much for helping Bisila.”
“I’m happy to have been of help.”
“This is Gustavo’s brother. His name is Dimas. He works as a foreman on the Constancia plantation, just beside us.”
“How is he?” the man asked.
“He’s asleep now,” answered Bisila. “I think everything will be all right.”
Dimas blessed himself.
“Good, let’s go and see him,” said Manuel.
Kilian waited behind. Bisila turned around and gave him an intense look of good-bye. He made a slight movement with his head and left with his heart beating excitedly.
Bisila approached the dryers, looking for her father, the perfect excuse to see Kilian. The desire to meet him again made her pulse quicken.