Todos Santos by Deborah Clearman

Author:Deborah Clearman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Todos Santos
ISBN: 9781937854621
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2010-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

10.

Catherine held up the painting she had just finished, the gift she’d promised Marvella as a reward for long days of sitting still, for more patience than seemed possible. “Here’s your portrait, done at last! This is you.”

The three-year-old studied her painted image seriously. She frowned. “Is it beautiful enough to be me?” she asked.

Catherine laughed.

“Egoísta!” Nicolasa chided her daughter. “She’s impossible, this one! Thank you for the beautiful painting, Catarina. We’ll treasure it.”

With a proud air of ownership Marvella watched the two women tack the wet painting to the dining room wall, then ran off, free. Catherine felt satisfied. Finally she had enough paintings of the girl. It was still early in the day, time for more work.

“Now I need school scenes,” she told Nicolasa. “Photographs won’t give me enough information.” And anyway, she hadn’t taken her camera into the school. She didn’t want any kids to think she was stealing their souls. They already had too much to fear. “I need to lug my easel in and actually paint in the school. Baudilio will be there. Do you think he can keep me out?”

Catherine’s face still ached where the preacher had struck her yesterday. When she had gotten back from the bar, she had told Nicolasa about the assault in the street. Nicolasa had dressed her cheek with a poultice of aloe and heard how Desiderio, to Catherine’s astonishment, had fought in her defense. She had left untold what happened afterward: the drinks, the dance, the kiss that now, in the clear morning light on the terrace, seemed so wanton, so unlike the Catherine Barnes she knew herself to be. And so unlike Oswaldo’s Spanish kiss.

Nicolasa had railed against Baudilio. “That animal!” she had fumed. Now that she’d calmed down she said, “Speak to Don Roberto. Didn’t he invite you to come to the school? Don’t let Baudilio scare you.”

Catherine didn’t intend to. She marched through town with her paint box, her bruised face held high, rage simmering at the preacher’s gall. Too many people in this town were under his influence, she thought. It was time someone launched a campaign against ignorance and superstition. Maybe it took someone from the outside, who could see things for what they were. Seeing was her profession. Open your eyes, she would tell the Todosanteros. Instead of color and shape, they would discover a demagogue. She would love to rid them of Baudilio. Tensed for action, as if she might meet her enemy at a barricade, she swept through the gate to the school. It was unguarded. The door to the office was open. The school principal waved her inside, courteous and friendly, as before.

“Please believe me, I’m only here to paint,” she said to Don Roberto. “Do the parents really think I’m going to kidnap their children? Someone is telling them lies, to frighten them.”

“Don’t concern yourself,” he assured her. “I trust you. Be our guest. You’re welcome to paint here in the school at any time you wish, mornings when the little children are here, or afternoons when it’s quiet, just the older students.

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