Yuji nodded, but he didn’t shake my hand. What I thought at the time was that his feelings were too hurt. “I must go,” he said.
He opened the car door, and I left. His driver got in, and then they were gone. I watched the car until I could no longer see it.
Although it was 70° that day, an uncommon wind swirled past, whipping my hair across my face, leaving me with goose-bumped arms and an unpleasant chill in my heart. I went inside to see if I could borrow a sweater from Luna.
X
I REAP WHAT I SOW
IMMEDIATELY AFTER NEW YEAR’S, we resumed work in the orchard. I’d wake before dawn, pile my nascent ponytail atop my head, and take my place beside Theo and the other workers. I was stronger than when I had arrived, so I found the January labors easier. I mentioned this to Theo, and he laughed at me.
“Anya,” he said, “we are in siesta season.”
“Siesta season?”
“Most of the last crop has already been harvested, and the second cacao season, which is always the lesser one anyway, is yet to begin. So, we work a little. Eat a big lunch. Take a nap. Work a little more. Siesta season.”
“It’s not that easy,” I protested. To prove my point, I showed him my hands, which had fresh blisters from using my new machete. Theo had sharpened it for me as promised.
“Ay, your poor hands.” He took my hand and he held it up against his own rough palm. “You will get calluses like these beauties of mine soon enough.” Suddenly, he smacked his hand against mine.
I took the Lord’s name in vain. “That hurt!” I yelled.
Theo found the whole thing hysterical. “I was trying to help your calluses along,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s hilarious. You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?” I walked away from him. Since the incident with his grandmother, Theo occasionally went out of his way to show me just how much he didn’t fancy me.
Theo put his hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged him off. “Leave me alone.”
“Perdóname.” He got down on one knee. “Forgive me.”
“Siesta season or not, this work isn’t easy, Theo.”
“I know that,” he said. “Yes, I know that very well. In other countries, they let little children work these orchards. The parents sell them off for nothing. I tell you, it disgusts me, Anya. So, if my cacao costs a bit more because I have to pay real farmers a real wage, I think it is worth it. Superior farmers make a superior product. My cacao tastes better and I do not have to hang my head at church, you know?”
In a low voice, I asked him if he knew what kind of cacao the Balanchines used.
“Not mine,” Theo said. “I cannot know specifically what kind your family uses but most of the black market chocolate brands have to use the cheapest cacao they can get. It is the reality of running a black market business.”
Theo was too nice to say what that reality probably meant for my family.
“I did meet your father once,” Theo said. “He came to Granja Mañana to meet my parents about switching to our cacao. My parents thought he was going to do it, too. I remember Mama and Papa were even looking into buying more acreage. Supplying Balanchine Chocolate would have meant a lot of money to our family. But about a month later, we heard that Leo Balanchine had died and so the deal was off.”
Theo had met my father! I lowered my machete. “Can you remember anything Daddy said?”
“It was a long time ago, Anya, but I remember him telling me that he had a son about my age.”
“My brother, Leo. He would have been pretty sick back then.”
“How is he now?” Theo asked.
“Better,” I told him. “Much better. Yuji Ono even said that Leo was in love.” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t believe this?”
I didn’t have a reason not to believe Yuji Ono. It was something else. In the past several months, I’d come to realize how little I knew Leo. I’d always tried to protect him, but I think that had led me to not really see him. I shrugged. “If it’s true, I’m happy for him.”
“Good for you, Anya. The world needs more love not less. Speaking of which, I want to take you down to the factories to see the chocolate we make for Saint Valentine’s Day. It’s the busiest time of year for our factories.”
I asked him why they made chocolate for Valentine’s Day.
“Are you kidding, Anya? We make chocolate hearts and candy boxes and just about everything else! What do they do in your country on Valentine’s Day?”
“Nothing. It’s not really a very popular holiday anymore.” I remembered that Nana had told me that Valentine’s Day used to be more of a big deal.
Theo’s mouth dropped open. “So, no chocolates? No flowers? No cards? Nada?”
I nodded.
“How sad. Where is the romance?”
“We still have romance, Theo.”
“You mean your Win?” Theo teased me.
“Yes, him. He’s very romantic.”
“I’ll have to meet this Casanova when I go to New York.”
I asked him when he was coming.
“Soon,” he said. “As soon as you leave, I am following.”
“What about the farm and the factories?”
“This? She runs herself. Let my sisters and brother do it for a change.” Theo laughed. “Be ready for me, Anya. I’m staying with you. I expect nothing less than the red carpet.”
I told him I’d be happy to have him anytime he wanted to come.
“Anya, tell me something serious now.”
I already knew that this wouldn’t be at all serious. “Yes, Theo.”
“You cannot actually prefer this Win to me. You and I have so much more in common, and in case you haven’t noticed, I really am adorable.”
I ignored him and went back to my work.
“Anya, this Win … Is he very tall?”
* * *
The next day, Theo and I drove down to the factories, where they produced the products he had described and goods beyond that, too: hand creams and health powders and even a packet for making Abuela’s hot chocolate.
By the time we’d returned to Granja Mañana, it was after sunset, and the workers had gone home. I accompanied Theo to make a quick check of the orchards. I was walking slightly ahead of him when I heard the sound of rustling leaves. It could have just been a small animal, but I felt for my machete anyway. As I was doing that, a pod with the telltale signs of Monilia distracted me. I bent down to slice it off.
A second later, Theo yelled, “Anya, turn around!”
I thought Theo might have been joking, so I continued what I was doing.
“Anya!”
Still squatting, I turned my head over my shoulder. Behind me was a large man. The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing a mask; the second thing I noticed was the gun. The gun was pointed at my head, and I was sure I was going to die.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Theo running toward me with his machete out.
“Don’t!” I screamed. “Theo, go inside!” I didn’t want Theo to end up dead, too.
My scream must have startled the masked man because for one second he hesitated. The masked man turned just as Theo struck him on the shoulder with the blade of his machete. The gun went off. There was a silencer, so it made very little sound. I could see the spark of the gunfire. I could tell that Theo had been hit but I didn’t have time to figure out where. I picked up my own machete and I raised my arm. Without even thinking about it, I sliced off the masked man’s hand. It was his right hand, the hand that held the gun. It was tough, but my machete had just been sharpened and I’d had so much practice with the cacao pods. (Aside: In retrospect, it would feel like the moment I’d been training for since November.) The only major difference between slicing off a human hand and a cacao pod was the blood. So much blood. The blood sprayed across my face and my clothes, and for a moment, all I could see were out-of-focus spots of red. I wiped my eyes. The man had dropped his gun (
and his hand) and I could see him clutching his wrist as he ran deep into the rain forest, into the dark. We were miles away from a hospital. He’d probably bleed to death. “Ffffffiiiiickerrrrr,” he howled. Or something like that, I couldn’t quite make it out.
I turned to where Theo lay on the ground.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. The light was fading, and I couldn’t see where he was bleeding.
“I’m…”
“Where were you hit?” I asked him.
“I don’t know.” He moved his hand weakly in the general direction of his chest area, and my heart began to petrify.
“Theo, I have to go inside to get help.”
He shook his head.
“Theo!”
“Listen to me, Anya. Don’t tell my mother what happened.”
“You’re being insane. I have to tell your mother what happened. I have to get you help.”
Theo shook his head. “I am going to die.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Mama will blame you. It is not your fault, but she will blame you. Do not tell any of them who you are.”
Theo saying that made me sure it was my fault.
“I’m going now!” I pulled my hand from Theo’s grasp and I ran into the house.
The next several hours were a blur. Luz, Luna, and I put Theo on a stretcher we’d improvised out of bedsheets and then we dragged him to the truck and then we drove to the hospital, which was a half hour away. By that time, Theo had passed out.
I explained to Luz and Luna as best I could what had happened even though I couldn’t understand it myself.
When we got to the hospital, I repeated the story to the local police, and then they asked me questions, which Luna translated for me. No, I didn’t know the man. No, I didn’t see his face. No, I don’t know why he was in the orchard. Yes, I cut off his hand. No, I didn’t take it with me. It should still be on the ground with his gun.
“And your name?” one of the cops asked.
I didn’t answer right away so Luna answered for me. “She is Anya Barnum. She is staying with us in order that she might learn the cacao business. She is Theo’s very good friend and a dear friend of our cousin, and I do not like the way you are questioning her.”
Finally, the police left to go see if they could find the gun and the hand and the one-handed masked man.
Luna patted me on the arm. “It is not your fault,” she said. “We have many rivals in cacao. It’s never turned to violence before but … I don’t understand any of this!” Luna began to weep.
A doctor came out to talk to us. “The bullet ricocheted through his lung and his esophagus. Theo’s condition is serious, but he is stable for now,” the doctor said in Spanish. “You could go home if you like.”
“Is he awake?” Theo’s mother asked.
The doctor said that Theo’s family could go in, so I went out to the lobby to try to place a call.
It was nearly ten, which meant it was nearly eleven in New York. I knew it was dangerous to call as it could potentially lead the authorities right to me, but I needed to talk to Mr. Kipling. I needed to go home.
I dialed Mr. Kipling’s home number. Though it was late, he answered the phone immediately and I could tell he was completely awake. When I said who it was, he didn’t even sound surprised to hear from me.
“Anya, how did you find out so quickly?”
For a second, I was confused. I wondered if he had somehow heard about Theo Marquez being shot. “How did you?” I asked.
“I … Your sister, Natty, called me. She’s here with me right now.”
“Why would Natty call you? Why is Natty with you? Why isn’t Natty at home?”
“Wait,” Mr. Kipling said. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. Why don’t you speak first.”
“Theobroma Marquez was shot. And I think the hit man was trying to kill me.”
Mr. Kipling cleared his throat. “Oh, Anya, I’m so sorry.”
“I … I want to come home. I don’t want to bring any more trouble to the Marquezes. Even if I have to go to Liberty,” I added.
“I understand,” Mr. Kipling said in a distracted way.
“What were you talking about before?” I asked.
“Anya, the situation here is very grave, and there’s no nice way for me to put this. Imogen Goodfellow is dead.”
I crossed myself. I could barely absorb this news. How could I be living in a world where Imogen Goodfellow was dead? Imogen, who loved paper books and who had taken such good care of Nana. Imogen, my friend.
“She died protecting your sister. There was an attack on the street outside the apartment, and Imogen came between Natty and a bullet. Imogen died on her way to the hospital. Natty was immediately brought to my house. She was hysterical, of course. She had to be sedated. Anya, are you still there?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Do you think the attack on me and the attack on Natty are related?” As I asked the question, I knew it was true.
“I fear they could be,” Mr. Kipling said. “Until I got your call, I had hoped the attack on your sister was just a random act of violence.”
“Someone trying to dispatch the children of Leonyd Balanchine?” Suddenly, I thought of my brother in Japan.
“Leo,” Mr. Kipling and I both said at the same time.
“I’ll call Yuji Ono,” I said.
I hung up with Mr. Kipling and immediately placed another call. This time, to Yuji Ono. He didn’t pick up. I wanted to scream but I knew there were sick people trying to sleep in the hospital. How was it possible that I had no way of reaching my brother other than through Yuji Ono? I had put too much faith in this man, who—let’s face facts—I had barely known.
I was about to try Yuji Ono again when Luna tapped me on the shoulder. “Anya, Theo wants to see you now.”
I nodded and followed her into his hospital room. I could not help but be reminded of Win and of Gable. Everywhere I went, I brought violence.
Theo was hooked up to a ventilator. Despite his tanned skin, he looked gray and bloodless. He couldn’t speak to me because of the tracheotomy but they had left a slate by his bed so that he could write messages. Anya, he wrote, I love you like my sister …
The stroke of his handwriting on the screen was weak.
I love you like my sister but you have to go. The man who did this …
I put my hand over his hand. I knew what he was trying to write. “The man who did this might come back to finish the job. Or a different man. You love me like your sister, but you love your family more. They aren’t safe as long as I’m here,” I said.
Theo nodded miserably. There were tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Theo. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll get my things and I’ll leave tonight.”
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Where will you go? he wrote.
“Home,” I said. “I’m not sure I ever should have come here. I don’t think you can really run away from things. They tend to follow you.”
I am glad you came. Mi corazon es … The slate began to slip off the bed, and before I could catch it, it fell to the floor. Theo put his hand over my heart.
“I know, Theo,” I said. “Promise not to think about me anymore. I just want you to get well.”
Luz stayed at the hospital with her son. In the car, Luna barely spoke to me. I told myself she was tired.
When we arrived at Granja Mañana, Luna went to the kitchen to update her grandmothers on Theo’s condition, and I went straight to my room to pack. I had arrived in Mexico with nothing and I was leaving with a mostly empty recipe book, a couple of letters, and a machete. I decided to burn the letters. I didn’t yet know how I’d be traveling and I didn’t want to implicate any of my friends if I should be arrested. I went down to the kitchen to ask for a match. Bisabuela was the only one there and she didn’t seem at all surprised by my request. She just said I should burn the letters in the stove. I lingered over Win’s
letter but I still managed to burn it. The only one I decided to keep was Imogen’s. Here, I started to cry.
Bisabuela put her arm around me. “What is it, bebé?” she asked. She didn’t speak much English and I still didn’t speak much Spanish.
“My friend died,” I said.
“Theo is no dead. He is hurt, but will live.” I could see the confusion in her eyes.
“No, not Theo, someone else. Someone from mi casa”—I paused—“and I need to go home.”
At that moment, Luna walked into the kitchen. “Anya, you can’t leave right now!”
I wanted to explain. I knew that if I explained, she would want me to go, too. But I had promised Theo. “I have to go.”
Luna crossed her arms. “How can you go right now? You have become like family to us. And while Theo is sick, you could help so much on the farm. Please, Anya.”
I told her that I had called home while we were waiting in the hospital and that someone in my family had died, and I needed to get back to New York immediately. All this was true, of course.
“Who in your family?” Luna demanded.
“The woman who watches my sister.”
“So not even your real family, then!”
I said nothing.
“If you leave right now, I will never forgive you! Theo will never forgive you either!”
“Luna, Theo wants me to go.”
“What do you mean? He would never say that. You’re lying, Anya.”
“I’m not … The thing is, Theo said he understood that I needed to get back to the city.”
“You are a different kind of person than I thought you were,” Luna said. Her face was covered with tears and snot. I went over to her and tried to embrace her, but she pushed me away and then ran out of the kitchen. Bisabuela followed after her.
I went down the hall to Luz’s office to use her telephone. (I felt bad about the cost, but this was an emergency.) I called Yuji Ono again. He still didn’t pick up. Then I called Mr. Kipling. Simon Green answered the phone. “Anya, I’ve arranged for a private plane to meet you at the Tuxtla airport.”
“A private plane? Isn’t that expensive?”
“Yes, but there was no other way that was quick. You don’t have identification and even if you did, the nearest airport to you doesn’t have regular flights to the States, and honestly, this is the best I could do on short notice. You’ll be flying into the airport on Long Island. When you land, I’ll be there to meet you. If the authorities have become aware of your movements, you may be arrested, but I thought we had a better chance of avoiding that by flying into Long Island.”