--Part 20, Helpless

Pansy finds that a poor weak peasant girl is in danger from predatory men, who see her as their helpless prey. (Warning--Contains a rape scene!

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March 6
-- After supper Pansy washed the dishes quickly. Josecito had already been fed, but she still needed to nurse Lilia. She was so excited! Tonight she’d start the long road back to literacy. For almost a month, ever since her last visit to San Pedro, she had studied the alphabet, and she had begun to relearn the letters. It was difficult to believe that she had ever known these unfamiliar symbols. Somehow the old alphabet nursery jingle in English had survived the various erasures, and it helped.

At 6 there was a knock at the door. It was Gordo Echeverrá­a, for once clean-shaven and wearing a clean shirt. Pansy looked at him with dislike, but Susana told him, “OK, Gordo, she’ll be ready in a moment. Pansita, I think it’s time to go. Gordo’ll take you to town. He said he’d find something to do for the hour your class’ll last, and then he’ll pick you up and take you back.” Pansy almost refused to go with him. He was the worst, or at least the crudest, womanizer on the finca, and she knew he had told everybody he’d have her in bed. She shot Susana a reproachful look, but she returned an innocent smile, and Pansy knew she was stuck with Gordo.

He behaved well on the way out, and Pansy wondered if Susana had warned him. Then she rejected that notion; Susana’d be pleased to see her harassed. He ogled her as she left the car for the church in La Libertad, where the class was held, but by now she was accustomed to that, and paid him no attention.

An annex to the church held the class. For a wonder, the teacher was an American peace corps worker. A majority of the students were campesinas like Pansy, but there were a good number of men as well; the class held about thirty students. The first lesson covered the alphabet, and Pansy learned little beyond solidifying her knowledge of her ABC’s, gained over the previous month. At 8 o’clock sharp, class was dismissed.

Gordo was waiting for her as she left. She smelled beer on his breath, but his speech wasn’t slurred, and she judged him sober enough to drive. There wasn’t much choice, anyway; it was a long walk back to Los Ocotes. Her driver paid her more attention on the way back. About half a mile below Los Ocotes, he stopped the car, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her over to himself. His beery breath revolted her, and she tried to push him away, but he was too strong. “Oh, shtop your act,” he told her. “Ever’one knows you ain’t no swee’ li’l virgin. You no better’n any other girl, and if you can give a little ass to that bastard in La Libertad, you can give some to me.”

“ ¡Get away from me, you damn animal!” Pansy shouted at him. “ ¡If I gave anyone anything, it wouldn’t be you!” He shoved his body against hers and pawed at her breast. She gasped as her conditioned sexual reflex was activated. Gordo sensed her response and pressed his lips to hers. She beat on him ineffectually with her one free hand as he kissed her deeply. With one hand he pinned her free right arm behind her, and her left arm was already trapped and useless. Her assailant reached under her blouse, slid her bra up, and fondled her right breast. Grinning, he told her, “Feels good,  ¿don’t it? I can tell you love it. Stop pretending you ain’t just a slut, sweetheart. I know better. I seen you sticking your tits out at all the guys.” It did feel good, that was her problem. “ ¡No!” she protested. “ ¡No!  ¡Stop it!” Her voice faded into a gasp as Gordo pulled up her skirt, and his hand stroked her thigh. “Quit fighting and just enjoy it, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You give me any more problems, and I won’t be so gentle with you.” He pulled her skirt up all the way up to her head, trapping both her arms. When she was helpless, he opened the car door and pulled her out. She managed to free her arms, but he simply pulled her skirt over her head again and threw her on the ground. She freed her hands while he sat on her, but as soon as she tried to use them, he seized them, turned her over roughly, and tied her wrists together with a piece of dirty rope. She was as helpless as a child, with no more strength in her arms than… than a girl. For a moment an image of Seá±or Cualquiera, with powerful biceps developed by endless weight training, crossed her mind, but Susana had taken that with everything else. Now her arms were those of a girl. Gordo leered at her and remarked, “Now, swee’heart,  ¿you gonna be sensible? You can’t do nothin’ to stop me. Like I said,  ¡enjoy yourself!” Powerless, she tried to call for help, but after she got out one good scream he hit her across the face. “ ¡Shut up, you bitch!” he yelled. She was dazed by his blow, and for a moment she couldn’t struggle. Taking advantage of the pause, Gordo pulled off her panties and stuffed them into her mouth, effectively gagging her. Her next attempt to scream produced only a muffled grunt. Satisfied that she couldn’t resist, he sat on her belly. She glared up at him with hate-filled eyes. “You nothing but a fucking maid, swee’heart. You ain’t got nobody to speak for you. Well, after tonight you gonna know what a real man can do.  ¿You need a little loosening up, maybe? I’ll help you, baby.” He hauled her upright, back to the car, where he reached into the back seat and retrieved a bottle of Flor de Caá±a high-proof Nicaraguan rum. He threw her back onto the ground. She tried to kick him in the groin, but he was too quick, and he was back on her before she could try anything else. Her arms ached from their position, tied and pinned under her, and she was afraid he’d hit her harder and injure her. “Baby, I gonna share a li’l liquid joy with you.” He took a swig of rum, then forced her mouth open, removed the gag, and poured a slug of raw rum down her throat. She swallowed some and inhaled some. The rum burned its way down her gullet. Choking and coughing, she stopped fighting while she tried to recover. Gordo waited, then poured more into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but he pinched her nose roughly, and she was forced to swallow. He waited again while the alcohol took effect. She felt giddy and tipsy very soon, and to ensure success her tormentor poured two more mouthfuls into her, and waited a little longer. “ ¿Got enough?” he asked. “ ¡You gonna enjoy anything I do now, baby!” He got off her, loosened his belt, and let down his pants. Freed, she tried to get up and run, but she was already too tipsy to do more than stagger. Gordo grinned with anticipation. He grabbed her and kissed her again, fondling her breast as he held her. Lust swept over her, and involuntarily her pelvis pressed against him. “Tha’s better, baby,” Gordo noted approvingly. “ ¡Now you behaving right!” He laid his coat over a patch of grass and pulled Pansy down onto it. Almost tenderly he untied her wrists and stroked her cheek. “ ¿See? I ain’t such a bad fellow after all.” He pulled up the skirt again and stroked her thighs. By now roaring drunk and with her passion aroused, Pansy moaned, and her struggle ceased. Her mind faded into a haze of desire, and her body responded enthusiastically.

Afterwards he helped her back to the car. Even in a drunken stupor, Pansy realized that she had been raped, and she wept quietly. Gordo warned her, “Baby, you don’ go running to no one about me. You just a lousy maid, and you already got one bastard. You got liquor on your breath. And I ain’t got a mark on me, so nobody ain’t going to believe you put up no fight. You go making a stink about this, you jus’ make yourself look like shit.  ¿You hear me, baby? Besides, you loved it. I could tell.  ¿Didn’t you?”

Pansy couldn’t answer through her sobs, but she nodded in agreement to his demand for silence. She was just sober enough to think, “Susana wouldn’t do a thing about this. She’d believe me, all right, but she’d just laugh, tell me I was getting what I deserved.” She sat and pulled her panties back on, then managed to stagger back to the car. She began to hiccup as she sat. When Gordo entered the other side, she pulled away from him. Laughing, he boasted, “You got laid by a real stud tonight, swee’heart. It’ll be even better next time.” She shrank farther from him.

When they returned to the finca, she had regained her composure, if not sobriety. Gordo took her to the rear of the house, and she managed to slip unsteadily inside. Carefully she made her way to her room. Josecito was asleep, but shortly after she arrived and slipped into her nightgown, Lilia awoke for her feeding, as she usually did. Pansy managed to feed her, then put her back to bed and crawled between the sheets. She still couldn’t think clearly, but she told herself Gordo was right. There was no point in telling anyone. She cried herself to sleep.
 
 
March 7
-- Pansy felt terrible when she awoke at dawn. The rum had given her a bad hangover. Her head pounded, her tongue felt hairy, and her mouth tasted like a three-day-dead skunk. Nevertheless, her duties drew her out of bed. Remembering the shattering events of the previous night, she felt filthy, and her shower helped not at all. In the mirror, she saw red swollen eyes and a bruised face. She tried to cover the damage with makeup, but the attempt was futile. Sighing, she returned to care for the babies, and then left for breakfast.

Marta’s eyes widened when she appeared, but she said nothing. Pansy helped her fix breakfast, and then served at the table. Susana noticed her appearance too, but let it pass, at least at first.

After breakfast Pansy was about to leave with the children to begin her laundry duties, but Susana stopped her and asked, “Pansita,  ¡you look terrible!  ¿What happened to you?”

Pansy cast her eyes down and tried to escape, replying, “Nothing, Seá±ora. Please, it was nothing. I got to do the laundry.” She began to hurry from the room.

In a stern voice Susana insisted: “Pansita, stop. What you have to do is answer truthfully.  ¿What happened?”

Unwillingly Pansy turned to face her mistress. “Please, Seá±ora, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It was Gordo,  ¿wasn’t it?”

Pansy burst into tears. “Yes… yes, Seá±ora. He… he attacked me last… last night.”

Susana sighed. “Pansita, I said I’d be glad to watch Seá±or Cualquiera try to deal with the problems of being female, but that doesn’t mean I’ll condone attacks on you. Exactly what did he do?” Pansy begged not to be made to talk about it, but Susana pressed her: “ ¿Did he rape you?”

Pansy nodded. “He forced me, Seá±ora. Then he told… he told me…” She broke down again.

“But of course there were no witnesses. It’s just your word against his.  ¿True?”

Regaining control, she nodded again. “He told me no one… no one would… believe me.”

“But I do believe you. I try to keep track of what’s what at Los Ocotes, and I know Gordo; I shouldn’t’ve sent you with him. I’m sorry, Pansita. I am sorry.” She looked away from her maid. “I did warn you about predatory men, but I really didn’t intend this–and truly, you’re not responsible for it, I am. I’ll see what I can do to help. I will promise it won’t happen again. Not with Gordo. I’ll tell Father about this. I don’t know what he’ll do, but he’ll make sure Gordo’s punished.” She stopped. “As you may know, he has a certain reputation for handing out appropriate penalties. That’s not much consolation right now, but it’ll have to do for the moment. Now go back to your work.” Pansy curtsied and left quickly.

Susana left for the store in La Libertad at 7:45. As she drove, she considered what Pansy had told her. She felt guilty about Pansy’s rape. She should have known that Gordo might attack her; it was common knowledge on the finca that he had bragged he’d have her in bed. Maybe subconsciously she had known, although she was ashamed to admit it. True, George Deon had behaved no better to his own maid. But he had paid his debt in full. There was no need to punish Pansy any further, not if she continued to behave acceptably. And Pansy was responsible for the care of Josecito and Lilia, both of whom were Susana’s children as well; she needed to feel secure, to be able to raise the children properly. Susana hadn’t made any long-term plans concerning Pansy or the children, being content simply to gloat over the sight of her former lover trapped in a woman’s body and forced to serve as her maid. It was past time to let George’s die, and plan for the future. Father had disavowed any more punishment for Pansy; Susana decided that she’d consult with him concerning Pansy’s future.

Pansy passed the day in a trance. She did her work efficiently but mechanically. Only her love for the two children kept her functioning at all. Marta guessed what had happened, but she also guessed that, for the moment at least, Pansy needed to be alone; she told herself that she’d have a word with Susana concerning the poor girl.

When Susana returned, she sent for Pansy. When she arrived, her face was drawn, and her eyes had a blank look. Susana asked her to be seated. “Pansita, I told you this morning that you’d have no more problems from Gordo. Tomorrow you’ll be checked in San Pedro, and then we’ll go to Don Pablo and see that Gordo’s taken care of.”

Pansy responded without emotion, “Thank you, Seá±ora.”

“Second, we need to discuss your future. As far as I’m concerned, Seá±or Cualquiera has paid his debt. I think he paid in full last January, when I put him into a girl’s body.” She smiled, recalling the look of disbelief and horror on his face when he discovered his breasts, and again when he begged to become her maid. “What’s left of him in your head is suffering enough just by knowing he’s got to take his own medicine as an old-fashioned traditional woman. I don’t hold his crimes against you–against Pansy Baca, I mean. What Seá±or Cualquiera did is irrelevant. You’re a different person, an innocent person, even if he’s there in your head. Now,  ¿do you love Lilia?  ¿And Josecito?”

A flicker of anger was visible in Pansy’s eyes, and some animation came back to her voice as she replied, “Yes, Seá±ora. I think you know I love them both.”

Susana nodded. “So do I. Josecito especially, but I love both. The burden of caring for them rests mostly on you, of course. I want them raised in a happy and loving household. That means I want you to be happy with your job. Seá±or Cualquiera can’t get back what he lost. You know that. But Pansy Baca can have a good life, if she can just ignore what’s left of him, and accept what life can offer her as a campesina. Yes, he’s unhappy there in your head, but he’s fading away.” She realized she hadn’t made her point and started over. “What I’m trying to say is, I want you–Pansy–to be happy, so I’ll have a satisfied maid.” She paused again, looked down at her hands, then looked at Pansy and resumed. “I need you. As a person in your own right, distinct from Seá±or Cualquiera, I respect you. I want to call a truce.  ¿Will you agree?”

Pansy laughed bitterly. “Seá±ora, a truce presumes that both parties got the ability to break the peace. I don’t. My agreement ain’t… isn’t necessary. For what it’s worth, you got it.”

“I’m aware of that, Pansy. My words are poorly chosen. OK: I declare a truce. I’m canceling all restrictions on you, other than what’s needed for the job. You can wear what you like, within reason. In particular, I won’t make you wear that uniform.”

“ ¿Does it really matter now, Seá±ora? You told me I’d be trapped in this body, that there wouldn’t be no way to escape being your maid forever.  ¿Does your ‘truce’ change that?”

Annoyed that her offer to Pansy hadn’t received the gratitude it deserved, Susana shot back, “At one time it seemed to matter to you. Yes, you’re trapped in that body.  ¿So? It’s a perfectly good body. If you’re complaining because it’s female, you won’t get much sympathy from me–and if you’re complaining because you’re just my campesina maid, you’ll get even less. It’s exactly what you–no, what what ‘Seá±or Cualquiera’–deserves. As for escaping your low status: yes, a truce might change it. You’re as free as any other campesina to better your life. If you’ve got the determination, you can escape. And if you don’t–well, you’re no worse off than most women. You haven’t earned any special treatment.”

“ ¿And my children?  ¿Who takes care of them while I study? No, Seá±ora, like you told me when you put me into this body, I can’t escape. I’m an unmarried campesina mother, and there… there isn’t much choice for me.”

“If you remember, I complained to Seá±or Cualquiera about exactly that. He told me Josecito was my problem. Well, I solved my problem; I got him a nurse. Now he’s yours. Lilia as well. Yes, they’re a problem. It’s up to you to solve it. You’re subject to all the restrictions imposed by your sex–as I intended. However, when you were a man–if you had been a man–you would’ve thought those restrictions were reasonable enough. So now you can deal with them.”

“I maybe got another problem. I was… I was raped last night, like I told you.  ¿What do I do if he got me pregnant?” She knew that the pill should have kept her safe, but she didn’t trust it. Her body wasn’t necessarily like those of other women. And besides, she didn’t want Susana to know she had been using contraceptives.

Susana got up and paced the room, and when she answered, sympathy had returned to her voice. “Now that’s different. It’s a legitimate problem. I don’t know, but I’ll help you with it, one way or another, since I feel partly responsible. First, you may not be pregnant. In fact, the odds are against it, since you’re still nursing. Tomorrow’s your day off. I can arrange for you to go in to the clinic to be tested. You may also want to speak with Don Pablo about Gordo, so you can stop there if you’d like.  ¿What do you want to do?” She sat in an old armchair and waited for Pansy’s reply.

Pansy’s face lost some of its haunted look. Maybe she wouldn’t have to bear Gordo’s bastard. “Yes, I want to be tested, by Doctor CantẠif possible. I trust her. And yes, I want to talk to Don Pablo. Thank… thank you, Seá±ora.” Another thought occurred. “Seá±ora, one more thing. Like you say, Seá±or Cualquiera’s dead and gone, but I still want to know his name.  ¿Will you tell me now?”

Several emotions chased each other across Susana’s face as she considered the request. Finally she smiled and told Pansy, “Yes, I think so. He was called Jack Pinkerton, before I put him into a woman’s body.” The statement wasn’t quite a lie. He had been called by that name, for a short time.

Pansy’s eyes sparkled, her problems forgotten in her excitement over the rediscovery of her true identity. She seemed to recognize the name. “ ¡Thank you!  ¡I knew it! I thought I found it, but I wasn’t sure.” Then her face fell. “ ¿But how do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“You don’t, of course. But it doesn’t matter. He’s dead, and you can’t go back.”

“ ¿What else can you tell me about him?–about his past, I mean.”

Susana shrugged. “Very little. I only knew him briefly. He told me a little about his family, but I’m afraid I don’t recall. He was a chemist, I know. And I think he graduated from some school in Boston. I think… yes, that’s right; it was MIT.”

Boston? Emaitá­? They meant nothing to Pansy. Chemist? What was that? She knew nothing about such matters. But she knew who she was! Or might have been? Maybe it really didn’t matter, as Seá±ora Arias insisted. Lilia began to cry, and Pansy excused herself. As she left Susana reminded her that Marta needed some help in the kitchen, too. Later, in her room, Susana marveled that one bit of information–now so utterly useless!–could give Pansy so much pleasure.
 
 
March 8
-- The two women left after breakfast the next morning. Susana stopped at the La Libertad store to tell the clerk she’d be gone for the day, and to give him instructions. Then they were off to San Pedro. Pansy’s short burst of euphoria had evaporated, and she was worried about pregnancy. Her feelings towards Gordo were unadulterated hatred and disgust. “Seá±or Pinkerton may have seduced women, but he didn’t rape them by force,” she told Susana. Susana didn’t remind her of his behavior towards his own maid, which hadn’t been much better. Don Pablo might remind her, but Susana was determined to bury the hatchet, as much as was possible.

The heat and humidity were already unpleasant when they arrived in the city, and the reek of diesel fumes filled the traffic-clogged streets. Pansy’s light yellow sundress made the weather bearable, but no more. She was glad she lived in the highlands. She thought of her former life in Atlanta, when Seá±or Pinkerton had complained about the climate. Here in Honduras it was always like summer in Atlanta, even during the cool season. She yearned for a touch of frost. The leaves wouldn’t even be out yet in Cambridge, she thought. And the flowering trees were preparing to bloom in Atlanta. The thought of Atlanta reminded her of Celia; she wondered what had become of her and their child. If only she had married Celia, she’d be rich now. And an American. And a husband. That existence seemed foreign now. What was it like, to be male? She tried to recall, but she couldn’t. To have balls and a prick? It was unimaginable. To want a woman? Sexual attraction had meaning only in terms of men; being attracted to a woman was alien to her. She watched Seá±ora Arias walking slightly ahead of her, and tried to think back to when she had first met her. Suzi’s slender waist, her breasts, her pretty face framed by long dark hair–those had all been sexually attractive. Now they meant nothing. Pansy saw the same in the mirror every morning. Now Beto… She smiled at the thought. He was attractive. Even if he was a sexist.

Her reverie was interrupted by their arrival at the clinic. For a wonder, there was no wait, and she was ushered to a small examining room. Doctor CantẠadministered the pregnancy test, as requested. The doctor told Pansy she was healthy. “ ¿Are you taking the pill?” she asked. Pansy told her she was. “It may be what saves you. Of course, I can’t be sure. You’re still nursing your child, it appears.  ¿True?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good. It’s healthier for both you and the infant.” She checked her records. “You told me your periods began again in January,  ¿true?”

“Yes, around the middle of January.” Her male persona had been horrified.

The doctor had been surprised, but given Pansy’s medical history, it wasn’t amazing that she should have her period while she was still nursing. It was possible even for normal women. “That’s unusual, but not unprecedented. You’d better consider yourself fertile, nursing or not. Now I think you planned to attend a literacy class.  ¿Has it begun yet?”

“Yes, a couple of days ago. But it seems completely unfamiliar. It ain’t like I was relearning material I forgot. The letters are foreign, like they was Greek or Hebrew. I studied hard, though, and I think I got the alphabet back again, mostly.”

“ ¡Good! There’s no reason you can’t learn to read again.” She thought for a moment. “I think I still have some of my own daughter’s primers that she used when she was learning to read.  ¿I can lend them to you if you like?”

“I can’t ask for more from you.  ¡Thank you, Doctor!” Pansy left the office with a lighter heart.

Susana was shopping, and Pansy had to wait half an hour. When she returned, they had lunch in Sanborn’s. It seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t recall when she had been there before. She didn’t mention it to Seá±ora Arias, but ordered a hamburger and a chocolate milkshake. Grinning, Susana commented, “I thought you’d like an American meal. It’s not what you’d get in Cambridge, but it’s passable. Now,  ¿what did the doctor say about the test?”

“Nothing definite yet. I got to wait. I was told I’m probably not pregnant, though.”

“Good. I admit, I want to see you pregnant again. I still do, but not that way.  ¿Does your doctor– ¿Doctor Cantáº, I think you said?” Pansy nodded. “ ¿Does he know your history?”

Pansy nodded again. “My doctor’s a woman, Isabel Cantáº. She didn’t at first. Now, yes.”

“I don’t know her. It doesn’t matter.”

They finished lunch quickly and headed to the parking lot. A shower caught them part way to the car, and they had to run awkwardly on high heels to reach it before they were drenched.

A heavy downpour slowed them at first, but as they dropped down into the Comayagua valley the rain slackened, and the gravel road to Las Rosas was dry. Roses were blooming in the courtyard when they arrived. The sight of them touched something in Pansy’s mind. She had seen them before? No, she had never been here before. Still, the sense of déjá  vu was overpowering. Susana knocked on the door, and Conchita let them in. “Good afternoon, Suzi, Pansita,” the stout maid greeted them. “I imagine you’re here to see Don Pablo. Wait a moment and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She returned in a few minutes. “He’s in the library. He’ll see you there.”

Susana told her, “Thank you, ’Chita. There’s no need to take us. I know the way.” As they walked through the house, Pansy felt an even stronger sense of familiarity, although she knew she had never been there. They arrived at the library, where the door was open. Susana rapped to announce their presence.

“ ¡Ah, Suzi!” the don exclaimed. He was dressed in a blue shirt and a string tie. Not a hair was out of place, and his mustache was neatly trimmed. “I am pleased to see you. And Pansita too. You both look well. I trust matters are going well at Los Ocotes; I know my coffee crop has done well. Sit down, please, both of you;  ¿what can I do for you?”

“Nothing directly for me, Father,” Susana told him. “But Pansita had a problem with one of the men at Los Ocotes, and I told her I’d speak to you about it. I think I told you she’s taking a literacy class at La Libertad twice a week now.”

Nodding, Don Pablo told her Ibarra had kept him informed. “He wants to know how difficult it will be for Pansy to recover her literacy. He discussed some technical points, but I did not follow the details. I did understand that it would not be easy, but that it might be possible if she was determined enough.  ¿Does that have something to do with her problem?”

Susana looked over to her maid. “Yes, it does. Pansita, you tell him.”

Pansy reddened. She knew her ordeal was too much like crude justice for Seá±or Cualquiera’s sins. It seemed best to simply state the facts. “Seá±or, I was… I was raped by the driver returning me from class. He told me nobody would listen to me. I was just a maid with no one to protect me, he said, and I should just lie back and… and enjoy it.”

Don Pablo leaned back in his chair and stroked his mustache unconsciously. He almost told her she deserved it, but he knew it wasn’t true. George Deon might have deserved it; but he was gone, or near enough, and his punishment was finished. In justice Pansy shouldn’t be made to suffer any more for his sins. But had she led the man on? Was she telling the truth now? He sat forward again and requested, “Tell me in detail what happened.”

She explained how she had fought, and how he had forced rum into her and got her too drunk to resist. “He tried to get me into bed with him before then, but I wouldn’t have anything to do with him. And when he finished with me he threatened to do it again.”

“ ¿Would you tell the story under drugs? I warn you, you would tell exactly what happened, with no evasions or excuses.”

Pansy replied with distaste, “Yes, but I don’t want to. The story would be the same. You might ask Seá±or Echeverrá­a the same question.”

“I might do that.” He rang the bell and Conchita appeared. “’Chita, I need to talk to Suzi alone. Please take Pansy to the living room.” To Pansy he promised, “I will do what I can. I think you will not need to worry about further attacks, or not from Gordo, in any case.”

Pansy left. Don Pablo apologized to Susana: “I forget my hospitality, Suzi.  ¿Would you like some coffee, dear?”

“Thank you, no. If you have some orange juice, I’d appreciate a glass.”

He rang for Conchita, and ordered the juice. Then he turned back to Susana and asked, “ ¿Is Pansy telling the truth, do you think?”

“I think so. This Seá±or Echeverrá­a has a reputation. Nothing’s ever been proven, but I think she is telling the truth. He boasted that he’d have her in bed with him–I heard this on the grapevine–but she refused him.”

He stroked his mustache absently. “If I knew for certain, I could ensure that he would never attack a woman again. Your George Deon might have deserved such treatment, but Pansy did not. But you say he has a reputation. Tell me more.”

Susana sat back in a comfortable chair. Over the next ten minutes she told the don about the man, his background, his reputation. “He’s quite a lady’s man,” she finished. “He thinks he’s irresistible.”

Shaking his head, Don Pablo noted with regret, “That sounds more than a little like the late unlamented Seá±or Deon–but with less charm and more violence. However, I will get Gordo’s side of the story before I make my decision.  ¿I assume you have no objection if my men pick him up?”

“No, not at all. If he’s guilty and he’s not punished, he’ll continue to misbehave.”

With a course of action decided, Don Pablo turned to other matters. “ ¿Pansy is still performing as you wish?”

Conchita returned with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and handed it to Susana, who thanked her and sipped the cold juice. A satisfied smile settled on her face. “ ¿Pansita as a maid? Better than I ever could’ve hoped. She’s a treasure. Between her new body and the conditioning that Ibá¡á±ez forced on her mind, she’s a wonderful maid. I don’t think she realizes just how different she is from Jack Pinkerton.”

“ ¿Jack Pinkerton?”

“Oh, yes.  ¿Do you remember when Ibarra took Pansita back in time two years and arranged for me to change George to a girl on the spot?  ¿On New Year’s Day, just as Pansita’s two years of captivity ended?”

“Ah, yes. I understand the charade succeeded admirably.”

She broke into giggles. “Oh,  ¡it was perfect!  ¡‘He’ accepted the whole thing at face value! For a couple of days she really believed I changed Seá±or Cualquiera to a campesina then and there, and even now she doesn’t know how he was changed. She forgot the whole slow process that made her what she is. Anyway, Ibarra told him he was Jack Pinkerton then, and I went along with it. Ibarra made him forget it again, but last week I told Pansy that was who she’d been. She had that name, of course; it just wasn’t her original name. You know how badly Pansita wanted to know the old name of Seá±or Cualquiera. Now she’s convinced she knows it.”

He frowned. “I am not certain I approve, Suzi.” Then he shrugged, commenting wryly, “I suppose it does no harm. And I would guess she is happier.”

“She is, no question about it.”

“I will see that ‘Jack Pinkerton’ replaces George Deon in the minds of those who knew him. Another matter: I am told Pansy is seeing a man in La Libertad.  ¿Beto Sáºlivan, I believe?”

Susana told him what she knew about their relationship. “I suspect Beto’s leading her on. I know the man, and I’m sure he has no intention of marrying her. I told her that, but she wouldn’t listen. I think sooner or later he’ll seduce her and drop her. Maybe she’s taking precautions, maybe not.” Ruefully she recalled her own experience. “I’m afraid Pansita’s in the same position I was in. I took precautions too. But I could be wrong.”

Don Pablo permitted himself a slight smile. “Poetic justice, if you are right. If Pansy becomes pregnant now, of her own accord, she will lay herself open to more difficulties.”

“Yes, very certainly.  ¿Anything else?”

“No, I think not. Please send Pansy back in, if you will.” When Pansy returned, the don asked her to sit. He offered her a cup of coffee from an urn at his elbow, and she accepted. He told her, “I think you are telling the truth, although I must investigate further. If you are pregnant, you must carry the child, but I will see that you do not suffer in any other way, and the child will be taken care of.” Pansy began to speak, but he wouldn’t let her interrupt. “If you were pregnant through your own fault, I would take other measures, but that need not concern you if you behave properly.” Pansy blessed Isabel CantẠfor her advice; without those little pills she might be discovering the nature of those other measures. “Of course, if you were to lie to me, I would see that you were punished severely. I think you know that, and I believe you. Now then, assuming you are truthful,  ¿what might you propose that I do about Seá±or Echeverrá­a?”

Pansy was tempted to suggest that he might lose his manhood, but she wasn’t certain that it was the best possible penalty. “I don’t know, Seá±or. I want him punished, but I don’t know what would be proper. I do know I’m afraid he’ll try to take me again.”

“You realize, I suppose, that you received only what Seá±or Cualquiera gave his own maid.” He frowned at himself; she was Pansy Baca, not George Deon. “No matter. He is already punished for that, trapped in your head. I do not hold it against you, and it has no bearing on the behavior of Seá±or Echeverrá­a.  ¿Perhaps he should follow Seá±or Cualquiera?”

Pansy set down her cup and shut her eyes in pain. “No. No one deserves that.” Then an implication of his words struck her: he had to be the one responsible for the punishment of Seá±or Cualquiera.

“ ¿Do you forgive him then?” He was oblivious of the effect his words had had on her.

Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists in her lap. Scowling, she replied, “No, I don’t forgive him.” Or you, Seá±or, she added silently. “And even if I did, I don’t want to have to worry about the next time.”

“ ¿What about simple castration?  ¿Would that be suitable?”

“With respect, Seá±or, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Don Pablo leaned forward over his desk. “Pansy, I do not know yet what I will do, but I am responsible for maintaining order in this region, and I cannot let let this go. I will see that he is punished, and that you will not be attacked again.”

“Thank you, Seá±or. There’s another thing: I want to regain some of what I lost. When I learn to read and write, and get back some science and math, I want to teach.  ¿Will you help me?”

“‘Regain’? You are Pansy Baca, not Seá±or Cualquiera. He had an education, not you, and I think I am hearing him speak through you. But yes, if you acquire an education, so that you are competent to teach, I will help. But your daughter must come first.” He smiled. “Susana told me about your Seá±or Cualquiera, Pansy. I think his fate has been just. He was not an evil man, but he was a bad man, if I may draw that distinction. He was morally weak and utterly self-centered, and left to himself he would have created more disasters. I personally believe he would have found retribution soon, even if he had not run afoul of Suzi. Pansy Baca is a better person. I suspect some weakness is still there, and you may yet find yourself in trouble. In particular, be careful with men in general and Beto Sáºlivan in particular. You of all women ought to know how men can take advantage of a girl.” She reddened and began to protest, but he cut her off. “I do not accuse you of anything. My reports of you are for the most part favorable, and you seem to be an asset to society. Maybe you will even learn to accept your nature and find happiness. Most women are content with their condition in life, you know. You might as well find satisfaction living as a woman; the alternative is to remain unsatisfied …still living as a woman. But that is your business. The choice is yours, and only yours.”

Pansy had already come to a similar conclusion, but she resented being given advice by this fatuous old tyrant. He had never had to accept the loss of his sex–not to mention the rest of his identity. Could Don Pablo follow his own advice and found happiness, if he were forced to be a maid? But fighting with him was pointless, and perilous, so she simply thanked him for his help. “I’ll try, Seá±or. Thank you for helping with my problem.”

He rang, and Conchita responded. “Pansy and I are finished. I think Susana is waiting for her. Take her back to my daughter, please, and then, if you will, make me some more coffee. This is beginning to get cold.”

Susana was ready, and they left for home. They spoke little until they had almost reached La Libertad, when Pansy asked, “Seá±ora,  ¿what do you think your father will do about Gordo?”

“I don’t know. Trust him, though; you won’t be bothered again. I’d guess you’ll see very little of Gordo. He’ll avoid you. If he did repeat, he’d be lucky if he escaped with anything left of his manhood. Don Pablo will make sure he knows that, and I think I know Gordo. He won’t risk it.”

It was almost 4:30 when they reached the town square. Susana mentioned to Pansy that her literacy class met that evening. “If you like, I’ll drop you off here. You can eat in the little restaurant here, and then I’ll send someone–not Gordo–to pick you up a little past 8 o’clock.” Pansy accepted the offer, and Susana gave her a little cash as an advance on her salary, to get herself a decent meal.

Not very hungry, Pansy decided to wait a while before having supper. She sat down on a bench in the plaza, in the shade of an enormous fig tree. The late afternoon heat was stifling, even in her light dress. For a few minutes she idly watched the grackles and mentally cursed Gordo Echeverrá­a. Then she remembered Beto. She had nearly two hours to kill, so she walked from the plaza towards his office. Fortunately it was nearby, and she reached her destination before the heels destroyed her feet entirely. She recognized the Celica parked outside, and knew Beto was still there. A young man answered her ring. She told him who she was and asked if Beto was free to see her. He disappeared into the next room, and Beto emerged with a broad smile.

He seized her hand, lifted it, and kissed it, exclaiming with delight, “ ¡Pansita!  ¿To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” He hid his surprise that a woman would be so forward as to come to his office on a social visit. Pansy might have spent a few years in the U.S., but she had been raised mostly in Honduras, and she should have known better. She just wasn’t proper. Well, that wasn’t important. He didn’t intend to marry the girl, just dally with her a bit. And she was well suited for dalliance. He had seldom found such a delightful combination of naíveté and sensuality. Her family seemed not to have given her any sense of caution where men were concerned, and with her smoldering sexuality she needed that caution.

At first Pansy resisted the urge to embrace him, but then gave in and hugged him close. “It’s my day off, and I had business in La Libertad, so I just thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

“I’m ready to close for the afternoon.  ¿Have you eaten? I’d like to have you for supper, although ’Mena’s not making anything special.”

“Thank you, I accept gratefully. And I’d accept a cup of coffee too.” She paused, then added, “As long as you can get me back to the plaza before 7 o’clock.”

“ ¡Excellent! Yes, I’ll see that you’re back in time for whatever. I’ll close up now, and we can head over to the house.” He called to his employee, “ ¡José! I’m calling it a day. Lock it up when you’re done.” José agreed.

Beto unlocked his car and helped Pansy into the front seat, then slid in next to her. “ ¿How late can you stay? We can make an evening of it, if you’re willing.”

Pansy was tempted, but she knew it wasn’t possible. “I’d love to, but like I said, I can’t. I got an appointment at 7 o’clock, and I’ll be met at the plaza at 8 o’clock. Another time, thank you; I enjoy your company.”

Her host drove the short distance to his house, pulled into the driveway, and rushed to the passenger door to help Pansy out. She took his arm and they walked up the drive. Once inside, Beto called to Filomena, telling her to set a second place. “I’ve been graced by the presence of Pansita Baca for dinner. We have enough,  ¿don’t we?”

’Mena’s voice called back, “Yes, if you don’t make a hog of yourself, Seá±or. There’s nothing fancy for supper, though–just chicken and rice.”

“ ¿That’s OK with you, Pansita?”

“Yes, of course.”

He nodded and told Filomena, “Please, bring us two cups of coffee while we wait.” He led Pansy into the living room while Filomena set the table, and they sat. Unconsciously Pansy arranged her hair, tucking stray tendrils of her flowing tresses behind her ear, then leaned forward. “ ¿How is your coffee business doing, Beto?”

Beto could see the tops of her breasts, and he felt his interest quicken. He realized he had missed her question, and he wondered how she expected him to listen to what she said when she distracted him like that. Then he laughed inwardly. She was a complete innocent, and apparently had no idea how seductive she was. She acted as if she had never learned the possible consequences of carelessness. Smiling, he also leaned forward as though to hear better, telling her, “I’m sorry, Pansita, I didn’t hear you. I was thinking of something else.” Not incidentally, his view of her cleavage was improved.

A trifle annoyed that he hadn’t paid attention to her, Pansy repeated, “I said,  ¿how’s your business doing?” ‘Mena brought coffee, and for the next ten minutes Beto humored Pansy, discussing inconsequential matters. When ‘Mena called, “Supper’s on the table.  ¡Eat it before it’s cold!”, they headed to the dining room and sat down. Beto inquired about matters at Los Ocotes, and Pansy answered as best she could. Unfortunately for the conversation, her duties kept her mostly with Lilia and Josecito, and any extra time was taken up with laundry, sewing, and other household chores. She apologized for her ignorance, but Beto told her not to concern herself. “I can’t expect you to keep up with finca business. That’s a man’s concern.” She bit her tongue, reminding herself that Seá±or Cualquiera–Pinkerton?–would’ve said the same thing, and that arguing with Beto wasn’t in her interest. Still, it galled that he’d think her capable only of “women’s work”. She was a full adult, not a child or a halfwit.

After supper Filomena busied herself with cleaning off the table. Beto and Pansy retired to the living room, and Beto shut the door. “’Mena won’t disturb us here, Pansita. Now, sit down.  ¿Can I get you an after-dinner drink?”

She recalled the result the last time he gave her a drink, and declined with a laugh. “Thank you, Beto, not this time.” She wanted badly to go to him. Looking at him, she remembered with longing how much pleasure he’d given her on her last visit, almost three weeks ago, but she forced herself to fight her libido, which pushed her towards sex with him. Underneath her reluctance, though, was her realization that there wasn’t anything else in the world that approached the pleasure that she had had in bed with Beto.

Beto observed her, and although he couldn’t tell what she was thinking, it was apparent to him that she wanted him. A smile flitted across his face; he was sure he could seduce her now, but it might be better to wait for a more convenient moment. If he played her right, maybe he could persuade her to become his maid. And mistress. “Fine, Pansita. Tell me, then,  ¿how is your baby doing?”

For the rest of her visit they chatted about innocuous matters, and at quarter to seven Pansy reminded Beto that she had to be at a meeting at the church at 7 o’clock. “Of course, corazá³n,” he agreed cheerfully. “I’ll take you back now. But first,  ¿when can I see you again?  ¿How about next Thursday? Your day off,  ¿right?” She nodded. “I’ll arrange to take the day off myself. I have a place on the river where we can go swimming, if you’d like. And I’d be happy if you brought Lilita along.  ¿May I pick you up at 9 o’clock?” Pansy agreed readily. He took her out to the car, and drove her back to the plaza, where he gave her a long and passionate kiss that left her weak and quivering with desire. After he left she took a deep breath and regained control of herself, suppressing her yearning for more intimacy. Cursing her weakness, and the bastards who had inflicted it on her, she turned towards the church and headed for her class.

Back at Los Ocotes that night, Marta asked her how the day had gone. “Well enough,” Pansy replied, not letting her mixed feelings show. “I was with Susana this morning, over to her father’s. Then I saw Beto Sáºlivan again this evening. You’re right about him, by the way.” She smiled wryly, and admitted, “As I told you the last time I saw him, I agree with you. He’s not too pushy–but he’s not quite trustworthy. I like him, though.  ¿How were the babies?”

“Well, Josecito was a nuisance, as usual, but he was his usual delightful self otherwise. He’s a charmer, that one. I’ll warn you, Pansita: pretty soon he’s going to learn to say ‘no’, and your life’s going to get a lot more difficult. Lilita, now, she’ll remain a darling a little longer. Anyway, neither of them were a problem today.”

“Thank you, Marta.  ¡Many thanks! With your permission, I’ll check them now.” Leaving Marta in the kitchen, she quietly entered the bedroom. Josecito, sound asleep, looked cherubic, curled up with his thumb in his mouth, and Lilia likewise. She almost forgave Don Pablo and his sadistic doctors, looking at her baby lying there. She left them undisturbed–Lilia’d be insisting on being fed soon–and returned to assist Marta before retiring.

It had been an eventful day. The matter of Gordo had been taken care of, or it would be. Her fear of pregnancy was lessened by Doctor CantẒs assurances. And most important, she knew who she really was. Maybe it made no practical difference–after all, as Seá±ora Arias had pointed out, she was now and would remain Pansy Baca, an illiterate peasant girl, whoever she had been–but somehow she still cared.

“ ¿What should I tell Petunia?” she wondered as she lay in bed that night. After worrying about it for a while, she finally decided not to tell her anything. “I’ll never be who…  ¿who I was?  ¿who I might have been? I still love her, and I can still be her sister. In fact, I am her sister,” she rationalized. “Maybe I wasn’t born her sister– ¿or maybe I was?–but I certainly am now. It’d just make her unhappy if I denied it. And there ain’t no reason for that.”
 
 
March 9
-- Gordo Echeverrá­a straightened. His back ached from moving rocks. Sweat ran down his face, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He had never known another climate, and the heat and humidity of a normal Honduran morning was accepted unthinkingly. The work was hard, but that was to be expected. He was a man, and he did a man’s work. He took pride in working hard. Yes, he ran around with loose women sometimes, but that’s the way a man is made. All the nonsense about staying faithful to one woman was just that: nonsense. If and when he married, he’d give his wife and children the security and support they deserved, but he couldn’t be expected to ignore every other woman. There were so many slutty women who tempted him to a moment’s pleasure. The bitches’d tease a man, then try to refuse him the pleasure they owed. He, at least, wouldn’t stand for it. “After all, that’s what a woman’s for,” he told himself, thinking of that trollop Pansy he had taken recently. “It’d be unnatural for a man–a real man–to stay away from them.” He knew that women didn’t seem to understand that, of course–for some reason, women couldn’t seem to grasp the real nature of a man–so he had tried to keep his womanizing secret from each temporary girlfriend.

He was about to resume his labor when Hector Trujillo called him. “ ¡Gordo!  ¡Come over here!” He wiped his brow again with a dirty cloth and walked over the recently-cleared field to Hector. His boss told him, “There’s a car here from Las Rosas. Seá±or Arias told me this morning that Don Pablo’d be wanting a word with you. Better get back to the casa. It’s not a good idea to keep Pablo Herrera waiting.”

Ninety minutes later Gordo was ushered into the don’s sanctum. He was extremely nervous, as he had not been told why he had been summoned. The don was sitting in his customary armchair when his guest arrived, and invited him to take a seat. “Seá±or Echeverrá­a, I am sorry that I needed to request a talk with you, but it was necessary. You see, I am told you attacked a young woman a short time ago. Her name is Pansy Baca, and she works as a maid for my daughter.  ¿Is it true that you attacked her?”

Gordo was frightened. This soft-spoken and polite man had a reputation for dealing harshly with any who crossed him, or who needed punishment. Squirming, he thought, “ ¡That fucking bitch ratted on me!” He tried to bluster his way out. “No, Seá±or, the woman is lying.  ¡Lying, I tell you!  ¡On my honor! She got herself drunk and tried to get me to fuck her.” Jittery, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

His inquisitor offered him a cup of coffee, and Gordo gratefully accepted. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. Don Pablo sympathized with his difficulties, telling him, “I know how such women can be, Seá±or. Shameless, simply shameless. Of course, I have an infallible way to determine the truth of the matter.” He took a sip of his own coffee. “You say she tried to seduce you.  ¿Did she succeed?”

Gordo’s nervousness grew. Could this man really tell if he lied? Uncertain, he decided to admit some fault. After all, if the bitch got pregnant, they might be able to tell if he was the father. “Yes.” He wiped his forehead again. “I’m sorry now, Seá±or. I admit, I was a little drunk too. I knew I should of told her to fuck off. But I’m just a man. The slut’s a sexy little piece, and I ain’t going to turn down a piece of ass like that. Any real man would of done the same.”

Don Pablo nodded. “I am glad you told the truth, Seá±or. Pansy went to the clinic shortly after, you see, and the doctor tells me she had been with a man. And I believe you when you tell me she had been drinking. One of the other staff saw her stagger in, and she was badly hung over the morning after the incident.” Gordo began to breathe more easily. “Still, she did accuse you. I know women like that can lie with a straight face. Assuming she is lying, I would have to punish her.  ¿Do you think she deserves a severe penalty?”

With a smirk, Gordo told Don Pablo that she deserved anything she got. “Accuzhing an innoshent man can hurt a guy’sh reputation bad. You got to make sure nobody ain’t going to do that.”

“ ¿What do you think would be right, Seá±or?  ¿Should I shame her in public?  ¿Let everyone know what she did?” He paused, considering how to phrase his remarks. “I should tell you, I have not yet decided her guilt. But if she did accuse you falsely…” He let the sentence trail off.

“The woman’sh a… a damn puta. She got one bashtard already, and ever’one knows she getting it off wit’ that coffee guy in town.” He thought about the don’s suggestion. “ ¿Shame her in pu’lic? Ain’t hardly ’nough. Might be a shtart, though. Hey, she got nice titsh… nice tits. Maybe you… you could parade her, like, naked. Or not naked, but… but gushied up like a… a real whore. Put her in shome ou’fit that showsh her off.” He grinned stupidly, pleased with himself. “Then maybe you cut off a… cut off a boob… Hey, wha’sh wrong… wrong with… I feel…  ¿Wha’ you…” He tried to rise, but his legs gave out, and he passed out over the table.

Don Pablo rang the bell for Jaime and told him to give the unconscious man the shot Ibarra had provided. “He promised that the coffee would make our Seá±or Echeverrá­a sleep for ten to fifteen minutes, and that this shot would make him truthful. We will see how well it works.”

Jaime administered the injection. Gordo snored on the table for twenty minutes, and Don Pablo was becoming impatient, when the subject finally stirred. He raised his head and stared blankly. Don Pablo asked him, “ ¿Are you awake, Seá±or?  ¿Do you hear me?”

Gordo replied dazedly, “I’m awake. I h… hear you.”

Smiling with satisfaction, Don Pablo told Gordo to sit back and relax. “I will ask you some questions. You will answer truthfully.  ¿Do you understand?” He turned on a tape recorder.

“I understand.”

“ ¿Did Pansy try to seduce you when you took her back to Los Ocotes?”

Gordo shook his head slightly and stuttered. “N…n… no.”

“ ¿Did you force her?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me in your own words what happened that night.”

“I tried… I tried to get Pansita to fuck wit’… wit’ me, but she wouldn’t. She fought me. I g…g…grabbed her and tied her handsh behind her. Then I… I put her on the ground and sat on her. I poured ru…rum into her mouth and made her swallow it ’til she wash too drunk to fight me. Then I fucked her. She liked it, she told me. Then I took her home.”

“Seá±or,  ¿have you forced other women to have sex with you?”

“Yesh.”

“ ¿How many?  ¿Who were they?”

“I don’ know. Maybe five… No, sheven. There wash Mará­a in… in La Libertad, and Elena Vá¡shquezh in Choluteca, and… and the other Mará­a, in Shan Pedro. Juanita Moronesh in Talanga. Ana Mará­a in… in San Pedro. Doloresh in… in… I don’ ‘member. And… and Pilarshita. Pilarshita Torresh, in… in El Progresho.”

Don Pablo frowned. The man was an animal. He was grateful that Pansy had told him. Something needed to be done. But what? He’d need to consider the punishment carefully. Certainly the man would be punished, but the punishment should forward his research goals. A vague idea suggested itself to him, but he should think about it for a while. No problem; Seá±or Echeverrá­a wouldn’t be going anywhere soon. He turned his attention back to his guest, who waited patiently, and told him, “Seá±or, thank you. You are tired, now, I understand. You need to sleep. I can help you; come with me.” Gordo followed him to a couch, where he was told to lie down. “Lie here, Seá±or. Rest for a while. You will feel good when you wake up, and you will not remember our talk. Already you forget what you told me.” The man obediently lay down on the couch, and soon he slept.

When he woke in half an hour, the effect of the drug had worn off. Don Pablo told him he had passed out. “I was worried about you, Seá±or.  ¿Do you wish to see a doctor?”

Gordo was slightly groggy at first, but other than that he felt very good. “No… no thank you, Seá±or. I don’… don’t need none, I’ll be OK.” He quickly became alert.

“Good. Now, we were discussing Pansy and her accusation of rape.”

“ ¡That damn whore!  ¡She’s a liar!”

“I have had to punish her before, Seá±or, and I know she is not a virgin. I cannot allow this incident to pass without any retribution. Before you passed out, you were giving me your opinion.  ¿What should be a fitting punishment for one who is a sexual wanton, and a liar as well? You seemed to think that a public humiliation might fit the crime.”

A vague image came to Gordo: he saw Pansy forced to parade naked, wearing a sign declaring “I am a whore.” He grinned. “ ¡Yeah!  ¡That’d teach the bitch a lesson!  ¡I’d do more than that, but that’d be great!” In the back of his mind was the hope that after her humiliation she’d accept his advances, rather than risk more punishment.

“I think you may be right, Seá±or.” Don Pablo offered Gordo a cup of coffee. “Since you are directly involved, I will give you the privilege of suggesting what the nature of that humiliation might be. Think carefully–and please remember, the offender will need to live with this afterwards. We must strike a balance between justice and mercy.”

Now completely recovered, Gordo smirked and noted, “The punishment got to be bad enough to stop her or anyone else from doing it again. And besides, she didn’t have no mercy when she lied about me.”

Don Pablo nodded seriously. “Yes, that is correct. Deterrence is important, and justice. Well,  ¿what do you think?”

Gordo scratched his long hair and thought. A slow smile crossed his unshaven face. “ ¿How about you make her walk across the finca naked? That’d show her she couldn’t act like a slut.”

The don shook his head. “No, Seá±or, I cannot approve of that. I am afraid that would reflect more on me than on her. Something like that, perhaps–but I would lose my people’s respect if I did that.”

“Well then,  ¿how about this? You could maybe make her wear a whore’s costume in public–like, maybe a tight dress with a little tiny skirt. And high heels and black net stockings. Or maybe a sexy red nightgown. Something indecent, like she really is. Something that shows her body off.” He licked his thick lips. “Just so everybody gets the idea, make her carry a sign that says ‘I am a whore’.”

This time Don Pablo nodded. “That sounds reasonable.  ¿And what else?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He gestured vaguely, then brightened. “Maybe cut off her boobs.”

In his armchair, Don Pablo leaned forward and frowned. “But she has a baby.  ¿Don’t you think her child might need those breasts?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, maybe take one. The little bastard can still use the other one.” He leaned back and grinned. “If she misbehaves again, then we’ll take the other one.”

Don Pablo smiled wolfishly, his teeth gleaming between thin lips. “I think justice will be done, Seá±or. I will contact you when I am ready to proceed.”

After Gordo left, Don Pablo called Jaime. “Find these women,” he ordered, handing him a list. “At least one or two of them should be in this area. If you succeed, ask if they would be interested in knowing how Gordo Echeverrá­a will be punished. Also, call Doctor Herná¡ndez at the clinic and ask him to contact me; I need to make arrangements.”
 
 
March 12
-- As the eastern sky brightened on Monday morning, Pansy arose to assist with breakfast. The babies were still asleep, and she showered quickly. This morning she felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. Before she finished dressing, she was struck by an attack of diarrhea. Others at the finca had been struck in the same way over the previous weeks, and she realized it was her turn. Coping as best she could, she was out with Marta at her usual time in spite of her problems. Marta noticed her pale face, and remarked, “You look a bit ill, Pansita.”

“I feel terrible,” Pansy replied, and told Marta her symptoms. “I been pretty lucky until now, but I guess the law of averages caught up with me. I hoped I’d escape.”

“Oh, I think you’ll survive. ’Lina had the same thing last week. It’s some sort of bacterial thing. Luckily it’s not serious, but if you let it go, it’ll keep you miserable for a couple of weeks.”

“ ¿If I let it go?  ¿And what if I don’t?”

Marta grinned cheerfully. “That’s the good thing about this particular bug. It’s nasty, but it’s sensitive and delicate. A good dose of antibiotics, and you’ll be back to normal in a couple of days. We got a good supply here on the finca; Seá±ora Arias laid it in after the first few cases. You’ll need to take it for a few days.”

Just then Lilia woke up and began crying for her next meal. Pansy grimaced and told Marta, “I’m being called.”

“I know, I know. I’ll tell you what: you take care of her now, and while you’re busy, I’ll run down some of the miracle cure for you. We’ll knock it out before it’s properly started.”

A thought occurred to Pansy, and she became worried. “Marta,  ¿what about the babies?  ¿Will they catch this?”

“They might–some of the children here have caught it–but don’t worry too much. They’re sick and miserable for a few days, then they recover. And Josecito and Lilita are both basically in good health. If they come down with it, it’ll just be a nuisance–although it’ll be no fun at all.” Lilia’s crying became more insistent, and Pansy apologized and hurried back to take care of the infant.

When she returned ten minutes later, Marta turned from her breakfast preparations and handed her a vial of pink pills, warning her, “Now remember, you got to take one pill at breakfast and one at supper, for two weeks. That’s what Seá±ora Arias says the doctor said. Even if you feel OK, once you start, you got to continue for the entire two weeks.”

Pansy looked at the vial. A label identified the contents, and probably gave directions, but of course it might as well have been in Hindi. She almost cried with frustration, but consoled herself with the thought that she’d be able to read again soon. Surely, having been able to read in the past, she’d pick it up again quickly! She took a pill, then returned to helping Marta.
 
 
March 14
-- In Highland Park, Illinois, Andy Giannetti gazed out his office window at a late winter sleet storm. It’d be hell getting home tonight, he thought. At least a lot of men would be looking for a hot cup of coffee, and that was good for business. He remembered the business trip he’d taken to Honduras a year ago, when Pablo Herrera had wined him and dined him. And then his son, José, had taken him to that island Paradise, complete with an angel. He dug out last year’s appointment book and checked the date. Yes, exactly one year ago he had arrived on Golondrinas. On an impulse he chucked his work in the drawer, picked up his coat, and left. The weather warranted an early departure, he told himself.

In his apartment, he dug out the color prints he had taken on that trip, and the souvenirs he had collected. Among them he noticed a small pile of letters. Puzzled, he checked them. There was no postage on them, and they were addressed to several different states, and one address in Honduras. Then he remembered: he had promised to mail these letters for that girl José Herrera had provided him, and he’d forgotten them completely. He recalled the nights he’d spent with her; she’d been a wonderful little whore! An odd girl, but full of enthusiasm in the sack. Well, he owed her. Better late than never, he thought, as he dug out stamps for the letters. Besides, he thought as he prepared to mail them, it’d be best to dump them. No telling what Marge would make of them.
 
 
March 16
-- At 8 o’clock Pansy put down her washcloth and told Marta, “I think I’d better get ready for Beto. He’s supposed to be here in an hour.”

Smiling, Marta thanked her for her help. “Don’t worry about Josecito. I can handle him easily, especially with Lilita gone. Just take care with Beto, and have a good time.”

Pansy intended to have a good time. She eagerly awaited the moment when she’d be in his strong arms, feeling his lips against hers. The thought of him made her body respond, and she blessed the little white pills that kept her safe. As she thought of pills, she remembered her antibiotics. The symptoms of her malady, whatever it was, were almost entirely gone–they had been knocked down quickly by the antibiotic–but she was under strict orders to take the pills until they were gone. Eleven more days. With resignation she took the antibiotic, then the contraceptive. That done, she returned to the happier chore of making herself attractive for Beto. She still felt some resentment as she carefully added a minimum of makeup. Only ten weeks earlier, Susana had told her she’d be doing this. “I gave you a body that’ll need a man. You’ll get to like it, and you’ll want a man as much as you ever wanted a woman.” And before that, Seá±or Pinkerton had taunted Susana, “You’re built to please a man, to persuade him to give you a child. You’re just a baby machine.” She told herself stubbornly, “ ¿So what? It’s not any different from when I was a man, and wanted a woman. And when I marry, I’ll keep my independence, and my right to a professional career.  ¡I won’t be an obedient little peasant girl!  ¡I’ll do what I want!” An echo came from somewhere–she couldn’t recall who had said it: “Yes, but ‘what you want’ will be to find a husband and to please him in every way. You’ll be some man’s play-pretty.” Some of it had turned out to be true–she couldn’t deny it–but it was a half-truth. She was more than that, and as Beto’s wife she’d be a partner, not just a toy or a servant. She had a head, and it was good for more than holding ears apart. A girl didn’t need to be just a servant and a sex object, in spite of Seá±or Pinkerton’s opinions. How could that man ever have been so wrongheaded?

It was time for final preparations. Lilia had been fed and cleaned. She was sleeping now, and with luck she’d sleep for much of the day. Pansy chose a sleeveless red top with a ruffled neckline. It wasn’t too tight, but it set off her figure nicely. Likewise, the neckline wasn’t indecent, but it wasn’t quite demure either. He’d know she was a woman, and a woman with a figure to be proud of. The mid-length pleated red skirt, which she had embroidered with white roses, was also nicely molded to her hips and waist. She brushed her hair out and left it flowing loosely over her shoulders, held back by a pair of crimson barrettes. A subtle touch of perfume, and she was ready. Beto should be overcome by her sex appeal.

Beto arrived at 9:15. He complimented Pansy extravagantly on her appearance, and she blushed with delight. He insisted on carrying Lilia to the car in her crib, and they left down the rutted lane towards Ojos de Agua.

At the village Beto turned north on a dirt track parallel to the Humuya River. Within half an hour they reached a small whitewashed cottage in a meadow overlooking the river. The spot was idyllic. A grove of enormous guanacaste trees shaded the cottage, from which a path led down to a small sandy beach. Upstream a series of crystalline rapids swirled around sharply etched limestone boulders below a chalk-white cliff. Cactus and agave clung to the dry sunlit crag, and a delicate trailing vine with tiny fuchsia blossoms clambered over the brightly lit rock. Below the rapids was a deep pool of clear water, partly shaded by overarching fig trees; a few dead leaves swirled slowly in a surface eddy. A tiny gem-brilliant green kingfisher darted downstream as they got out of the car, and a flock of small parakeets chattered as they left, upset by their arrival. “Oh, Beto,  ¡this is an exquisite place!” she squealed, delighted. “ ¡I love it!”

Pleased, Beto told her, “My father built this. It’s his, but ’Tonio and I can use it.” They stood to admire the view, then brought their food and drink into the cottage. The three rooms were sparsely furnished, but clean and bright. Pansy carefully set Lilia, still asleep in her crib, in a cool and shady nook under a fig tree, and draped her crib with mosquito netting. Beto noted that biting bugs were few here, “but there’s no reason to give even one mosquito a free meal.” With everything in place, Beto asked, “ ¿Ready to take a dip, corazá³n?”

They spent much of the day swimming and napping. Pansy had brought her latest needlepoint project, and Beto had brought a book. Lilia behaved very well, and Pansy retired into the cottage to feed and change her as required. A little after noon she made lunch for the two of them, making sandwiches and heating soup on an ancient wood stove.

Towards midafternoon Beto crept behind Pansy and hugged her, kissing the nape of her neck and then cupping her full breasts, deliciously conspicuous under the snug top. She began to protest weakly, but her reflex awakened and there was no way she could hide her own desire. Forsaking discretion, she twisted and kissed him passionately, her arms around his firm muscular body and her sensuous red lips against his mouth. “ ¡I want to go to bed with him!” she told herself; “ ¡I will enjoy this body they forced on me!” Repressing a grin, Beto succeeded in stroking her breast even as she pressed against him. Gasping, she closed her eyes, lost in the flood of her need for him. He whispered, “Carita, your loveliness has undone me.  ¡I am yours!” He picked Pansy up, her arms around his neck, and carried her to the bed inside. In a few minutes his trousers were down and her skirt was up as they abandoned themselves to ecstasy.

Beto congratulated himself as they lay together, passion sated for the moment. “She’s the damndest sexiest woman I’ve had,” he thought. “She’s not a beauty, but she’s all woman. I don’t think she even knows how desirable she is. It’s just her nature, as if she’d been designed for the bedroom.”

For several minutes Pansy didn’t think at all, but just lay there in blissful contentment. Their lovemaking had filled a deep longing in her, like a quart of ice water for a man dying of thirst. For the first time as a woman she had accepted her need for sex and enjoyed it fully, with no fears or regrets. Her old “Pansy” memories included sex with–was it Seá±or Ovando?–and his “guests”, and as a whore, but the present reality was overwhelming. Now she realized, she delighted in sex with a man. With Beto, anyway. It was incredible! She rolled over lazily and kissed Beto tenderly; he smiled and stroked her cheek. Pansy fantasized herself as his bride, kissing him at the altar as she remembered her best friend Mariana kissing her beloved Rafael. Mamá¡ Rosa had told her it could be like this, but the reality was past description.

At last the day drew to an end. Beto dropped her off at Los Ocotes. Before she left, he asked if he might see her again in a couple of weeks. “I think you’re a wonderful girl, Pansita, and I’m not sure I can wait that long, but I guess I’ll have to.  ¿What do you say?”

Pansy accepted happily. “I’m not sure I can wait either, Beto.  ¡I liked today so much! But yes, I’ll see you in three weeks.  ¿Same time?”

“Fine. I’ll meet you here at 9 AM. Let’s see…” He consulted a pocket calendar. “That’s April 2nd. So long, and thanks for a wonderful day.” He got into his Celica, waved, and drove off.

Carrying Lilia’s crib, Pansy entered the casa. Marta greeted her cheerily, and asked “ ¡Good! You’re back just in time for supper.  ¿How was your outing?  ¿Did Beto behave?”

“ ¡I had a wonderful time, Marta! Beto was… well,  ¡he was wonderful too!”

Marta gave her friend a slightly worried glance. “Remember, Pansita, be careful. It’s awfully easy to slip, and awfully hard to recover.” Sometime Pansy seemed incredibly naíve, she thought.

“I’m being careful, Marta, but thanks anyway for worrying,” Pansy replied. She had second thoughts later, though. Marta was right. Susana had been careful, too, or so she said. And there were other problem. People would talk. Her reputation needed watching. No, she couldn’t just yield to Beto–or any man–in spite of her own cravings.
 
 
March 21
-- Gordo walked briskly up the walk to the front door of at Las Rosas. Seá±or Arias had been reluctant to give him the morning off until Paco Pérez from Las Rosas had told him that Don Pablo wanted to see him; but then he had been willing enough. It had to be related to the punishment that Seá±or Herrera had promised for that bitch Pansy. His escort knocked, and an elderly woman, stringy and dried up, answered. Paco announced, “Evelina, here’s Seá±or Echeverrá­a, as the don requested.”

She grinned unpleasantly, and Gordo decided he didn’t much like her. “ ¡Good!” she replied. “Don Pablo’s waiting in the library with Pansita. He told me to bring you right in.” They followed her through the house to the library door, where she knocked. From the other side of the door Don Pablo’s voice told her to bring their visitor in.

Gordo wasn’t surprised that Pansy Baca was there with Seá±or Herrera, but at first he didn’t recognize the other two women sitting near her. They were attractive enough, and well dressed. Two large men stood by the door, and Don Pablo presided over the meeting behind a massive mahogany desk. Gordo thought that he looked appropriately judicial, dressed in a formal dark suit with an old-fashioned narrow tie, his sparse gray hair carefully combed back. “ ¡This’ll be a bad day for that damn puta!” he thought. “I wonder what he decided.”

“ ¡Ah, Seá±or!” the don said. “I am glad you are here. I have finished my investigation, and made my decision.” He waved towards the two women sitting by Pansy. “I believe you have met these women, but in case your memory fails you, I will introduce them anyway.” Pointing to the nearer, he told Gordo, “This is Pilarcita Torres, from El Progreso.” Gordo was frozen with shock; now he recognized her. Don Pablo continued: “The other charming young lady is Juanita Morones, from Talanga. Both ladies have told me of their difficulties with you, and I am afraid I believe them.”

Gordo looked around wildly and started to rise as though to flee, but Paco and the others closed on him, and he collapsed back into his chair. He babbled, “ ¡No!  ¡No!  ¡This is a mistake!  ¡Please, no!”

“ ¿Is it? I ask you again, as I asked you before,  ¿did you force Pansy to have sex with you?  ¿And these other women as well?” Gordo rose slightly and started to protest incoherently, his eyes bulging in terror, but Don Pablo cut him off: “Before you answer, let me finish. If you lie to me, I will know. The women have agreed to give their testimony under drugs if you press the issue; but I will have you questioned under drugs as well, and you will tell the truth. The penalty will be severe if you lie; you will lose your manhood entirely. Now you may answer.”

The jaw of the accused was slack; he gripped the sides of his chair. Don Pablo waited for his response. After a moment he broke down and admitted, “Yes. Yes, I… I d…d…did. B…but I… I couldn’t help myself. Those d…damn bitches r…run around showing… showing off their bodies. A m…man can’t stand… can’t stand no temptation like that.”

All three women began to speak at once, angrily denying his charge, but the don motioned them to be silent. “Seá±or, I believe many men do withstand that temptation quite successfully. In Pansy’s case, I know exactly what she was wearing; there were witnesses. She did not seduce you, Seá±or; and I infer that none of the others did. If they had teased you, it would not excuse you. For your offense, I am tempted to have my doctor remove your manhood entirely. Had you not confessed, I would indeed see that you lost everything.” Gordo twitched in his chair. “As it is, I must see that you do not–cannot–repeat your offense. Now, I know there are other women whom you attacked. I could not contact them. Pansy was here, of course, and Seá±oritas Morones and Torres were kind enough to help me. Now, I will give you a choice. First, I might cut off your cojones.” Gordo moaned softly, protesting, but Don Pablo continued inexorably. “My doctors tell me your sexual life might continue, although it would require artificial support, and it might be less– ¿shall I say, vigorous?–than at present. You say you have some difficulty in restraining your natural response to ‘provocative’ women; this action would assist you in attaining some measure of self-control. And your mutilation would be made public knowledge, to deter others from your crime. As I recall, you suggested that Pansy have her breasts amputated. This seems equivalent.”

“ ¡No!  ¡Please, no!” Gordo pleaded.

“Very well: I offer another choice. You can keep your cojones–but your penis will be taken. You will keep your sex drive, as strong as it is now–but there will be no way to satisfy it. Certainly you will not violate any more women.” He smiled cruelly. “Of course, you will be rather frustrated.”

Gordo recoiled in horror. “ ¡No!  ¡I b…beg… I beg you, no!  ¡Tha… that’s horrible!”

“The third choice is to allow me to… well, let me say, I will curse you. The curse will leave you physically whole, but your sex drive will be muted. In all likelihood you will very soon find yourself impotent. Your anatomy will be intact, as I say, but it will no longer function as it does now, if at all. And there will be other effects. However, there are two advantages to this choice. First, you will not be physically frustrated, as your sexual desire will wane along with your ability. Second, no one will know of your inability. Except your wife, of course, if you ever marry; and I fear she will notice, whichever choice you make. Now, Seá±or, it is time to choose.”

Almost in tears, Gordo wailed, “ ¡I can’t ch…choose none of th…them! They all… they all…” He couldn’t finish.

The don nodded to Pansy, and she continued: “We think all the choices are good. If you don’t pick one, that’s OK. Then you lose everything. There won’t be nothing of your manhood left.”

Pilarcita Torres, a dark-skinned sharp-featured woman with an acne-scarred face, chimed in, “Don Pablo told us we could help with cutting off whatever you pick–or if you don’t choose, we can cut off everything.  ¡I dreamed of that!”

With no warning Gordo rose and tried to run, but Paco caught one arm. Gordo swung wildly at him, but the other two men quickly seized his arms. He struggled, but he was a slightly built man and they held him easily. Paco went to a cabinet, took out shackles, and with some difficulty managed to attach them to Gordo’s ankles while he attempted to kick wildly, screaming epithets as he fought. His wrists were bound behind him, and wrists and ankles were secured to the heavy chair in which he’d been sitting.

Don Pablo waited until Gordo stopped his futile attempts to free himself and sat exhausted. “ ¿Do you refuse to choose, then?” he asked with a faint smile. “Very well, then, I…”

The wretched prisoner interrupted. He spoke hoarsely and almost incoherently, weeping and hiccuping, but he made his choice: “ ¡N…no, wait! I…I…  ¡No!  ¡P…please! I ch…choose… I choose the third… the third one. The curse.”

“Very well. Perhaps you will be fortunate, and the curse will fail. If so, be warned: any suspicion of sexual misbehavior on your part will result in the traditional penalty.” Don Pablo nodded to Paco, who took a damp cloth and held it over Gordo’s face. A sickly sweet odor arose from the cloth; Gordo’s renewed struggling subsided, and the three attendants carried him away. Juanita Morones was clearly disappointed that Gordo had escaped so easily, but as she was preparing to leave, Don Pablo motioned her to wait. “ ¿Do you think he escaped with a lenient punishment?”

Seá±orita Morones replied, “Yes. You should’ve cut his balls off. He deserves it.”

Their host leaned back in his armchair and gave her a diabolic smile. “Seá±orita, I told Seá±or Echeverrá­a the truth–but not the whole truth. His manhood will be removed as efficiently as if by a knife.”

Pilarcita Torres complained, “Yes, you told him that. But it ain’t enough.”

“I agree. However, the, umm… the curse has another interesting effect. It will not just remove his masculine ability. It will replace some of his masculine characteristics with more feminine attributes.”

Juanita Morones shook her head. “I don’t understand, Seá±or.  ¿Why not just cut off his balls?”

In exasperation the don spoke more plainly. “Seá±orita, his balls are about become traitors to him. They will now produce female hormone. That is what changed your own body from that of a girl to that of a woman. It will do the same for Gordo; he will develop the figure of a woman.”

Pansy nodded, scowling. Gordo’s punishment confirmed her belief that something like that, but more thoroughgoing, had been done to Jack. Susana hadn’t changed him, Don Pablo had. And they could probably twist his mind, too. It made more sense than anything else. She had mixed feelings about Gordo’s fate. He deserved it, but his punishment aroused bad memories. “I see.  ¿And how long will it take him to grow breasts?”

Leaning forward, Don Pablo told them, “It will not be immediate, the curse is slow. Gordo will lose his male response soon–within a week or two. Breasts will begin to develop within weeks; in six months they will be apparent to Gordo, but as long as he remains clothed, no one else will see them. In a year, he will need to bind his breasts to keep them hidden. And by then, his hips and waist will be a problem.” The don paused and grinned evilly. “If he still succeeds in hiding his problem, he will find it more difficult after that, as an additional penalty will take effect when fifteen months have passed. His breasts will swell further and begin to produce milk.  ¿You are all mothers, I think?” All three women nodded. “Then you may understand the problem he will face. His milk will flow for several months, and during that time concealment of his predicament will not be practical. The only way he can avoid this fate is surgery. If his balls are cut off, the process will be stopped. Seá±orita Juanita,  ¿what do you think now?  ¿Do you still want to cut them off?”

She laughed, delighted by Gordo’s fate. “No, Seá±or. I only want to see Gordita with big tits.” Pilarcita Torres agreed, and added, “Now if you could get him knocked up, that’d finish the job.”

Don Pablo smiled. “I doubt Gordo would make a good mother, Seá±orita. I will arrange that you see Gordita, as you say. Perhaps you can give him his first bra. He will need it.” Then he dismissed them, thanking them for their aid.

On the way back to Los Ocotes, Pansy thought about Gordo’s punishment, and how Susana had turned to her father for assistance. She decided that Don Pablo had probably been the source of her own punishment as well. He was the one who had somehow trapped Seá±or Cualquiera in a woman’s body–her body–or maybe they worked together on it? But she remembered clearly how Seá±ora Arias had transformed her body, with a wave of the hand, and then her mind. It didn’t matter much, it was still brujerá­a, whether by father or daughter, and a terrible crime. But then a memory crept back: Seá±or Cualquiera’s rape of his maid, Mará­a. He had been no better than Gordo. She tried to rationalize his behavior, to excuse it, but from her new perspective she knew his actions were inexcusable. He hadn’t deserved to keep his balls either. She thrust him from her mind.
 
 
March 27
-- Tuesday had come again, and Pansy would attend her next literacy class that evening. Her early optimism had evaporated. She had attended four classes, and she seemed only slightly closer to her goal. The letters of the alphabet still seemed alien to her, although she was slowly learning them. Had those strange shapes really meant something to her as recently as a year ago? After the second class, she’d been given a set of cards with the letters printed in bold black characters, and she’d put them up on the walls around her room. For some reason, even with the letters clearly before her eyes every day, they wouldn’t stick in her memory. The other students were passing beyond her already. Would she ever read again? Could she? Josecito toddled up to her and pulled on her skirt insistently, babbling, “Mamama.” She smiled down at him, picked him up, and kissed him. She was a soft touch for her son, and he knew it; he grinned at her happily, and she put him back down, telling him, “I have to work, niá±ito.” Lilia was sleeping; she had just been fed and changed. She picked up her cards again, shuffled them, and tried to identify them, recalling the English nursery jingle that was a persisting legacy of Seá±or Cualquiera. She ran through it, identifying about two thirds of the letters. Then she tried to print the letters in order. Her effort wasn’t completely successful, as she reversed the shapes of the N and S, and confused the U and V, but it was the best she had done yet. Abandoning the letters, she picked up another card on which she had printed in block letters, “PANSI AN VACA”. It didn’t look right, so she tried again, but this time she replaced the N’s with M’s and reversed the S. Frustrated, she nearly gave up and returned to the mending Susana had given her, but then she thought that at least the capital letters were beginning to look familiar to her. It wasn’t at all as though her old memory were returning. The alphabet was still brand new, but two weeks of memorization was having some effect. Before she could try again, Susana called: “ ¿Pansita?  ¡Pansita!  ¿Where are you?”

Pansy sighed; sometimes Seá±ora Arias didn’t seem to realize that taking care of Josecito, not to mention Lilia, took virtually all her time. Left for a moment, the child could get into more mischief than she had imagined possible. She called back, “I’m here, Seá±ora, in the bedroom with the babies. I’ll be right out.” Holding Josecito in one arm, she picked up Lilia in her crib and took them out to the living room, where Susana had just come in from the La Libertad store. “ ¿What can I do for you, Seá±ora?” she asked, putting the children down.

“I’m sorry to take you away from the babies, Pansita, but it looks like we’re going to get some more rain. Take in the laundry from the line,  ¿will you? I think it’s dry.”

Pansy glanced out the window, where dark clouds had gathered. Yes, her mistress was right: the laundry needed to be taken in. “Yes, Seá±ora. I’ll put the children back.” She returned to her room, where Josecito went into his playpen. Lilia was still sleeping, and she’d be quiet for some time yet; her son fussed a little, but accepted his temporary imprisonment. As Pansy hurried out to take the clothes in, her mind turned to Beto. She had promised to see him again in a couple of days, but she was having second thoughts. Was he just using her? And perhaps more important, what was her own motive for seeing him? She knew she badly wanted sex, but was that all she could hope for? If so, it wasn’t enough. She had to marry, not just act as a man’s sex toy, a convenient release for his libido. Maybe a man could get away with it; she couldn’t, even if she avoided pregnancy. It just wasn’t fair! She heard the ghost of Seá±or Pinkerton, whispering “ ¿Fair?  ¡Life’s not fair! You’re a woman, and you’ll just have to deal with it.” She cursed him roundly, then tried to decide how, indeed, she should deal with it. A few drops of rain fell; she grabbed the last few shirts off the line and hurried back in. She still needed to do the ironing, and then it’d be time to serve supper.

After the main meal, Susana asked Pansy, “ ¿Aren’t you going to La Libertad this evening?”

Pansy fed Josecito another mouthful and replied, “Yes, of course, Seá±ora. I have some time yet, I think.  ¿Why do you ask?  ¿Is there a problem with getting a driver?”

“No, everything’s set. Hector’s taking you tonight. I just wondered how the class is going.”

Unhappy and resentful, Pansy almost blurted out, “ ¿What do you care? You wanted to make me into an illiterate campesina, and you succeeded,” but she held her tongue. Susana could make her life miserable, or she could even fire her, and what would she do then? No, she had no choice but to swallow her anger, and she replied, “I suppose it is, Seá±ora, but it’s very slow. It’s difficult.” She paused, and added, “I will learn, though.”

“Don’t be too discouraged,” Susana told her. “You’ve forgotten how hard it was the first time. It took years for reading to become easy, and Ibarra says it’ll be just like you were learning it for the first time. Maybe harder; children seem to have a talent for that sort of thing.” She saw Pansy’s distress and repeated, “Don’t let it discourage you. It’ll come eventually.” She added to herself, “…Maybe.” Don Pablo had told her that Ibarra’s treatment had probably left her impaired permanently. “Severe dyslexia,” had been Ibaá±ez’s diagnosis. “I don’t think she’ll ever be able to read with any facility.”

“Yes, Seá±ora. I hope so.”

They left for her class at 6:10. Pansy was nervous, alone with a strange man, and she felt herself instinctively trying to draw away from Hector. She tried to tell herself that he wouldn’t harm her, but her experience with Gordo had underlined her vulnerability, and she couldn’t help herself. She felt weak and helpless. Seá±ora Arias told her that she should feel this way–that men weren’t safe–but she didn’t enjoy feeling weak and helpless. Seá±or Cualquiera had never had to worry about being alone; why should she have to? It wasn’t fair! She’d never feel safe again, alone with a strange man.

Hector was surprised to discover that she was taking a literacy course, but he took it in stride. “I thought you was real educated, like. The way you talk, and your English accent, and all that. But there ain’t nothing wrong with you not having no school, you know. Lots of women ain’t got no schooling.  ¿But why you think you need it?  ¿Ain’t you gonna get married, have a bunch of kids? I ain’t trying to be nosy, you know, I’m just curious.”

How could she answer? “Seá±or, I don’t want to be a maid forever. I’m not sure what else I can do– ¿maybe teach? But even if I can’t do nothing else, I can find out lots of things I’d never know otherwise.” She was afraid to ask whether he could read; probably he could, but many campesinos couldn’t. “I’d like to read stories to my children, for example. And read the newspaper, to see what’s happening.”

“OK, Seá±orita. Like I say, it’s fine by me, but I just wondered.” A few kilometers farther, just before they entered La Libertad, he told her, “You know, Seá±orita, you’re a good woman and a fantastic looker. Some of the men say you’re seeing Beto Sáºlivan real serious.  ¿Are you?”

She had to giggle. Subtlety wasn’t Hector’s strong point. He was a good man, though, even if he was blunt. “Well, yes and no. I’m seeing him, yes, but whether it’s serious, I’m not sure.”

Hector looked a little embarrassed, but he persisted. “If you’re real serious, you’re making a mistake. He ain’t never going to marry you. And if you’re not real serious, I’d like to take you out myself some time.” He glanced down for a moment, then looked her in the eye. “I might as well tell you: I do plan to marry you.”

It was her turn to be a little embarrassed. “Hector, I might do that–that is, go out with you.” The idea actually attracted her. Hector was a decent man, if dark-skinned and uneducated. And even with the scarred face and missing teeth he was handsome. He definitely wasn’t what she had had in mind for husband material, but if he wanted to date her, seeing him might be fun. Then she reconsidered; she needed to catch a husband who’d help her escape from mere campesina status, and dating Hector might hurt her chances with Beto. “Not right now, though,” she told him. “First I want to stay with Beto for a little bit. I’ll see what happens with him.” She didn’t comment on his long-range plan.

“Oh, he’s just fooling around, Seá±orita. No offense intended, but you should know about him. He’s not really bad, but he ain’t got no… well, he’s… he’s like I said, he fools around with girls.” He grinned. “I’ll wait. Like I said, he ain’t going to marry you, and after he throws you away, I’ll pick you back up.”

She shook her head. Hector would never do as a husband! “Someone else told me that too–about Beto, I mean. Maybe you’re right, and I should drop him, but I don’t want to do that quite yet. We’ll see. And thanks for the warning.” They had reached the church, and she got out. It was almost time for class. “ ¿I’ll see you at 8 o’clock, then?”

“On the dot, Seá±orita.”

She left him and entered the church. Maybe he was right. “But if he is,  ¿then who can I marry?” she thought. “I need someone who’s got something. Someone who has a little education. And someone who’s good-looking, of course.”

The evening was frustrating. A new teacher, a young woman named Mará­a Pilar Hinojosa de Marcos, had taken the class. Pansy was sure she knew the woman from somewhere, recognizing both the name and her oval face framed by long dark-brown hair, but she couldn’t remember where. At first it bothered her, but she quickly forgot that lesser frustration in the greater one of her difficulty in learning. Most of the other students were already ahead of her, and were sounding out words, if only haltingly. At the end of the class Seá±ora Marcos was sympathetic. “Some people are slower than others, Pansita. It’ll come, don’t worry. I know you’ve been working hard, and I see progress. And when it finally comes, it’ll all be worth it.”

Pansy was downcast, but she was determined to succeed. “I know, Seá±ora. I will read.  ¡But it’s so much harder than I thought it’d be!”

“ ¿Did you really think it’d be easy?”

“No, but… Seá±ora, a year ago I could read. I had a head injury…”–not a lie, she thought–”and I lost my reading. A doctor told me I’d need to use a different part of my brain, and that it might be harder than the first time, but I didn’t believe him. He was right. But it’s frustrating.”

“ ¿You could read?  ¡That’s interesting! I didn’t know it was possible to forget.”

“I didn’t ‘forget’, Seá±ora. It was an injury.”

“I’m sorry, Pansy. I understand the frustration. But I’d think it’d be easier to learn, the second time around.”

“That’s what I thought too. It isn’t. Seá±ora, you write easy, with no problem,  ¿true? It’s automatic, without thinking.”

A little puzzled, the teacher frowned slightly. “Yes, of course. But I didn’t always write that way. I had to learn first. But you knew that;  ¿what’s your point?”

“So if your right hand was injured and you needed to write with your left hand,  ¿would it still be easy and automatic?  ¿Even though you know how to do it? It’s not exactly like my problem, but it’s as close as I can describe it.”

“I see, sort of. Yes, I understand.”

At that moment Hector put his head into the hall. “Pardon me, it’s time to go, Pansita. We can’t get back too late.”

Pansy flushed. She had forgotten Hector was waiting. “OK, Seá±or, I’m sorry. With your permission, Seá±ora, I have to leave now.”

“Very well, Pansita. I’ll see you Thursday.”

Pansy left with Hector, and they were back at Los Ocotes within forty minutes.