Read Online Esperanza by Trish J. MacGregor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Trish J. MacGregor
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residential area through which they now drove, homes and apartments rising from hilltops, tall, snow-covered peaks looming behind them, embracing the city, protecting and isolating it. And there, distant but approaching, a magnificent condor drifted on a current of air. Tess nudged Ian, pointed out the window. Despite the earlier weirdness, this certainly wasn’t a bad place to end up in accidentally.
The bus finally pulled up in front of Posada de Esperanza, a colonial-style building that appeared to lie at the border between the old and new parts of the city. Made of bleached stones and wood, with large bay windows, the inn’s single story was shaped like a half-moon. To either side of the double doors stood huge ceramic pots filled with blue and lavender flowers and emerald-green ferns that would cause her mother to swoon with admiration and envy.
As the doors opened, Nomad bounded off first and trotted over to the doorman, a handsome young man with high cheekbones and a winning smile. He greeted the Lab with a pat, a grin, and a treat that Nomad leaped into the air to catch. The dog’s lungs, Tess thought as she stepped down, were definitely made for this altitude.
“Welcome to the posada.” Manuel swept his arm grandly toward the building, then pointed at the plaque above the front door. “
Mi casa es su casa
. My house is your house.”
His eyes looked strangely smooth and bright. A sense of familiarity swept through Tess, as it had several times since she’d first seen Manuel. It puzzled her. It was as if he were an old friend whom she recognized intuitively, but not consciously. Yet, she was sure she’d never met him before.
“It is the most comfortable lodging in Esperanza,” Manuel added. “Excuse me, I will be right back.”
He headed toward the doorman and Tess stood in the inn’s shadow, the early morning chill nipping at her face and hands, her stomach cramping with hunger. She watched the activity on the street—a bus, two men speeding past on bikes, cars, kids in uniforms on their way to school. Ordinary life here didn’t seem all that different. Except for these
brujos.
Manuel and the doorman conversed like old friends and kept glancing toward her and Ian, then both of them came over. Introductions ensued. Juanito Cardenas looked to be in his late twenties and his facial features said he was part Quechua. He tugged nervously at the lower edge of his jacket, and didn’t seem to know whether to smile or frown.
“Juanito will speak to the clerk and make sure that you have comfortable rooms and everything else that you need,” Manuel said.
“You have no more luggage?” Juanito asked.
“Nope, this is it,” Tess replied.
“Never have I seen Americans travel with so little. It is a good thing, eh? It means that you are decisive, certain.”
Tess almost laughed. Decisive? Certain? No way.
“Right now, we’re just tired and hungry,” Ian said.
Juanito flashed his dimpled smile. “I understand.”
They entered the posada. The most unusual thing about it was that no one objected when Nomad tagged along. She couldn’t remember dogs being allowed in motels and inns in Quito. If anything, Quito was overrun with strays and, like most domestic animals in South America, they were treated like shit.
Ian apparently noticed this oddity, too, and asked, “Is Nomad allowed inside?”
“Everyone knows him,” Manuel replied, as if this explained it all.
In the lobby, leather couches and chairs were draped with Ecuadorian blankets, native art festooned the walls. The roaring fireplace reminded her of a ski lodge in Colorado, people sitting around and reading newspapers, sipping coffee. A black and white cat wound his way through their legs, purring loudly. He trotted up to Nomad, they touched noses, then the cat moved on and finally settled by the fireplace. In the bay window, an Amazonian parrot with flaming blue and scarlet wings moved back and forth along a massive perch, greeting
The bus finally pulled up in front of Posada de Esperanza, a colonial-style building that appeared to lie at the border between the old and new parts of the city. Made of bleached stones and wood, with large bay windows, the inn’s single story was shaped like a half-moon. To either side of the double doors stood huge ceramic pots filled with blue and lavender flowers and emerald-green ferns that would cause her mother to swoon with admiration and envy.
As the doors opened, Nomad bounded off first and trotted over to the doorman, a handsome young man with high cheekbones and a winning smile. He greeted the Lab with a pat, a grin, and a treat that Nomad leaped into the air to catch. The dog’s lungs, Tess thought as she stepped down, were definitely made for this altitude.
“Welcome to the posada.” Manuel swept his arm grandly toward the building, then pointed at the plaque above the front door. “
Mi casa es su casa
. My house is your house.”
His eyes looked strangely smooth and bright. A sense of familiarity swept through Tess, as it had several times since she’d first seen Manuel. It puzzled her. It was as if he were an old friend whom she recognized intuitively, but not consciously. Yet, she was sure she’d never met him before.
“It is the most comfortable lodging in Esperanza,” Manuel added. “Excuse me, I will be right back.”
He headed toward the doorman and Tess stood in the inn’s shadow, the early morning chill nipping at her face and hands, her stomach cramping with hunger. She watched the activity on the street—a bus, two men speeding past on bikes, cars, kids in uniforms on their way to school. Ordinary life here didn’t seem all that different. Except for these
brujos.
Manuel and the doorman conversed like old friends and kept glancing toward her and Ian, then both of them came over. Introductions ensued. Juanito Cardenas looked to be in his late twenties and his facial features said he was part Quechua. He tugged nervously at the lower edge of his jacket, and didn’t seem to know whether to smile or frown.
“Juanito will speak to the clerk and make sure that you have comfortable rooms and everything else that you need,” Manuel said.
“You have no more luggage?” Juanito asked.
“Nope, this is it,” Tess replied.
“Never have I seen Americans travel with so little. It is a good thing, eh? It means that you are decisive, certain.”
Tess almost laughed. Decisive? Certain? No way.
“Right now, we’re just tired and hungry,” Ian said.
Juanito flashed his dimpled smile. “I understand.”
They entered the posada. The most unusual thing about it was that no one objected when Nomad tagged along. She couldn’t remember dogs being allowed in motels and inns in Quito. If anything, Quito was overrun with strays and, like most domestic animals in South America, they were treated like shit.
Ian apparently noticed this oddity, too, and asked, “Is Nomad allowed inside?”
“Everyone knows him,” Manuel replied, as if this explained it all.
In the lobby, leather couches and chairs were draped with Ecuadorian blankets, native art festooned the walls. The roaring fireplace reminded her of a ski lodge in Colorado, people sitting around and reading newspapers, sipping coffee. A black and white cat wound his way through their legs, purring loudly. He trotted up to Nomad, they touched noses, then the cat moved on and finally settled by the fireplace. In the bay window, an Amazonian parrot with flaming blue and scarlet wings moved back and forth along a massive perch, greeting
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