"What does Jesus matter?" Lupe asked him. "It's the virgins who are in charge--not that they're really virgins, not that we even know who they are."
"What?" Juan Diego said to her.
"The virgins are like the lionesses," Lupe told her brother. "They're the ones you have to worry about--they run the show." Lupe's head was eye-level to the hilt of the Spaniard's sword; her small hand touched the scabbard. "Keep it sharp, killer," Lupe told the conquistador.
"They certainly were frightening, weren't they?" Edward Bonshaw said, still staring at the conquering soldier.
"They certainly intended to be," Vargas told the Iowan.
They were following Alejandra's hips down a long and decorous hall. Of course they couldn't pass a portrait of Jesus without comment. "Blessed are--" Edward Bonshaw began to say; the portrait was of Jesus delivering the Sermon on the Mount.
"Oh, those endearing beatitudes!" Vargas interrupted him. "My favorite part of the Bible--not that anyone pays attention to the beatitudes; they are not what most Church business is about. Aren't you taking these two innocents to the Guadalupe shrine? A Catholic tourist attraction, if you ask me," Vargas went on to Senor Eduardo but for everyone's benefit. "No evidence of the beatitudes at that unholiest of basilicas!"
"Have tolerance, Vargas," Brother Pepe pleaded. "You tolerate our beliefs, we'll tolerate your lack thereof--"
"The virgins rule," Lupe interrupted them, holding tight to the coffee can. "Nobody cares about the beatitudes. Nobody listens to Jesus--Jesus was just a baby. The virgins are the ones who pull the strings."
"I suggest you don't translate for Lupe--whatever she said. Just don't," Pepe said to Juan Diego, who was too transfixed by Alejandra
's hips to have been paying attention to Lupe's mysticism--perhaps the contents of the coffee can contributed to Lupe's irritating powers.
"Tolerance is never a bad idea," Edward Bonshaw began. Ahead of them, Juan Diego saw another Spanish soldier, this one standing at attention by a double doorway in the hall.
"This sounds like a Jesuitical trick," Vargas said to the Iowan. "Since when do you Catholics ever leave us nonbelievers alone?" As proof, Dr. Vargas gestured to the solemn conquistador standing guard at the doorway to the kitchen. Vargas put his hand on the soldier's breastplate, over the conquistador's heart--if the conquering Spaniard had ever had a heart. "Try talking to this guy about free will," Vargas said, but the Spaniard seemed not to notice the doctor's overfamiliar touch; once again, Juan Diego saw the statue's distant gaze come into focus. The Spanish soldier was looking at Lupe.
Juan Diego leaned down and whispered to his sister, "I know you're not telling me everything."
"You wouldn't believe me," she told him.
"Aren't they sweet--those children?" Alejandra said to Vargas.
"Oh, God--the penis-breath wants to have kids! This will ruin my appetite," was all Lupe would say to her brother.
"Did you bring your own coffee?" Alejandra suddenly asked Lupe. "Or is it your toys? It's--"
"It's for him!" Lupe said, pointing to Dr. Vargas. "It's our mother's ashes. They have a funny smell. There's a little dog in the ashes, and a dead hippie. There's something sacred in the ashes, too," Lupe added, in a whisper. "But the smell is different. We can't identify it. We want a scientific opinion." She held out the coffee can to Vargas. "Go on--smell it," Lupe said to him.
"It just smells like coffee," Edward Bonshaw tried to assure Dr. Vargas. (The Iowan didn't know if Vargas had any prior knowledge of the contents of the coffee can.)
"It's Esperanza's ashes!" Brother Pepe blurted out.
"Your turn, translator," Vargas said to Juan Diego; the doctor had taken the coffee can from Lupe, but he'd not yet lifted the lid.
"We burned our mother at the basurero," Juan Diego began. "We burned a gringo draft dodger with her--a dead one," the fourteen-year-old struggled to explain.
"There was a dog in the mix--a small one," Pepe pointed out.
"That must have been quite a fire," Vargas said.
"It was already burning when we put the bodies in it," Juan Diego explained. "Rivera had started it--with whatever was around."
"Just your usual dump fire, I suppose," Vargas said; he was fingering the lid of the coffee can, but he still hadn't lifted it.
Juan Diego would always remember how Lupe was touching the tip of her nose; she held one index finger against her nose when she spoke. "Y la nariz," Lupe said. ("And the nose.")
Juan Diego hesitated to translate this, but Lupe kept saying it, while she touched the end of her little nose. "Y la nariz."
"The nose?" Vargas guessed. "What nose? Whose nose?"