Sighing, she reached over for her father's watch to read the time. Wonderful, she said, when she realized that the watch stopped working. She got up out of bed, and walked towards her window. Outside, she could hear the roosters flapping their wings and calling out the sun. She could hear the cook downstairs, preparing the pots and pans.
She stared at the tree that was directly across her room. It was so beautiful, she loved waking up early to watch the sunrise. The tree cast a beautiful silouette against the early purple, ruby and pink haze of dawn. Ruby red eyes, she remembered. Ruby red eyes that blinked.
She talked to Anthony about what she briefly saw yesterday, when she was having coffee with Anthony on the veranda. It was shortly after lunchtime, after Isabella dismissed her students in Spanish class. Anthony wanted to meet her to sample Manang Viray's freshly baked sweet butter roll.
Bright ruby eyes, blinking, from inside the hollow trunk of the huge acacia tree, staring at her as she worked, she told him. "And a hand. A small hand," she said pointedly.
"Maybe it was a bat, or a cat," Anthony said, in between sips of coffee.
"No, it was too big for a bat and a cat wouldn't fit in there. And besides, I haven't seen a cat around here for years," she said. "Maybe it was one of those duwendes."
"Duwende? I've heard about those. They're like little gnome people, right?," he said, trying not to laugh.
"Yes, in the old days, they were revered by the locals as benevolent spirits. This was before the Spanish came, of course. They would build small houses and leave food on top of the house, to entice them to come live with them. The white robed ones of course. The black robed ones will spread disease in your house. One of the maids sometimes leave out leftovers for the white ones. She said it's for good luck."
"So there you have it. A little gnome was inside that tree trunk. I think that's the best explana--," he said as he ducked to avoid the piece of bread that Isabella threw at him. "Hey! Watch it, senorita!"
"Tsk, you're making fun of my people. No, that's not what I'm saying. I just can't explain it, it was like whatever it was, it felt like it was guarding me. Protecting me."
"Well, if it was a duwende, I don't see how it can protect you. I mean, squish!" he said, as he slammed his palm on the table.
"A duwende can protect itself with powerful magic. Maybe it's protecting me," she humored. It was a pretty outdated belief. After Spain conquered a majority of the islands, belief in the old ways, pagan ways, was forbidden. Whatever she heard growing up has always been dismissed as an old wives' tale, and something that was meant to scare children into eating their vegetables.
"Unlikely," Anthony said. "because they don't exist. It's just the sun playing with your eyes."
Maybe it was, Isabella repeated to herself again this morning as she walked towards her closet to change. It was ridiculous to her, people don't believe in duwendes anymore. What am I saying 'maybe'? It's the sun! she argued to herself.
Tap, tap, tap.
She turned around, not really knowing where the sound was coming from. Tap, tap, tap.
"Manang Viray?," she asked. Maybe Manang Viray was calling her to breakfast. Tap, tap, tap. Although she knew the sound was not coming from the door, she opened it anyway, hoping that it was Manang.
She looked around, her ears straining for the tapping sound. Under the bed, maybe? she thought, as she dropped on all fours and looked. Nothing.
Isabella.
She froze. Was she hearing things? What about me? Then she heard it again. Isabella. Then tapping. And then she saw it. Or him. It was like watching your reflection settle on a basin of water. A stout little man, hunched over his walking stick, appeared. He was about as high as the bed, but abnormally wide, like he was flattened by her bed.
Startled, she started to get up and promptly hit her head on the frame of the bed. She then stood up and backed herself against her window, scared, but very curious.
As the stout little man walked towards her, she noticed the roosters stopped crowing. Instead, she heard the faint sound of water, like a stream, and birds singing, and a woman humming. Her window cast a shadow on the floor, and it looked like it was moving, as if the sun was rising too quickly. A soft summer cool breeze blew and the smell of flowers wafted into her room.
We've waited so long, Isabella. Please remember, the stout little man said, as he waddled towards her from under the bed. Was she hearing this, or is this all in her head?
She softened a bit when she saw the little man. He looked like he dressed up to meet her. He had unruly hair and a shaggy beard, but he obviously tried to smooth it down and tame it. He had an off white robe, adorned with dry leaves and jasmine flowers. His face was damp, as if he was crying, and he had the widest toothy smile she has ever seen.
"You must remember us. You must remember the old ways," the old man said to her, in a language she didn't know but clearly understood.
"I- I don't understand. I don't know you," she said. Her voice was different. Like she was singing. How odd, she mused. She wasn't singing, but her voice sang. And surprisingly, she knew it wasn't Tagalog, or Spanish, or English.
"Look outside, mistress," he said, as he wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "Please remember."
Isabella looked outside her window. Trees covered their entire property. Flowers bloomed everywhere. She saw a waterfall at a distance. It was an amazing sight to behold. It was like paradise.
"It's all so beautiful!," she exclaimed as she walked towards the window. "Where am I? What is this place?"
"Can you see the tree? My tree?," the stout little man said, smiling, as if expecting her to snap out of it.
"No. It was there a few moments ago. It was there," she said, pointing at a big well where the tree was. "What happened to it?" She turned around and the little man was not there anymore.
He then reappeared near the well.
"Home. That's where I live. You must remember."
"I don't understand," she said. "What is there to remember?"
"Home," he said, jumping into the well.
"What are you talking about? Wait!," she called out to him. She looked at the sky and saw the sun set as quickly as it rose, and suddenly it was pitch black.
"AY, SENORA ISABELLA!"
Manang Viray ran towards Isabella upon finding her hunched over her open window.
***
Good morning, she said to herself. She rubbed her eyes, still half asleep. She wanted to go back to sleep but she couldn't.
She was about to reach for his father's watch on her bedside table when she felt a damp washcloth on her forehead. Her blanket was tucked around her, up to her neck.
"Manang Viray," she said. Her eyes burned and it was as if her joints had sand between them.
"Hija, I was so scared," Viray said, hugging her. Somehow hearing her talk in Tagalog soothed Isabella. Viray has been with the Ibanez family for two generations. Isabella grew up under Viray's care, and Viray's affection for her has always been that of a doting mother.
"I woke up early to watch the sunrise, and then --," she started, and then stopped herself from saying more. Maybe she was sick when she woke up, but surely she didn't feel any worse than right now. What happened? What was that?
"I found you over your window, I thought you were going to fall out. You passed out."
"I was... How did I end up there?"
"I don't know, but when I held you, it was like you were on fire," Viray said. She wrapped her rosary around her hand and made a sign of the cross.
"I felt fine when I woke up. How long have I been asleep?"
"Five hours. Anthony came by, and he said he'll be back."
"Ay, Manang," she said. "I had the strangest dream. I guess I was delirious, but I saw an old man and he spoke to me. He was about this tall --" she said, gesturing her hand to show the stout little man's height, "and had white flowers all over his white robe."
Viray grasped the cross from her rosary and hurriedly kissed it and made a sign of the cross.
"Engkanto," Viray said quietly, and sat down.
"No, no, Manang, not those silly fantastic stories again. I was delirious, I was imagining things," she said, taking her washcloth from her forehead and propping herself up with her pillows. The door to her bedroom opened slightly.
"Ms. Ibanez, how are you feeling today?," a hand popped in from behind the door, holding flowers. It was Anthony.
"Come in, Anthony," she said in English. "Walang engkanto, Manang Viray. Hindi sila totoo."
"Shh, baka marinig ka nila," Viray said, as she rose up from the foot of her bed and kissed her on her forehead.
Isabella rolled her eyes. She loved her Manang Viray dearly, but she thinks she's too superstitious for her own good. Anthony looked at Isabella questioningly as he walked in.
"I caught what you said about dreaming and you being delirious, but I couldn't understand the rest of it. My Tagalog's a bit rusty," he said, putting the flowers on her bedside table, next to her father's watch.
"I told her about this little man in my dream. She immediately blamed the engkantos for my fever."
"Engkanto. Enchanteds. Like the little gnome people, the duwenders."
"Duwende," she corrected him. "I told her they don't exist and she shushed me and said they might be listening."
"That might be creepy. I bet their world is the creepiest."
No, it was beautiful, she thought. It was beautiful and I want to go back.
