The name Lehmann has been dropped one a few times in conversations of Mercantile in the Casa. For Sal, they were only a one in a dozen of surnames that came and passed by. She stared at the purple flower of the herb by the windowsill. Why is the braided woman staying in the hospicio? Perhaps, was she a Signorina like her? 

Footsteps rustled outside the hallway so Sal made haste and hid on the corner behind the bed. The caretaker entered. Her long hair brushed the floor when she knelt over and overturned the shelves and boxes until she chanced upon the braided woman’s belongings. She pulled out the letter. 

Sal had been pretty good at hiding herself but she crawled further to the edge of the bed to take a better look on the caretaker. The caretaker turned, but Sal managed to hide herself in time. 

Come lunchtime, Sal’s eyes would wander over to the caretaker, watching as she ate. Sometimes,she would keep her eyes on the caretaker’s feet, but sometimes her eyes wander to the caretaker’s eyes.The caretaker was looking at Lea. 

For the next few days, Sal would peek by the window and there the caretaker would always be seen talking with the constable. The caretaker had insisted the constable take her to the town plaza. She must be strange for wanting to be imprisoned. And she would plead everyday to the constable and even bring him snacks. One time the caretaker came home skipping happily like a child. And it discomfitted Sal.

 The caretaker was a Mercantile in spirit. Laughing and jovial yet their words laced with poison and rot, her quick glances to the braided woman speaking of a certain malice to her. Yet, Sal could only think of one thing. The caretaker never looked at Sal’s direction and it actually relieved her. She’ll never ask if Sal was the Cuorre.

___________

SAL squat on the floor in front of the braided woman’s box. The day earlier, the caretaker requested for a constable to come along in the hospicio for the monthly inspection of the place.Sal held her hand to her chest. The caretaker sounded so happy when she insisted that they needed to have them in the hospicio.

 The braided woman, Sal never heard her spoke of what happened in the hut in the plaza, nor the constable did. As it seems, she was quiet about the caretaker’s strange glances at her direction. It was strange to see her unaware like the prey this time. 

Sal kept her silence as promised. Yes, it was only correct. It should be a relief for ‘Nay Rosa had acknowledged her as Ren’s ward. A sign he looked after her. All she has to do is stay mum. The braided woman could look after herself, she could scream the heads off the constables who would go after her. She would insist she is a Lehmann when they ask her if she is a Cuorre. She could simply run off.

 Sal could not. She cannot escape. Nor has she have a voice loud enough and a wit and confidence and strength to converse with the big constables when she shrinks at the first sign of the Mercantile. 

Loud arguments sounded from the yard. It was almost a daily occurrence to hear the braided woman and the constable arguing rather loudly with each other. Sal let herself a peek outside

The constable hauled the woman off like a sack of rice while the woman kicked like a small child. The constable let her down and as soon as her feet touched the ground, she bolted off towards the fences. And it repeated again, the constable would pull her off from the fences, carry her and she’d bolt again. She was like a bird panicking inside a cage. 

Sal grabbed the box and fished the letter out from the woman’s neatly-organized belongings. The letter was worn still but a lot better than the state when Sal tried to dispose of it. The names on the letter screamed back at her. 

Sal closed her eyes. She’d always woken up from sleep. The dreams were always of the room she had in the Casa. The Signor stood by the door, his back turned to her and Sal would wake up in a nervous tremble and see if the Signor was really there and calm herself at the thought that Ren is waiting and she will be rejoined with him soon. 

Sal folded the letter into a tiny origami and stuck it on the small crack in the wall behind the large closet. 

“Hey! Rat on the wall?” The braided woman called out from the door. 

Sal dashed to the bed and covered herself in a mattress and watched as Lea inspected the floors for rats or roaches. She guarded the braided woman’s movements, watching if she will find the letter. Soon, that purpose was forgotten for all she could see was either the woman with a dead brother or the caretaker’s target. 

“You’re staring. “The woman turned to Sal. Her hawk-like eyes trained on her as she loomed closer. “If you have something to say might as well say it. Your staring is weird.”

 What should she answer? Sal does not even know why she stuck the letter in the wall. Perhaps, it was a silly game she thought. How should she explain her actions? Perhaps she should not even. 

“I was looking at the wall.” 

The woman seemed stumped then irritated. That was better than the woman probing at Sal for the answer. She stared at the ceiling, as if it would reveal the answers to her. The blank white ceiling proved a better sight than the woman’s face. It was better than staring at the face of someone who will probably be taken away from the hospicio while Sal herself remained sheltered in that place.

The bed shifted in balance. The braided woman sat in front of her and spoke in a low whisper. “In case the worst happens, would you want to go with me?”

 “Adoption” Sal replied.

 “What? No!” She flung her hands in abject refusal. “I have a family. Azalea Lehmann. I am from the Lehmann family in the north, in Pontmari. It is a big family with many children because my dad got too cozy in women’s bedrooms but still, I bore that name!” She was gesticulating wildly until she pounced a little in front of Sal. “How about the Cuorre? I can’t believe I’ll ask this but I can’t believe you’ll be the only hidden child. How is it like there?” The braided woman beamed. 

Sal gulped. She closed her eyes. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. Shadows and a heavy voice rung in her ears. She opened her eyes around for a distraction. Sal shrugged. And at Lea’s insistence, Sal replied. “Nothing much. Just a big house, like other Mercantile.”

 The woman huffed in disappointment. Sal gave her question next. 

“Children. How many children were in the house?”

 “The main house? Or the branch houses? Because if you’d count them all, you’d be lost. I could vaguely count about twenty? From all the branch houses. But the main house doesn’t have any because they’re pretty much grown up. Many others have left the houses to start their own families. But sadly, there’s not much of them who’d permanently settled in Alimpio. So good luck to me proving my relations to them.” Lea scratched her ear and gave a lopsided smile. 

Sal mulled the story over. “Did your father not love your mother?” 

Lea gave her a little flick. “Careful when you ask questions. I’m not offended, but you do get a target on your back that way.” She paused. “To be honest, I didn’t know. And I didn’t care. All that matters is I am part of something.” She stared at Sal. “You know, you are kind of similar to my Kuya Rio.” 

Sal twiddled her fingers at the statement. 

“He was a kind of clumsy man and the one you need to hold all the time to not get lost. You remind me of him because you’re both stupid at times. Also, I can’t read and write as well as you and my Kuya Rio.”

 “Rio?” 

Lea stared at the sky. “Dario Lehmann.” 

Sal stayed quiet. Whatever Lea had said next coming off as a blur. A dozen thoughts at once. Sal stared at the small mirror by the closet. Her face was black, a charred black like how a face after it burned. Sal looked at the mirror, she was looking at the same shadow of the Signor by the letter she sees in her dreams.

 “To be honest, I was happy to hear you could read the letter. I could finally hear Kuya Rio’s voice.” 

She spied a small tear escaping the woman’s eye. Sal stared at her own hands as the shadow of the Signor by the letter glitched in front of her eyes, the shadow turning into a smiling man. 

“You are strong.”Sal remarked.

“Really?” Lea laughed. “ I can’t believe you’re flattering me. You must be helping me then, alright? Come with me tomorrow.”

Before Lea set to leave, Sal fished out the letter from the cracks and handed it to the woman. 

“Lea,” Sal called. 

Lea turned back to her in surprise. 

Sal handed the letter. “Meriang, the caretaker.” 

Lea’s face knotted in confusion until it settled into a slight realization and irritation. 

At Lea’s glance, Sal mustered the courage to look at the woman straight in the face. “Sal, I’m Sal.”