Marjorie Thelen: The Hieroglyphic Staircase

“You flatter me, señora . The medical clinic was a community effort. I’m glad I could be a part of it.”

“I think you should lead the first dance. You should ask Elena to be your partner. She’s very beautiful, don’t you think?” She nodded toward the young woman Bill had pointed out to him.

Dominic coughed behind his fist. The last thing he wanted was to make a public spectacle of himself. But then his ex-wife had managed that. She had created transgression to end all transgressions. He turned his gaze toward Elena. She looked too unwrinkled, too fresh and bright eyed. At least that’s how she looked from across the room. He’d never seen her up close, never been interested. He’d had too much to do with getting the clinic built. He’d run around for months trying to keep the building of the modest one story structure on schedule, a foreign concept in this part of the world.

“You’re right, she’s very pretty, but I’m afraid I haven’t danced in years. Why don’t we ask Dr. Hidalgo to lead the dance with you? You have done so much for the clinic. It’s appropriate that you take the first dance. Go, dance, please. I’ll dance later.”

Señora Martinez, red roses blooming in her round cheeks and hibiscus flower over one ear, was easily persuaded. “Well, if you insist. I see the musicians now. I will hurry them along.”

That was a close call. Thank heaven, he’d remembered how much she liked to be in the limelight, and he didn’t. Perfect. The musicians were surrounding her. She’d soon forget him. He’d slip out the side door unnoticed.

“Dominic, how wonderful to see you.”

He turned toward the vaguely familiar female voice. He had to think where he had seen her before. He didn’t want to ask the embarrassing “Do I know you?”

But it seems he did. Or she knew him, as she tucked her arm into his in a familiar way. He wondered why women did that. It was so proprietary.

She correctly read the confusion in his eyes. “The Dominican Republic. We both served on the board for building the school outside of Santo Domingo.”

He tried not to groan aloud. He did know her.

“Felicia?”

“You remembered,” she said, all red lipped smile and undulating charm. “I do hope you’re all right. I heard what your wife put you through, now ex-wife, isn’t it? How absolutely horrid, the little…. Well, I won’t say the word. How you must have suffered.”

He stared at her. The do-gooder world was entirely too small. He remembered this creature had tons of money, even more time, and excelled in gossip.

“That’s all behind me now,” he said, ending the matter as far as he was concerned. “Are you still fund raising?

“As a matter of fact, I helped raise the money for this clinic.”

Dominic cocked an eyebrow. He should have known. But then he had forgotten her after the last meeting in Santo Domingo.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“Helping to build the clinic.”

“I heard you resigned from your parish.”

“You heard correctly.”

“Well, as you said, that’s all behind you now.”

Dominic searched the crowd for an excuse to move on and caught sight of Elena standing by herself.

“Felicia, if you’ll excuse me, I must catch up with someone before I call it a night.”

“I’ll be around and available, if you need me,” she said with a wink.

The suggestion in that statement was not hard to get.

He pushed his way through the crowd of revelers. The Americans were a good head taller than the Hondurans and muted in contrast. The Latinas were in full color, red dominant and lace in abundance. Local well-wishers saluted him, and he returned the greetings. It warmed his heart to know what a great benefit it would be for the community to have this free medical clinic. Now if they could find a physician willing to live and work in rural western Honduras for a modest salary. Maybe someone just out of medical school. Perhaps Elena would know of someone, a class mate or colleague or someone from her social set. She probably rubbed elbows with the educated elite.

He picked up a Coke at the bar, deciding to go easy on the gold martinis.

A girl, maybe someone from the community, was speaking with Elena. He took his time sipping the Coke to have a closer look. She stood in profile in animated conversation. Her Spanish sounded much better than his. Maybe she had some Latina blood in her from the looks of the dark hair she had attractively piled atop her head. She wasn’t as young as he thought, detecting sun lines around her eyes and smile lines framing her mouth. Whatever they were discussing involved a lot of giggling. Elena turned in his direction and caught him staring at her. Time to wade in. He sucked in his gut and eased into their space.

“Excuse me for interrupting. I’m Dominic Harte,” he said in Spanish in deference to the local girl. “I help with the clinic. I hear you are working out at the ruins.”

He looked into the brilliant green of her eyes. Up close she was striking, and her dress had a nice way of clinging to her figure. She didn’t look like a professor. Maybe he had made a mistake.

“Elena Palomares,” she said. “This is Lucila Hernandez. She speaks English, if you feel more comfortable using English.”

“Sorry, you don’t know when you first meet someone at an affair like this what language to speak.”

Elena laughed. “We were just talking about how many Spanglish conversations were going on. Sentences come out hilarious sometimes.”

“Excuse me,” Lucila said. “I see a friend waving. It was nice to meet you, señor Harte.”

Dominic raised his Coke in salute as Lucila walked away and then turned to give Elena his full attention.

“I have been working at the ruins,” she said, “I’m an epigrapher. My area of expertise is deciphering ancient Mayan hieroglyphs. I’m trying to make sense of the Hieroglyphic Staircase.”

Dominic smiled. “I’ve never met an epigrapher before.”

She smiled back. She had an electric smile that lit her whole face. “Most people haven’t. It’s a rather esoteric calling.”

“I thought they already had cracked the Mayan code.”

“Not all of it. The Staircase crumbled over the centuries and was reassembled without any thought to the correct order of the glyphs. I’m trying to figure out the correct order. Some days it’s a daunting task. Today was one. Unfortunately, I picked the hottest part of the year to come.”

“Fall, winter and spring are great. How long will you be here?”

“Until August, then I return to teaching. I’ve been here several weeks. So far it’s been quite an experience. Not at all what I had hoped.” The smile faded from her face.

“What do you mean?” he asked. His old pastoral instincts kicked in. Something was troubling Elena. In an instant her face had gone from sunny skies to dark clouds. Maybe it was his face everyone said they could trust that made her lean closer and lower her voice.

“Someone’s been stealing valuable stones from the Staircase.”

“That’s serious. Have you notified the police?”

Elena nodded. “The director has. This is a real scandal. You’ve lived here for a while, haven’t you? Is there a serious crime problem in this town? What about smuggling?”

Scandal he understood. He felt a sudden protectiveness toward her. “There’s the usual tourist crime, wallets stolen, cameras, stuff like that. I haven’t heard of any smuggling, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going on. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shrugged a bare shoulder. The red shawl with shiny threads that she had draped over it, slid down her arm, and Dominic followed the sliding adornment, taking in the swell of her breast under the slinky black fabric of her dress. He hoped she didn’t notice where his eyes were wandering. Down boy, he thought. Let’s not get carried away. Compassion and lust were not a good combination.