Chapter Four - New Spain, 1740

May 23, 1740

We made our way through the meandering streets of the city. It was so hot, smelly, and crowded. The humidity was unbearable. The buildings were old, yet looked new. The shortest of us was Kim, yet even she was tall compared to the people who lived here. Jacob and the other guys stood out like sore thumbs as they towered over everyone, so much so that we thought for sure our height would give us away. Our clothing didn’t help the matter. We were definitely strange looking here, but for whatever reason, people gave us little notice.

We stopped at the town square and sat down to rest. The world was spinning around us. It had been almost a year since we had seen this many people in one place. We took in all the delicious aromas of their local food. We sat and watched the world unfold before us, with no plan or specific goal. As night arrived, we knew we would have to do something. We were going to need money. We didn’t have money in any form and had very little that we could trade.

“Well?” asked Tom. “Now what? It’s getting dark, and soon we’ll really begin to stick out in the crowd. And those soldiers we saw earlier may want to give us a closer look.”

“Conquistadors,” Jacob said.

“Fine,” said Tom as he slowly stood. “Where to?”

“Trinity, can you ask were the church is?” Jacob asked.

A woman walked by. “Disculpe, me podría decir ¿dónde esta la iglesia?” I asked her.

She replied that it was up the road, on a side street quite a ways away. Once again we were on the move, our short rest stop put to an end.

The six of us slowly made our way up the old narrow side street to a small mud church. It wasn’t a grand cathedral by any stretch, which you would have expected. It was a mud hut. We stopped.

“Is anyone Catholic?” Jacob asked.

I replied, “My mother was.”

“This is good. We can use that.”

“My dad was Lutheran, and I was baptized as such.” I added.

“Okay, not sure Catholics and Lutherans get along, especially at this time. I would just go with the Catholic thing.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Trinity, we need a place to sleep. The Catholic church is the only place I can think of that will give us a place to stay, and food, and not turn us away,” Jacob pointed out.

We slowly pushed open the large wooden doors. The air was thick with dust. Light from the sunset passed through the simple stained glass windows. At the far end of the aisle, close to the altar, burned some white candles. There were a number of people praying.

We sat down in the back corner of the church and watched as people came in and out. Then we saw a person who was clearly a monk praying.

We waited for about two hours, until the last person exited the church. We sat there alone, the six of us again. The monk started putting some of the altar candles out. As he did, we could see him looking back at us in the shadows. Finally he paused and made his way over. As he came closer, I got my first good look at him. He was a stick-like man, wearing a brown robe. His head was partly shaved, and his eyes were very close together. He reminded me of my youngest sister, Bianca, who, when she was nine, played with Angry Birds stuffed animals. His head looked like an Angry Bird.

He stopped and looked at us. “¿Les puedo ayudar?”

“He’s asking if we need help,” I said.

“Tell him we are travellers, we have lost our money, and we need a place to stay and rest for a few days until we can figure out what to do next,” Jacob said.

I paused, trying to think how to word Jacob’s long winded sentence. “Somos, viajeros y tenemos—”

He put his hand up and stopped me. “I speak small English.”

He caught us off guard. We were not expecting anyone to speak English.

“Where are you from?” the monk asked.

I looked at Jacob and the others.

Jacob replied, “We are from a place called New France.”

“You speak French?” the monk asked.

“No,” was Jacob’s reply. “Sorry, only English.”

New France was on the east coast of what would be Canada in the future. Saying we were from Calgary, Alberta, would be like saying we were from Jupiter. Saying we were from the West Coast would also mean nothing. No one had made it to the West Coast yet, but people would know about New France.

“New France. You are a very long way from home. How become you to be here?”

“We travelled a long way and have run out of money,” I said.

“I have very little I can offer you.”

Jacob jumped in. “We can work, fix things. All we need is a few days, some food, some clothes, some help. If there is anything we can do in trade, please let us know.”

The monk looked at us. We could see he had never seen anyone like us before.

“Stand up,” he said to Jacob. “My, you are a tall one. I think it will be hard to find clothes that fit you.”

He looked at us. His mind was not made up.

“This is a house of God, and I am sworn to help those in need.”

“So you will let us stay?” I asked.

He replied, “I look forward to hearing about New France. It will be good to practise mine English again. Come up. Follow me. You are all husband and wife?”

“Sí,” I said.

“My name is Friar Bernardo Castillo,” the monk said. “And you all are?”

“My name is Trinity Wa—” I stopped. “Kennedy. This is my husband, Jacob, our closest friends, Tom Wilde and his wife, Keara, and Andy Taylor and his wife, Kim.”

I knew after I said that statement, he knew I was full of it. Kim was from China, and what were the odds of a Chinese woman marrying a white man? Zero percent!

“You are not all Catholics,” he said.

“Sorry, no,” Tom replied.

“Is that a problem?” Jacob asked.

Bernardo just kept walking. “You must be hungry, and I think you should clean yourself.”

We followed him into a small group of rooms at the back of the church.

“It is not much, but tonight you are the guest in God’s home.”

That night we washed, we ate, and we drank red wine. It had been over a year since I had my last glass of wine. He asked us many questions: where Kim was from in China, how she came to be here, why we were so far from home.

“These are not safe times,” he said.

We ate chicken, and it was so good! The problem when you don’t drink for such a long time is that you get drunk very quickly. We all laughed. Bernardo practised his English, and he tried to teach us Spanish—wasn’t going to happen in one night.

By the end of the night, I think Friar Bernardo had seen right through our poor lies. I think he thought we were rich children who had decided to run away from our families for whatever reason. Perhaps we were lovers and we were going against our families’ wishes, so we left home to find our place in the world, far away from what was right and expected. I think he admired us for following our dreams. Little did he know how wrong he was, but it didn’t matter. A kind person had taken in six wanderers. He had fed them given them drink and a place to sleep. That night, we slept on the floor of the church, Jacob stayed beside me.

May 24, 1740

I woke with such a headache. We were all hung-over. The birds sang, and the sounds of the town could be heard outside the walls of the church. Bernardo came in and ushered us out of the church and into the conclave. There he had prepared a bowl of warm water for Jacob, Tom, and Andy to shave. There was a straight razor for them to use.

“I don’t think I can use this,” Jacob said. “I see myself cutting my head off.”

Bernardo looked at him. “You wait. Now for the young senoritas, or should I say misses, I have a surprise for you. Come.”

We followed him into a side room where a five-foot wooden tub sat. It was filled with warm water. Next to it was a small wooden table with a mirror, a single hairbrush, and what looked to be some kind of powder makeup.

“Enjoy. Let me not keep you.” With that, Bernardo left, closing the door behind him. The three of us looked at each other.

“Who first?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” said Kim.

The short of it was it didn’t matter. The tub was just big enough for all three of us to fit. The water spilled over the sides. We took turns washing ourselves. There was soap! For the first time in over 330 days, we were actually washing our hair. You don’t understand what that was like. We sat in that tub for over an hour, to the point we started to get very wrinkled. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” I said.

“Can I open the door?” Jacob said.

“We’re naked.”

The door slowly swung open, and an arm poked in carrying women’s clothes. They looked well used, but they were women’s clothes.

“Bernardo asked me to give these to you.”

“You can set them down on the chair,” Keara yelled out.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Kim threw some wet clothes at him. “Fine, now get out!”

With that, Jacob turned and closed the door behind him.

After getting out of the tub, we dressed, or tried to dress. The fact was it took us a while to figure out how the dresses worked. The undergarments were also strange to us, but the three of us finally got it. I sat in front of the small mirror. The glass was yellow in colour, and there was a slight distortion to us as we looked into it. There we were, the three of us looking into the mirror. We had seen each other every day, but we had not seen ourselves, other than a few photos we had taken of each other, in the last ten months. But this was different. It was real. I looked at myself. I picked up the brush and started to brush my hair. The person I saw in the mirror was not the one I remembered. She had aged. She had missed a birthday. She should be eighteen, but looked a lot older.

Keara put her hand on my shoulder. She whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

I smiled. When it was Keara’s turn, I brushed her hair, and Kim put some of the makeup on her face. It slightly covered the two small scars the bear had left on her face after the attack. Kim put on rich red lipstick. She looked like a China doll. Finally we stood there, looking into the mirror. Our reflection made us feel beautiful, happy, and proud.

When we walked back into the conclave, the boys were sitting there shaved and clean. They had on an assortment of loose-fitting clothing. Jacob kind of reminded me of the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Bernardo is trying to get us some better clothes tomorrow, with luck. This sucks. Our size is hard to come by,” Andy said.

“You look good,” I said.

“You look…” Jacob started.

“What? I look what?” I said.

Jacob finished, “You look like a lady. You all look like beautiful ladies.”

We all replied with an “Aww.” They were just words, but those words meant a lot to us that day. It was nice to be a girl again. It was nice to have a man admire me. It was nice to be with friends.

That night, Jacob and I left the church and went for a walk. We walked hand in hand to El Faro hill. At the top was a small fire burning, which acted as a sort of lighthouse to guide ships at night. It was hard to climb in a dress, but I made it. The trail was well used by the locals. As we walked, we passed a man and his donkey packing firewood up the hill. When we got to the top, we sat there and looked out over the sea and back at Mazatlán. The light from candles in all the windows was a beautiful sight to behold. We talked for hours, about what we now hoped to do. Finally, we agreed it would be too dangerous to walk down in the dark, so we sat there and talked all night, until dawn broke. We had been through so much. As the sun came up, I fell asleep in Jacob’s arms. There I slept with the man of my dreams.

May 25, 1740

To earn our keep, we helped around the church as much as we could. Bernardo was not much of a handy man. We cleaned up and fixed things that needed fixing, which was a lot. The church was about fifteen years old and needed a lot of repairs. It helped that we had a twenty-first-century multi-tool to cut wood, twist wire, and make jobs a little quicker. Bernardo looked at the tool and was amazed by how it worked; the quality of the workmanship. Only children of the rich could afford such things, he thought. That afternoon, Bernardo introduced us to the first of his flock, as he called them. In the coming days, and weeks we worked with these people making bread, baking, feeding the chickens and a number of other things I never thought I would do in this, or any, lifetime. We, or should I say Kim, even cared for the sick. That spring I think Kim, saved three or four lives. If not for her medical knowledge and her loving heart, I know the children and women she helped would have died.

As all this was going on, we made sure no one saw what we had in our packs. At one point, Andy thought we should throw them away. I told him no way! They were the only things that tied us to home, and I wouldn’t ever give that link up. Jacob and the others agreed. These items were us. They held our past, and perhaps our future.

It was around this time, I first started to think about sending a message home.

But first, we would need to build a future here.

May 29, 1740

After Sunday Mass, Friar Bernardo sat us down in the pew right in front of the altar. He asked, “What are you going to do?”

We all looked at each other. He was right to question us.

“You are young. The whole world is there for you. You need to move on, have children, and grow old. That is what God wants from you,” he said. “I know you are not Catholics. I know you are not married in the eyes of God.”

Some of us were surprised by his statement.

“I know this how, because Jacob came to me and told me as a friend.”

I turned to Jacob, who just sat there, next to Andy and Tom. Way to go, I thought, not the best move on his part.

“Jacob, Thomas, and Andy have something they want to say to you,” said Bernardo.

The three of us looked at the guys. The boys slowly stood up and walked over to us, Tom to Keara, Andy to Kim, and Jacob to me.

“Jacob?” I said.

Bernardo spoke. “The boys have something they want to ask you.”

There was a long pause on their part. They just stood there looking at us.

Finally, Jacob asked, “I know I don’t have a ring for you, but will you be my wife?”

The three of us were shocked. I could tell in the eyes of Tom and Andy the same words would soon follow.

It’s funny how girls spend their whole lives planning, imagining what it will be like the day someone proposes. This was not how I ever imagined it. I always saw it differently, in a green field, having a picnic, during dinner at a romantic restaurant. But here it was the question, the one question that most of us waited for all of our lives. Right then it didn’t matter the where, the how; all that mattered was whom, that special someone who wanted to share his life with me.

I looked into Jacob’s eyes. I looked at Kim, then Keara. Andy and Tom repeated the same words to them. It was strange. Friends would now be husbands and wives. At that instant, we knew if any one of us refused, we all would say no. I hoped the other two would say yes. I loved Jacob and didn’t want to destroy the moment. Kim smiled a yes. I turned to Keara. She, too, smiled an overwhelming yes.

I turned and spoke these words, “Jacob, I would be proud and forever honoured to be your wife, so yes.”

There you have it. Jacob, Tom, and Andy stepped forward and kissed us.

Day 365

July 3, 1740

At the time, I didn’t know it, but in all the universe, in all the one-in-a-billion chances, a second star would align. It was my birthday. It was also the 365th day since coming into this time. One year ago, we crossed over the Rubicon. And today would be our wedding day. I was nineteen years old, and I was going to become Mrs. Trinity Kennedy Warner.

I would be joined by Kim Taylor and Keara Wilde. As the doors to the church slowly pulled open, we saw standing there before us a nervous Jacob, Tom, and Andy. Friar Bernardo stood next to them. The church was empty, how we wanted it. There was no family, no friends, only us. We were all the family we needed now. The only music was the song I heard in my head.

Friar Bernardo waved for us to come forward. The three of us slowly walked down the aisle toward our future husbands. It was sunset—I always wanted a sunset wedding. The candles burned brightly, and the smoke from the smoke pots filled the room. The dirt floor felt uneven as we slowly walked across it.

The world seemed to pass us by in slow motion. You would think we would have looked at each other as we walked down the aisle, but we didn’t. We looked straight ahead at our men, our heroes, and our loves. I had dreamed of a white wedding, and this was perfect. We wore very simple white dresses. Our hair was filled with yellow-and-blue flowers. We took our place beside our men.

Friar Bernardo cleared his throat. “We are here today, in the presence of God, the father to bring these souls together as husbands and wives.”

The remainder of the service he said in Spanish. As he spoke, I looked at Jacob. He made me happy. I thought back to when we had first met, how I didn’t think much of him, how I passed him by the first time in the hall, and in classes. But soon we would be friends, friends who became lovers, lovers who became husband and wife. My father believed, and would always say to me, that whatever happens was meant to happen. One thing would lead to the next, and so on. Life is like a journey down a river. As much as you try to change the course of your life, you can’t go against the current. You will only delay how it will turn out. So let the waters of the river carry you to what is expected of you. The waters of time had brought us here.

“Pueden besar a las novias,” Bernardo spoke. “You may kiss the brides.”

Jacob leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn’t the first time he had kissed me, but it’s the kiss I cherish the most.

That evening we laughed, we cried, ate like royalty, sipped on wine, and danced all night. Then we each went our separate ways to spend the night as married couples. Friar Bernardo had talked to some of the townspeople who had extra rooms and made arrangements for us to spend one night together as man and wife, a short but sweet honeymoon.

Within two blocks of the church was a small inn. The innkeeper was waiting for us.

“Buenas noches. Estábamos esperando a los recién casados,” he said, which meant “We were waiting for the newlyweds.”

Jacob thanked him, and we went in. The room was small and the bed hard, but it was all ours for the night. Candles burned on both sides of the bed to show us the way.

I was extremely nervous. I wasn’t used to being all alone. I had slept beside Jacob for almost a year now. When I was cold, he was there. When I was sad, sick, he was there to warm and care for me. This time we were man and wife. It would be different. I had never really slept with a man. It would be my first time. I had saved myself for that special someone. We stood next to the bed across from each other, neither of us saying a word.

Then he turned to me. “Happy birthday, Trinity.”

“I love you,” I replied.

Then he put his hand forward, pulled the string that tied the front of my dress, and slowly undressed me. His hands felt gentle as he caressed my body. I felt sensations I didn’t know existed. Finally my dress dropped to the floor. We lay in bed with the light of the candles glowing around us as we finally made love for the first time. It was breathtaking. In all its magic, there was a feeling of hopefulness that swept through my body. I was so happy to be there with the man of my dreams.

As the last candle burned down, we fell asleep.