In good spirits thanks to our filled stomachs, the post-lunch conversation around the table quickly derailed. It soon became a teasing contest between me and Vicente about his time in Marinduque. And with all his failures trying to fit in with provincial life, the young man stood no chance.
Vicente shook his head and forced a smile, while Don Tiongson howled with laughter as I retold in detail that first time he volunteered to drive the carriage to the plantation. More modestly, and pleasantly to the ears, his daughters also laughed behind the cover of their handkerchiefs.
Don Tiongson wiped tears from his eyes and then smiled widely when he noticed something at my end of the table. "Oh, look—Paz is laughing… that's a first in a very long time."
I turned my head to the left. She was sitting beside Agapita, who was seated right next to me. Her laughter immediately stopped as she covered her face, but we still caught the healthy redness that bloomed on her cheeks.
For a brief moment, our eyes met before she quickly looked away and muttered something about her father embarrassing her, softly under her breath. I didn't know if it was just because of the daylight, but she seemed to glow brighter now.
"It seems your presence here is good for our Paz," said Don Tiongson with a toothy smile. "It would be our pleasure if you continue to stay here as long as you're in Malolos. We'll make sure to accommodate your every need, gobernador."
I chuckled, though I didn't fully understand what Don Tiongson meant.
I glanced at Vicente. "I'm sorry, Don Tiongson, but I actually want to pay Vicente's parents a visit in Calumpit."
Don Tiongson raised his eyebrows and turned to Vicente. "Is that so? I guess it's only right you repay the hospitality the governor gave you in Marinduque."
Vicente sighed resignedly, furrowing his brow. "Are you really sure about this, Don Martin? My parents will welcome you warmly, but don't expect the same luxury with which you're received everywhere."
I scoffed at his statement. "What on earth are you talking about, Vicente? We've just come from Marinduque."
"Alright then," Vicente shrugged with a smirk. "I plan to leave on the 2 p.m. train."
"No hay problema."
---
The train ride to Calumpit was pleasant and short. When we got off at the station, we were able to secure a nice, large carriage for the rest of the journey. I had to pay handsomely for it, but I still had in my satchel the payment I got for the abaca in Manila.
As I surveyed the town from the spacious and cushioned cabin, I wondered why Vicente was so hesitant to invite me to the place—especially with his "luxury" comment. While Calumpit wasn't as urbanized as Malolos or Meycauayan, it was perhaps second only to them in terms of development in Bulacan. And of course, it was significantly more developed than Boac, even if the latter was the capital of Marinduque.
Not only was the town nice—he was also quite popular with the locals. As we rode through the town's busy streets, many turned their heads and looked pleasantly surprised to see him. There were plenty of waves and smiles thrown our way. I couldn't help but notice he was especially popular with the ladies.
That might explain why he wasn't enthralled with my Isabela.
And maybe he was hesitant to have me visit simply because he disliked me or something.
My confusion deepened when the carriage began to leave the town proper. With his popularity, I thought he lived in one of the big houses we passed by. Our journey continued into the suburbs but Vicente remained seated and said nothing to the cochero. The coachman kept on driving, as if he already knew the destination.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked.
"To my house. I thought you wanted to meet my parents?" Vicente curled his lips. "Or do you want to stay in town, find a lodge?"
"No."
That's when I assumed he likely lived in a ranch, far away from town. That must be why, although he had the characteristics of a nerd and someone who lived a wealthy life, he was still able to somewhat adapt to the rugged lifestyle in Marinduque.
Our ride continued until there was only tall grass and trees on both sides of the road. I couldn't help but think that there was a chance Vicente was playing a prank on me for embarrassing him earlier in front of Don Tiongson and his daughters.
I was about to confront him when the carriage finally stopped. The rattling of the wheels ceased, and the sound of stirring blades of grass came to the fore.
"Thank you, Carlos," Vicente said to the driver, rising from his seat and jumping off the carriage.
I looked around again. There was nothing around us but nature. The only man-made structure nearby was an abandoned waiting shed. And the only people present were us.
"There's nothing here," I said.
Vicente pointed at the tall cogon grass. Upon a closer look, I spotted a small gap. "We have to walk the rest of the way."
With much consternation, I stepped out of the carriage. I watched it drive away until Vicente nudged me forward.
A narrow trail snaked through the cogon grass. It wasn't hard to navigate, but the path was only wide enough for two people walking side by side. It didn't look like it would lead to any significant estate.
I heard the sound of rushing water, and after a turn, a river came into view.
On the bank was a small village of nipa huts. There wasn't a single bahay-na-bato in sight. Small garden patches and livestock pens surrounded the homes. Near the water were fishing boats and fishermen with their nets and poles.
"And where are we?" I asked.
"Where I live," Vicente answered.
He saw something in my reaction that made him snort and shake his head.