Blindfolded

by Jennifer Campbell

The characters of Tessa, Vera, Don Hidalgo and Dr. Helm don't belong to me. This story is all in good fun with no harm intended. I make no money off this, unfortunately.

This was written for Queen of Swords Weekly Challenge No. 36, for the Queen of Swords fanfic mailing group.

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"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"
-- Christopher Marlowe

The supply ship arrived two days early, and all of Santa Helena emerged into the smoldering afternoon, leaving behind the merciful shade of their haciendas and shops for the celebration. The town square took on the trappings of a festival, spilling over with smiles and laughter. Money flowed, in exchange for all those things the town normally did without. Fresh fruits, bolts of shimmering cloth for the ladies and new knives for the men.

From his well-worn seat outside the local tavern, Doctor Robert Helm watched it all with a curious detachment. Usually, he would be walking among them, filling his bags with a new stock of medicines and chemicals. But on this day, he felt less like shopping and more like finishing his bottle of whiskey. Then maybe staggering home and passing out.

"Beautiful day, don't you think, doctor?" Don Gaspar Hidalgo stood at his side, smiled cheerfully and bounced on the balls of his feet. "The supply ship is here, all the town has come out for it, yet you are merely watching. That is strange, don't you think?"

"I notice you're not out there, either." Helm's voice sounded dull, uninterested to his own ears.

"That is because my Vera is doing our shopping today. I find it best to stay out of the way. Do you mind if I join you?"

Helm waved to an empty chair. He didn't particularly feel like entertaining company, but Gaspar had that look in his eyes, that he would accept no refusal. Better to endure than fight it, Helm thought.

Gaspar lowered his bulk carefully onto the offered chair and dabbed his forehead with a silken handkerchief. "It is exhausting, coming out into this heat, but Vera insisted." He pointed into the crowd. "There she is now, talking with Senorita Alvarado. Those two have become so close, lately."

Helm nodded and took a drink. Mostly, he wanted the don to go away and leave him to his dark mood. Yet Gaspar eyed him with keen intensity.

"When a man sits alone drinking," Gaspar said, "it is usually one of two things. Money, or women. And since the good doctor doesn't want for money, it must be a woman that makes you so glum. Hmm?"

Helm gave him a bewildered look. "Is it that obvious?"

"Ah, you see, I was right. I know that look. I've seen it in the mirror too many times in my life. There's such a hopelessness behind the eyes." He peered more closely at Helm. "Bloodshot eyes, too. Either you're not sleeping or you're doing too much of this."

He gestured to the tavern behind them. Helm's alcohol-muddled brain took a moment to figure out what he meant: Too much drowning of sorrows. Well, maybe that was true, but the old habits of a soldier linger like a virus. He had resolved to put it all behind him, but now she had him drinking again, and even killing. He had broken his most sacred vow to save her life, yet she still did not trust him enough to share her secret.

"Doctor?" Gaspar leaned forward, concerned. "Are you all right? You're suddenly very pale."

"I'm fine," he replied curtly, then finished his drink and poured another.

"If you want to talk about it ..."

"Thank you, but with all respect, I'm not in the mood."

Gaspar nodded. "I understand. Woman troubles are a sensitive, personal matter. Take my Vera, for example. She keeps secrets, and she thinks I do not know what she does when she says she is meeting Maria Teresa in town for lunch. But I am no fool who does not know his own wife."

Helm choked on his whiskey, some of it spewing across the table. He suddenly felt much more sober. "You know?"

"My pedal is beautiful, young and very impetuous. She makes a game of it with Captain Grisham, but if she knew I knew, it would kill her. He is more handsome and energetic than me, and perhaps Vera needs that. But as time passes, her infatuation with him will fade, while our love will endure."

Helm could only stare in amazement. "You are a tolerant man, Don Hidalgo."

"And a discreet one."

Helm heard what he did not say: You can trust me, Doctor, as I have just trusted you. If I can keep this secret from my wife, I can keep your secret as well. Maybe he could, at that. Here was one of Santa Helena's most powerful and respected dons sitting at his table, offering his friendship. I would be the fool to reject this man.

Helm made his choice. "At least you have all the information. No more secrets. The woman I love, I don't even know who she is."

Gaspar breathed out in a soft sigh, like a puff of wind. "Ah, I see now. It is the Queen you drink for."

Somehow, the don catching on so quickly didn't faze Helm this time. He spoke quietly, everything coming out in a rush. "When I first realized that I loved her, when I knew I would do anything to protect her -- even kill -- I started looking for her. Surely she must be among the town's women somewhere, I thought, and if I truly love her, I will know her. No mask or lack thereof could keep me from knowing her." His voice turned harsh. "That was months ago, and still I know nothing."

"What is it about her that you love?"

Helm paused before answering, closed his eyes to visualize her. "Most women are bred to be submissive. There's no spirit in them, or if there ever was, their fathers beat it out of them at a young age. The Queen, though, is different from any woman I've ever met. She sees injustice, and instead of standing by, she takes on this dangerous persona to fight it. It is such a selfless act. There is no gain for her, but she does it anyway." He sucked in his breath, as a vision of her came to mind, as he first had seen her -- tied to a post, helpless yet still defiant. "I knew all that the first time I laid eyes on her."

A sympathetic smile tugged at Gaspar's mouth. "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

Helm nodded, although he hadn't realized the truth until now. "Yes, yes that's right. I loved her at first sight."

"And when you search for her, what do you look for?"

He shrugged. "The obvious traits. Height, body type, dark hair."

Gaspar chuckled. "And that's all? No wonder you cannot find her."

"No, I -- I know how she moves, like a wild animal on the hunt. I know her voice and her scent, and the passion behind her eyes ..."

His voice trailed off. This was almost too much, too difficult to talk about. And it felt almost pointless, like having to describe how you recognize the sun or moon. Then again, celestial bodies don't hide behind masks.

"I think," Gaspar said, "I know your problem."

"Oh, well, please share, Senor, how you know more about it than I do myself."

If Gaspar noticed the sarcasm in Helm's response, he didn't acknowledge it. "When you tell me what you love about her, you speak of intangible things -- her spirit and selflessness and sense of justice. Yet what you look for is all physical. You need to look beyond that, to search for her soul and not for her body."

Helm blinked. Such a simple concept, but how would it work? How did one go about searching for a soul? Doctors worked elbow-deep in the physical every day, staunching wounds, setting bones and measuring medicines. To look beyond that might prove an impossible task.

He shook his head. "I just don't know ..."

"It is the best advice I can give you, my friend." Gaspar looked out toward the square, then smiled and waved. He called out, "Ah, my pedal, come and join us."

Helm watched with only mild interest as Vera and Senorita Alvarado, both resplendent in their fine dresses, slowly approached. Vera carried a basket of goods, but all Tessa held was a flimsy parasol to keep off the midday sun.

They were so different, like day and night; yet even for her darkness, Tessa shined thanks to a radiant smile. It seemed, as the women came closer, that she gave that smile entirely to him. Helm shook himself to clear the thought, so ridiculous. The alcohol must have rattled his brains more than he thought. The flighty daughter of a wealthy don would not see anything in an oftentimes crabby town doctor. Even if she did, he had no interest in her mindless sort of chatter.

Both men stood to greet the ladies, Helm a bit more unsteady on his feet than Gaspar. If anyone noticed, they had the grace not to say so.

Gaspar gave his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Did you find everything we need?"

"Of course." Vera wrinkled her nose and pouted. "Don't you trust me, Gaspar?"

"You know I do." Gaspar nodded at Tessa. "Have you not bought anything today, Maria Teresa? Surely the ship brought something for you, hmm?"

"Marta has our things in the wagon," Tessa said, nodding behind her to where her servant waited. "We'll be leaving shortly, but first I need to speak to Doctor Helm, in private."

Helm blinked at that, then gestured away from the table. A single lady seeking the company of a man was unusual at best. "Perhaps you would accompany me, Senorita. I must return to my office."

She smiled brilliantly again. "Of course, doctor."

Before leaving, Helm nodded his farewell to Don Hidalgo and his wife. "If you would excuse us. And, thank you, my friend."

"My pleasure, doctor."

Helm offered his arm to Tessa, and they started off to circle the crowded square. He couldn't help but notice the senorita had dabbed on a bit too much perfume that morning. As a rule, he preferred a woman who did not mask her natural scent. Like the Queen. Still, having Tessa at his side felt strangely comforting, as though this is where she was supposed to be. The whiskey must have something to do with that, he reasoned.

"I wanted to get away from Don Hidalgo and Vera before making a request," she said. "I have no wish to embarrass my foreman in polite company. He has dysentary and cannot come to town."

Helm relaxed. She wanted to talk business, and that he could do. "I'll come by your hacienda later this afternoon. Is that soon enough?"

"Yes. Thank you, doctor."

"Then if that is all, Senorita, I must take my leave."

They stopped in the street, people passing all around them. She met his eyes directly, and for a moment, her vapid expression transformed and he could see more -- exhaustion, confusion and even a little sadness. She had that look some patients got when they had something important, but difficult, to tell him.

The silence hung between them, Helm not quite sure what he was waiting for. Tessa finally drew breath to speak, then abuptly changed her mind and snapped her mouth shut, her eyes suddenly flashing as though with anger. Helm felt an overpowering sense of deja vu. He had seen those eyes before, but where? He almost swayed under the power of it.

The anger passed as quickly as it had come. She released his arm slowly, her fingers lingering. "Later this afternoon, then, I'll expect you."

She swept away from him without another word, and he could only watch her retreat in dumbfounded confusion. What had just happened? What had he said to provoke those quick flashes of emotion? Perhaps he had imagined it. Cursed alcohol.

No matter, really. He had more important things to think on, the most important of which was his conversation with Don Hidalgo. If he changed his approach, could he really find her? Unearth the Queen's secret and finally know her without the mask?

Probably not, he thought ruefully as he opened his office door, his gaze straying unawares to Senorita Alvarado as she and Marta drove their wagon out of town. Some blinders are not meant to be lifted.

the end

October 9, 2001

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