Sazagua

Alba's days were filled with adrenaline as she waited for their eyes to meet and for them to run into each other. She wondered if Juan Carlos would remember her when he returned to the capital, if he would look for her when he came back to the village, or if he would simply ignore her. Alba believed it was better if he ignored her, as that way the suffering would end and she would no longer have the uncertainty in her heart of potentially being ignored or forgotten. Deep down, Alba believed that perhaps she didn't deserve such love, that such a special feeling wasn't part of her life. One night, Alba wanted to put that feeling into words, and all she could write was:

"It's basically such a powerful energy that my heart skips a beat, I smile more easily, and my eyes shine with enthusiasm; a symptom that only Juan Carlos and my mom can see in my eyes."

Early one morning, as Alba was getting ready to polish the bosses' boots, César arrived from riding Juan Carlos's horse. He was very agitated and, without making much noise, discreetly handed her a note from Juan Carlos. The note said, "Tomorrow morning, go train Tauro near the lake, Juan Carlos." Alba's heart almost jumped out of her chest. She couldn't believe what was happening. She thought it was a dream. She looked into César's eyes, and he, like a mischievous friend, nodded his head as if to say, "Nothing is impossible for love, my friend. Go for it."

That night, Alba couldn't sleep. She just read the note over and over again. When it was 7 a.m., she let her hair down because she didn't want Juan Carlos to see her with those beautiful, tight braids. Alba knew that her straight, flowing honey-colored hair combined with her emerald green eyes were a way of showing that she was capable of anything.

That being the case, she asked Doña Elsa to relieve her of her duty of clearing the breakfast plates, using a stomachache as an excuse. She put on her leather boots and baggy white pants and a leather vest and ran out to ride Tauro as if it were just another day of training. Her heart was beating faster than Tauro's, who was trotting steadily as if confirming that they were doing the right thing. Soon she reached the lake in that misty high plateau. She had to slow down so as not to lose her way, following her own tracks from days past.

The minutes passed and soon Juan Carlos arrived riding the majestic Scorpio, but he couldn't brake in time and splashed water from the lake onto Alba. Juan Carlos almost fell into the icy waters and Alba could only laugh out loud. Juan Carlos dismounted and scooped water from the lake in his hands and chased her to get her wet until Alba disappeared into the thick fog of 8 a.m. They played hide and seek using their voices as a guide to find each other. Suddenly, they found themselves face to face, and Juan Carlos hugged her and, taking off a leather glove, caressed her face, saying, "I hope now it's not my turn to steal your kiss." Without thinking, Alba kissed him as if he were a spring about to dry up. They merged in one of those hugs where neither time nor space can be felt. Alba whispered in his ear, "Please don't forget me." Juan Carlos lifted her up from behind and swore with all his heart that he would never forget her if she did the same for him.

The hours passed until 11 a.m., when the fog cleared and the sun came out strongly, revealing from a distance the evidence of two horses together on the mountainside. No matter how hard César tried to distract employees and bosses, their romantic encounter on such a beautiful midday was evident. But apparently, no one saw them on that occasion. The effect of the dispersing fog was an implicit agreement between lovers in which they were willing to face the consequences of being caught. This scene was repeated for three more horse training sessions, each more passionate and loving than the last. In one of them, Juan Carlos gave her a purse filled with his grandmother's loose pearls. And in another, Alba gave him a love poem in which she compared their love to the majesty of a sea silvered by the glow of an afternoon sun eager to begin reflecting itself in the moon. Like the sun, Alba thought their love was like an ocean that no one would ever want, that it would be there forever and that no one would ever end it.

That night, Juan Carlos invited her to see the moon from the biggest tree, a majestic, hundred-year-old ceiba tree where Juan Carlos's father had built a little wooden house where Alba and Juan Carlos had played since they were children. From there, they could see the stars accompanying the moon, lighting up the sky. Alba laughed at Juan Carlos, who was using binoculars brought from France by his maternal grandparents. She was able to spot constellations with the naked eye that took Juan Carlos a while to focus on. They stayed there looking at them, leaving the binoculars aside.

When she returned to the stable, Doña Elsa was waiting for her with an angry and worried look on her face that distressed Alba. She could only manage to say, "Do your braids NOW!"

Alba knew that deep down her mother felt compassion for her feelings toward Juan Carlos, although she was afraid of the consequences.

That's how they spent their vacation, swearing eternal love to each other every day. Then it was time for Juan Carlos to leave for the regional capital. The night before, they cried together under the tree and promised that César, who traveled frequently to the capital, would send them letters all the time.

As they said goodbye to all the staff, the Patrones informed them that they did not know when they would return but that they would be keeping an eye on them.

One summer afternoon, Doña Elsa was finishing cooking when she fainted. Alba was mopping the floor when she heard a loud bang. Doña Elsa was lying on the floor looking at the ceiling. Although she was still breathing, one of her hands was shaking. They called the town doctor, who ordered her to be taken to the regional capital. Her employers arrived at the hospital and found Alba crying in the emergency room with her hands covering her face. Hours passed, and when the doctor came out, he informed them that Doña Elsa had suffered a stroke and that only time would tell the consequences of this event. The doctor recommended complete rest, so her employers decided to send Doña Elsa to her parents' house, that is, to Alba's maternal grandparents in a nearby town to the north. Her employers promised to send her salary while she recovered. However, Alba's grandparents did not have the necessary facilities to accommodate Alba and her mother, so Alba would have to live in a boarding school further east so that she could finally finish her secondary education. Alba visited her mother and grandparents on weekends, and her employers covered all of Doña Elsa's and Alba's expenses at the boarding school and for her secondary education. Since she couldn't go horseback riding every weekend because she had to take care of her mother, she couldn't receive any letters or postcards from Juan Carlos, which added to her sadness, already scarred by time.

There was a deep contradiction within all the gratitude she felt toward her employers. As much as Juan Carlos and Alba wanted to, they couldn't reveal the truth because their employers were supporting Alba, Doña Elsa, and Juan Carlos, not to mention that the money they sent to Doña Elsa also benefited her grandparents' bakery, which was selling less and less due to a chain store that had opened nearby.

One Saturday afternoon, Alba told her maternal grandfather, Don Lucas, about her troubles. This wise old man looked at her as if he already knew what she was telling him. He took her hands and said softly, "My child, things don't turn out the way we want them to. They turn out the way they are because they follow a master plan defined by God. Look at our history and trust in Him." Alba asked him, "What is our true history, Grandfather? What happened to my father?"

Don Lucas changed his expression and began to recount the familiar fantastical stories repeated by everyone. Alba said slowly, "Please, Grandfather, don't lie to me anymore. I just need to know the truth." Lucas said, "You are the fruit of a forbidden love that gave me the most beautiful thing a grandfather can have: you." They cried together, and the warmth of her grandfather reminded Alba that she had always found in him the security she had always sought in a father.

Don Lucas's gaze implored Alba to either trust that they really didn't know the truth about what had happened to her father or to simply let go of a bitter story to heal the hearts of those who, like his granddaughter, still suffered from not knowing exactly what had happened. It was more of a plea to avoid seeking a replacement for her father in loves full of suffering and unhappiness, because love only begins within oneself, since God is within us.

Alba sensed that she was now safe from repeating her mother's story. During the long nights she spent caring for her mother, Alba sang to her in her ear, and her mother, unable to speak, wrote phrases full of love in a notebook.

That night, after the brotherly embrace with Don Lucas, Alba whispered to Doña Elsa in her ear: "Mom, I won't ask any more questions about my father." Her mother smiled at her with a glimmer of hope, but also with a look of disbelief, not only because of her remorse for not fighting for true love, but also because of the possible economic and social consequences that the people of the town could have on her family by repeating their history and leaving them on the street.

That is precisely why Doña Elsa asked her for a favor in the notebook and said, "Swear to me that you will go to the regional capital and study at the university and become an economically self-sufficient woman." Alba swore to her in the name of the immense love that united them.

That Sunday night, Alba walked down the unpaved street to the bus station and, as always, she was carrying the revolver that Juan Carlos's father — her boss — had given her when she turned 18. Suddenly, she saw a shadow approaching and grabbed the gun inside her jeans, ready to aim. As it got closer, she realized there were two shadows, one on top of the other, and she shouted, "Stop, in the name of God!" as she aimed her revolver, ready to fire. Luckily, a ray of moonlight illuminated the face of a smiling indigenous woman who was carrying her baby on her back, wrapped in black cloth, as her tribe had done for thousands of years. Alba was even more surprised to see that the indigenous woman was not frightened and did not stop smiling when she saw her. Alba asked her, "Excuse me, ma'am, what are you laughing at?" To which she replied, "Your eyes look very familiar." Saying this and without stopping, the indigenous woman disappeared into the shadows of the deserted street, and Alba, confused and frightened, could only run toward the bus station.

She wondered what the indigenous woman had meant, what her name was, why she hadn't asked her name, and why she had smiled and didn't even stop when she told her to with a gun in her hand. Why did she have such courage and peace to ignore her aggressive approach?

Running, she reached the police officer at the station and asked him if he had seen an indigenous woman pass by. The guard replied cynically, "I haven't seen any indigenous people in this town since the Spanish exterminated them many hundreds of years ago!"

Extremely confused and frightened, she took the bus and prayed to God to please help her forget the pain and confusion about her father, pain that was overwhelming her heart and mind. And so the months of studying and caring for her mother passed. Alba had read a book in which she remembered an author mentioning that what we fear most is what we attract most into our lives. Therefore, Alba wanted to overcome her fear of repeating her mother's story, of suffering an impossible love, and the only antidote she had found so far was in the enormous love of her mother and grandparents and, in some way, in the special treatment her employers gave them.

During her long two years at boarding school, she made two very good friends: Sister Lucila and Marta.

Sister Lucila was a French nun with whom she engaged in endless conversations about wonderful trips to the French countryside, debated the reasons and consequences of the French Revolution, and competed to see who could remember the most European artists and their works, which Alba had, of course, seen in books.

Regarding the French Revolution, Sister Lucila asserted that all that remained of the violence was a deep wound that, over the years, only resulted in more suffering that subsequent generations would have to resolve in their hearts, or else the suffering would be perpetuated. It was a kind of temporary material victory when the people temporarily gained power from the government, but since it was a government with blood on its hands, it soon began to provide bureaucratic benefits to a few, pretending to promote broader and fairer welfare. Any movement involving death, even with a "just cause," would bring consequences to its people that only history could tell.

Alba confronted her with arguments that, had it not been so, the French oligarchy would never have relinquished power to a people tired of the abuses of a few.

Lucila ended her explanation by saying that only God has the power to decide on human life. Blood only brings blood and suffering. She also explained that Christ's Way of the Cross explains our fragile nature and that if we do not make amends or reconcile ourselves with our ancestors, the pain will simply spread. To draw closer to God is to understand the source of human discomfort, and no bullet has yet been designed or manufactured for this purpose, as it is a work of the heart where the spirit pushes for introspection that is evident in the body.

Alba accepted her spiritual philosophical guidance, but at the same time asked her about her personal case — how could she reconcile with a father she doesn't miss and has no memories of? Sister Lucila told her that the Way of the Cross is not a silver bullet or a pill; it is a path, and therefore, life itself, hand in hand with Jesus, will reveal itself in order to achieve the necessary reconciliation. She used to say, "It's not like in the movies, because only God knows the time and place when everything will make sense. Not everyone is ready. We must be patient, persistent, and trust that if you have a desire to understand your father's actions, even if you don't understand them today, have faith and the right moment will come, and if you have to forgive, your sensitive heart will do so if necessary."

On the contrary, Marta was the student who spent the most time in detention. With a revolutionary spirit, she managed to convince the other students not to eat until the school menu was improved, or not to receive visitors until the hot water heaters were fixed, as the students were freezing in the early morning when bathing in the icy Andean waters.

Marta came from a northern region where women wear the pants in the family. Her mother was one of the largest cocoa producers in the country and believed that boarding school would help Marta build her character so that she could later expand the cocoa business internationally.

Marta was not interested in her mother's plans. What she was passionate about was philosophy and long debates about the meaning of things. Marta questioned a faith that was not based on rationality and always justified this approach by saying that Jesus himself asked the unbelieving Apostle to put his hands in his wounds — in his hands and side — in order to believe (John 20:27–29).

Marta also mentioned that, according to the problems and history experienced by each person, a faith of different colors was built, and that pigeonholing people into a single perspective was synonymous with not understanding what God is. To which Alba replied that there is only one God, but anyone with faith could reach him if they managed to have a simple intention to clean the walls of their heart.

It was there that Marta and Alba were the best at asserting that this cleansing of the heart must come from a great love, from a home filled with hope and a good and accommodating man. Sister Lucila always interrupted them, commenting that what they were describing was the consequence of each person building a heart with walls of glass, a complete self-knowledge from which they could radiate beyond physical beauty. The two young women seemed to understand this, but still with a hint of disbelief.

After that, Marta would tell her how she could mock her mother's efforts to find her a husband in the big clubs of the north, trying to get her to marry landowners who were more than 20 years older than her. Meanwhile, the foreman of the large farm, a burly young peasant, seemed to her the most handsome, loving, and brilliant of them all. Alba told her about Juan Carlos, and they would chat until dawn about how their stories were so similar yet so different, or even opposite in some ways. On the one hand, there was the daughter of servants in love with the son of the landowners, and on the other, the daughter of the landowner in love with the most famous cowboy and son of peasants who worked on her mother's estates. Marta, César, and Sister Lucila had become her angels on the path that Alba had to walk alone to achieve true love, or a path that inevitably led her to Sister Lucila's constant message about the need to cleanse the walls of her heart. Sister Lucila told them how Saint Teresa referred to the inner castle, in which there are different levels of dwellings, and how love, linked to the need for self-knowledge and spirituality, brings peace on the path of understanding inner pain towards the fulfillment of personal reconciliation.

As things stood, Marta was unable to graduate from high school because, a few months before graduation, early one Thursday morning, the regional police commander called and the Mother Superior summoned Marta to her office. An insurgent group had kidnapped her mother and they did not know where she was being held.

Marta, still on the phone and without saying a word, put the phone to her forehead and cried with rage. The colonel passed the phone to her aunt Clotilde, who was on the other end of the line and said in a tearful voice, "My child, go back to the farm. I don't know what to do, and we need you in charge."

Marta, Sister Lucila, and Alba locked themselves in to pray a rosary, asking the Virgin of Guadalupe to protect Marta's mother's life. They also asked God to enlighten Marta's mind and spirit, as she had to take control of such a delicate situation at a very young age while also leading the cocoa production.

The next morning, a driver from the cocoa production company came for Marta, and as they said goodbye, they promised to stay in touch. Alba had lost one of her most trusted confidants. She now had only Sister Lucila to share her most precious treasures of desires, thoughts, and regrets, and who helped her shape a faith closer to the reality of her life.

In this context, Sister Lucila managed to mention to Alba that life comes with different nuances and that the challenges we face are part of a master plan orchestrated by God before we are born. At that moment, Alba remembered what her grandfather had said. Sister Lucila continued, saying that each of us receives enough for what we can and need to manage. It is like a university of life, in which God enrolls us in certain courses that we do not really know what they are until each critical stage of joy or pleasure ends. The important thing, Sister Lucila said, was to learn something from each course and temper the spirit to face whatever comes with faith and a positive attitude toward challenges. Sister Lucila told Alba that this is the true Way of the Cross of Jesus seen from the personal path of life, given that Christ is not only on an altar but within oneself, and that accompanying him is also being a witness that we receive life together with him and the Virgin Mary, "as it comes!" Just as Mary said yes without hesitation, our spirit is on its way to being tempered by God, and from then on, it is up to us to lead our lives "always hand in hand with Jesus" and with effective action. Faith without action is nothing, Sister Lucila emphasized.

Alba couldn't agree more. She could only think about how her mother had been able to get through her troubles, perhaps without the precious company of Sister Lucila, and how she herself could see the grace embodied in her short story, understanding it from a perspective of learning and strengthening her spirit. What's more, Alba could realize at times, or in moments of great clarity, that what she was living and experiencing was a kind of path to understanding the mystery of life. It was as if going to boarding school was necessary to strengthen her ability to understand, not to mention strengthening her spirit in a more solid faith linked to action! Instead of lamenting having gone to boarding school, she took it as a gift from God, one of the many courses that God enrolls us in.

But what was the most immediate action Alba should take? This was the idea that most occupied her mind. One Friday night, Alba arrived at her grandparents' house and, seeing her mother asleep, sat down beside her, took her notebook, and without meaning to, read her last message to her grandfather, which said: "Please help Alba to continue cleansing her heart." At that moment, she understood that her mother had also acquired the spiritual wisdom that Sister Lucila had spoken of.

With her eyes filled with tears and without making a sound, Alba felt compelled to take a pencil and write down these three points of action to take: "I want to remember Juan Carlos fondly and get on with my life, I want to go to university to study law, and I want to find out what really happened to my father so that I can finally pay tribute to him and mourn him."

Although deep down Alba wanted to keep the flame of love with Juan Carlos alive, she rationally felt that this love had a very high emotional cost and even a spiritual cost that made her doubt God's goodness, to the point that on some occasions she asked God to forget Juan Carlos, but her heart told her otherwise.

In any case, Alba knew that going to college meant she would need more money from her employers, so when the new hunting season approached, she would have to tell them about her plans and ask them to finance her studies.

The next morning, Alba told her mother about her plans. Shaking her head from side to side, Doña Elsa wrote in her notebook, "Ask Grandfather for gold."

The next morning during breakfast, she mentioned her mother's message to Don Lucas, who smiled from ear to ear and took her to the basement of the bakery. He came up with a very heavy box and placed it on the dining room table. Don Lucas mentioned that since Alba was born, Elsa had saved most of her wages from working for the Patrones. That gold was intended for Alba's university studies and also to buy land in the future.

Alba couldn't believe it! She ran to hug her mother, and together with her grandparents, they rejoiced for Alba's well-being. She couldn't believe how her mother, after so many restrictions, could have saved so much money.

But Alba still believed that spending the gold on herself would take away her grandparents' and mother's ability to have a better old age. So, without telling anyone, she decided to go ahead with her plan to ask her employers for financial assistance during the hunting season and keep the gold in a safe place.

When she asked her employers for the money, her boss was so proud of Alba that he could only tell her that they would support her if she came back every week to ride his horses and maintain the armory, because since Juan Carlos had been gone, no one had even wiped down the collection of weapons with an oiled rag.

At that time, the boss had launched his campaign for governor of the region and needed someone to start taking more control of his house in town and nearby ranch.

After a modest high school graduation celebrated with beef stew at her grandparents' house, Alba enrolled in law school. Every month she received the money the boss sent her and transferred the gold nuggets from her grandparents' house to a secret place buried on the ranch, in the employees' bathroom behind the armory.

At university, she had her first and most pleasant surprise when she met César, her messenger of love. They sat for hours drinking coffee and, of course, the topic of "Don Juan Carlos" came up. Alba covered his mouth and asked him not to talk about him. César also covered Alba's mouth and whispered in her ear, "When you left for boarding school, I didn't know how to contact you, and you should know that Juan Carlos sent you letters every month until about four months ago when they stopped arriving." "They're all unopened in my room, in my shoe box, silly girl!" Alba cried inconsolably, more out of guilt for not having replied to any of the letters than out of not knowing what they said.

From then on, her time at university became a slow passage of time, waiting for the day when she would have to return to her duties to her employer. All she could think about was what to do with those letters. Should she read them in chronological order? Should she read only the last letter? Should she burn them? She just asked God to give her some guidance so she could make the best decision.

The next day, she called Sister Lucila seeking wise advice. She replied, "Entrust yourself to the Virgin of Guadalupe and do what your heart tells you."

When the day arrived, Alba took the bus to the village and sped up her ride with Tauro and Doncella, even though time seemed to stand still, or move in slow motion, her senses altered by emotion, eagerness, and anxiety. Coincidentally, already drenched in sweat, the head of the employees arrived and told her that the boss had ordered that from now on Albita would also ride Scorpio. Alba felt that instruction as perhaps an indirect form of energy to reconnect with a love recast in the routine of life. It was a strange coincidence that Alba would now also be riding Scorpio. Alba tried to remember the Greek myth that Sister Lucila had told her and Marta, but her eagerness and anxiety prevented her from recalling it. With her faith still in the making, even in Greek mythology, Alba sought answers or guidance, always concluding that she made her own way by walking hand in hand with Jesus.

Then, exhausted from all the exercise, she ran to the armory and disassembled two rifles and two shotguns; she oiled and cleaned them quickly. Her hands and thighs were shaking, although her heart was still beating fast.

She arrived late at César's house and knocked on the door. No one was home. She thought about climbing in through the back window, but she was afraid of being mistaken for a burglar, so she decided to go in, grab the letters, and run to the armory to read them there.

She did so, and her astonishment grew, for there were 18 letters! She saw that they had been sent from various parts of the world! However, the last three were addressed to the naval school in Cartagena, so she quickly concluded that Juan Carlos was back in Colombia after sailing around the world on the training ship Gloria!

She quickly jumped out the window and ran clumsily with her untied riding boots and her hands still covered in grease. She slipped as she entered the armory and a carbine fell to the dirt floor. Luckily, it wasn't loaded, but it got dirty and had to be cleaned again.

She knelt in front of a crucifix and prayed for wisdom to know what to do. She cried and tried to calm down. She concluded that she couldn't read the letters by herself and put them in her leather bag. She finished cleaning the dirty carbine and went out to catch the bus to her grandparents' house.

When she arrived, she ran to hug her grandfather. She cried on his shoulder and explained what had happened. Don Lucas took her to the back of the bakery as if he didn't want her grandmother and mother to find out about the letters. Don Lucas said to her, "My child, do you know if that love is possible? Could you live your whole life having burned the letters? One way or another, we will be here to support you and take care of your heart, but only you can decide and live with your decision forever. Please stay home and rest so you can make a decision." Alba fell asleep on the sofa next to the bed where her mother was sleeping.

The next morning, she took her backpack from the corner of her mother's room, put a box of matches, her revolver, and a dagger in her pocket, mounted her grandfather's white horse, and galloped toward the source of the river up in the mountains.

When she reached the source, there was a thick fog, and she remembered those moments with Juan Carlos. She wondered if there could be a love story without interruption and suffering. She questioned whether there could really be lasting happiness. But at that moment, she remembered Sister Lucila's inspiring spiritual guidance and calmed down because she felt that God and Jesus were behind everything and that those letters were part of God's master plan for them. She remembered that faith without action is nothing! It would be just a party decoration that no one would dance with and that would be thrown away the next day.

What disturbed her most was how she would live from then on without knowing what Juan Carlos had written to her. Right then and there, she made the decision to read the letters together with Sister Lucila at the convent and school in the region.

When she arrived, she told her grandfather, who couldn't have agreed more, because Alba needed spiritual support more than love to be able to digest and interpret the contents of the letters.

She called Sister Lucila, explained the situation, and that same Saturday she arrived at the convent school in the evening. They locked themselves in a room and, unfortunately, the power went out. It was as if some conspiracy had put time in slow motion, making it difficult for Alba to read the letters she had been longing to read. Sister Lucila ran across the old wooden floor and brought back matches and a candle.

Kneeling on the floor, Alba read the first letter and tears ran down her cheeks. And so, one letter after another, she paused to blow her nose in the bathroom, splash cold water on her face, and open another envelope. Then she came to a stiff envelope containing a photo of Juan Carlos in formal attire at a ceremony in the port of Buenos Aires. On the back, he wrote, "My beautiful Alba, here I am still thinking of you. I know that one day we will walk the cobblestone streets of Buenos Aires holding hands." Alba held the photo to her chest and sighed deeply. But the photo was dated a year ago!

The following letters suggested that with his salary as a naval officer, they could escape and live in Cartagena without the support of their parents. The next letter informed her that he would be in Cartagena in two months, where he hoped to hear from her.

The last letter informed her that he had been in Cartagena for three months and had been transferred to the north of the country to patrol some rivers where the risk of combat was high. He told her that, having received no letter from her, he had agreed to join a commando unit to search for some kidnapped people in the north and that he did not know if he would return alive, but he declared his unconditional and eternal love for her once again.

Alba, sobbing uncontrollably, hugged Sister Lucila at around 3 a.m. They cried together; Sister Lucila waited for her to cry as much as she could until she fell asleep. She left her there on the bed and went to her own room. The next day, with the tears dried on her face, Alba, as usual, already had a plan in mind. She wanted to find out more about the insurgent group that had kidnapped people in the north of the region. What were they demanding? How could she help reduce the risk to Juan Carlos? Was Marta's mother among those kidnapped? Was this the impulse to act that Sister Lucila had mentioned, the impulse that the spirit pushes a person to act when they encounter their destiny?

The fighting in the north could be heard on the horizon when, the next morning, Alba saw army trucks arriving in the village where her grandparents lived. They were carrying troops and ammunition, as well as long-range cannons and provisions for a long time.

By midday, helicopters carrying elite soldiers were flying overhead, disappearing over the horizon toward the rumble of bullets and explosions. The trucks also followed that course. Alba feared that the bloody fighting was approaching the village where her grandparents lived. Each echo of the explosions silenced Alba's soul. At that moment, all she could do was clutch the fragrant rose quartz rosary her grandfather had brought from Mexico and given to her mother.

Juan Carlos was performing very difficult maneuvers in the tributaries of the rivers in the northern part of the country. There is fighting almost every day, and it is difficult for letters to reach the command post where he sleeps with his brigade.

After 15 days of intense combat, Juan Carlos manages to get permission from his superior to go to Cartagena. Upon arrival, he reads Alba's letter and becomes enraged when he realizes that someone has hidden Alba's other letters from him. He is also deeply concerned about the risk Alba is taking, both because of her involvement with irregular groups and because of the fighting that is approaching the town where Alba's family lives. Juan Carlos takes a rifle and loads enough ammunition into the trunk of his command jeep. The next morning, he stops by the bank and withdraws a large amount of cash.

At the same time, he sends a report requesting counterintelligence to find out about the university group.

Juan Carlos informs his commander at the naval academy and is ordered to wait for a support team and go in command to rescue her. But a few days later, the order is changed and he is sent as cadet leader on another trip around the world on the training ship Gloria!

It is very clear to Juan Carlos that his father was behind these decisions, so he escapes from his battalion and heads to the capital to confront him.

His father tells him he doesn't know what he's talking about, and Juan Carlos storms out of the house. On his way to the university, several army vehicles surround him and manage to capture him. They put him in the trunk of a black Dodge Dart and take him to a military garrison.

There, handcuffed and seated in the commander's office, he sees his father, his political campaign manager, and the general responsible for the entire region arrive. His mother waits in the next room.

Juan Carlos only shouts insults at his father, so they gag him to silence him.

The campaign manager tells Juan Carlos that, given the way things are, his womanizing was only going to complicate his father's election. However, he confirms that it was not his father but his mother who has been behind certain confusing events in his appointments and promotions. In order to defend his candidacy and keep him away from Alba, she has been manipulating colonels to influence decisions about his military career.

Given the above, he confirms that there are already two infiltrators within the university guerrilla group and that Alba would be a third. Therefore, an attack cannot be carried out against them, as this group is the only source of intelligence to locate the kidnapped victims and/or plan in more detail the bloody rescue attack that is currently being planned.

At that moment, Juan Carlos's mother enters the room and throws herself into his arms. She removes his gag and orders that his hands and feet be untied. Juan Carlos stands up furiously and leaves the room, sitting down to cry alone. After a few long minutes, he returns and makes only one request: "I want you to arrange a meeting with Alba alone."

Following Juan Carlos's instructions, Alba focused on her studies and was able to pass her classes. She walked quickly and avoided places where guerrilleros might frequent. That same afternoon, small stones hit her window, and Alba's heart jumped with fright. When she looked out, it was César, so she ran down the stairs to open the door for him.

When she got upstairs, she realized that César was even more frightened than she was. With a trembling voice, he said, "Alba, I've been told that if you don't give them the test they asked for, we'll both be declared military targets. We have 24 hours to show up with the proof."

Alba tells César, "I've had the proof for a while, don't worry. Tell them we'll see them today."

Following the same logistics as the motorcycles, that same night Alba found herself sitting on a motorcycle heading toward the lookout point. When she arrived, she handed the bag to Jairo, who asked her in amazement, "How did you get this?" Alba simply replied, "I snuck into their ranch and searched the drawers at night." Jairo whistled and ordered a hidden jeep to take Alba away.

Jairo was very skeptical about the veracity of her story. With the sharp cunning of someone who lives on the edge of death, he decided to hide Alba in the woods near the village where her grandparents lived while he informed his superiors of an unusual situation involving a potential recruit for the guerrilla force. His message read, "I may have a very valuable intruder, and I am attaching a photo of the candidate for governor."

Alba spent several nights tied up by her hands and feet. They only helped her up to eat and go to the bathroom. Her eyes were covered. She remembered her conversations with Sister Lucila, prayed, and tried to meditate by mentally traveling to the place where she was mopping the wooden floors. That place was the beginning of her mental journeys filled with love with Juan Carlos.

Every two nights, she was moved from camp to camp as her health deteriorated due to poor nutrition and limited movement. In each camp, the artillery grew closer and the food became scarcer and of poorer quality. Alba, suffering from diarrhea and dehydration, was in increasingly poor health.

One night, upon arriving at a new camp, she saw a group of indigenous people dressed in black. Alba was too weak to speak. The guerrilla leader in charge decided to hand her over to the indigenous people so they could help her regain her strength and continue the journey.

Alba entered an indigenous hut, where the blindfold was removed from her eyes and the handcuffs and ropes from her feet were taken off. At that moment, she could only see shadows and a hazy vision filled with flashes of light from the people dressed in black who were running around preparing something.

A faint drumbeat began, accompanied by angelic singing. A shaman placed his hands on her and sang in their ancient language. They did not give her anything to drink, but brought her fresh chicha and told her to sit down and drink it. It was Alba's turn to show that she still had the strength to live. Alba crawled as best she could and spilled almost all of the chicha on the dirt floor. She tried to suck the floor, and an indigenous woman with long hair lifted her face and gave her a sip. At that moment, Alba could see her eyes. It was the same indigenous woman who had seen her years ago on that dark night!

The indigenous woman ran away when she realized who she was. From that moment on, the shaman did not leave Alba's side. They brought a kind of ground corn to her, although they did not give it to her in her hands because Alba had to crawl and regain her strength, even if it meant eating with her hands. Then they performed the tobacco ceremony to cleanse her of energies. Alba saw that the shaman was carrying a rosary and, unable to speak the language, she asked to borrow it with a gesture. The shaman handed it to her and kissed it first.

In that community, Alba lost track of time. Now dressed like one of the indigenous women, she began to help with the women's daily routines. She participated in all the tribal ceremonies, but the only adornment she agreed to wear was the rosary given to her by the clan shaman. Her ears grew accustomed to the rumbling of bombs and gunfire that could be heard to the east.

After almost two months, a guerrilla fighter arrived on horseback one night with three mules loaded with food, medicine, and tools. Alba saw him from afar, but she couldn't identify him and thought the worst. Here they come again, she thought. The guerrilla fighter met with the shaman and clan chief and handed over the three mules. Then he approached the hut where Alba was with a lantern. When the light illuminated his face, Alba couldn't believe her eyes! She shouted, "Cesítar!" and they embraced tenderly.

César told her, "Albita, this is complicated, girl. You must be strong. I have orders to keep you here with this tribe, away from danger. I can't give you any more details. Don't ask me about Juan Carlos. I don't know anything about him or about the people who were kidnapped in the north. As soon as I know anything, I swear I'll come back with supplies and let you know." Alba cried and asked, "But who gives the orders?" César replied, "Albita, don't ask. My orders are to keep you alive and well with this tribe." "But César, how long have you been with the insurgency?" "Albita, trust me…"

Immediately and without a word, Alba threw herself into the bucket where the indigenous people had the corn and chicha to take to Juan Carlos. Prometeo quickly hugged her from behind and in perfect Spanish said, "You're thinking with your head, woman, not with your heart." Startled, she looked at Waira and the shaman, who looked helplessly at the dying Juan Carlos. Waira looked her straight in the eye and said, "If it doesn't hurt, it won't heal."

On one of the darkest nights in the forest, the four of them sat around Juan Carlos so that he could be part of the conversation even though he couldn't speak.

The shaman spoke in the native language and Alba, now bilingual, translated.

Waira applied bandages with fragrant ointments to his wounds and his feet, which were covered in blisters. The shaman and Alba continued:

Waira brought the chicha closer, half a meter away, and placed a glass filled with cassava flour a meter away.

And giving Alba instructions in her ear, the three indigenous people left them alone in the hut.

Juan Carlos was breathing heavily, and Alba was putting cold cloths on his head because of his burning fever. The only thing Alba kept repeating was, "Put your hands together." Thirty minutes passed, and he still hadn't managed to do it, but he kept trying. Alba didn't stop for another hour and a half, repeating the same thing: "Put your hands together."

When Juan Carlos finally managed it, Alba congratulated him and, with a sombre seriousness, took the shaman's rosary and held it out to Juan Carlos, who took it firmly, as if his hands — his body — already knew what to do with it.

It was now past midnight. Alba continued with the instructions: "Breathe slowly." She gave him this instruction for more than two or three hours, but Juan Carlos could not control his breathing. Alba fell asleep beside him. When she woke up to the birds and thousands of other animals in the forest, Alba saw Juan Carlos with his eyes open, and although his fever had not subsided, he was breathing slowly! He moved his hands, praying the rosary, and his gaze fixed on the sky.

Alba continued, "Without letting go of your hands, and continuing with that breathing. Now, look at your future, our future. As soon as you manage to stay with that image for a while, say 'Maranatha' with all your strength!"

Alba waited by his side, and a good couple of hours passed. Alba went out to get something to drink and eat and heard a faint sigh: "Maranatha!" Alba called Waira, who came running and, upon hearing what had happened, changed his bandages and brought him the chicha and food 20 cm closer.

When the shaman heard what had happened, he ordered some indigenous women to give Juan Carlos a special massage. They changed his clothes for indigenous garments and placed a colorful necklace around his neck. They laid him down near the food and chicha.

Juan Carlos kept his hands on his chest in a prayer position. He breathed slowly and every 20 or 30 minutes he exhaled "Maranatha!" That same night, he was able to try a sip of chicha, which triggered a complete deterioration, but the next day he no longer had a fever and continued to say "Maranatha" every 5 or 10 minutes. By noon, he was able to sit up and eat a plate of yuca with a piece of bread. However, his right leg was still swollen and limited his ability to walk.

Alba watched him from the other side of the hut, with the look of faith and love, pride and satisfaction of a woman who has the power to destroy a good man's heart or make it hers for eternity.

Late at night, there was a celebration in the village. Juan Carlos and Alba were at the center of it. There was dancing around the fire, singing, and rituals. While everyone was asleep at around 3 in the morning, they heard troops approaching at a trot. Everyone froze when they heard two helicopters flying overhead and bursts of gunfire. The indigenous women and children skillfully disappeared into the woods. When Juan Carlos heard them, he whispered that they were army helicopters.

They felt the helicopters land nearby as the troops approached. The first face Alba saw peeking into the hut was César's. Alba was astonished because she thought César was part of the guerrilla group! César greeted Juan Carlos with a salute. Ordering the doctors to enter the hut, he sat down next to Alba and said, "Albita, Albita, what we've been through."

As heavy rain began to fall, Captain Juan Carlos was quickly carried out on a stretcher to the helicopters. Alba approached the shaman's hut where Waira and Prometeo were with his family. In their native language, she said, "We will see each other again, thank you very much. Maranatha!" Right then, it began to rain as if it had never rained before. One helicopter managed to take off with Juan Carlos, and the other had to stay on the ground. Alba and César had to run back to the village. César ordered the remaining troops to form two security rings around the village. The rain did not stop for two days straight. César did not want to use the radio because he was trying to avoid being intercepted. He wanted to convince the pilot to leave as soon as the sky cleared.

The pilot, named Agustín, was reluctant because there could be gusts of wind that could bring the machine down just as it took off. Or if a hidden sniper fired several shots, the machine could lose power to climb the Pisba–Boyacá moor once traveling south. They spent the night in the village and saw only rain and rivers running. At dawn on the third day, the sun came out. César ordered an immediate evacuation and instructed the two security rings to advance in a circle outward, clearing the area of possible impact with the aircraft.

The three ran with two other officers toward the helicopter. They started the aircraft, and bursts of gunfire began to ring out. It was unclear whether they were coming or going. As they began to climb, the pilot was able to report his position and flight plan while hiding in a thin fog. Then there was an impact inside the cabin. The pilot was wounded, and the co-pilot had taken control. The heat inside the aircraft grew stronger due to a fire in the rear. The aircraft had power, but was losing fuel. Major Alarcón, the co-pilot, shouted, "Hold on tight, we'll try to get through Pisba to the other side," and with that, he used all the aircraft's power to climb up the mountain range and reach the plateau, where there was less insurgent activity and they could fly.

The aircraft shook violently and finally managed to reach the top of the plateau about 500 meters above the jungle area where they were. Once over the savanna and the flat terrain of a cattle ranch that Alarcón managed to spot, he was able to land the aircraft, which was already almost engulfed in flames. Everyone got out in time and hid in nearby trees. César called for reinforcements while he took care of the wounded pilot. The other two stood guard with rifles and grenades in hand, ready to defend themselves. Less than 10 minutes later, an armed Bell UH-1 helicopter landed a few meters from the burned-out Hughes OH-6.

They all boarded and took off quickly. They made a stop in the departmental capital to leave the wounded pilot at the regional hospital to recover. They immediately took off again, and Alba was surprised because she thought they were going to get off there too. César had his eyes fixed on the horizon, displaying the calm confidence that always characterized him. Alba realized that they were going to her grandparents' village, more precisely to the farm that once belonged to her grandparents, where they finally landed. There was the ship that had transported Juan Carlos, and two other civilian helicopters, not military ones.

Upon entering the main house of the estate, Alba melted into an endless embrace with Juan Carlos. She looked around and saw her father, "Ojo Lindo," as well as Juan Carlos's father and mother, her grandparents, and her friend Marta with her mother and a handsome man whom Marta would not let go of his arm — her beloved foreman, Alba thought to herself. In the next room, her mother was lying down with Sister Lucila, who got up to give her a huge hug. Alba returned to the main hall and simply did not understand anything! She only knew who Marta's handsome companion was, of course.

Ojo Lindo said, "Albita. We have reached an agreement with the governor. You and Juan Carlos will have the ranch that belonged to your grandparents. The guerrillas will leave the department as soon as the next free and guaranteed elections are over, as we have signed a political negotiation document which you two and your grandparents must also sign."

Alba and Juan Carlos signed the document, and Alba hugged Juan Carlos's mother first, then her father, Ojo Lindo, her grandparents, and then Juan Carlos.

After the beef stew and a big party, Ojo Lindo approached Alba, took her into a room, hugged her, and whispered in her ear:

"Only Alba can save Alba. Maranatha!"

Then Ojo Lindo said goodbye to everyone. He hugged Alba and left her a special radio with which she could communicate with him at any time. They got into the two helicopters and disappeared into the horizon.

Juan Carlos hugged her and asked her, "What do you want, my love?" She replied, "I want my mom and grandparents to live here, and after you recover from your leg, I want us to go with Waira to spend some time together and bathe in the waterfall. Maranatha!"

After a week of preparations, Alba and Juan Carlos were on a bus on their way to the mountains where Waira and her family were waiting for them.

When they arrived, there was fire. Drums. A fire hummingbird flew by for a few moments.

Alba whispered in Juan Carlos's ear: "Maranatha!"