[August 30th] [The Alamo (1960)] Diamond in the Rough, 12

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Diamond in the Rough, scene twelve
Day/Theme: August 30th - Beating a rainbow to death
Series: The Alamo (1960 film)
Character/Pairing: Emil Sande, Graciela "Flaca", Father Fuentes (OC), Anita (OC; named after and based a bit on Anita from West Side Story)
Rating: T/PG-13

Say, I haven't seen next month's themes pop up. What's going to happen here if they aren't posted by tomorrow night? (Or have I somehow missed the post?)


By Lucky_Ladybug

Emil had been right about Ferris’s plans. Ferris started in immediately the next day, conning the townspeople with tales of being an honest and upright businessman. He really didn’t know how he had ever ended up running across someone like Emil Sande, but he regretted it with all his heart.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with such an infestation in your town,” he declared. “Why, I have a good mind to move right in on his turf here and see if I can’t drive him out of business and out of town.”

Some of them believed him. Others were skeptical of him just as they were of Emil. And a scant few, including those who had nursed Emil back to health, felt that Ferris was a snake in the grass and a far worse threat than Emil. At least, Emil as he was now. Even the people who did not personally like him but had helped him anyway, were among the latter number.

Father Fuentes was disturbed by the cruel and unkind gossip circulating through San Antonio. He did what he could to try to convince people to curb it, with only minimal success. They had their story for the day and were very unwilling to give it up.

In the afternoon Father Fuentes went to Emil’s shop, worried and wondering what Emil planned to do. So far he had been silent.

Emil glanced up as Father Fuentes entered. “Why, good afternoon, Father,” he greeted, walking out from behind the counter. “What brings you here today?”

“What’s happening in town, I’m afraid,” was the reply. “Emil, do you know what that man has been saying about you?”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces, yes,” Emil nodded. “He’s probably at least half-hoping to entice me into a fight. I don’t intend to take that bait.”

“Good,” Father Fuentes said in approval. “That would probably be the worst thing you could do, under the circumstances. But what do you plan to do? Surely you don’t intend to say nothing. That doesn’t sound like you in the least.”

“You’re right,” Emil returned. “I’m going to do something. I can’t simply proclaim my guiltlessness, though. It’s not likely I’d be believed. What I need to do is to trick him into showing his true colors for the townspeople to see and hear.”

“Do you have any idea on how to do that?” Father Fuentes said in amazement.

“It won’t be easy,” Emil admitted. “He and I knew each other very well. It’s difficult enough for someone to try to fool either of us without knowing what they’re doing. For me, knowing how sly he is, it will be even worse. I won’t have some foolishly naïve notions about it being simple.”

“What if someone confronts you in the meantime?” Father Fuentes worried.

“Then I’d defend myself,” Emil said. “And tentatively, tonight I plan to address all of the townspeople at once. I heard rumors that Ferris might try to incite them against me even more by holding some sort of rally. If he tries, I’ll be there.”

The Father shook his head. “Were you really ever like that man? Somehow I can’t picture you going to such lengths to discredit someone, even for your business.”

“I would’ve been more subtle,” Emil mused, “but yes, I might have done it, under highly strange and unique circumstances. However, I’m not so sure Ferris is doing this solely for business-related reasons. I think he might actually, downright hate me.”

“What in Heaven’s name for?” Father Fuentes exclaimed.

“It could be a combination of a lot of reasons,” said Emil. “Because I won’t go along with him now, because I say I’ve changed and he doesn’t believe it. . . . Because I’m alive when he thought I was dead and that he could easily take my property and assets. . . .”

He frowned. “I almost feel like I’m fighting myself instead of another person. There’s so much about him that’s like I was. It’s surreal and unreal.”

“Well. . . . If he is as you were, then there is still hope for him,” Father Fuentes declared. “You were not beyond hope.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Emil admitted. He sighed, falling silent as he gazed into the distance.

Father Fuentes paused for a moment, watching him. “. . . So I see that you and Graciela no longer seem to be just two people who continually run into each other,” he remarked.

Emil glanced at him. “No, we finally admitted to ourselves and each other that it was more than that. We’re becoming good friends. I guess we were for a long time without even realizing it.”

Father Fuentes nodded. “It happens that way, sometimes.” He smiled. “I’m glad for both of you.”

“You knew it before we did, didn’t you, Father.”

“Well. . . . With human nature and souls as my business, I’ve learned how to read them quite well, at least some of the time,” Father Fuentes said. “Yes, I suspected.

“. . . Have you seen any apparitions lately?”

Emil started at the odd query. He tensed as he looked to Father Fuentes. “Once or twice,” he confessed. “Why?”

“Oh, I’m just curious,” Father Fuentes calmly replied. “I’ve rarely met anyone claiming to see ghosts.”

“I’m sure,” Emil grunted. “Most people are probably too sensible or afraid to announce such things. I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t managed to talk it out of me.”

“Yes, I know.” Father Fuentes paused. “Have you told Graciela?”

Emil’s eyes flickered. “No, I haven’t. And I don’t know that I ever will.”

“You don’t think it’s something she may want to or need to know?”

“So she can determine whether her friend is a raving lunatic? No, thank you, Father. I can do without that experience.”

Father Fuentes regarded him with compassion. “Do you honestly think she would think you’re out of your mind, Emil?”

Emil sighed. “No, I don’t think she would. But I can’t see myself telling her that I keep seeing the ghost of her boyfriend. If I’m really seeing it.”

“That would be awkward, wouldn’t it,” Father Fuentes mused. “Does he seem to be coming around for the same reason as before?”

“Oh, he said something about wandering around to all the places he liked in life, or something like that,” Emil grumbled. Relenting, he added, “But he did say that he’d decided I wouldn’t hurt Graciela and he felt he could relax about us spending time together.”

“Is that the last time you saw him?”

Emil nodded. “Yes.”

“Then maybe he’ll be at peace now and not visit you again,” Father Fuentes suggested.

“I can only hope,” Emil said wryly.

“Tell me, Emil. Are you still angry with him? Or is it mainly that you find it awkward to talk with him because of Graciela?”

Emil threw his hands in the air as he began to pace the shop. “I suppose it’s mostly the latter,” he said grudgingly. “And the fact that I don’t like being haunted, having someone pop up at any given time or place without warning and without me giving my consent. And our personalities clash, very badly. I honestly can’t imagine us ever getting along that well.”

“Perhaps if you had met under different circumstances?”

“. . . Perhaps.”

Father Fuentes nodded, but he seemed distant. Emil stopped pacing and looked to him. “What is it, Father? Somehow I don’t think you’re still thinking about Crockett’s ghost.”

“I’m not.” Father Fuentes met his confused gaze. “Emil, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m worried.”

“Worried? About what, Father? Ferris? Crockett? My sanity?”

“The idea of you trying to trick Ferris into a confession,” Father Fuentes said. “Tricks have a terrible habit of backfiring.”

“Then what do you suggest, if I may ask?” Emil returned, his tone dry.

“I suggest that you go to this rally tonight and tell people the truth. The pure and simple truth.”

Emil stared at him in disbelief. “I already said they’d never believe me!”

“You might be surprised,” was the reply. “The secret might all be in your approach to the problem. If you bluster in and loudly proclaim that Ferris is lying, well, yes, I’m afraid you wouldn’t have much success. But . . .” Father Fuentes’ face filled with compassion. “If you go there in all humility and confess the wrong you’ve done in the past and sincerely tell of your change of heart, you may find quite a forgiving audience.”

Emil stiffened and turned away. “. . . It’s one thing to confess your sins in private, Father. It’s something else entirely to do it in public.” He looked back. “I have a business, a reputation, to uphold. If I break down, if I don’t show my strength, I’ll be marked an easy target. You see, that’s what Ferris already thinks about me. Once he realized I wouldn’t support his shady practices, he decided I was weak. He felt he could break me down in the eyes of the townspeople. And that’s exactly what he’s doing!”

“Emil, Emil . . .” Father Fuentes shook his head. “You’re speaking of your reputation. That is what Ferris is attacking. If you don’t come clean and admit to everything, the people will have all the more reason to believe that Ferris is right and you not only sinned, you are unrepentant.” He stepped closer, laying a hand on Emil’s shoulder. “And as far as being weak . . . what could be more courageous in your situation than confessing your wrongdoings before the people you have wronged and expressing your desire to be a better person now? A weak person neither makes such decisions nor speaks of them. Only the strong do.”

Emil flinched. “Then maybe I’m not either as strong or as good as I should be. I don’t want to do that, Father. I’m afraid. And proud. Yes, I’ll admit to my pride, here and now. It isn’t like standing before the town and yelling it so they can all hear.”

Father Fuentes stepped back. “Think about it at least, Emil,” he implored. “It’s the truth, and not trickery, that will set you free.

“Yes, you may be afraid and you may be proud. Both are understandable and human. But you are stronger than you know. I believe that you will make the right decision in the end.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?!” Emil cried.

Father Fuentes just smiled. “Good afternoon, Emil.” He turned, heading out the door and leaving Emil gawking after him. As the door shut, Emil whirled away in frustration.

He was not an all-wise morality decision-maker. He was a businessman, first and foremost. He had to keep up a certain image. Ferris was trying to tear it down, to make him crack and become angry. Well, he was already angry, that was for sure. But he would fight back without making himself look ridiculous. And without making it look like he was just a bad sport.

And without . . . what?

He frowned, resting his hand on the glass case. He felt that if he did as the Father suggested, it would make him lose credibility as a businessman. He was still clinging to the idea that making himself look too good would make people think he was a pushover. Yes, he had wanted to start doing right by people, but he had intended for it to be quiet and subtle. He didn’t want to announce his kinder deeds to the world.

Just admitting he wanted to be a better person would not be the same thing as describing good deeds in specific. But it would probably result in everyone scrutinizing him, wanting to see if he practiced what he preached, wanting to see if he would make even one mistake and fall back on his old ways. And Emil hated that thought. He would almost assuredly let them down. And in his case, just one mistake would probably be one too many.

He ran his hand over the smooth and cool surface. It was true that tricks could backfire. With his luck, they might for sure. But it was the world he knew. He was sure that he could manipulate Ferris into slipping up and revealing his real nature.

. . . Maybe the real question was, Would it really make things better for him? Maybe most people would just think they were equally rotten.

“Oh, I don’t know what to do,” he muttered in frustration. “I really don’t.”

There was no point in going to visit Ferris again. He would not be in any mood to listen. What Emil would probably do, he decided, was to wait until evening and the start of the rally and then decide on his approach.

He certainly had not thrown out Father Fuentes’ suggestion. He just did not care for it very much. But now doubt had been cast in his mind as to whether trickery was the best idea at this point. And that was certainly exasperating.

In the end he was simply too cynical, too unable to believe that anything decent could come out of the truth. Whenever he had been sincere, it had backfired on him a hundredfold. He had toughened up because he was tired of being hurt, tired of the sentimental and silly world of friendship and love and trust, tired of everything good and righteous proving itself to be a fairytale, a children’s bedtime story.

But that was before he had received a portion of kindness once again, in spite of his cold and cruel nature. It was before he and Graciela had started running across each other everywhere they went. Before his heart had been softened by the old feelings of friendship and love and trust that were awakening.

Before Graciela had acknowledged that she cared for him, and he for her.

He was a fool, though, wasn’t he? Having allowed all of this to happen? He had been tricked before, had been led into the peaceful and pleasant security of having partners, allies, only for them to stab him in the back when he was no longer useful to them. What guarantee did he have that it wouldn’t happen again?

There was no guarantee. Father Fuentes had even said that there was no way to care about people without being hurt somehow. He knew that very well. Even his parents, although they had never hurt him themselves, had crushed him with their deaths.

Father Fuentes had also said that he felt Emil’s judgment had greatly improved and that he would be able to more easily tell the good from the bad.

Well, he didn’t know how true that was, but for some reason he trusted in and believed Graciela. Even though she had betrayed him.

Why?

The old him most certainly wouldn’t have. The betrayal would have, and should have, sealed his loathing of people. It hadn’t, even though he had blamed Graciela in part for being knifed.

Did he still?

He was not sure.

Maybe, if he had not been cared for and nursed back to health at that point, his loathing would have indeed been sealed.

If he had not been looked after back then, he would be dead now.

And maybe that was why he was willing to try again, even after all the wrong that had been done to him. Maybe it was the source of this strange belief in Graciela.

He really was a fool.

And instead of all this ridiculous beating rainbows to death, he should get back to the problem at hand.

He had already gone out on a limb, grasping hold of a faith he had not even known he still had. Did he dare go out a bit farther? Could he? Could he trust the townspeople to not turn against him, maybe to even try to accept him, if he were to decide upon Father Fuentes’ suggestion? It was enough of a struggle just to trust one or two people.

He sighed, running a hand into his hair. There were no easy answers.

He had used to believe there were, that the only logical answer was to look out for himself and forget all thoughts of anyone else.

But that had been before he had almost died. Now nothing was simple or easy.

And maybe it never would be again.
****
Graciela was just leaving the cantina after lunch when she was stopped in the road by an acquaintance she had not seen in a while. “Anita,” she said in surprise. “What is it?”

Anita the dressmaker looked concerned. “Graciela, how true are these stories I’ve been hearing?” she asked.

Graciela’s stomach dropped. She was growing so tired of discussing them. But other than a flicker in her eyes, there was no sign of her displeasure. “Which stories?” she returned.

“The stories about you and Emil Sande!” Anita took Graciela by the wrist, leading her around the side of the building for a more private conversation. “They say the two of you are engaged.”

“That isn’t true,” Graciela declared. “Emil is an old friend of mine. We have no romantic involvement.” At this time, she silently added.

She was still not sure how such a thing would work out, or if she would even permit it if the time came. They got along beautifully now, it was true, but there were still some key differences between them that she was not certain how to reconcile. She had decided it was not as important for Emil to take a stand in the fight for Texas independence as it was for him to fight for her; that did not mean, however, that she didn’t consider it important at all.

And far more troubling to her was Emil’s agnostic view on God. He said he did not know if there was a God, and that if there was, would God even want to bother with him? Graciela was worried that it would be a stumbling block to them if they were married. How would Emil handle it when Graciela wanted to attend mass? If they had children, would he care if they were brought up in the church?

Graciela’s denial of an engagement did not pacify Anita. The other woman shook her head in worry. “They’re still saying you’re engaged anyway,” she said. “Everyone has seen that the two of you have become very close. A lot of the people here don’t like it.”

That hit a nerve. “And why should I care what they do or do not like?” Graciela snapped. “The townspeople are not my keepers. I do not have to limit myself to what they expect from me.”

“They’re only concerned about you, as I am,” Anita said. “I don’t understand what happened, Graciela. You used to despise that man with every fiber of your being! And then suddenly, you decided you cared for him! Why?”

Graciela looked pleadingly into her friend’s eyes. “He’s changed, Anita. You and the others wouldn’t see it, I know. He hides it too well. But I have been around him many, many times. I have seen it. I refused to believe at first. Now I’ve stopped refusing.”

Anita was sickened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t believe he isn’t leading you on. That’s the sort of thing he does. You knew it, too. I can’t think you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t.” Graciela sighed. “I know he has done many bad things, Anita. And I am sure there are many that I am unaware of and would rather not know about.

“But I can no longer say that he is a bad man. He is kind and good, despite whatever flippant comments he may make. And I know he cares for me. He would never have risked his life against those vile men if he didn’t.”

“Most people, even someone such as Emil Sande, wouldn’t stand by while someone was being violated.” Anita gripped Graciela’s shoulders. “It isn’t enough to convince me. Graciela, I just don’t want you to make a horrible mistake.”

Graciela reached up to gently draw Anita’s hands down. “I won’t,” she said firmly. “Right now Emil and I are friends, nothing else. But if you could see beyond the mask, if you could only see him as I now do, perhaps you would not be so concerned.”

“Perhaps,” Anita said, lukewarm and unconvinced. “Graciela, do you know that Jackson Ferris is going to host a rally tonight? He wants the town to band together and throw Emil Sande out.”

Graciela bristled, rocking back. “He has no right,” she snarled. “Why can’t the people see that he is playing them for fools? He is no better than Emil once was. He might be worse! And Emil hasn’t done anything to warrant being thrown out of town, not since he was nearly killed!”

“Nearly killed by your beau, a far more worthy man!” Anita cried.

Graciela looked away, pain flickering in her eyes. “I still care about Davy very much,” she said. “But he is gone.”

“There are plenty of others like him,” Anita retorted. “Tell me, if he were still alive, surely you wouldn’t think of choosing Emil Sande over him!”

Graciela stopped, whirling back to face the seamstress. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

“I thought so,” Anita said with a triumphant gleam. “Graciela, you don’t really care about that man. You only went to him because you were lonely and he was there, trying to convince you that he had changed.”

“No!” Graciela clenched a fist. “Yes, I have wrestled with this very problem, many times. Sometimes I’m unsure what to think. But deep in my heart I know the answer.

“I care about Emil because he is still my friend. There was always some level of that caring in my heart, even when I believed I despised him. And if Davy were alive today, and Emil was as he is now, I honestly can’t tell you what my decision would be between the two of them. That is why I hesitated.”

She turned to go. “Please excuse me now, Anita. Emil does have other friends in town. I want to make sure they will be at this rally tonight.”

Anita hung back with reluctance as Graciela walked off. “I will be there too,” she said, “but not as his friend. Only as yours.”

Graciela paused and looked over her shoulder. “Then, if you are my friend, you will not blindly go along with the idea to throw Emil out of town. If he isn’t doing wrong, he has just as much right to be here as you! And I swear to you, Anita, that he has not done wrong in weeks! He is not that man anymore.”

“I wish, for your sake, that I could believe that,” Anita said.

Graciela sighed. “You can,” she said. “I could have, long ago, if I had not been so blindly stubborn for so long. I wish it hadn’t taken me so many weeks to see.”

“Are you certain that it was then that you were blind? And not now?” Anita watched the other woman walking off, her eyes boring into Graciela’s back.

This time Graciela kept walking and did not look back. “Yes,” she proclaimed.