A Mansion on the Moon: A Guam Love Story

By C. Sablan Gault

The lives of Amanda de Leon, her daughter Sylvia, and granddaughter Vivian unfold during the turbulent years in Guam between the Spanish-American War and World War II. Amanda falls for an American sailor who leaves her with child. Sylvia, the illegitimate half-breed, grows up in shame but finds love with Constantino Camacho. Their daughter Vivia

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Lair
• Release date: Dec 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732872998

C. Sablan Gault

C. Sablan Gault worked as a newspaper reporter, feature writer, and columnist. She then served as press secretary to a Guam governor, a senator of the Guam Legislature, and to Guam’s delegate to the U.S. House of Representatives. Before retiring from government service in 2009, she served as writer and researcher for a Guam political status education commission. Catherine Gault was born in Guam and holds a BA in Anthropology from the University of Guam. She and her husband David, a Vietnam-era Seabee, have three children and six grandchildren.

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A Mansion on the Moon - A Guam Love Story

Copyright © 2018 by C. Sablan Gault

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN13: 978-1-7328729-8-1 (Paperback)

ISBN13: 978-1-7328729-9-8 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018964460

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A Mansion

on the Moon

A Guam Love Story

C. Sablan Gault

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PART ONE

Chapter 1

Amanda de Leon couldn’t sleep. Restless, she tossed for hours. The heat in the small room she shared with her sisters was stifling; the air stagnant. The sun that afternoon roasted the land and now every rock and living thing gave off heat into the night. Even her sister Ana, sleeping beside her, seemed feverish. She stirred when Amanda felt her forehead, but Ana was fine. Amanda threw aside the thin blanket covering them, but it didn’t help.

More than the oppressive heat, it was heartache that kept Amanda awake. She muffled her sobs and tried to keep her tears in check, but they soaked her pillow. Tim Laney, the American seaman she loved, left the island days before, his assignment in Guam finished. The pain of losing him was greater than Amanda could bear.

Amanda spent one night in Tim’s arms. She knew it was a sin but giving herself was the most valuable gift she could give. She expected to be guilt-ridden and ashamed, but it was love, not lust, that motivated her. Tim and Amanda wanted to be husband and wife, if not by the laws of God and man, then by their own accord. Amanda recalled that night over and over, cementing in her memory the love in Tim’s eyes, his smile, his kisses, and the warmth of his skin against hers. The words from the Bible about a man leaving his father and mother and clinging to his wife echoed in her mind, as did the warning about not tearing apart what God had joined together.

Resigned to another sleepless night of heartache, Amanda stared up at the rafters and underside of the thatched roof above her head. Then, above the barking of a dog in the distance and the surf breaking against the reef, she heard the low rumble of thunder out at sea. It heralded rain and welcome relief from the heat. Amanda listened as the rain drove a stiff wind toward the village.

The rustling fronds of the coconut trees along the shore and the bushes outside her window announced the squall’s arrival. A cold damp gust washed into the bedroom and flushed out the heat. Hard, heavy rain followed, splattering against the thatched roof for several minutes then stopped. Rainwater streamed from the thatching for many minutes then slowed to a trickle. To the plinking of rainwater dripping into puddles, Amanda fell asleep dreaming of a life with Tim that could not be.

The year was 1899. The Spanish-American War had ended the year before. The United States reveled in triumph over acquiring Spain’s rich colonies in the Caribbean and the Philippines in the Pacific but puzzled over the little-known Mariana Islands. Few knew or cared about the Marianas, not even the Spanish who possessed the resource-poor archipelago since the seventeenth century.

While en route to Manila in June 1898, the American navy received orders to stop and capture Guam, the largest and most inhabited of the Marianas. The Americans expected to find battle-ready Spaniards and half-naked aboriginals. Instead they found apathetic, mixed-race colonial administrators and the indigenous Chamorros civilized by almost three centuries of Spanish Catholic influence and domination.

The capture of Guam was unremarkable, except that the Spanish governor didn’t know his country was at war with the U.S. He mistook the navy’s cannon fire as an arrival salute. The Americans landed and ordered him to surrender the island, himself, and the officials of his administration. Then they sailed on to the Philippines with their prisoners, leaving no one in charge on the island.

The absence of authority led to political instability and rivalry. Into the vacuum raced the social elite who jockeyed with low-level ex-government officials. All thought themselves natural ruling successors. The squabbling prompted the navy to station a small contingent on the island until a duly appointed governor arrived to restore order, and inaugurate American governance over Guam, the Chamorros, and a few others of various nationalities. Seaman Tim Laney was in that contingent on temporary assignment.

Tim was six months shy of nineteen when he arrived in Guam. He had been in the navy for three years and was ready for advancement to petty officer third class. He didn’t want to end up a pain-racked farmer like his father, so he lied to get into the navy. He was far from his home, his parents and two sisters, and their small farm north of San Diego, California. He was on his own, a care-free boy out to see the world, a man in command of his own fate and sure of himself. Then he met Amanda. He didn’t realize how much he could love someone until he met her.

Are you all right, Mandy? Did I hurt you? Tim whispered after they made love three days before his departure. He had tried hard to be gentle. He stroked her hair and kissed her lips.

No, Amanda replied and smiled into his face. She had felt some pain, but it was not intolerable. It didn’t diminish the strange sensation of joining as one. As Tim laid breathless and helpless in her arms, Amanda realized how vulnerable he was at that moment. She recognized the strength of her own body and the power it had over his. She marveled at the balance and wondered whether God had intended it to be so.

I love you, Amanda, Tim said gazing into her eyes and hoping she could see in his he meant it.

Amanda caressed Tim’s face. The contrast of her brown hand against his ivory cheek saddened her. Tim kissed her fingers and repeated his desire to marry her, no matter who objected. The impossibility of it caused Amanda more pain than his body. God allowed them to fall in love, but the world stood in defiance against them.

Neither Amanda’s parents nor the United States Navy would sanction a marriage between them. Tim was an American, a member of the new ruling class. He was Caucasian. Amanda was not white, although some Castilian blood coursed through her veins. Tim was subject to the navy’s rules and regulations and to the laws of his home state, both of which prohibited interracial marriage. If it was possible, Tim and Amanda would have run away together, but where could they go? They wanted to believe they could defy convention, but in those days, there was no hope of it.

Tim and Amanda met in March 1899, four months before Tim’s scheduled rotation. Their story was one of many. Like the Spanish, the Americans viewed themselves superior to non-whites but were as enthusiastic about submitting to their carnal urges and sowing their seeds. The American navy men were charming and bold, and, as their numbers on the island increased, their daring smiles and audacious flattery enamored many Chamorro maidens. Not all love affairs endured. Many didn’t end well.

Tim’s ship lay anchored in the Piti Harbor, an arm of the larger Apra Harbor. He and his shipmates kept to the port villages of Piti, some four miles from Agaña, the island’s capital, or to Sumay, on the southern shore of Apra Harbor. Most of the amenities the sailors wanted were available nearby, so going into Agaña wasn’t necessary. The captain himself preferred to remain on his ship and sent others in his stead whenever the need arose.

As the squabbling in town intensified, the captain sent his executive officer, a lieutenant, into Agaña to observe and send back reports on the situation. The lieutenant was a scientist first and a politician last. His interests were in exploring and studying the island’s flora, fauna, and geology. He resented having to put up with the infighting while the man duly assigned with the responsibility hid away on his ship.

The lieutenant billeted himself in the crumbling casa de gobiernador, or governor’s ‘palace,’ in the heart of town. It was the centerpiece of the Spanish colonial government’s headquarters. Built in the seventeenth century, the palace was a dilapidated hulk when the Americans took over. In the years that followed, the navy repaired, renovated, and modernized the palace and its associated buildings with electricity, indoor plumbing, and telephone lines. They renamed the palace ‘Government House,’ but most people continued to call it the Governor’s Palace.

The lieutenant wanted to explore the island, to identify and catalog plants species, collect samples, and write of his findings for various scientific journals and magazines. He sometimes called for help on these endeavors. On one occasion, he tapped Tim and his friend Scott Jones.

Tim and Scott rode into Agaña with the captain’s courier and followed him across a wide plaza to the rundown Spanish headquarters. They heard loud heated voices and came upon several men arguing with the lieutenant. The local men claimed to be the rightful representative of the people and each clamored for official recognition. They also pressed the navy on community issues and needs. The exasperated lieutenant didn’t have the authority, the means, or the inclination to meet their demands. He dismissed the local men when he spotted Tim, Scott, and the courier.

Thanks for the rescue, boys, he said. I couldn’t take much more of that crap. Assholes think we’re here to serve them. His day ruined, his mood fouled, the lieutenant canceled his planned excursion and released Tim and Scott to return to the ship. Hell, it looks like rain, anyway, he muttered as he headed into the compound and the courier headed off to tend to the horses.

Before returning to Piti, Tim and Scott headed to El Gato, which was more a rowdy saloon than a respectable eatery, on the town’s main street. It boasted a piano, and someone was always banging out lusty tunes, enticing early drinkers into raucous song. It was also where the prettiest bar flies worked. Tim and Scott had heard about the place and were eager to see for themselves. As they walked down the street, a sudden downpour forced them into Castro’s Retail Store, where Amanda worked and where their story began.

Amanda was at her station behind the sundries counter when the two men burst through the store’s swinging doors. Hard rain was falling outside. Laughing and hooting and adding to the din of the rain, the sailors pushed and shoved each other, glad to be free for the day. They stamped their feet and whipped their Dixie cup caps against their jumpers and sleeves to slough off the rainwater soaking into their uniforms. Their shoes were wet, and mud splattered their bellbottom trousers.

Tan¹ Chai, the widow who owned the store, looked at them then at the muddy wet floor and scowled.

1 Tan (feminine) and Tun (masculine) are derivatives of the Spanish Tia (aunt) and Tio (uncle). In Chamorro society, all elders, whether blood relatives or not, are addressed with Tan or Tun, as a sign of respect.

Ricutdo? she called out. Tan Chai had an uncanny knack for saying one’s name in a way that was both a summons and a command. She didn’t need to voice the command, just one’s name.

Her grandson Ricardo, a scrawny little eight-year-old, appeared from a back room. Tan Chai jutted her chin toward the wet floor. Without a word, the boy turned and disappeared into the back room. He reappeared a moment later with a mop.

As Ricardo mopped up the wet spots, Tan Chai grumbled to herself and followed the sailors wandering in her store. She hissed at her salesgirls to stop gawking. She issued that command with a stony glare and a scowled, Ssst! which Amanda and the other salesgirls quickly obeyed.

The sailors didn’t intend to buy anything; they were curious. Castro’s Retail Store was a strange place, alien to their browsing experience. It had a peculiar smell—not an unpleasant one but a strange, musky, woodsy scent combined with the pungent odor of tobacco and dried fish and seaweed. Japanese and Chinese products in bottles, boxes, tins, and packages with undecipherable labels filled the store’s shelves. Unfamiliar fruits and vegetables lay in pans on table tops, and large jars of hard candy, twists of tobacco, and all kinds of pickled things—strange sliced fruits, chicken and duck eggs, and pigs’ feet lined the counters.

Tim wandered toward Amanda’s counter to look closer at the contents of the pickle jars. Her back was to him and she turned around as he approached. Tim froze, staring, transfixed by her beauty. He felt warmth spreading in his loins and in his chest.

Amanda de Leon was a beauty by anyone’s standard. She wore only a shy smile; her face needed no other enhancement. Thick, long lashes rimmed her dark brown eyes. Her nose was small, almost childlike, with a rounded tip but not splayed. Her lips were full. Her hair was long and dark. She wore it in a bun at the back of her head. Her skin was smooth and golden brown, like coffee with milk. She was short, just under five feet.

Tim couldn’t appreciate Amanda’s figure hidden behind the counter. All he could see of the salesgirl was her top half—a plain cotton blouse draped over a pair of generous breasts, assuring him the rest of her was as enchanting. She fascinated and aroused him. It had been more than a year since he slept with a woman.

Come on, Laney, the rain stopped, Scott urged. Tim stood cemented in place. Scott shrugged his shoulders. Suit yourself, he said. Meet me over there when you’re ready.

Tim ignored his companion and edged toward Amanda. Suspicious, Tan Chai summoned her grandson again. Ricardo hurried to Amanda’s side, to witness any untoward exchange that might occur, a diminutive chaperone and bodyguard, if needed. Amanda welcomed the boy’s presence, wary of the rain-spattered sailor approaching her.

Tim knew the local girls led sheltered lives, that they were bashful and reserved around strangers, especially around American sailors. He also knew the people of the island, the Chamorros, shared the same history of Spanish conquest as the native peoples of the southern United States and Central and South America, but he learned that the Spanish language did not supplant the language of the Chamorros. He understood Spanish as people back home spoke it and he recognized Spanish words in spoken Chamorro, but he didn’t understand Chamorro. It was a different language as were the people who spoke it.

Hello, Tim said, hoping Amanda knew some English. My name’s Tim. What’s yours? He tried to be polite, but Amanda shrank back, unaccustomed to such brazenness.

The sailor at her counter was nice looking. He had pretty blue eyes and reddish-brown hair. He was respectful, and his eyes sparkled as he spoke. The American was taller than her father and more muscular. Amanda’s attraction to him was as immediate as his to her. Under Tan Chai’s instructions for salesgirls to be friendly, respectful, and helpful to all customers, Amanda mustered her courage, blushed, and told the sailor her name.

May I call you ‘Mandy’? Tim asked.

Amanda had never heard her name shortened that way and liked it very much. Mandy sounded so American, so unlike the harsh way Chamorros pronounced names, no matter their origin. Like Tan Chai’s Ricutdo, for Ricardo, Amanda was pronounced, Amunda, which sounded like an old washerwoman’s name. Mandy was much prettier and made her feel worthy of Tim’s attention.

Amanda called him Teem. Her pronunciation tickled him. He never tried to correct her. Although childlike, her pronunciation became part of his view of himself as a man growing in maturity. He also liked hearing her say it.

Tim told Amanda she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and she wanted to believe him. But his intentions weren’t noble. He felt challenged by the shyness of the local women and had had no luck bedding any in Piti or Sumay, not even among the bar girls. He wanted to win over the pretty girl at Castro’s Store to satisfy his lust, but something about her appealed to other parts of his body. But she wasn’t easy prey. Stationed aboard ship in Piti, Tim couldn’t see her every day.

Chapter 2

With Americans taking control, Tan Chai expected more English-speaking browsers and customers in her store. A shrewd businesswoman, she knew pretty young girls like Amanda would attract customers. With daily practice, they would master the language.

Amanda was the only one in her family who knew enough English to land the job at Castro’s. She got the job a month after her sixteenth birthday. The eldest of six children, Amanda was bright, beautiful, and dependable and was her parents’ darling.

Her father, Sylvino de Leon, was a fisherman and part-time carpenter who worked for the Spanish government when needed. By 1900, when the Americans began renovating the government compound, they hired him as well. Amanda’s mother, Pilar, was a religious woman devoted to the Blessed Mother. She named her daughters Maria, either as a first or middle name, in honor of the Virgin Mary. Pilar was small in stature, spry, and stronger than she looked. She kept a small garden and earned a little money doing alterations by hand.

Sylvino appeared to be the head of his household, but it was Pilar who ruled. The Spanish imposed their patriarchal/patrilineal social order on the Chamorros, but even after three hundred years, many aspects of the Chamorros’ matriarchal/matrilineal order remained.

Pilar bore ten children, but only six survived. Her first born, Rafael, died of a fever when he was two years old. Amanda was born next. Pilar’s next two babies were stillborn males. Then came Ana Maria, followed by Juan a year later. Pilar suffered a miscarriage between Esther Maria and Maria Elena. Jaime was the last born.

The de Leons would have had six sons if they had survived. Pilar was certain the child she miscarried also was a boy as she seemed to have difficulty bearing male babies. The boys were Pilar’s pride and joy, but Amanda commanded a special place in her mother’s heart, not only for the income assistance she provided for the family and the help she gave with the children, but as eldest daughter, she would someday rule her own home and family, and carry on the culture, traditions, and language of the Chamorro people.

Amanda, Ana, Juan, and Esther attended school only in the morning. Ana was twelve, Juan was eleven, and Esther was eight. Four-year-old Elena and three-year-old Jaime were too young yet. Until the Americans instituted their education system, which required children eight years and older to attend, the Spanish system remained in place. Staffed by Chamorro teachers, the old system was more Chamorro than Spanish, with strong Catholic influence. More formal religious learning occurred once a week at escuelan pale’², or ‘priest’s school.’

2 Pronounced pah-lee, pale’ is the Chamorro pronunciation of the Spanish padre.

After their school day, Amanda would herd her siblings back home, fix them a meal, and start them on their chores. She then went to work at the store. She worked five days a week, either from one o’clock until six or from five o’clock until the store closed at ten, depending on Tan Chai’s work schedule for the salesgirls. On Saturdays Amanda worked the entire day, from nine in the morning until closing. Amanda was the prettiest and the youngest, hence her shorter work hours. Like other commercial establishments, the store didn’t open on Sundays.

Without official reasons to travel into Agaña, Tim couldn’t see Amanda every day. Soon after meeting her, he volunteered for any assignment into town and would steal away to Castro’s Store to see Amanda. After a month, Tim spent his every off-duty day in Agaña. Scott sometimes accompanied him, but Tim more often went alone. He hitched rides with the captain’s courier or with passersby and sometimes, if he couldn’t hire a horse, he walked the four miles to see her.

Tim couldn’t court Amanda in the only way he knew. He couldn’t call at her home and sit in her parlor and hold her hand. He couldn’t bring flowers to flatter her mother and cower under her father’s scrutiny. He couldn’t try to steal kisses behind her parents’ back or take her for a walk. It frustrated him to have to mask his efforts to woo Amanda. All he could do was linger at her counter, trying to charm her between customers. Perhaps it was the difficulty of such courting that made him more determined and her more desirable.

Tim would station himself at Amanda’s counter or mill about the store, trying to look like a genuine customer whenever Tan Chai glared at him. Without ever touching or kissing Amanda, Tim fell in love. Amanda welcomed his attention and never ordered him away. She, too, fell in love.

Over several visits, Tim told Amanda about his home in California and all the other wonderful places he had visited. He entertained her with stories of his adventures in cities she could only dream about. At the start of the twentieth century, there was little chance for a girl from a tiny Pacific island to travel the world; it was as unlikely as going to the moon. Tim’s stories mesmerized Amanda, not only because of the details but also because of the entrancing animation of his face as he spoke.

Whenever Amanda spoke, Tim would prop his elbows on her counter, rest his chin on his fists, and smile, entertained by her less-than-perfect use of English. He saw in her eyes the future he wanted—one full of exotic adventure on the high seas and tropical paradises, far away from cornfields and chicken manure. Their conversations could only occur in brief spurts, interrupted often by Amanda’s needful customers or Tan Chai’s watchful proximity.

On the days of his visits, Tim tried to consume as much of Amanda’s time and attention as he could. It didn’t escape Tan Chai’s notice. She pulled Amanda aside and scolded her for paying too much attention to her sailor and not enough to the customers there to spend money. Tan Chai’s command of English was worse than Amanda’s, but she was eloquent in Chamorro, their native tongue. Typical of the privilege, authority, and influence of women her age, she cautioned Amanda about consorting with sailors and warned her of the dangers.

Be careful, my daughter, Tan Chai started. These sailors are not here to shop for wives. They are looking for what they can get free. If you make it available, they will take advantage.

Tan Chai motioned toward Amanda’s skirt. Amanda understood the implication and thought Tan Chai crass for suggesting it. A husband already awaited Amanda. Betrothed at birth, she was to marry Elias de Gracia, the nephew of her high-ranking godmother, Tan Juliana Calderon y de Gracia.

Amanda’s mother, Pilar, worked as a housemaid for Tan Juliana until she married Sylvino. Pilar feared the indomitable Tan Juliana as much as admired her and was a dutiful servant. When Amanda was born, Tan Juliana rewarded Pilar by becoming Amanda’s baptismal godmother and betrothing Amanda and Elias to each other. The arrangement was to have bound and benefited the three families: the de Leons to a higher social rank, the de Gracias to a wealth of heirs, and Tan Juliana to even greater personal prestige. The children were just pawns in her game.

Tan Juliana was the unquestioned and unquestionable matriarch of the de Gracia clan. Her grandparents came from Salamanca, Spain, at the end of the eighteenth century. They grew rich exploiting the huge tracts of land awarded to her grandfather by the Spanish Crown. Tan Juliana and her younger brothers inherited the lanchos, the Chamorro pronunciation of the Spanish ranchos, which produced copra and cattle. The head-strong Tan Juliana seized control of the estate and coerced her brothers to yield to her authority. Anselmo de Gracia, Elias’ father, was among the men who thought they should have been interim governor.

Amanda disliked Elias; he was arrogant and narcissistic. He was also very handsome. Elias would ride one of his family’s beautiful imported horses through town, from their orchards and farm in the north to the cattle ranch in the south, basking in the attention and admiration of all the women along the way. Many envied Amanda’s good fortune.

Elias wanted Amanda only as a mistress, not a wife entitled to his inheritance. He thought the de Leons were below his family’s rank and was not quiet about his disdain for the betrothal. He felt Tan Juliana goaded his parents into it, but he dared not protest. If Amanda’s parents had known about Tim, they, too, would have preferred she become Elias’ mistress rather than the wife of a Protestant foreigner. They were not above the contradictions of Spanish cultural influence and practice in which wives of high-ranking men produced numerous children and remained silent about their husbands’ dalliances with one or more well-rewarded mistresses.

Like many of the ranking women of her generation, Tan Chai knew her husband had a mistress and had fathered at least five children with her. People called such offspring outside children. Although the mistress knew better than to show her face in Castro’s Store, her children were frequent customers. Tan Chai knew who they were, and they knew who she was. Tan Chai tried to dislike her husband’s outside children but could not. They were always humble, well-mannered, and respectful toward her. Tan Chai accepted them as innocent children.

Tan Chai bore eleven children, six boys and five girls, all grown and married when American rule began. Her husband, too, was long gone. But Tan Chai was never alone or lonely. Ricardo was one of dozens of grandchildren and great grandchildren underfoot or nearby. Tan Chai treated her salesgirls as if they were her own daughters, which was not unusual for Chamorro women. As their employer, she supervised their work, but as a maternal elder, she had an obligation to watch over them and ensure their proper conduct and behavior. Amanda was the youngest, most innocent, and most vulnerable of them.

As Tim’s appearance in Castro’s Store became more consistent, Amanda feared Tan Chai would say something to her parents, particularly because he hovered around Amanda and never bought anything. Amanda couldn’t risk losing the job. Her family relied on her income for payments requiring U.S. money, the new medium of exchange. She also didn’t want her parents to find out about Tim. Amanda tried to be more discrete about entertaining him, sometimes ignoring him, scolding him, or pleading with him to leave the store while Tan Chai was nearby.

Can’t we sit somewhere and talk—just you and me? Tim pleaded. Mandy, I can only see you on my days off. I want to spend every minute I can with you.

Amanda couldn’t oblige him. She had to keep their relationship secret. It was scandalous for a proper young lady to be unchaperoned in the company of any man unrelated to her, especially if that man was one of those drunken, uncouth, foul-mouthed American sailors whose only aim was to have sex. Amanda didn’t believe Tim Laney was one of those, at least not when he was with her.

Within a month of their meeting, Amanda wanted to be alone with Tim as much as he wanted to be with her. She suggested they meet during her meal breaks in a stairwell in the alley next to the store. Tim laughed out loud when she tried to describe where it was. There were no ‘steps to the wall by the alley.’

You laugh to me? she snapped, hurt and indignant. Never mind, we stay here.

The disappointment in Amanda’s face put a quick end to Tim’s amusement. He didn’t mean to offend her, especially about speaking English.

I’m sorry, Mandy, he said as he stood at her counter. I’ll meet you anytime, anyplace. I’ll find those steps to the wall, he whispered. He was within earshot of Tan Chai’s hearing.

Hmph, Amanda sniffed and turned away. Ricutdo, she called out. Tell this man, ‘Go away.’

Ricardo marched toward Tim, scowling like his grandmother. Tim smiled and drew two pennies from his pocket. He held one out to Ricardo.

I’ll give you a penny if you let me stay, Tim said. Two, if you don’t tell your grandma.

Ricardo had no idea what Tim said but took the bribe. He grinned, grabbed the pennies, and scurried away to the candy counter.

Amanda’s ‘steps to the wall’ was a narrow flight of stairs recessed into the store’s exterior wall. The alcove was in the alley between the store and the adjacent barbershop. The stairs led to Tan Chai’s home on the floor above the store. She had the door at the top nailed shut after her husband’s death years earlier. Hidden from the street, the staircase provided the concealment and privacy the lovers sought. In daylight, no one in the street could see them; at night, no one could see them at all.

Once or twice a week, when Tim came to town, Amanda would skip her breaks to be with him. They would tiptoe up the stairs and sit about half-way up. If he had the money, Tim would stop at the old Spanish government compound and buy one of the boxed meals prepared for the workmen who lived too far away to go home to eat. Tim and Amanda would share the meal in the stairwell.

From their first secret meeting in the stairwell, Tim wanted to kiss Amanda but worried she would balk and reject him if he was too abrupt. She came from a society more straight-laced and conservative than his. He was patient in their initial encounters, breaking down her reserve with small talk. Later, as she grew more trusting, he made slow advances, holding her hand and toying with her fingers as they talked.

At their fourth meeting, Tim brought Amanda’s hands to his lips and kissed them as she spoke. On their fifth session, he decided to make his move. He played with her fingers and kissed her hand as usual then kissed his way from her hand and along her arm to her neck. Tim’s kisses sent chills and breath-taking sensations throughout Amanda’s body. When he reached her face and pressed his lips to hers, she received him eagerly. They sat in the dark, forgetting about dinner altogether.

We show our love like this, she said. Amanda pressed her nose to the side of his cheek and inhaled the scent of his skin. She sniffed her way