Chapter 15: Ensenada

At the Mission library Francesca signed out an Encyclopedia Britannica and researched Baja California. She had never been any farther than Santa Barbara county lines, and Mexico appeared to her as a boot like country with familiar sounding names. She heard the boys talk that Tijuana was the place to go, if you wanted to experience Mexico. Father Paolo lectured against any thoughts, stressing to his male students that the city was a city of crime, and prostitution. His warnings were mostly mocked by the boys and they dismissed him as being overly protective.Francesca had to travel through Tijuana, but her destination was the port city of Ensenada. The photos of Ensenada from the encyclopedia looked beautiful and less threatening. She was amazed to learn that vineyards were plentiful in the Guadalupe valley just northeast of the city. The mysterious letter given to her by her uncle was postmarked from Ensenada, but its origin was the village of Guadalupe in the valley. So, she made plans and informed Abuela that she’d travel to Ensenada to learn the identity of her natural born father.

Abuela gave her, her blessing but warned her of the evil that existed in the world. Francesca knew about evil firsthand. This time she was going to take precautions. She was going to hide the fact that she was a girl.

She asked Cecily to accompany her to the bus terminal in Lompoc.Cecily agreed, and advised her that military personnel from the air base would be leaving soon for the holidays and this usually filled the buses and trains. When they arrived at the bus terminal, Cecily asked Francesca if she needed company, but Francesca said she had to do this on her own. She thanked and hugged Cecily and stepped on to the Greyhound bus.

A short young man with a strawberry blond crew - cut boarded the bus in Lompoc and sat next to her. He was in a blue uniform and appeared to be a policeman, except he lacked a badge, cap or gun. His shoes were polished to military perfection and trouser creases were razor sharp. She tried to avoid eye contact, but his clean-cut look was intriguing

" Is this seat taken?” he asked.

“No,” replied Francesca.

“Are you one of the fourteenth?” he continued.

“Fourteenth?” she responded.

“The fly boys, you know from the airbase!”

“No, are you a policeman?"

"Yes, I just completed training and I'm being assigned to Orange county.”

“If you’re a policeman where’s your badge and where’s your gun?”

"I got guns no one can see!” he replied with a wink and a smile.

Francesca chuckled at his irreverent response and continued her questioning of this unusual young man.

“No offense, but you act and talk different from most other Anglo guys I know.”

“Do I now? Well maybe that’s because I’m a born and raised Southie!” he replied.

“Southie?” Francesca asked quizzically.

“South end of the great city of Boss-ton! Where are you from?”

“This is my hometown. I was born here.”

“What’s you name guy?” the young man asked.

Without giving any thought to a believable name she blurted out.

“Frank, Frank Smith!”

The young man looked her over, up, and down, unbelieving and continued.

" You don't look like a Smith to me!"

"What do I look like?"

“I’d say anything except “Smith,” he replied.

"Think what you like, dude, but that's my name. “So, if you don't mind, I'd like to leave it at that." She shifted in her seat and turned away.

The young man wasn’t ready to give up so easily, so he continued to prod Francesca.

"Okay then, we have something in common!"

Francesca annoyed by his persistence, turned to face him.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“We’re both … Irish?”

Losing patience Francesca responded.

“I don’t want to be rude, but probably the only thing we have in common is that we both like girls! So, if you don't mind, back off!"

Stunned, the young man reacted.

"Oh, Okay I guess that explains it, the short hair and boy’s clothes. I’m sorry, but you have such a pretty face, I didn't think to go there.”

Francesca triumphed. She enjoyed her new identity. She felt her medallion beneath her denim shirt and recalled Abuela’s advice. She stared out the bus window.

When the bus reached Santa Barbara, they both boarded the train. She sat by herself and the young man took a seat on the other side of the aisle. Francesca reflected on what she said to the young man and concluded men must be afraid of women who like girls.

The train arrived at the Irvine station and the young man rose to leave but, before he exited, he looked at her with sad eyes.

"Be safe Frank, I hope you find what you are looking for!"

Francesca attempted to say good-bye, but a tepid smile was all she could offer.