“I want the dead to stay dead,” Cayetano said.
“To do that, we need to let José get away with whatever he did in the Valencian mountains.”
“But we don’t even know for sure what happened, and we have no proof,” Paco reasoned.
“We figured out the mystery too late, just like when Alejandro died at Escondrijo. We found the killer after their own death yet again. We will have to find another way to help the victims,” Luna said.
“But our lives don’t need to be put on hold,” Cayetano said. “We shouldn’t be punished. Yes, let’s get married in Cuenca and move on.”
49
Valencia, España ~ Julio de 2010
‘But mostly, I want to thank the person who has supported me throughout my whole career. Not just on good days, like today. She was there after every bad race, after every wet training ride, after every off-season injury. I have had the chance to work with one of the best bike mechanics in pro-cycling, and it breaks my heart that she was unable to attend this year’s Tour. My best friend, Luna Montgomery, deserves to be here with me today. We dreamed of getting a team on top of the podium here in Paris, just like we did in 2004. Luna was in an accident two months ago and was unable to attend this year’s edition. Every time I pushed myself over a mountain, I thought of Luna at home, pushing herself to recover. She is my friend, my family, and my inspiration for this race. I want to thank Luna for all her help, the love we shared, and her commitment to the sport’
Luna sat still as she watched Darren give his speech from the top of the Tour de France podium. There he stood, in theory clean from EPO and blood doping, and had won the event. Maybe he was clean; maybe he had left everything behind and had moved into a new age of cycling.
“Are you all right?” Cayetano asked. He sat across the room from Luna in an armchair, one hand over his mouth as he watched the television with grave suspicion.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Giacomo and Enzo liked seeing Darren on television.”
“Life is great when you’re winning. It’s fun for the boys. They can’t watch you on television, you’re always too busy killing something.”
“Bulls to be precise.”
Luna half-smiled and Cayetano returned it. “I’m fine. Winning the Tour is no easy feat. Finishing is no easy feat. Drugs or not, it’s a massive challenge.”
“Do you think Darren is clean?”
“I do, but it doesn’t matter at all.”
“Darren just told the world on live television that he loved you.”
“Please, let’s not dwell on that. There’s nothing between us.”
“I know, Darren told me himself over your hospital bed. He had better be over you, he’s dating my sister now!” Cayetano glanced out Luna’s full length windows, over the Turia park and the Arts and Sciences complex. “Perhaps we could visit Darren when he gets home, if you need to see him.”
“That won’t be for a week or so.”
“We can stay in Valencia for a little longer. We have work to do if we’re going to pack up your personal things to move to Madrid.”
“I’ve lived in this apartment for seven years; it won’t be an easy move… hey, there’s Sofía!”
The pair watched as the camera panned through the crowd on the Champs-Élysées, and there stood Sofía at the front, cheering for her new lover.
“Wow, right at the front. Sofía is so lucky,” Luna mumbled.
“Jealous?”
“Of the fun, the excitement, the bikes… I don’t want Darren.”
“I didn’t suspect you did, but it’s still good to hear it.”
“Darren didn’t visit me once since I got out of hospital.”
“He didn’t think there was a right time. He preferred to stand back and help with the kids. You and Darren have been so volatile together.”
“I suppose.”
“Do you still want to be friends with Darren?”
“I don’t know. My whole life as a mechanic is broken. But, and this is great cliché, you’ll love it… after banging my head, it has made me see things in a different light. I’m not interested what people think if Fabrizio’s drug use is made public. I don’t care if Darren is caught, or I’m thought of as a drug accomplice. Fuck everyone. Life is way too short to worry about anyone else. I’m too busy as a crippled housewife. Darren wouldn’t come to see me; did he push me at Escondrijo?”
Cayetano took his hand from his face and sat up straight. The television let out the sound of cheers and fireworks, but he ignored the whole spectacle. “Darren didn’t try to kill you, Luna.”
“Did I imagine the whole thing? Have I gone crazy?”
“No, you’re not crazy.”
“But I have to live with wondering what happened.”
“No, you don’t. You can move on now.”
“Move on by getting the secrets of a potential relative buried at Escondrijo.”
“Well, we’ve already blown up the Beltrán family, let’s not blow up the Morales family, too.”
“I have no intention of that. If Paco thinks we should stay quiet for now, then I will. But it’s not over, three other people need to be reburied.”
“And Jorge and his team can do that.”
“I know. I’m happy to leave it to them for a while.”
“You said you were happy to move to Madrid, but am I going to have to carry you out of Valencia, kicking and screaming?”
“Yes. There is no doubt about that. I did consider visiting Valencia cemetery before we go. I might be able to find Fermín Belasco’s grave.”
“José’s partner?”
“Yes. It must be long forgotten. Like all the bodies dumped in mass graves there.”
“You can’t leave anything alone, can you?”
“Nope.”
“A man is standing on the Tour de France podium, wearing the yellow jersey, praising you, and you’re still working overtime on other things.”
“Fine! I promise not to dig anyone up for a few years. Happy?”
“Good! We can still come back to Valencia a lot.”
“I plan to, once or twice a month.”
“Madrid won’t be forever. I only have a few bullfighting seasons left in my career.”
“You can make them excellent ones. I’m okay with moving to Madrid, I promise. I need time away from Escondrijo, even if the baby is buried there.”
The phone rang, echoing from the kitchen, and Cayetano went to fetch it. The television had changed to highlights of the Tour through July and Luna muted it, with a quiet ache that she had missed the famed race yet again.
Cayetano reappeared, phone in hand. “For you.” He handed it over and tried to smile.
“Luna?”
“Darren. Um… congratulations.”
“Did you see the racing today?”
“Yes, I saw the whole thing.” In the background, Luna could hear a ton of voices; the chaos of post-race interviews and demands from eager fans surrounded Darren. “You played a respectable race, Darren. The strategy was solid.”
“It was the strategy you suggested to me months ago.”
“I realised that from the first day of racing. I hope you enjoyed it.”
“I would have enjoyed it more with your support.”
“You don’t need me. Besides, you have a girlfriend there.”
“I do have Sofía, but I’m not talking about that support. It breaks my heart to know I did this, and you weren’t here.”
“Things have changed, and we just have to live with it.”
“I thought you would hate me for going to France, despite your injury.”
“I don’t hate you. You helped my boys when they needed it and then still got your own life in order. I’m not going to hold anyone back just because I was stupid enough to almost kill myself.”
“I tell you, everyone around here has been talking about Fabrizio. No one believes a word of the rumours about him. I hope that bring you comfort.”
/> “I’m not sure to be honest.”
“That nightmare could be over for us.”
“I hope so. I guess I’ll worry about that if Doctor Ferra’s drugs charge ever gets to court.”
“Can I see you, Lulu? Please?”
“I’m in Valencia for a week.”
“Then I’ll make sure Sofía and I get back in time.”
“Have you told her about your past drug use?”
“Yes. She didn’t like it at first, and when she returned to Spain for her grandfather’s funeral, I wasn’t sure she would come back to France. But she did, and I’m grateful.”
“Then, yes, you can come and visit me.”
“I miss you, Lulu.”
“Yeah… me, too!” Luna glanced up at Cayetano, and he smiled. “I should let you go. There will be a room at the Ritz for you, full of champagne and people ready to offer you sponsorship deals and to inflate your ego with praise.”
“I want to be part of that! But it’s not the same without you next to me. I mean it.”
“In another life, Darren…”
“I know. We missed our chance together.”
“It’s a new era. Things worked out how they should have. Goodnight.”
Luna tossed the phone on the coffee table and sighed. “Darren didn’t push me at Escondrijo. If I burst into tears right now, don’t suspect I still care for Darren.”
Cayetano sat down on the couch next to Luna and put his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, but fought the urge to cry. “If, one day in the future, someone went to Giacomo and Enzo and told them all about the indiscretions of their father, or of their uncle Darren, I would be so upset. It’s up to me to tell them the truth about Fabrizio, who he was, how he died, the secrets he kept. Most of it never needs to be told. Even the stuff that has happened this year, like my miscarriage. They don’t need to reminded of all that. They will remember that I had an accident, but the memories will fade and not hurt them anymore. If someone brought all that back, I would be livid.”
“Well, that’s something we need to manage in the future.”
“But it’s no different to the pain I have been causing by digging up Spain’s hidden bodies. You told me this all along, and I was too stupid understand you. I have just figured it out at this very moment, when I told Darren to move on without me.”
“You’re not stupid, but maybe too busy looking at injustices to see the collateral damage.”
“I saw what I did to Paco when I unearthed his real father and mother.”
“That was by pure accident, and Paco knew it.”
“But this time, I can make a choice, and cut off the pain before it spreads. I’m hurting for so many things right now, and I shouldn’t seek out any more pain.” Luna paused and smiled. “I should thank whoever pushed me at Escondrijo. I’ve seen things clearly for the first time. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t fallen. My miscarriage was inevitable, fall or not, but maybe getting a head injury will have some kind good outcome… you know, when I can feed and clothe myself again.”
Cayetano slid off the couch onto the floor and sat on his knees. He took Luna’s hands in his, and she saw the torment in his expression. He didn’t say a word but looked ready to cry.
“What?” she asked. “What have I done?”
“Nothing. It’s about what I’ve done.”
“What?”
“I pushed you,” he whispered. “It was me who pushed you at Escondrijo.”
Luna took a few deep breaths and searched Cayetano’s face for an answer, but all she got was tears. “Why?”
“It was an accident, I promise,” he said, his voice weak. “I know you don’t remember, but we were bickering at the dig site, and you sent me to watch the kids. I thought they shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
“They shouldn’t have been there. It wasn’t suitable, but I was out of options.”
“I came to tell you that I would take them back to Valencia. You had wandered around the other side of the dig, and you didn’t look well. I thought you were about to pass out. I marched over and called your name, but you didn’t reply. I was angry, when you didn’t turn to me. I raced to you from behind, and as I did, I tripped. I slipped forward and pushed you, and you fell forward off the end of a rock. It just all spiralled out of control; you fell and started rolling and sliding away from me. It happened in a split second. It was a dumb accident.” By now, tears poured from Cayetano as he admitted what he had done.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me! You had been so angry with me, and I didn’t want to make things worse. Over the last few months, you had been so angry with the world, because of people who lied to you, and then I ended up being a liar, too. I kept this from you so you wouldn’t hate me.”
“I don’t remember anything about arguing at the dig site. Everything we argued about before that day was petty crap. It wasn’t the end of the world.”
“You woke up from your coma, and you were so fragile. You were pregnant, and I had to break that news to you. The miscarriage made you weaker and more melancholy. So I kept lying to you. But you remember being pushed, and I didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that it was my fault. I almost killed you. I killed the baby.”
“You didn’t kill the baby.”
“Maybe not, but it feels like a fitting punishment for what I did to you.”
Cayetano sank his head onto Luna’s lap and began to cry, a desperate sob, laced with guilt and regret. The weep of self-condemnation left no room for doubt; Cayetano didn’t push her on purpose.
Luna took Cayetano’s face in her hands lifted his gaze to hers, and just the sight of the broken man gave her a pain deep in her chest. “It’s over,” she said.
“Please, preciosa...”
“No, it’s over. Stop your tears, because I’m going to be fine one day. This will all go away. We’re going to Madrid. We’re going to get married. José and Consuela ran from Valencia, with a load of regret, and they started a new life in Madrid. We can do the same time.”
50
Cuenca, España ~ Septiembre de 2010
‘Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered. Love does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. What God has joined, men must not divide’
The bells over Cuenca cathedral rang out over the hilltop old town as Luna and Cayetano stood on the steps. Rice fell against them along with the late summer sun as the guests all cheered for the bride and groom. Fireworks echoed through Plaza Mayor, to the delight of all the children in the wedding party. The smile on Luna’s face was so immense, she felt stupid. But it wouldn’t fade, not for a moment. Giacomo stood next to her and held her hand, happy to wave to the crowd below them. Enzo held Cayetano’s hand, all three gentlemen dressed in matching black suits with ice-blue ties as family and friends celebrated the end of the Catholic ceremony inside the vaulted halls. Father Murillo, whom Luna met a year ago in the search for her grandfather, felt happy to marry her in his church, even if she wasn’t Catholic. She figured the church grabbed anyone who came in the door these days. But after a Catholic Sicilian wedding years ago, and with two baptised children, Luna assumed she was Catholic enough to play the part of the bride in a religious ceremony. In one hand, she still held the arras, the thirteen gold coins which were blessed by the priest and given to Luna from Cayetano, as a symbol that he would support her. After the last few months, Luna had no doubt he would support her, but she played along with the tradition. Father Murillo bound her hand to Cayetano’s with a ribbon as he blessed the coins and she accepted them, as a sign of her trust and confidence in her husband, and to be dedicated and prudent to him.
“You have made my mother very happy,” Cayetano whispered in h
er ear as he ran his hand around the small of her back.
“All Inés has done this afternoon since she walked you down the aisle is cry!”
“You’re wearing the veil she wore at her own wedding, and Mamí wore it at her wedding. They will love you forever now.”
Luna glanced at the delicate mantilla, her wedding veil that draped over her arms, also covered in long lace sleeves, and all the way to the white steps of the cathedral. With the miracle of hairpieces and pins, the family heirloom clipped onto the top Luna’s head, right over her surgery scar, and she looked like the accident never happened. “I’m glad they didn’t have traditional black dresses and veils.”
“Lucky my grandmother was progressive enough wear white to her wedding.”
“Indeed.” Luna ran her hand over her simple, traditional fitted silk and lace wedding dress, the dress she and Cayetano had found in Luna’s Beltrán’s secret chest. Sofía Pérez wore it to marry Alejandro Beltrán in 1938, and Luna Beltrán had wanted to wear it to her own wedding, right here in Cuenca. She had hidden it for her whole life after Cayetano Ortega got shot at the end of the war. Now the dress got to see the wedding of Luna and Cayetano, 71 years later. The Ortega and Beltrán families were finally united.
“Can I kiss that smile?”
Luna giggled and obliged the groom a long, lingering kiss. She rested her cheek against his and faced away from all the well-wishers.
“Who is fighting the tears now?” Cayetano said with a smile.
“I was just not sure this day would come.” Luna took her arm from around Cayetano and wiped a tear from her eye, to a chorus of ‘aww’ from the women in the crowd. The Beltrán diamond on her finger twinkled in the sunshine. She glanced to her bridesmaids, dressed in ice-blue; Sofía, and all of Cayetano’s cousins, Mirabel, Rosa, Carmina, Benita and Sara. The scent of their orange blossom wedding bouquets had enriched the entire cathedral. Expertly dressed in a grey suit was the best man Miguel, along with groomsmen Alonso, Eduardo, Hector. The army of Morales nieces and nephews all gathered on the steps, ready for the family photo.
Secrets of Spain Trilogy Page 88
