A Love for Rebecca

by Uceda, Mayte

  She awoke disoriented, but then it all came rushing back. She splashed cold water on her face and noticed her pale complexion. She put on lipstick and added a little of the color to her cheeks, blending it in with her fingertips. However serious things might be, she wouldn’t look anything less than polished in front of anyone, especially not her future son-in-law.

  She walked downstairs, still feeling a bit shaky. She greeted Mario politely, hiding her worry, and invited him into her husband’s study. It was the most appropriate place to hold a private conversation.

  With no preamble, Mario recounted the situation. He spared no detail, with the exception of his threats to Rebecca. Not because he regretted them—he was sure his mother-in-law would understand—but so as not to risk going too far and turning Elvira against him.

  Mario watched closely the effect his words had on her. What he interpreted as surprise was actually her reaction to having her suspicions confirmed.

  “I warned Víctor,” she said, sounding vexed. “I warned him that girls that age, on their own for three weeks, was a terrible idea.”

  Mario leaned against the gleaming mahogany desk. “Elvira, I—”

  “You want to call off the wedding, don’t you? What a catastrophe! Everything is ready! What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t want to call off the wedding,” he said.

  She looked at him, confused. “You don’t?”

  “What, and become the butt of jokes and the talk of half the city?”

  “But—”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Elvira. If I go ahead with the wedding, it’s only because it’s in my best interest. I’m just as worried about a scandal as you are, which is why I’ve told you. Your daughter doesn’t want to marry me; she wants to take off to Scotland with that guy.”

  “Has she lost her mind?”

  “I know you can influence her decision; we both know she’s always done what you want. But it looks like our Rebecca has spread her wings. I knew she wasn’t in love with me, but I thought she would make the perfect wife. You and I know this marriage is more of a business transaction than anything romantic. When it comes to that kind of love, I’ve never been one to let my passions carry me away. To tell the truth, I thought Rebecca and I were alike in that respect. Perhaps I am mistaken. Nevertheless, I will marry her to protect my reputation. I’m willing to forget everything. Deep down, I consider her the victim of that rogue who seduced her for his own entertainment.”

  “You haven’t seen him, Mario. You haven’t seen what he looks like. I swear, I don’t understand how she could fall in love with someone like that.”

  “What do you mean? You’ve seen him?”

  “I found a photo, just this morning after you called. He’s got tattoos and long hair. He looks like a degenerate, and possibly dangerous. I’m still in shock.”

  They were silent, each trying to imagine Rebecca’s romance with someone like that. Elvira spoke first. “What are we going to do?”

  “You have to convince her to marry me. She’ll listen to you.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll speak to my father. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that there are only three partners in our firm. Enric is just an associate . . . I’m sure you understand.

  Elvira could not suppress a look of repugnance. “I understand quite well. I’m not stupid.”

  “Fine.”

  “I will speak with her this afternoon, and tomorrow you will have your answer.”

  Mario left, and Elvira remained in the study, pacing, considering her next move. That Mario was hurt was completely understandable, but his veiled threat had surprised and unsettled her.

  She left the study, jaw clenched, and went up to her daughter’s bedroom. Everything was orderly, the bed made. She looked for the photo, but it was no longer there. She searched the drawers of the night tables and found a tourist brochure for Beauly. Opening it, she discovered the photo tucked inside. Elvira studied the photo. The image angered her so much that she ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces on the bed.

  The whole family gathered for lunch. Even Enric was seated at the table. His father had insisted he join them, saying how much his youngest sister missed him. And it was true. Inés greeted Enric excitedly when she saw him. She followed that with a running patter about her world and questions about his.

  Upon her return from the park, Rebecca had immediately noticed the troubled look on her mother’s face. Elvira was visibly upset. Indeed, everyone noticed.

  Elvira announced that she had a terrible headache. She didn’t suffer migraines often, but when she did, everyone knew it was best to leave her alone.

  That her son was also present surprised Elvira. “Hello, Enric. Come give your mother a kiss.”

  “Of course, Mother,” he said, complying.

  Víctor spoke up, addressing his wife sympathetically. “You were fine this morning, darling, before I went to work.”

  “Yes,” Elvira said, avoiding her husband’s concerned gaze. “It came on suddenly. You know how it can be for me. My head is throbbing.”

  Inés continued telling her brother about her latest adventures.

  “Don’t forget to tell ’im about the worm, child,” Baudelia prompted as she served the salad.

  “What worm?” Enric inquired.

  “Oh, Mr. Enric, one that squirmed right inside my dress,” answered Baudelia, shooting an accusatory glance toward Inés. “I almost fell down, it scared me so bad. Fat and slimy thing!”

  “That’s enough, Baudelia. You don’t need to be so graphic while we are eating,” Elvira said, simultaneously giving her younger daughter a severe look.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Inés protested. “The worm jumped inside her dress.”

  Her mother removed the cloth napkin from her lap and threw it on the table. “For heaven’s sake, Inés! Worms do not jump! Why can’t you behave?”

  “Elvira, please,” Víctor said. “I’m sure it was just a joke.”

  “Yes, doña Elvira,” Baudelia hurried to add. “It was nothing. It just startled me, is all.”

  Elvira got up from the table, her hand on her forehead. “Excuse me, I don’t feel well. Please continue eating. I’m going to my room.”

  “Would you like me to bring up a tray for you, Doña?

  “No, Baudelia, I’m not hungry.”

  Elvira lay awake, eyes closed, listening to the muffled sounds from the dining room. Her headache had let up some. She knew it came from the stress of the last few hours. It had begun at the base of her neck and then crept up to her left eye and settled there. The pain had become so unbearable that the only relief was to stay out of the light and try to stop thinking.

  She strained to listen to the voices downstairs and identified her daughters, chatting freely. Elvira suddenly recalled the photo she had torn to shreds and thrown on her daughter’s bed. Rebecca would see it the moment she came up to her room. Elvira looked at the clock; it was three thirty! Víctor and Enric would have already finished lunch and returned to the office. She got up quickly, ignoring the stabs of pain that shot though her with the sudden movement. She went into the hallway at the same moment Inés and Rebecca disappeared behind the door to Rebecca’s bedroom.

  Rebecca was kneeling on the floor, frantically picking up the pieces of the photo. Inés was helping her without understanding why her sister was suddenly so unhappy.

  “Why did you tear it up?” Inés asked her sister. “Want me to help you glue it back together?”

  Rebecca caught sight of her mother in the doorway and glared at her. Both women were distraught.

  “Baudelia!” shouted Elvira.

  “Yes, Doña?” Baudelia promptly called up the stairs, alarmed at her mistress’s tone.

  “Take Inés, please.”

  “Right away, doña
Elvira.” Baudelia hurried up the stairs. “Let’s go, little one. Let’s you and me go play.”

  “But why? I want to stay with Rebecca and help her glue the picture together.”

  “Do as you’re told!” her mother ordered.

  The little girl stopped protesting and took Baudelia’s hand. Baudelia smoothed her hair affectionately as she led her down the stairs.

  Elvira closed the bedroom door behind them and addressed her daughter. “Mario was here this morning,” she said, irate.

  Rebecca got up slowly from the floor and faced her mother’s angry expression. Elvira, beside herself, drew nearer, stepping on the scraps of the photo still on the floor.

  “If I hadn’t found that cursed photo, I would have thought Mario was playing me for a fool.”

  “Well, now you know,” Rebecca retorted coolly.

  Her mother’s hard slap made her stagger.

  “How could you!” Elvira yelled. “How could you behave like some harlot?”

  Rebecca sobbed, stung less by the blow than by the vehemence of her mother’s reaction. She hadn’t expected sympathy or understanding, but her mother’s violent eruption overwhelmed her. She wanted to defend herself, to explain that she’d fallen in love against her will. That she hadn’t meant to, but that she truly loved Kenzie and could never love anyone else. She knew that argument, however, wouldn’t work with her mother. Love was not what mattered most to Elvira.

  “I can’t marry Mario, Mother,” she managed between sobs. “You don’t know him. He threatened to ruin the family if I don’t marry him.”

  “And you think he can’t? If Josep and Mario choose to, they can align themselves against your father! They could throw him out of the firm!”

  “Mario wouldn’t dare.”

  “Of course he would! I saw it in his eyes when he was here this morning. He’s very hurt, and he will not allow you to ridicule him in front of everyone. If we cancel the wedding, you know it will destroy the relationship between our families.”

  “The man is sadistic! I will not marry such a malicious person.”

  “Mario is being ruthless. No doubt he’s convinced his reputation and career are at stake. And it was your impulsive behavior that precipitated all this. In this life, one must accept the consequences of one’s actions. I’ve been teaching that truth to you and your brother since you were children. It pains me greatly that the lesson has gone unlearned.”

  “Mario will ruin my life.”

  “Do you really imagine you can run off with that man and be happy? Get your head out of the clouds, Rebecca.” Elvira put her hand to her forehead to hold back the sudden, stabbing pain. “What on earth are you thinking? Have you really looked at him?”

  Rebecca did not respond, struggling inwardly to not allow her mother’s tirade to penetrate her defenses and overwhelm her. In a battle of wills with her mother, Rebecca had always come up short.

  “Maybe you think you’re in love,” her mother continued, pacing the room, “but I assure you it won’t last. Your love won’t survive a year with you knowing you betrayed your family. And then you would hate yourself and end up hating him, wishing you could come back—but you won’t be able to. Do you think you’re the first person this has ever happened to? It happens to everyone, for heaven’s sake. All the time. But there are some principles that you have conveniently overlooked, such as loyalty and commitment. There will always be people you are attracted to, but that doesn’t mean you let yourself be carried away by every fleeting desire. That would be irrational, the height of foolishness. You’re young, and this has been your first life lesson. You’re lucky he still wants to marry you. In time, you’ll understand, and you’ll be ashamed of your irresponsible behavior.”

  Elvira walked out, her words reverberating in Rebecca’s head.

  Rebecca curled up on her bed, trembling and miserable. She wasn’t even aware of the sting on her cheek. Her pain was deeper. She realized she would not win, that her dream of returning to Kenzie’s side was an illusion.

  She didn’t know how long she had lain there when, through her tears, she saw Baudelia’s kind and worried face. “What’s wrong, child? You’ve been acting so different lately.”

  “Oh, Baudelia!” Rebecca sobbed. “I just want to die.”

  The woman crossed herself. “Virgin of Guadalupe! Don’t say such things, child. It’s a mortal sin!” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed heavily when she saw that Rebecca’s crying was not letting up. “What happened, child? Tell Baudelia. Your mama’s very angry, but you know her. She’ll get over it. Now, now, don’t cry.”

  “Not this time, Baudelia. This time I’ve done something terrible.”

  “It can’t be as bad as all that, honey.”

  Rebecca dried her tears, sat up a little, and laid her head in her longtime nanny’s lap. Little by little, amid grimaces and sniffs, she told Baudelia the story, tears never far from her eyes. Baudelia cooed to her and rocked her like a baby. With no children of her own, Baudelia had always poured her maternal love on Rebecca and her siblings. The children were devoted to her, returning her love without effort.

  When Rebecca had told her everything, they sat in silence. Baudelia discreetly brushed her own tears from her eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything, Baudelia? Am I a terrible person?”

  “No, child, of course not. I was just thinking about what you said. It’s a beautiful story.”

  “But Mario will never let me go. I have to tell Kenzie I’m never coming back. But I can’t. I swore; I promised him I’d return.”

  “Gangster lawyer! I never liked Mr. Mario for you, child. He’s a damn fool! Your mama forgive me, but it’s not right for her to make you marry that greedy man.” Baudelia thought a moment. “Tell your papa, child. He’s not like her; he’ll understand.”

  “I can’t, Baudelia. If I don’t marry Mario, my father will lose his partnership in the firm, and I . . .”

  She burst out crying once more. Baudelia wiped her own blurry eyes.

  THE END OF THE DREAM

  The next morning, Mario stopped by the house to pick her up. Rebecca knew her mother had informed him that the wedding was on as planned. She felt broken and guilt-ridden. Not only had she betrayed Mario; now she must betray her beloved Kenzie. Arrows pierced her heart whenever she thought of him. The next day would mark a week since she’d returned, and he would call her. What words could she possibly say? Her mother’s pronouncements kept coming back to torment her. They swirled around her mind like vultures, her cherished dream of a life with Kenzie their dying prey. The beautiful world born of their love was dissolving before her eyes. Must this be the price she had to pay?

  Standing next to his dark blue Audi, Mario unexpectedly greeted her with a smile. The shadows under his eyes, however, belied the thin layer of cheer. From the route they took, Rebecca knew they were headed to his house. She was silent the whole time, not even looking at him. She was aware, however, of his efforts to appear lighthearted, as if nothing serious had happened, as if he had not threatened her family. But he was smart enough not to force conversation, knowing when it was better to keep quiet.

  It didn’t take long to reach the imposing house that had belonged to Mario’s family for generations. Designed by an architect whose name Rebecca could never remember, it was a Catalan Modernism-style building from the end of the nineteenth century. Mario had told Rebecca the architect’s name any number of times, along with stories about his great-grandfather, Donat Caralt, who had the house built when he returned from Havana in 1895 after the decisive Cuban uprising against Spanish control.

  Mario was very proud of his family history. His ancestors had been some of the first colonists on the Caribbean island, and they had amassed great wealth, first from slave trafficking and then from the sugar industry. Their library housed mountains of documents and private diaries fr
om that period. One time, when Mario read her a passage about the onboard conditions for the enslaved Africans during their abduction to Cuba, Rebecca had suffered a wave of nausea. The Africans were referred to as inanimate objects, devoid of humanity. Among the hardships they endured on the eighty-day voyage, the worst was being brutally packed together in the dark, airless holds of ships, with no provision for the removal of their excrement and urine. With no fresh air and little food, disease spread. Those deemed too weak to sell on the docks of Cuba were tossed overboard.

  That Mario should take pride in such a family history sickened Rebecca. Perversely, he seemed to take pleasure in showing her such documents.

  They entered the house and passed through a long hallway to the spacious room that had been decorated in antique Baroque style the last time Rebecca had seen it.

  “What do you think?” Mario asked, standing in the middle of the big room and spreading his arms wide to encompass the space. “While you were on vacation, I decided to surprise you by remodeling. I knew you didn’t like the antique look, and I wanted you to be more comfortable when we were married.”

  She looked at the gleaming new light-colored walls, which had originally been covered with a dark, ornate wooden frieze. The furniture was modern, and the white, airy curtains covering the glass balcony doors had replaced thick, wine-colored velvet drapes. She noticed new brightly colored prints on the walls. It didn’t look like the same room. Seeing Rebecca’s astonished expression, Mario took her by the hand and led her up the wide staircase with its wrought-iron balusters and wooden handrail.

  She was fatigued. The short climb up the stairs left her heart racing, and she sat on a bench in the hallway.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Yes, a little surprised, is all.”

  “You still haven’t said if you like it.”

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered. “You’ve done a great job.”

  They went back downstairs, and Mario offered her a drink. Rebecca took it and sat on the new, modern sofa. Her heart was still beating fast. She was sweating and short of breath, her anxiety threatening to undermine her composure.