by Uceda, Mayte
“To Grandpa’s office. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes! Will Uncle Enric and Uncle Pablo be there?”
“Maybe, but I won’t let them give you a single piece of candy. They spoil you.”
Sofi scrunched up her face at that.
Enric greeted them first. He picked Sofi up and threw her in the air. Then he gave her a kiss that echoed throughout the reception area. “You got sparkles all over my face,” he protested. The little girl laughed. “Look what I have in my pocket.”
Sofi looked to her mother.
“No sweets!”
Víctor came out of his office, along with Pablo.
“Can you two take her to get a treat?” he said, going over to Enric and taking the girl in his arms to give her a kiss. When he saw that her face was full of little sparkles, he kissed her on the head.
“You too, Daddy? She eats too many sweets as it is. I should charge her dental bills to your practice.”
“Just for today,” Víctor warned Sofi. “And remember to brush those little mouse teeth of yours really well.”
“I don’t have mouse teeth,” Sofi complained.
Before they left, Rebecca gave her brother an inquisitive look. He shrugged. She was very curious.
“What’s up, Daddy?” she asked when they were alone.
“Here, let’s go into my office.”
Her father’s new office was more welcoming than the previous one. It was simple, less ostentatious, and she felt comfortable as soon as she stepped in. The new law firm had done well from the start. Large-scale international negotiations may not have been within their reach, but they didn’t need them. Víctor Bassols had an impeccable reputation, and he had managed a dignified separation from Caralt without damage to it. In Barcelona business circles, he was known as a fair man with a thorough understanding of financial matters.
He took an envelope out of the drawer and placed it on his desk. “Please, sit down.”
“Do you want me to make out a will or something?” she asked in amusement.
“No, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get that in order. It doesn’t matter how old you are; a good lawyer will always advise that you have your will up to date.”
“It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.”
“Well, relax,” he said. “It’s not about that.”
“So what is it?”
“Rebecca, what was the name of the young man you met in Scotland?”
The sudden query took her breath away. “Why do you ask?”
“Answer the question, honey.”
“Kenzie.”
“Kenzie what?”
“MacLeod.”
“Is this him?” he asked, taking out a photo.
Disconcerted, she felt a sudden lump in her throat. He prompted her to take the photo. She held her breath as she took it and looked at it. It was Kenzie. His hair was shorter, and he was wearing winter clothes, but she recognized him instantly. The picture was taken in Beauly, next to the Bank of Scotland.
She sat back in her chair. “Yes,” she whispered, “it’s him. Where did you get it?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
Víctor ignored her comment and removed a document from the envelope. Then he began to read:
“Kenzie Connor MacLeod, son of William MacLeod and Elisabeth Hay, born in Inverness the sixteenth of September, 1980. Married to Mary Margaret Campbell the sixth of November, 2009. No children.”
Rebecca jumped up and snatched the paper from his hands. “How did you get this?”
“I’m a lawyer, remember?”
She sat down again, suddenly weak in the knees.
Her father pulled another document from the envelope.
“Daddy, I don’t want to know any more. I don’t know why you’re showing me this.”
“Perhaps this will interest you,” he said, waving the paper in her direction.
Rebecca took the document. She skimmed it and raised her eyes, incredulous and confused, to meet his.
“A petition for divorce?”
“A photocopy, and don’t ask me how I got it.”
“He’s divorced?”
“Well, he filed the petition six months ago; it’s a contested divorce.”
“What does that mean?”
“That one of the parties doesn’t agree, probably the respondent. I have some reports here from lawyers regarding court appearances, but there’s still no verdict. According to the reports, however, it’s just a matter of time.”
He stopped talking. Rebecca was formulating a thousand questions in her head. Her father saw her confusion and added, “Look, honey, ever since you and Mario divorced, I can’t help but feel responsible for everything you’ve gone through. If I’d been more attentive to you, perhaps . . . Well, the thing is, a few months ago I decided to investigate. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but this is what I found, and you have a right to know. From now on, your decisions are yours alone.”
In the bathtub that evening, Sofi played with suds and chattered about the afternoon she’d spent with her friend Anne. But her mother hardly heard a word. All she could think about was the envelope she’d left on her bed in the middle of the pile of exams yet to be graded.
After bath time, Rebecca made dinner while Sofi entertained herself coloring and listening to her favorite children’s CD. They both knew all the songs by heart and sang along before supper.
Once Sofi was sleeping, Rebecca returned to the kitchen and cleared the table, her heart pounding. Then she went to her room and picked up the exams scattered on the bed. Putting them in a stack, she told herself the children could wait one more day to find out their grades.
The first thing she did was take out the photo of Kenzie. Now she could take her time looking at it, analyzing every inch in detail. His face was slightly blurry, and she wished she could see his mouth and the expression of his eyes more clearly. She could hardly believe she was holding a photo of him, after nearly eight years.
Kenzie’s youthful appearance had given way to that of a man. But if she liked looking at him before, the attraction she felt now was unbearable. She knew her feelings for him had not changed. In the years since returning from Scotland, she’d held them back so they wouldn’t destroy her. But her love for Kenzie was as strong and passionate as ever.
“Kenzie Connor,” she said aloud. She hadn’t even known he had a middle name, but she liked how it sounded when she said it.
Her heart was still pounding. She tried to calm herself down by reflecting on her own appearance. She’d changed more than he had. She didn’t work out much and still hadn’t lost all the weight she’d gained during pregnancy. She wondered what he would think if he saw her now.
Anxiously, she pushed that thought aside and pulled out the documents. There were two pages. One had the basic facts her father had read, including that his address was still on Croyard Road, and on the other was the date of his petition for divorce and the names of both spouses. Rebecca felt guilty for a moment, as if she were snooping. But there was nothing on earth that could have kept her from looking.
Opening the drawer of her night table, Rebecca took out a worn book: The Bridges of Madison County. She opened it to the page she knew held another photo. She hadn’t looked at it for some time, a restriction she’d imposed on herself. It was in bad shape after having been torn up, put back together, and mounted on a piece of construction paper. She thought about the dance where their eyes had first met, and it brought back the feelings that had flooded her the first moment she saw him. Her skin tingled with the memory of his first touch.
She took the new photo and placed it in the book with the other one. She fell asleep that night rubbing her silver band.
Over the next several days, she had a hard time
concentrating. The school days dragged on with her mind mostly elsewhere. Her work responsibilities felt like Sisyphean tasks. Every time she finished one, the next one materialized, like a boulder she had to push up a steep hill again. Thus her days passed.
“How long have you known?” Enric asked.
“Two weeks.”
“So that’s what you and Dad were up to. And you say he gave you the information?”
“Is that odd?”
“Well, he must have known it was important to you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have done so.”
Across the room, Pablo was entertaining Sofi by playing a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Rebecca had invited them to lunch. She couldn’t take one more day without talking to someone about her father’s findings. Her brother was the best person to talk to because she didn’t want to say anything to her friends yet, especially not over the phone.
“I had no idea your romance in Scotland meant so much to you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, and your dislike for Mario would have been out of control.”
“True, but I’m sure we could’ve done something about it.”
Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ears and looked sharply at her brother. “I don’t want to talk about the past, Enric. I realize now that things might have worked out differently, but for once I want to look to the future without being burdened by the past.”
“You’re right. It’s just that I get so furious when I think about Mario.”
“Forget it; we can’t do anything about it now.”
“Fine, let’s focus on the present.” He finished his coffee. “Now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to go,” Pablo said, having discreetly listened to their conversation from across the room.
“Go? To Scotland?”
“Do you still love him?”
There was a moment of silence before she nodded.
“So what are you waiting for?
“What if he . . .”
“If he isn’t still interested in you?” Enric asked.
“Yes.”
“What do you have to lose?”
Rebecca hugged herself, holding in a sudden chill. “Only the happy memories that remain.”
“Do you want to live on memories the rest of your life?”
She sighed and shook her head. “But he might be very bitter. Maybe he hates me, maybe . . .”
“Maybe, maybe! You’ll never know if you don’t go.”
Her heart began pounding at the prospect of going to Beauly. Then she thought about work; she couldn’t leave in the middle of the term.
“Even if I wanted to go,” she said, “I’d have to wait until classes end.”
“That’s three months from now,” Enric pointed out. “Who knows what might happen in that time? From the picture you showed me, he looks like an attractive guy. He’s recently divorced, doesn’t have kids; he’s still young . . . I’m sure there’s more than one woman waiting to pounce. If I were you, I wouldn’t give them a chance.”
“Oh, God, I don’t know what to do . . . And Sofi . . .”
“Don’t worry about Sofi. She’ll stay with us,” Pablo volunteered, glancing at Enric, who nodded in affirmation.
“We’ll take turns,” Enric added. “Dad can manage with just one of us for a few days.”
Rebecca bit her lip, unsure, struggling to control her emotions. Enric put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “If you truly love this guy, go see him. Talk to him. If he doesn’t feel the same way, if he’s bitter or just not interested, you’ll be at peace with yourself for finding out, and you’ll be able to get on with your life.”
Enric’s words were the push she needed. She bought her plane ticket, knowing that if she didn’t go see him, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She couldn’t keep living like this, with life passing before her eyes, the memories of Scotland—of Kenzie—never far from her mind.
She decided to tell her parents. She saw the unconditional support in her father’s face and the initial shock in her mother’s. Still, Elvira didn’t say anything. She sat with her lips pressed together, unable to conceal her disapproval.
Rebecca suspected her mother wouldn’t take it sitting down. She wasn’t wrong; two days later her mother showed up at her apartment.
“I cannot believe you’re still thinking about all that,” she said as soon as she entered.
“Shhh. Be quiet. Sofi’s napping.”
“How can you even think of going to see that man after all this time?” Elvira said, lowering her voice.
“Eight years, to be exact. You might not be keeping track, but I am.”
“Of course you are. Sometimes I think you’re incapable of rational thought.”
Rebecca led her mother to the kitchen and closed the door behind them. “And you, Mother? How rational do you think you are? Because in all these years, the only thing I’ve learned from you is that status and appearance are more important than anything else. More important than principles, or fidelity, or love.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about fidelity,” Elvira said.
Rebecca turned her back and brushed aside the hair on her forehead. Her voice was subdued. “Yes, I know. What I did was wrong.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I recognize my guilt, but you’ve never understood that I was in love.”
“That wasn’t love, and you know it.”
“Yes, Mother, it was! And I realize it now more than ever. Maybe if I hadn’t let you convince me . . .”
“You know what Mario would have done if we had called off the wedding.”
“That’s the problem. It wasn’t your wedding, it wasn’t our wedding; it was mine. You knew just as well as I how selfish and cruel Mario was, and still you didn’t raise a finger to stop me from marrying him.”
“And I would do it again before I would let you go running back to that worthless man in Scotland. For heaven’s sake, I did it for your own good!”
“It wasn’t for me; it was for you. It was as if your life was falling apart instead of mine. It terrified you, the thought of having to stand up in front of everybody and tell them there wouldn’t be a wedding because your daughter had fallen in love with another man and had gone to be with him.”
“And you find that hard to understand?”
“Do you think it would have been easy for me? But you never even gave me a chance to explain. Never mind. I was as guilty as you, allowing myself to be convinced that marrying Mario was better for everyone concerned.”
“Be fair, Rebecca. When you left for Scotland, you loved Mario. Three weeks later, you loved another man. One cannot be that fickle.”
“I never loved Mario. I realized that later. I trusted so much in your judgment that I thought I loved him. But I’ve already paid my dues for that. And neither you nor anyone else can stop me now from going to see Kenzie.”
“He probably won’t even remember you. Don’t humiliate yourself, Rebecca.”
“You’re wrong. I know he remembers me—at least he did for a time, even if it was just to curse me. I hurt him badly. But as far as humiliating myself, I don’t care. Mario humiliated me all the time, and you do too. But I’m not the same person anymore. I will never again let anyone dictate my life.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’ve always wanted what was best for my family.”
“Maybe in your own way. You don’t know how else to show it. You’ve always tried to control your children’s lives, imposing your view of the world without giving us a chance to make our own mistakes.”
“You know what? Do whatever you want! But don’t come crying to me.”
“Do you really think I would go to you for comfort? Do you thi
nk I’ve learned nothing in all these years?”
Elvira’s face turned red. She had hoped to convince her daughter she was making a mistake, but the balance of power between them had shifted. There was nothing she could do to change Rebecca’s mind. She put on her coat, picked up her Ferragamo bag from the table, and turned to leave. “I can’t help you anymore. You’re an adult.”
“Then let me live my life in peace!” Rebecca choked out in parting.
She didn’t like talking to her mother in such a way; in fact, it broke her heart. She could have yelled horrible things at Elvira, things she deserved to hear, but she didn’t and never would. She’d rather let go of her resentment than hurt her mother with words spoken in anger. She was her mother, after all, and Rebecca knew that in her heart she would always love her.
ENCOUNTER WITH THE PAST
Inverness
March 18, 2014
The plane landed in Inverness, the capital city of the Highlands. Beauly was just a thirty-minute drive away. Rebecca’s initial nervousness had quieted to a contained agitation. She had it all planned out. She hadn’t made a hotel reservation. She knew it wouldn’t be difficult to find lodging in Beauly at this time of year, so she decided to go to Mrs. Munro’s house first. Rebecca hoped she would find her well, but she knew eight years for a seventy-year-old wasn’t the same as for someone in her twenties. She would turn thirty this year; Kenzie, thirty-four.
She didn’t know what to expect. Eight years ago she’d said good-bye to a youthful man; now she was on her way to meet an experienced adult who wasn’t expecting her. But neither was she an innocent girl; she’d become a mother and had survived a bad marriage. Still, she wondered if she was crazy for even being here. For better or worse, she’d soon find out.
It was already dark when she got in the taxi. The driver was listening to the radio. He lowered the volume and asked her destination.
Her memories sprang to life even more on the way to Beauly. Thinking about Kenzie being under the same sky she was looking out on provoked a storm of emotions. It wasn’t raining just then, but the ground was wet and the branches of the trees were blowing in the breeze. A song came on the radio, and the driver turned up the volume.
