Luna Tango

by Alli Sinclair

  The cart rounded a corner and the palm trees gave way to open fields dotted with wooden and stucco buildings. The main street of Chapada do Russo was deserted, even though people were due to return from the cashew plantations. With a loud whistle, the driver yanked on the reins and the horse stopped obediently, allowing Louisa to slip off the back of the cart and grab her bag. She dipped her hand inside to find some notes and handed them over, smiling her thanks.

  ‘Lá.’ He quickly stuffed the money in his shirt pocket and pointed at the house across the road. Dark green paint peeled from the walls, revealing rotting wood. The roof had large gaps where terracotta tiles should have been, and the front yard contained nothing but dust.

  The driver whistled loudly, shook the reins and offered her a salute as he took off down the main street. Dust flew up her nostrils and she broke into a coughing fit and rubbed her eyes. Arching her back, she massaged her lower spine, thankful this part of the journey was over. Alighting from the bus at the wrong destination had thrown her into a spin, but as she’d barely slept for three days and was travelling to a town she’d never seen, the mistake had been easy to make. At least her knight with a cashew cart had rescued her.

  Biting her lip, Louisa pushed back her hair, still not used to the new length and colour. Her disguise had worked brilliantly, as the few people she’d met had never questioned her authenticity. Her years of living in Argentina meant she could pull off a flawless accent, so to Brazilians, she was just another travelling Argentine.

  Gathering her bag and courage, Louisa crossed the road, not bothering to look for traffic, as she still hadn’t detected signs of life. Her low heels crunched along the gravel, creating small dust clouds as she made her way to the red door of the green house. Raising her closed hand, she hesitated, wondering if this was a mistake, but the cart driver had promised her Senhor Santas could help.

  Louisa puffed out her cheeks and rapped lightly on the door. Red flecks of paint attached themselves to her knuckles. She waited, rapped again, and waited some more. Nothing. Louisa hung her head, not sure what to do. Despite her lack of Portuguese, she’d managed to get by but now, in the middle of rural Brazil, she really needed someone who spoke fluent Spanish. Senhor Santas had been her only lead, although it looked like her streak of bad luck continued.

  ‘Please. Please be home,’ she muttered and rapped on the door so hard pain shot through her knuckles. Behind the door she heard a chair being pushed back along tiles and heavy boots echoing up the hallway. Louisa’s heart raced in time with the footsteps. The door swung open and a man with a tuft of bright white hair stared her down.

  ‘Sim?’ His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

  ‘Bom dia, Senhor Santas.’ Louisa switched to Spanish. ‘Senhor Alves, who drives a cashew cart between villages, suggested I speak with you as I have little knowledge of Portuguese.’ She concentrated, ensuring every nuance led him to believe she was a native of Buenos Aires.

  He tilted his head to the side and studied her with such intensity she felt he could see right through her.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I’m looking for my brother. He came to work on the plantations recently but I’m afraid I have some tragic family news and I need to find him.’ The lie rolled from her tongue with ease. These days, when she opened her mouth, fiction floated seamlessly into the ears of the listener and they were none the wiser of the falsehood.

  ‘His name?’ Senhor Santas arched an eyebrow, showing no emotion for her supposed family tragedy.

  Even though she’d braced herself for this question, it still scared her. Forcing a gentle smile, Louisa said, ‘Adolfo Maldonado.’

  ‘I do not know of him.’ Senhor Santas moved back and placed a hand on the edge of the door.

  ‘He may not be using this name.’ Her words tumbled out, eager to explain. ‘Our family has had much trouble and when my brother left, he was angry with my father. But my father is very ill and now I want to find Adolfo to beg him to return to make amends.’

  ‘It is not right a dying man should go to his grave with disagreement in his heart.’

  ‘Yes, and for that reason, I need to find my brother. I know he doesn’t want to be found, which is why he has probably changed his name, but I’m his sister and I know he will listen to my request. Is there any chance you can help? Please?’ She opened her eyes wide, hoping to use her charm, even though she detested exploiting her femininity.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ Her heart sank. The cashew cart driver had promised her Senhor Santas had a kind heart and would assist her.

  ‘No, I do not know of this Adolfo. Please understand, we have a transient population on the ranches and the workers come from all over Latin America. Unless you have a photo, it will be impossible to find him.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have one.’ Louisa knew this would be difficult. She didn’t possess any photos of Roberto for fear someone would question why she carried an image of Argentina’s most wanted man. Chances were Roberto had changed his appearance by growing facial hair, as well as changing his name and, possibly, his nationality. Roberto’s talent for listening not only helped with his music, but for mimicking accents. She suppressed a small smile, remembering how he’d regale her with impressions of Chileans from Santiago and Uruguayans from the campo.

  ‘Then I can be of no help. I am sorry.’ Senhor Santas pushed the door but Louisa forced her foot against the door jamb. Staring directly into her eyes, he said, ‘Miss, I am sorry, but I cannot help you. Now please, let me go. I have work to do.’

  ‘Please, just listen to me. He loves the tango.’

  ‘Most immigrants do.’ He twisted his mouth as if tasting lemon.

  ‘Yes, I know, but he has a talent. A very special talent.’ Saying more could put Roberto in jeopardy but she didn’t have a choice. Without a photo and the probability of a changed name, appearance and accent, she had little chance of finding her lover. With so many ranches surrounding Russo, it could take days, even weeks to find him—if he hadn’t already moved on. Louisa placed her hand on the pocket that contained the hand-drawn map Roberto had created after they’d dreamed about retiring to a cashew plantation in rural Brazil. She’d never had the chance to return the map after she’d taken it from Roberto’s, even though she’d sketched their dream home. There were no guarantees he’d be here but without other options, she had to follow this one, small, hope.

  ‘What is his talent?’

  ‘He plays the bandoneón.’ She doubted Roberto would allow people to discover his genius, even if he was living in one of Brazil’s most remote farming regions.

  ‘Many, many immigrants play the bandoneón, sing and dance tango. I’m sorry.’ He pushed the door into her foot and her bones ached from the force. She withdrew her foot and watched the door click into place.

  CHAPTER

  23

  The midday sun warmed Dani’s toes as she wiggled them against the bright green grass in Iris’s backyard. Leaning against a stone wall, she sipped camomile tea and gazed at the vista before her. No wonder her mother enjoyed living here so much, especially after the busyness of Buenos Aires.

  ‘You look like you are at home.’

  She glanced up to find Carlos smiling, sunshine framing his muscular physique. He leant on the wall and grimaced as he eased himself onto the ground.

  ‘We could sit on those chairs.’ Dani tilted her head towards a battered wooden picnic setting.

  ‘No. Like you, I prefer to be close to the earth.’ He used his cane to tap her toes. ‘Did you have a nice talk with Iris last night?’

  ‘It wasn’t wonderful but we covered a lot of things.’

  ‘Did you expect to solve your problems before breakfast?’

  ‘No. I just ...’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I expected too much.’

  ‘If you do not expect anything, you do not get disappointed, no?’

  ‘Maybe.’ They fell into a companionable silence, a cool breeze gently blow
ing their hair.

  ‘Where is Iris now?’ he asked.

  ‘In town, getting supplies. She hadn’t anticipated guests lobbing on her doorstep.’

  Carlos laughed. ‘Perhaps not. What do you think? Is she like you remember?’

  ‘I don’t ever recall her smoking. And she’s more cynical. She doesn’t trust anyone.’

  ‘Not even you?’

  ‘Well, she said she does but I think it’s only to a point. Probably because I know—’ Dani shut her mouth so fast her teeth smashed into each other.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘It’s not important.’ Her left eye twitched and she donned her sunglasses. Carlos leant over and attempted to lift them but she gripped harder.

  ‘Daniela, you are doing the lying thing.’ He crossed his arms, disappointment darkening his eyes. ‘What happened to honesty making us an excellent team?’

  ‘We are an excellent team.’ She wrapped her fingers around his. ‘Iris needs my help but she wants me to keep quiet about it for now.’

  ‘You do not trust me?’

  ‘I do, Carlos, but Iris—’

  ‘Does not trust me, yes? She took the side of Cecilia, so why would she have faith in me?’ His tone sounded bitter as his fingers gripped hers.

  ‘She wants to apologise for what she did to you.’

  ‘She will have her chance.’ His grip loosened and the circulation in her fingers came back in a painful burst. Turning to face her, he stroked her hair and gave the private smile that made her stomach flip. ‘If you do not want to tell me, I will accept this.’

  ‘I want to tell you but we need to sort some things out, then you’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘Maybe I could help.’

  ‘I wish you could, but ...’ What? Recently Carlos had been caring, supportive and a gentleman, aside from the odd grumpy moment. Now she understood his history better, she could see why he’d acted the way he had when they’d first met. Why wouldn’t he give journalists a hard time? And despite being badly hurt by a woman and the press, both of which Dani was, Carlos had opened up and trusted her.

  ‘Daniela?’

  ‘Please, give me a minute.’

  He dropped his hand and leant back, face turned skywards, soaking up the rays. He could have kicked up a stink but didn’t. Iris was wrong. Dani could trust him and she needed to talk to someone whose opinion she valued and so far, Iris hadn’t given enough reasons for Dani to bare her soul. Carlos had.

  ‘It’s the Canziani case.’ The words fell on top of each other.

  Carlos studied her with unnerving intensity. ‘Not again.’

  ‘It’s complicated, and I know you don’t want foreigners sticking their noses in but I have reason to. Iris has been researching it also.’

  ‘Do you not care what I think?’

  ‘Of course I do! I wouldn’t get involved unless it was important.’

  ‘Is the Canziani case the reason you wanted to find Iris? Because you thought she was looking into it also? How could you know?’

  ‘You mentioned they were fighting over Canziani and the missing sheet music and—’

  ‘Are you saying you did not want to find your mother to make happy families? You told me this was the reason. Did you lead me here under the false pretences?’

  ‘I ... I ...’ She let the words fall away, unsure if it was wise to say more.

  Silence enveloped them and a light breeze rustled the trees and grass. Dani waited for what seemed an eternity, unable to meet his eyes.

  She reached for his hand but he pulled away. He used the stone wall as support and, with effort, stood. Clasping his cane in one hand, he rubbed his leg with the other and looked down at her. ‘I was wrong. You are like all the other journalists. All you want is a story, even at the expense of people’s emotions. How am I to believe anything you have told me? Am I right in thinking what we shared was also a lie?’ Although he held an even tone and stony expression, his eyes told her she’d hurt him deeply.

  ‘Carlos, I’m sorry. It wasn’t like—’

  He put up his hand. ‘Save your words. I am annoyed you have ignored my request to leave the Canziani case alone but it is your dishonesty that has made me angry. What happened to honesty making us an excellent team?’

  ‘Carlos—’

  ‘This is getting too complicated, Daniela. I need space. A lot of space.’ He turned and crunched across the gravel path leading to the house. Dani stood, mouth open, eyes wide. As much as she wanted to chase him, she had to respect his wishes. Lord knows she needed time to process things as well. She hated being branded a liar, but what hurt most was Carlos was right.

  A car zoomed into the driveway and Dani hurried to the side of the house and peered around the corner. Iris got out, slammed the driver’s door and kicked the tyre. She opened the door again, loaded her arms with grocery bags and cursed under her breath, blowing the fringe from her eyes as she climbed the veranda steps. As the scene unfolded, Dani waited for an emotional lightning bolt but she got nothing, not the faintest sizzle. All that nonsense about Dani being pulled towards her mother by an invisible umbilical cord floated away.

  Dani bolted to the rear of the house, not wanting Iris to see her. Taking the steps two at a time, she ran through the kitchen and to the doorway of the living room, expecting to find Carlos brooding in a corner.

  ‘Carlos?’ She stuck her head into the dark room in case he was out of her line of sight.

  He wasn’t there.

  ‘Crap!’ Racing up the hallway, Dani wrenched open the door and found Iris standing on the veranda, still clutching the groceries as she watched Carlos’s car speed along the driveway, stones flying in his wake.

  ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘He said he’s had enough and is going to Buenos Aires and you and I needed more time alone. What the hell did you say to him?’

  ‘Not the right things, obviously.’

  She watched the dust settle as a heaviness in her limbs gave her an overwhelming desire to sit before she fell. Dropping onto the steps, Dani wrapped her arms around her knees and let her head slump forwards, hot tears pricking her eyes. Speaking into her sleeve, she said, ‘He says I don’t trust him.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I told you not to.’

  The arrogance in Iris’s tone shot fury through Dani. Jumping up, she gripped the balustrade and narrowed her eyes. ‘What gives you the right to tell me what to do? You gave that option up when you left me!’

  ‘Daniela—’

  ‘It’s Dani!’

  ‘Dani, he’s like all the other men in Argentina. He only wants what suits him and if it comes in a pretty package like you, he’ll take it. Thank your lucky stars it’s over.’

  ‘Are you serious? Carlos is a better man than all my exes put together. I can’t believe you’d talk about him like that, especially since you two were close.’ She shook her head, ‘What would you say about me behind my back?’

  ‘I don’t know you well enough.’

  ‘And I doubt you ever will.’ Dani stormed up the stairs, anger spurring her into action. Grabbing her bag and pulling out the charger for her phone, she dashed onto the veranda where Iris stood, grocery bags at her feet. A bag lay on its side, ice-cream leaking across the floorboards. ‘This isn’t going to work, Iris.’

  ‘What about Stella?’

  ‘She warned me finding you would only lead to heartache.’

  Iris’s jaw dropped and her eyes welled up with tears. ‘Your grandma is right. Look at me, Dani: I’m old, bitter and lonely. I’ve no family and no one to love me.’ Dani went to speak but Iris held up her hand. ‘My life is full of regrets, and I’d hate yours to be the same.’ She chewed her lip. ‘Maybe you should trust Carlos.’

  ‘I already do.’ She frowned, then said, ‘He’s being ridiculous.’

  ‘Of course he is,’ said Iris, like she witnessed male hissy fits everyday. ‘He’s Latino and artistic, not one of your New Yo
rkers. How did you expect him to react?’

  ‘With a bit of maturity? I’m not that keen on you using stereotypes.’

  Iris shrugged. ‘Stereotypes were invented for a reason. Show me a Latin dancer and I’ll show you a complicated, passionate being. If that’s not what you’re after, you’ve let the wrong man sign your dance card.’

  Dani bit her lip while she tried to get her thoughts in order.

  ‘I think you need to go after him,’ said Iris.

  ‘He said he wanted space.’

  Iris heaved a sigh. ‘Haven’t you learnt anything about tango? It’s like chess. The male dancer makes a move and the woman decides which direction she will go. It’s a constant negotiation with lots of pushing and pulling. Love is the same. You need to go after him. Come on.’ Iris rustled in her bag for her keys and hurried to the car, signalling for Dani to follow. They jumped in and Dani moved to put on the seatbelt. ‘They’re too worn to work. Forget it.’

  Dani clutched the handbag to her chest while Iris shoved the key into the ignition. The car revved and Iris slammed the vehicle into reverse.

  ‘What about the food?’ Dani eyed the sad collection of paper bags on their sides.

  ‘Forget that. Love is food for the soul.’

  * * *

  Iris swung the car into the driveway of Mendoza Airport and sped to the entrance, slamming on the brakes. Propelled forwards, Dani closed her eyes, threw out her arms for protection and waited for her head to smash against the windscreen. It didn’t happen. Crashing back against the cracked leather seat, she watched a gaggle of security guards and attendants yell and gesture angrily as Iris leant over Dani and open the door.

  ‘I’m sorry it took so long. Damn bloody car.’

  ‘Lucky I know how to change tyres.’ Dani smiled, despite her heavy heart.

  ‘Yes, now go.’

  ‘You’re not coming? What about them?’ She nodded towards the security guards.

  ‘I’ll stay here and sort them out. Call me after you find him.’ Iris handed her a thick card embossed in gold with her phone number and name. ‘He’ll have cooled by the time he hits Buenos Aires. Typical artist, huh? We get all emotional and storm off when we should stay put and deal with our problems.’