Out in the bay he could see the moving lights of ships drifting into port. In the occasional sweep of the lighthouse lamp, falling across the sea like an ever-watchful eye, there was a reliable steadfastness that contradicted Ruy’s turbulent feelings and had a tranquilizing effect on his mind.
For the past half hour he had been on the beach, pounding hard along the edge of the turbulent water near the rocks under the emerging twilight stars. Though his run along the sands had taken the edge off some of his pent-up fury, there was still a smouldering energy to his movements that threatened to burst out of him in howls of rage and hurt, if he were to let it.
How could Luna have done this to him?
Under the heavy, warm weight of the shower water he had calmed down a little and then the doctor in him had begun to search for a reason for Luna’s duplicity. Was she so scarred by her childhood and blighted by the curse of the Herreras that she had to ruin the most precious things in her life? Was her self-esteem at such rock bottom that she was driven to acts of destruction for the single reason that it hurt her in the process? Was that what it was all about? He didn’t know but, while he savagely cast about for an answer, the pain kept scoring his flesh like the knife-like beak of Prometheus’s eagle.
To think, only a few days ago he had been defending Luna to his housekeeper, who loved him like the son she’d never had. Mela had witnessed the harm the Herrera family had caused to his parents and was well aware that his grandparents, too, had suffered viciously at the hands of members of that same family. His mother had laughed at how Mela always spoke her mind no matter the consequences and, until now, it was one of the things he most liked and valued about the robust Spanish housekeeper. However, when she had been so vocal in her assertion that Luna must somehow be tainted by her relationship with the autocratic dynasty, he’d found it hard to hear – to the point where he had been extremely brusque with her. Still, he knew, underneath it all, that Mela always had his best interests at heart and would defend him to the hilt, no matter what.
He could see her now, standing in his kitchen, hands on hips, her bright eyes taking on an almost pugnacious quality. ‘At the end of the day, Ruy, that girl is bound to be damaged goods, and that’s all there is to it.’
At this he had felt his hackles rise as he watched her scrub the flour from her hands under the tap, as if washing her hands of Luna and the whole blighted Herrera clan in one go. ‘No one else is going to say it to you but I’ve looked after you since you were a squalling baby and I’m too old to care if you rant and rave and go off in a sulk. No, niño, the sooner you get out of this ill-fated relationship the better. I’ve not met the girl, but I know the type. A little minx who has you running to do her bidding, but who will trample on your loyal heart, believe me.’
The most terrible thing of all was that, only three days later, Mela had been proved right.
Ruy went inside, back to the bathroom, and combed his hair, avoiding the reflection of his pale face in the mirror, out of which his eyes glowed dark and thunderous, seething with pain and torment. Every now and again a vision would push its way into his mind unbidden: that of Luna, trembling and fragile, trying to have her say, desperate to make her peace with him. Then the longing to hold her in his arms and soothe away her anguish was so powerful – so visceral – that it was all he could do not to bellow out loud.
He had been hard on her. Ruy couldn’t remember when he had been so hurtful to anybody, but he had intentionally struck to wound for the simple reason that he loved Luna with a passion. Vaina’s revelations had been devastating and he had sought to rip into Luna, no matter what hurt he caused her, or himself, in the process. Yet, now that it was too late to take back his words, he wished that he had not been so quick to utter them.
How could he have been so self-righteous when he himself had hidden a terrible truth from her?
The searing guilt that he had suppressed in his blind rage at her betrayal returned, adding to his torment. He’d had no doubt that, sooner or later, some do-gooder was sure to enlighten Luna about his car accident in Boston; and fate had cruelly proved him right. Still, what did it matter now what she thought of him? He had been so heartless and savage that she must surely hate him already.
Just then his brooding thoughts were interrupted by the beep of his mobile phone and he strode into his bedroom to check the screen.
It was a message from Charo: Sorry to bother you on your day off but there’s a document in your inbox you ought to look at. An article that needs your approval before it goes to print.
Ruy went over to his laptop, which was sitting on the dresser, and flipped open the screen. Scrolling through his inbox, he found the message, then clicked open the attachment. He began to read, and was so engrossed in the text that he never even noticed his cat Gitano-Negro rub against his bare calf.
* * *
The stars shone like amber jewels over the bay, large and flashing in the darkness. But Luna, sitting on her terrace at La Gaviota, had no interest in the beauty of the night sky. Stars and moonlight were for lovers and they no longer belonged to her now that the romance in her heart had vanished from her life. As that gloomy thought took its bleak shape in her head, the cold white moon seemed to look down on her, its lopsided smile hiding a cryptic message.
The quietude of the night and the freshness of the air eventually calmed her nerves. Since Ruy had left, Luna had been tortured by a host of conflicting emotions. She moved through loss and desperation, fear and self-abnegation, to settle finally on the pure fire of anger. Stronger than before, it consumed her body, wave after wave, like red-hot coals cast at her soul, making their scorching mark like a branding-iron. How could he have said those terrible things to her? Nothing, after the intimacy they had shared, could possibly warrant such a weight of scorn and loathing.
As her fury diminished, so the dream aspect that had clouded everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours vanished too. Reality stepped in and Luna no longer cared that Ruy hadn’t told her about the accident. As Señora Sanchez had so wisely insinuated, it was his fear of losing Luna that had made him hold back, just as the fear of losing him had stopped Luna from telling him about her assignment.
No, she was hurt for a different reason: she reproached him bitterly for not having given her a chance to explain herself properly, for casting aside their beautiful love with a mere wave of the hand. In a matter of minutes he had sealed their fate with a torrent of cutting words, which had pierced her heart again and again, shattering her dreams into a million shards. Nevertheless, anger, as it always will, eventually burnt itself out and now all she had left was an aching gulf, and a vast ocean of tears.
‘Ruy, Ruy, my love, where are you?’ she cried out into the night, breaking down once again, her body shaking under unrelenting sobs. It was a hoarse, wild cry, ripped from her gut, echoing her passion, her longing and desperate frustration as it tore the darkness, its sound rippling through the intense silence that seemed to envelop the world.
‘I’m here, querida,’ the night answered back.
Luna looked around her as her heart missed a beat. She was hearing voices. Was it her fancy? Was she going mad? She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.
As if in a dream, Ruy materialized out of the shadows. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face but she watched, mesmerized, as he climbed the steps of the terrace towards her. Holding up her hands defensively, she took two paces back, gesturing for him to stop where he was. She was too stunned to do anything else – her mind numb, her whole being still reacting to his unexpected appearance. When she opened her mouth to say something, no words came out.
His eyes – she saw them now, those hypnotic azure eyes – slid over her with their tongues of flames. He looked at her long and hard, bleakness and vulnerability showing on his face, his irises glittering with intense emotion. Luna could see that, like her, he was confused, hesitant, trying hard to pick the right words, longing to pour his heart out to
her but frightened of rushing things. When he spoke, he sounded tense and she sensed that he was deeply moved.
‘You came into my life like a comet from the blue. I couldn’t let you vanish in the same way. The world would be too dark without your light,’ he whispered in a choked, almost inaudible voice. Then he added: ‘I saw your article.’
It was all he needed to say. The sorrow, regret – and the hope – was written all over his face.
Luna swallowed hard. Though her mind registered surprise and half-formed questions swirled at the back of her consciousness, she still couldn’t answer; yet she was slowly gaining control of herself. How she longed to run to Ruy and put her arms around him, feel herself melt into his strength, but in a flash his cruel words came back to her, hitting her again like shattering blows. There was no doubt that at the time he had spoken from the heart.
How could she trust him now not to hurt her, when only a few hours ago his eyes, which were now filled with love, had only reflected scorn and contempt? How could she accept being treated like an object to be used or rejected at whim?
Luna’s chin lifted a fraction, her hands curling into fists. Her amber eyes flamed with a medley of passions, in which love, pain, resentment, desire and forgiveness battled for supremacy.
‘How could you have said all those hurtful things? I wasn’t the only one bearing the burden of a secret … one that had the power to hurt.’
Though her voice was trembling, she tried to keep the tone cutting.
Ruy paled. Luna’s words had flown true to their target. He shook his head and made a bleak gesture. ‘No, you don’t understand … let me explain, please.’
Once more, flashbacks of his brutal treatment of her assailed Luna; pain rolled over her in sheeting waves as the memory of the contempt in his steel-like eyes cut her heart again and again.
‘The way you let me explain yesterday?’ she accused derisively.
His eyes glittered diamond-bright as he fought his emotions. ‘I was out of my mind. I recognize that I’m sometimes an impulsive brute.’ His voice was choked and she saw him swallow deeply before he continued: ‘I was shocked and hurt. I know it’s no excuse for the way I treated you.’ He shook his head dejectedly. ‘But shock makes you do strange things sometimes. Will you not forgive me?’ There was a pause while they stared at each other, not so much enemies as two wounded people.
Luna took a deep breath before answering, trying to stop her voice from quavering. ‘And suddenly now, in your magnanimousness, you’ve decided to forgive me, is that it?’ she retorted. ‘How do I know that in a week, a month, a year or even ten from now, you won’t decide otherwise? How do I know that you won’t play Jehovah, verbally striking me down every time we disagree?’
‘That’s unfair, Luna. I love you more than myself, more than my pride, more than life itself!’ he cried, despair written all over him. ‘Just hear me out, for both our sakes. Don’t do this to us.’
Ruy took a step towards her.
‘Just stay where you are,’ she flared, leaning against the balustrade to prevent her knees from buckling under her. He was getting to her: she could feel herself wavering. The despondent expression in his eyes, the obvious distress in his voice, his pleading demeanour as he humbled himself before her … all were conspiring to overcome her resistance, arousing the memories of happy days – so recent – when he had caught her up in a whirlwind of passion. Now his proximity, and the relief she felt knowing he still loved her, was threatening to break through the new barriers she had raised, shakily, in her defence. She turned away, staring out over the dark bay.
‘Maybe you should start by explaining,’ Luna cleared the sudden croakiness in her throat and continued, ‘about the accident in which my sister was killed. Yes, let’s start with that.’
His frame straightened defensively, then relaxed a little. ‘Fair enough. Listen to me first, Luna, I beg of you, before judging me.’
‘More than a little presumptuous, don’t you think, after the way you refused to listen to me earlier?’ Luna forbore telling him that she had already discovered, through the Boston newspaper article, that his part in the accident had been – from what she could tell – completely blameless; and she continued to ignore the voice of reason inside her urging her to stop torturing him.
There was silence behind her, then Ruy’s tone was stiff. ‘How much more do I need to beg?’
The bitter question shocked her. ‘I’m not asking you to beg …’ She turned to face him now, trying to ignore that his eyes had become remote and cold, his face like chiselled pale bronze. ‘I’m simply pointing out the irony of your request.’ Folding her arms, she stared at him. ‘Go ahead, I’ll give you the opportunity to say your piece, which is more than you gave me when I asked to defend myself.’
He took a deep breath; calmed himself. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, and went to lean on the opposite side of the balustrade. He took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘May I?’
Luna frowned. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
‘Very occasionally. Only when I’m stressed.’
‘You’re a doctor, you should know better.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Do you care?’
‘That’s not the point.’
He sensed she was weakening. ‘Stop fighting me, querida. You love me … I know you love me. A love like ours can’t die in a breath.’
She winced, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be beaten. ‘Let’s get back to the subject.’
He lifted the cigarette to his lips. ‘You don’t mind?’
She shrugged. ‘Your funeral.’ She gave a shrug and turned back to gaze at the sea.
Ruy shook his head desolately, lit the cigarette and puffed on it silently for a few seconds. Though she was not looking at him, Luna knew that he was watching her profile outlined in the shadows. She could feel the intensity of his burning gaze upon her and sensed he was fighting the same tidal wave of passion that was threatening to engulf her at any moment, should she let it. It was almost as if electric crosscurrents of emotion spun and spread between them with the intricacy of a spider’s web.
‘I was twenty-one at the time, a student in Boston. My best friend Carlos was also there, part of a student exchange programme, and was dating Juliet.’ He spoke in an almost inaudible voice and she had to study his mouth to catch every word. ‘He was madly in love with her. Well, half the men on campus were but, honestly, the way she treated him. I don’t think she cared much about him.’ He paused, as if trying to find the right words. ‘It’s hard, because she was your sister … and she lost her life that day … but she could be so self-centred at times. Completely heedless of anyone’s needs but her own. She could be fun too, and Carlos, poor man, was utterly besotted.’
Luna could just imagine her sister using her looks and charm to get her own way, delighting in the power she discovered she had over boys. Poor Carlos, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Ruy cleared his throat. ‘That said, and I’m sorry if I sound insensitive, you need to know that there’s not a day that passes without stray pictures flitting in front of my eyes like a film, and I think of my friend and your sister, wondering if there was any way at all that I could have prevented the accident.’
Emotion caught in his throat; he paused and gave a sigh that lingered in the night air, so sad that it crushed the strings of Luna’s heart.
He pulled himself together and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t talked about this for a very long time.’
‘Ruy,’ she whispered in the gentle, low voice he was accustomed to. His eyes remained steady but they were glowing once more like blue stars, no longer cold as steel. Now she could sense the hope that burned in his heart, the rekindling of the twin flames of love and desire. His hard features softened and his mouth grew tender.
The night was quiet around them. There were flashing stars in the sky and, on the hills, the lights of the quaint Pueblos Blancos glimmered upon the slopes. A turn of the head
, and the lamps of the port grew visible with their watery reflections; the dim outlines of Puerto de Santa María in the distance beyond them.
Luna and Ruy both knew there were still words they needed to say. Their eyes met in sudden charged silence, but neither of them moved.
Time passed while Ruy smoked silently, gathering his thoughts as he watched her, his blue eyes dark with emotion. It was clear to Luna that this conversation was deeply painful for him. After years of silence and repressing his feelings, she acknowledged it must be hard for him to suddenly have to talk about them, especially to her. After all, she had a part in this tragedy.
Finally, Ruy threw his cigarette away. In the moonlight Luna saw his jaw tighten. His face remained pale and intense.
‘That night, we were going out as a foursome to the end-of-year ball at Juliet’s university. Before leaving, Juliet and Carlos had a flaming row because she was taking so long to get ready. Finally, we were in my car, Carlos in the front next to me. He would have sat next to Juliet in the back, only he was still irritated by her. It was then that she refused point-blank to wear a seatbelt. I asked her to buckle up, but she kept insisting that her dress would be ruined because it was made of very delicate silk.’
He paused and rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘It never dawned on me that she would be foolish enough to pretend she was putting her seatbelt on, when she never had any intention of wearing it at all.’
He lapsed into silence again, reliving the tragic last moments of that day, a mask of raw pain etched into his face, darkening the usually cheerful features. When at last he spoke, his speech was slow and laboured, as though every tormented word he uttered cut into him with renewed pain.
‘It was raining hard, I could hardly see in front of me. Suddenly, a truck skidded across the road from the opposite lane and headed straight for us, it didn’t even slow. Later I heard that the driver was asleep at the wheel. His headlights were full on, blinding me. I had no time to swerve out of its way.’
Legacy Page 45
