Broken Soldier: A Novel

by Clara Frost

  Emily let herself relax into his embrace. It felt good to hear the words. She didn’t know what she would do without him. After only a few months together, she felt like she’d known him for her entire life. And he could already read her mind.

  “That’s good. As long as I have you, I think I can face anything.”

  Chapter 21

  THE Madrid baggage claim clamored with Spanish and English and the clank of machinery. Large round lights hung overhead like full moons, gleaming on the marble floors. Emily tucked her passport and immigration papers back into her purse and looked around.

  “Do you see anyone?” she asked.

  “Not yet.” Rafa stood beside her, scanning the crowd for his mother.

  “Rafael! Mi hijo!” A dark-haired, long-legged Spanish woman burst through the crowd, arms outspread. Somewhere between forty and sixty with a face that would age gracefully until one day it leaped forward two decades like a portrait of Dorian Gray, she had eyes only for Rafa.

  “Mamá!” He caught her as best he could, only staggering back a little as his arms wrapped around her.

  Rafa’s mother said something in rapid-fire Spanish that Emily couldn’t understand, but had an enthusiasm that was unmistakable. It warmed Emily’s heart to see how Rafa treated his mother.

  Rafa and his mother disentangled and Rafa pointed to Emily. “Mamá, this is the girl I told you about. Emily, this is my mother, Maria.”

  It was a like a cloud passed over her face. One moment she was all cheer and sunshine as she greeted Rafa, but when she saw Emily her expression darkened and became more guarded.

  Emily took a step forward, expecting a polite hug. “Hi, Mrs. Carpenter, I’m Emily.”

  The older woman didn’t make any move toward her, leaving Emily poised in a no man’s land of trying to offer a hug or a handshake that was not reciprocated. Emily settled back onto her heels.

  Rafa’s mother smiled, seemingly enjoying Emily’s discomfort, then extend her hand. “Your flight was comfortable, yes?”

  The message couldn’t have been clearer if it were on official letterhead: Rafa’s mother didn’t like her. “Yes,” Emily said.

  “So you are the woman that has become the center of Rafael’s life?” She looked Emily over. A cow being led to slaughter received more dignity.

  Emily nodded, her old doubts and worries creeping back in. Whatever test Rafa’s mother had in mind, she was failing it miserably. She wasn’t sure what this woman saw, but it couldn’t be good. “Rafa has told me a lot about you,” Emily said, just trying to break the glacier of ice.

  “But he has not told me so much about you.” Rafa’s mother stepped back, still with that frosty look of judgment.

  “Well, Mamá, we need to get our luggage,” Rafa said.

  “Go ahead.” His mother stayed where she was, expression unyielding.

  Emily followed Rafa to the conveyor. Her eyes were on him. She couldn’t have cared less about their luggage, not after that. “Is everything okay with her?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. She is never a truly warm person but that...”

  Emily nodded. It was not a good start. She looked back to the conveyor just in time to see two of their bags passing. “There!” She darted forward, wrestling Rafa’s bag off the moving belt. Rafa tried to help grab her largest bag, but it was already past.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, trying to dodge around more passengers. His movements lacked his usual grace, the prosthetic leg making it awkward for him to sidestep around the other travelers.

  An elderly man, silver headed with a face creased like old parchment, pulled it off the belt and held the handle up for Rafa. “Aquí estás, joven.”

  “Gracias,” Rafa said, taking it.

  Emily’s second, smaller bag came around. She plucked it from the conveyor and paused by the elderly man. “Thank you.”

  He smiled and spoke carefully, enunciating each word. “You are welcome.”

  Emily loaded her smaller bag on top of the larger one and pulled the pair of them away from the crowd. Rafa’s mother stood and watched, her arms crossed.

  “Alright, Mamá, we are ready,” Rafa said.

  “This way.” She spun on her heel and started marching.

  Emily followed her, unsure what to think. His mother hadn’t offered to help, and had barely even said hello. Emily hoped she warmed up, otherwise it was going to be a difficult two weeks.

  #

  Emily looked over at Rafa as the gates in front of the house swung open. Ornate and black, the metal was shaped into a crest that looked both regal and intimidating. Beyond the gate, a drive lined with gnarled trees curved out of sight. She sat beside him in the back of his mother’s Land Rover while his mother drove.

  “It’s not as grand as it seems,” Rafa said, sensing her unease.

  “The house has been in my family for ten generations,” his mother said. “It is one of the grandest in Madrid.”

  They passed through the gates and up the drive, circling a statue-filled fountain, the cherubs and prancing horses frolicking amid the spraying water. The house itself wasn’t a castle, but it was far from being a normal home, even in the Midwest where houses came large. It rose three stories of tan stucco with a tile roof. The Moroccan influences were clearly recognizable.

  “Wow,” Emily said. “How big is it?”

  “Twelve bedrooms, three sitting rooms, two dining rooms, a library and a courtyard,” Rafa’s mother said, stopping the car in front of the house. “Vamanos.” She got out and swept up the steps toward the front door.

  Emily and Rafa followed, dragging their bags up the steps.

  The inside of the house had high ceilings and rich, dark wooden floors. Motes of dust spun through the morning sunlight that shone through wide bay windows in the sitting room to the right. A faint scent of must was nearly covered by the tang of furniture polish.

  Rafa’s mother paused in the foyer. “Rafa, you are staying in your old room in the Southern Wing. Emily, come with me.”

  “Uh, Mamá,” Rafa began as he closed the front door, but his mother wagged a finger at him.

  “You will have separate rooms, Rafael. Yaya and I are good Catholic women and this is a good Catholic house.” She glared at Emily. “Come with me.”

  “Mamá, I am not a good Catholic boy. Emily can stay with me. You’re going to need the space for other people.”

  “All the more reason for her to have her own room. I have already discussed it with your father.”

  Rafa ground his teeth, his hand shaking. “Where is Dad? I expected he’d be at the airport.”

  “He is in Washington until Christmas Eve.” She turned her gaze back to Emily.

  Emily hoped Rafa could push the point, but an elderly, hunched-over woman came around the corner. Her eyes lit up when she saw Rafa, and her smile only grew wider when she caught sight of Emily.

  “Yaya!” Rafa’s smile stretched from wall to wall. He left his mother and Emily standing at the stairs and went to meet who Emily could only assume was his grandmother.

  The elderly woman rattled something in Spanish as Rafa caught her in a hug. He said something in reply, then pointed toward Emily.

  “So you are the girl that has stolen my grandson’s heart,” she said in heavily accented English.

  “I’m Emily,” Emily said.

  “I am Yaya, Rafael’s grandmother. Welcome to my home.” She tottered forward, arms wide and gave Emily a hug. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she squeezed Emily’s waist.

  “I’m happy to be here.”

  Yaya stepped away, still smiling.

  Rafa’s mother said something in Spanish to Yaya, then looked at Emily. “Come. I will show you to your room.”

  “Mamá, really, is this necessary?” Rafa asked.

  “Yes.” She tugged on Emily’s elbow.

  “I will talk to you soon,” Yaya said.

  Emily looked at Rafa and shrugged, as if to say ‘what can I do?’ She had
expected to stay with him, and the fact that his mother was putting up a protest was a surprise, but it wasn’t like she could really argue with the woman, either.

  “Rafa, how about I meet you back here once I drop off my bags?” Emily asked.

  He sighed. “Alright. See you in a few minutes.”

  He caught her arm as she started to leave, and pulled her into a kiss. “Don’t worry about Mamá,” he whispered in her ear. “She’ll come around.”

  Emily hurried to catch up with Rafa’s already-moving mother.

  “Mrs. Carpenter, have you always lived here?” Emily asked.

  “I lived here as a child, but I have spent most of the last thirty years with Rafael’s father, not here.” She started up a wide stone staircase, not slowing for Emily.

  Emily struggled with the luggage, her bag thumping on each step. Rafa’s mother stopped on the landing above her, her hands on her hips. “Your room is just up here.”

  Emily thought that meant the next landing, but the woman continued up another flight of stairs, this one more narrow. They emerged onto the third floor and into a long hallway. Emily followed Maria to the end, around a corner and then down another hall, until the older woman finally stopped at a plain wooden door. She pushed it open, revealing a small, spare room.

  “This will be your room.” Maria gestured inside, but didn’t enter.

  Even from the hallway, it smelled musty. The bed was narrow and looked hard. The one dresser was covered in a film of dust. Lank, gray curtains hung from the window.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. There was no way she was going to sleep in that room. She’d get a hotel if it came down to it. But she didn’t want to argue about it without talking to Rafa first.

  “My son is a good boy,” Maria said. “There will be no hanky panky with him under this roof.”

  “Mrs. Carpenter, I don’t know what--”

  “This is a good Catholic house and those are the rules. Dinner will be served promptly at six.” She marched away.

  Emily entered the room, hands shaking and heart pounding. That woman was treating her like she was a teenager, and it was infuriating. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn such hostility.

  “Give her a chance, Em,” Emily whispered to herself. “She’s from a different culture.”

  Inside the room, the temperature was 10 degrees cooler than the hall. Closer inspection of the window revealed a draft of cold air. Awesome. A room in the back of the house, and it was hardly fit for an animal. Emily left the bags and went back out into the hall, determined to go find Rafa.

  Chapter 22

  RAFA found Emily at the base the main staircase, fists balled at her sides. Her jaw was set as she peered around the house.

  “Are you alright?” he asked as he approached.

  She whirled around at the sound of his voice, and her features didn’t soften when she saw him. “Don’t leave me with her again.”

  Rafa’s heart nearly stopped. His mother hadn’t taken it any easier on Emily, apparently. “What did she do?”

  “She put me in a tiny room in the far corner of the house.” Her fists unclenched as she smoothed her slacks. “And it’s drafty.”

  Rafa caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “I’ll talk to her about it. I’m sure we can find you another room.”

  “I don’t mind sharing.”

  “Me, either.” He tugged her forward, toward the wide doors around the corner from the stairs. “Perhaps we can make that work out even if she does not agree, yes?”

  “Where are we going? I don’t really want to talk to her about it right now.”

  “I thought I’d show you around.” He stopped at the doors and pointed out at the courtyard and the lime trees. “It usually gets too cold in Madrid for the limes, but we heat the courtyard in the winter to keep the frost away.” He pushed open the door and led her outside.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Emily stared at the tile fountain and the marble statues.

  Rafa had seen them so many times he took them for granted, but seeing the graceful fauns and the bold satyrs through Emily’s eyes took him back to his childhood. He couldn’t count the summers he’d spent playing in the shade of lime trees. The winters he’d spent reading in the warm sunlight beside the statues.

  Emily strolled down the path, pulling him along. “I love it.”

  “I used to play out here as a kid.”

  “Good memories?”

  “Yes. You should see it by moonlight. It is even more beautiful.” The only downside would be the cold, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear if it meant a few minutes alone with her. And perhaps they could find a way to stay warm.

  Emily’s feet scuffed on the cobblestones. “Does it snow here?”

  “Sometimes. There is usually more snow north of us.”

  “I can’t imagine seeing these statues in snow.”

  “Perhaps we will get lucky then. Another moonlit snowfall. Come, I will show you the rest of the house.”

  He took her through the other door and into the library. Ponderous shelves, weighed down with more than a century’s worth of books lined the walls. Scattered oak furniture offered oases for reading.

  Emily inspected a row of books, smiling when she found a shelf of Spanish language mysteries. “Whose are these?”

  “My grandmother’s. She loves to read, though seldom in English.” He crossed the room, to a shelf full of books with more colorful spines. “These are the books of my childhood.”

  Emily joined him. She ran a finger along the spines. Suess, Dixon, Lowry, Feist. “Most of these are English.”

  “My father’s influence. My grandmother didn’t care what language I read in, as long I was reading. We would sit in here for hours, her with her mysteries, me with whatever I could find.”

  “Where were your parents?”

  “Germany. Korea. Texas. Wherever the Army sent them. My dad would come stay for a few days or a week when he had leave, and sometimes mother would stay longer, but usually they sent me alone.”

  He swallowed hard, remembering the lonely nights in the giant house. “Do you want to stay here a while, or continue the tour?”

  “The tour, but I think I’ll be back here later, if that’s alright.”

  “You should be safe from my mother in here, if that’s what you’re wondering. She’s never been much of a reader.”

  They continued out into a wide hall. Rafa showed her the formal dining room and the kitchen. All along the way, family portraits lined the halls. Men in silver armor or khaki uniforms. Women in wide, ornate dresses. Enough pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus to fill half a dozen Colorado churches.

  One of the two sitting rooms held a simple Christmas tree flanked by an elaborate Nativity setting with Mary and Joseph, the three wise men and the infant Jesus in a manger.

  After a couple of hours of walking and chatting, Rafa found himself at the foot of the grand staircase. Footsteps clicked on the tile, and Yaya emerged from around the corner.

  “There you are, nietos. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Will it just be us?” Rafa asked.

  “We are having guests. Your cousin Salome, your mother’s friend Antonella, and Antonella’s daughter.”

  Rafa’s back stiffened, his heart beating faster.

  “Yes, nieto, she is coming, too.” Yaya frowned and glanced at Emily. “I wanted you both to know before she got here.”

  It sounded entirely too ominous. Yaya continued on her way, leaving Rafa alone with Emily.

  “Who did she mean?” Emily asked.

  “Lorena.”

  “Your ex?”

  “Yes. Her mother is best friends with my mother, but I didn’t expect to see her until the actual wedding.”

  “Well, if we’re going to have guests,” Emily said, “I’d like to take a shower and put on fresh clothes.”

  Rafa breathed easier. Emily wasn’t going to get upset about Lorena. “Sounds good. There’s a bathroom ju
st down the hall from my room…”

  “Then let me get a change of clothes and you can show me how to work the faucets.”

  Emily led the way upstairs, Rafa following and enjoying the view.

  #

  The plan was that he’d ambush Emily when she got out of the shower and he’d have his way with her before dinner. Then his mother had poked her head into his bedroom while Em was still drying her hair.

  “Rafael, you have company.” His mother had changed into an evening gown that wouldn’t have been out of place at the US embassy.

  “Antonella is here?” Rafa set his laptop aside.

  “Not yet. Bernardo is, though. Come down and see him.”

  “I was waiting on Emily to get out of the shower first.”

  “If you don’t come down, he’ll be coming up.”

  Rafa sighed. So much for a quick tryst. “Alright. I’ll be down momentarily.”

  He and Bernardo went way back. They met in the summer before fifth grade when Yaya had introduced Rafa to football. And it wasn’t the American football he’d grown up watching on the Armed Forces Network. It was real football. Spanish football. Bernardo was the biggest kid on the team, and he’d tried to bully the new American midfielder. A few judicious swings of Rafa’s elbow sent a message to Bernardo and the rest of the team that Rafa wasn’t going to let himself be bullied. The coaches looked the other way, and by the end of the summer Rafa and Bernardo were best friends.

  The fact that Rafa was the fastest kid on the team and scored two goals against the Real Madrid development team didn’t hurt, either.

  Rafa waited on his mother to leave, then knocked on the locked bathroom door. It was warm to the touch. He waited for the hair dryer to go silent, then spoke, “Company is here early. I’m going on downstairs.”

  “Alright,” Emily called.

  Bernardo waited for him in the sitting room off the main foyer. He turned as Rafa entered.

  “Rafael!” Bernardo still had the same gap toothed smile and soft brown eyes that had made him a first class ladies’ man. “How have you been?”

  “I’m good, Jefe.” He met Bernardo’s hug with a quick pat on the back. “How about you?”