“I don’t mind,” Cayetano said. He almost had to run on his sore leg just to keep up with her pace as she headed straight across the park and up onto the road. They were back at street level, and the world was noisy and busy around them. “That’s my car just there,” he said, and pointed to a car down along the row of vehicles parked along the edge of the garden.
“Wow, nice,” she commented, in the direction of the immaculate new black Mercedes. She turned to Cayetano, who held his cane horizontally. “Your leg isn’t sore? I’m sorry, I just rushed you.”
Cayetano looked down at his cane. He hadn’t even used it while he crossed the park. “I think you just cured me.”
“Well, I hope that made the trip worthwhile then.”
“You should go and help your friend. Don’t mind me.”
“Thank you. It was a nice surprise to see you today.” She tried to smile, but her worry was still the biggest emotion in her. “But if you don’t call me this time, you will have to work harder to earn my forgiveness.”
Cayetano reached out and took her hand and kissed it. “Hasta luego, Luna.”
Luna reluctantly took her hand from his. “Goodbye, Cayetano,” she said, and turned away from him. Cayetano stood at his car and watched her run across the pedestrian crossing and disappear through the self-opening doors of her building, and out of his sight. She had done more for him in an hour of conversation than weeks of recovery. But the way she had panicked when Darren had called – Cayetano was not the only man on her mind. Luna was a still a mystery to him.
9
Valencia, España ~ septiembre de 2009
Wide little eyes. That was what struck Luna when she saw her two sons watch Darren. Their ice-blue eyes stared at the man that they considered their father when they saw him in the living room, battered and bruised after his accident. Luna had driven to where he had come off his bike – a hair-raising journey without the added worry – to find Darren on the path. Blood all down one side. Torn clothing. A mangled bicycle. The same things that haunted her at night when she closed her eyes. Luna had not seen the accident site where Fabrizio had been killed, even though it was only a few blocks from home. She had seen him only when they let her into the room at the hospital, but by then he was already dead. Skull fracture. Dead the moment he hit the ground at high speed and dragged under the car. Now she saw the same thing again, and now her children saw it. The pain would never go away.
A fractured wrist, a dislocated shoulder and multiple cuts and bruises. That was what the hospital had told her. Luna sat in the room with Darren, and watched him be bandaged and stitched back together. He was a mess, all because of some fool opening her car door. Luna had barely spoken to him during the drive to the hospital, or while he was treated. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Once she had collected Giacomo and Enzo from school it had become even harder; what they saw worried them. Someone they loved had been hurt.
Even with his arm in a sling, Darren had insisted he put the two little feisty redheads into bed that evening. Luna stood out on the balcony of her apartment that overlooked the park on the warm September night. The sea breeze blew, and it lifted her long black ponytail from her neck that was just a little damp with sweat in the heat. With a glass of wine in her hand, she closed her eyes. She felt guilty – she should have been thinking about Darren. She should have been more upset at the images of Fabrizio that kept coming to mind. But she wasn’t thinking about either of them.
“Hey, you,” she heard Darren say in his smooth accent. Before she could turn around, she felt him weave his good arm around her waist, and his lips came to her neck for a single kiss.
“I don’t want you to hurt your arm,” she said, and turned her head to face him.
“You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” he said. He brought his battered arm around to rest against her.
“Where is your sling?”
“I took it off, it was annoying.”
“You need it.”
“No, I don’t. I have painkillers, and you.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked, and put her glass down on the small table on the balcony.
“Kiss me and make it all better. My shoulder and arm really hurts.”
“Then I shouldn’t go kissing it. I know for a fact that a bad fall can make kissing rather difficult.”
“No problem, nothing is broken,” he whispered. To have her against him in his arms meant the world to him. Even if it did hurt he wouldn’t have moved. He dipped his head and tenderly took her lips with his. He took a deep, desperate breath in when he felt her respond to the affection he was so eager to adorn on her. The hesitation in her just needed to be ignored. He would have made love to her right there on the balcony given half the chance.
“Wow,” she said breathlessly.
“I like it when women say that.”
“You caught me by surprise.”
“Really? Because it’s been three weeks since you imposed yourself on me, and then went cold again.”
“Imposed myself? Is that what I did?”
“Yep. One minute I’m getting out of the shower, next thing you are trying to seduce me in my room when I’m not wearing a thing.”
“Then please accept my humble apology, sir.” She brought her hand to the bandage that was taped to his face, just below his left ear. “It’s been a day of surprises.”
“I’m so sorry,” Darren said, and cringed when he moved his left shoulder. “I really didn’t want to call you. I didn’t want you to see me in a mess like this. I called Marco, but he didn’t answer… so I called you… and you didn’t answer!”
“I’m sorry, I was just… talking to someone. If I had known…”
“This woman just opened her door right in front of me. I didn’t even have time to brake. The second I hit the ground all I could think of was you and the kids, and how I have let you down.”
“How have you let us down? You mean the world to us.”
“So why have you been freezing me out these last few weeks?”
Luna took a deep breath. What to tell him... the story of a hook-up in Madrid was not the right answer. Honesty is not always the best policy. It was more than that, because now she had seen Cayetano twice more. And she liked him. But this was Darren. He took care of her when she was deeply depressed. He helped her with her children, and they loved him as much as he loved them. He was the biggest link to her past and the person most likely to support her in the future. They were comfortable. Comfortable. Cayetano didn’t make her comfortable, he shook her violently and left her dizzy. She needed to make herself feel that way about Darren. “I’m sorry. I have been trying to figure out what I want.”
“I know, and you said you needed to be pushed. But I can’t push you. However, I can’t stay the way we are. I smashed face first into the road at high speed today, and all I thought was how I had never been able to be with you. I want a relationship. I want to climb into bed with you every night. I want to make love to you.”
Luna couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t fall that hard, Darren.”
“Only for you.”
“Wow, that was cheesy.”
“Yeah… I was trying to inject some humour to loosen you up.”
“Loosen me up for what?” she asked with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrows.
“Something I can’t do when I’m injured,” he said through gritted teeth. “I know it’s been a while for you…”
Luna couldn’t stop an uncomfortable chuckle escape her lips. “Wow, this is awkward…” It was only three weeks since she had ravished a stranger. Why was that easier than this?
“I’m still going to go away to help with the team in Cordoba, but…”
“You can’t ride. Your shoulder is still swollen after they put it back in place. Your elbow is stitched up, your wrist is bandaged… it’s not safe.”
“But the team doctors and physiotherapists are going, so I can get my care from them. I’m only coaching. Bu
t then I get back… maybe we can explore ‘you and me’ a little more? Does that give you enough time to decide what you are ready for? I think we just need to avoid this awkwardness and dive right in to each other.”
“Yeah,” she said genuinely. “That’s plenty of time. And you are right, we just need to take the next step.”
“And what is the next step?”
Change the subject. “How about I run you a bath and let you soak? You’re going to hurt tomorrow.”
“That’s why I need to make the most of the movement I still have.” If only he hadn’t come off his bike today, now they could be retiring to a night in her room.
Luna closed herself in Darren’s bathroom and let the water fill the tub. What the hell was going on? What are you doing? Either you want Darren, or you don’t. Either you want to move on from the dark patch in your life, or not. Do you want to throw your whole life away just because you have an infatuation for another man you barely know? Of course not. So what was the problem? Darren is the right choice, the comfortable choice, the easy choice. The logical choice. You are not in a position to have a fling. You are not in a position to try something new, or risky, or thrilling. You are a mother of two boys who need you to make the right choice. Your life is not yours, and it hasn’t been for a long time.
Once Darren was in the bathroom, Luna went back to her spot on the balcony, which overlooked the huge opera house and science museum at the Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències in the park. She watched the couples walking along the paths, and the tourists who shuffled around in their guided groups. She was complacent with her life. When did that happen? One thoughtless drunk ruined the exciting life she had when she was married. Through all the pain she had suffered after Fabrizio died, she knew she needed to work hard with the time she had, but she wasn’t doing that. She did the same things every day; same places, same people. She had a million dollar view and barely appreciated it. She was living in limbo, and all of a sudden it didn’t seem like enough anymore. That was the problem with Darren. Being in a relationship with Darren would mean things would never change. He was simply a replacement to Fabrizio. It just wasn’t enough.
Her daydream was broken when she heard the familiar ring of her phone, and she turned back into the cool air-conditioned living room to find it. When she found it still tucked in her handbag on the couch, she didn’t recognise the number. Valencian numbers had a 96 code. Wasn’t 91 the code for Madrid? “Hola, este es Luna.”
“You answer the phone like an anglosajón.”
She could recognise that deep, purring, full-bodied voice anywhere. Now Cayetano decided to ring her. “I am an Anglo-Saxon, as you Spaniards love to call us. I haven’t learned how to answer the phone rudely with a sí.”
“I’m sure not. How are you, preciosa? How is your friend? Not serious I hope?”
“Darren is hurt, but he’ll be fine. Thanks for asking. How are you? Did you get back to Madrid all right after I rudely abandoned you in the park this morning?”
“My leg is better than it has been for weeks. I just needed your magic touch.”
How could it be that both men who were interested in her were simultaneously injured? “I’ve heard that before.”
“May I ask you something, Luna? We didn’t talk about your grandfather this morning…”
“Oh, him. I haven’t done any more about that. My work permit is valid until the end of the year, so it’s not a panic. I can always get it renewed.”
“Let me tell you something.” There was a sparkle in Cayetano’s voice, like a child who had found his stash of Christmas presents under his parents’ bed. “I don’t know if you had thought of it… but what about looking up the town’s census records to see where your grandfather lived?”
Luna raised her eyebrows. “I hadn’t thought of that, but how accurate are the records, and how detailed? I thought Spain wasn’t very good at census recording.”
“They have been doing it since the 12th century. You say your grandfather lived in Cuenca? Cuenca is of course in Castile-La Mancha, and the municipios have been keeping census details since the 17th century. The Directorio de Archivos has a website that you can easily use to track people in the area.”
“Really?”
“I tried it this afternoon when I got home. My sister came by, and she suggested it. Cayetano Ortega did live in Cuenca and was registered to an address in the mid 1930’s. They have a scanned copy of the original document that was filled in.”
“Bullfighter turned detective, aren’t you? Cayetano… thank you.”
“That is not all, though. Sofía suggested that if your grandfather lived in Cuenca his whole life, then he may have been baptised at one of the local churches, and they might have records, assuming they weren’t destroyed in the war, of course.”
“Your suggestion of going to Cuenca seems more and more like something I need to do. But my grandfather was an orphan, so that could be why there is no birth certificate, so maybe the church cannot help me.”
“And maybe they can. Who knows what the priests and nuns made records of in those times. All kinds of things went on… babies stolen by the church and housed with Nationalist families after the war…”
“In that case I doubt they will simply hand anything over to me. Especially since I’m a foreigner sticking my nose in.”
“You have tried war records? To see if he died in battle?”
“The Republican records are hardly complete in any sense.”
“Oh… he was a Republican?”
Luna frowned. She had assumed so – after all, Scarlett had been a nurse who cared for mostly left-wing soldiers, or so she had told her son. “Why? Are your family right-wing supporters?”
“We are nothing more than bullfighters. Politics is not a subject for my family, or me. But yes, I see your problem. The losers of the war are not well-documented.”
“What a polite way of putting it.” More like forgotten by the world and imprisoned, tortured and murdered, even after they were forced to surrender to Franco’s troops. She couldn’t be sure her grandfather had ever been a soldier anyway.
“I do have one more suggestion…”
“I would love to hear it. You have got further in an afternoon than I have in months.”
“My sister… I had her ring the Registro Civil in Cuenca today. They are open on Friday if you want to see them. Also, the cathedral there, the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Gracia, they could help you. How much I don’t know… but it’s an adventure.”
“It certainly is. Cayetano, you don’t have to help me.”
“The truth is… I’m not. You see, the cathedral has Unum ex septum signs. If I pray to one, I will be given five years forgiveness for my sins.”
“I see, and you can’t do that in any of the churches of Madrid?”
“No, none let me in now. They know my reputation for sinning.”
Luna knew it, too. Early that morning when she had been loading her dishwasher, she blinked and recalled the moment when his head was between her thighs a few weeks ago. Focus, Luna. “So, if I agree to go on this adventure, would you be coming along?”
“The Beltrán family is from Cuenca. I would like to see this beautiful town. It’s world famous, and it’s part of me. I want to look up where my family lived.”
“And pray to the Unum ex septum signs. I don’t even speak any Latin.”
“Me neither. It means one of the seven, or something. Who cares? I was just trying to win your attention with my overwhelming knowledge.”
“Well, I will admit, I’m very intrigued by what you have suggested.”
“Do you know of the parador there? It is a 16th century monastery that has been made into a hotel. It has a footbridge over the gorge that surrounds the city on the hilltop. They have large rooms, so you could get one with two bedrooms, one for you and one for the children. I, of course, would have my own room. I’m a gentleman.”
“What, did you ring the parador?”
> “Is that too much?”
“Um…” A weekend with your secret lover. And your children.
“I’m sorry, if you want to bring Darren as well, I suppose that is no trouble… unless he is too injured…”
“Darren is going to Cordoba on Friday. Cayetano… what you are suggesting is tempting, but I don’t know.”
“You are in relationship with Darren, ¿no?”
“Yeah, sort of. It’s complicated, like you and María.”
The conversation fell into silence. The awkward pause grew longer and longer. “Luna… I like you. I want to help you, but it’s because I’m interested in you. I got the impression you liked me. Maybe we could spend some time together? I know you have children, so this weekend will be proper. Polite. But I won’t lie, I’m attracted to you.”
She could remain comfortable and complacent, or let herself be shaken violently by Cayetano again. He made her feel the way she used to; alive and free and young. How a woman in her 30’s should feel. “All right. How about this Friday? Can your leg cope?”
“¡Claro! Of course, yes. I can arrange the times we need for the hotel and the meetings. Sofía is a great sister, she knows who to call and who to talk to.”
“Please thank your sister, she has been so helpful to me.”
“Sofía hates María, so she is happy I have a new girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend? Is that what I am?” she joked. She considered herself no more than a one-time lover.
“Since the moment I saw you wrestle a bag-snatcher.” Cayetano couldn’t help the grin on his face. It never left him when he spoke to Luna, or thought about her, or imagined the shape of her body. The moment broke when he heard his doorbell ring down the long hallway to the entrance of his apartment. Now what? “Preciosa, I’m sorry, I need to go. I will call tomorrow. We will make a plan?”
“Thank you for your help, Cayetano.”
“De nada. Happy to help.”
“Can I just say something?”
“Sure.”
“I was thinking about your leg. You need to go down to your local health store and get a cream with hot peppers in it.”
Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) Page 11
