“Of course, la chispa, of course we can.”
39
Valencia, España ~ diciembre de 2009
I need to send you a diary. A man’s sins cannot be warmed up once you have let them cool.
One message, received in the middle of the night, was all Cayetano needed to get his ass to Valencia. All he had done was sit at home and think of how much his life had changed with the information about José. The last six months had thrown his life into disarray. But now, things had to change.
Every Thursday, the Tribunal de las Aguas de Valencia, the Water Court, was held at the Door of the Apostles of the Valencia Cathedral. The eight men, dressed in black cloaks, would sit and discuss irrigation matters of the agricultural plains around the city. They spoke Valencian, and never wrote anything down, just as they had done for the last thousand years. Cayetano wandered past them in Plaza de la Virgen as they set themselves up, but didn’t pay much attention. Judging by the small crowd it pulled, it seemed more for the amusement to the tourists than anything else. As a bullfighter dressed in his full blue and gold traje de luces, hat and red cape included, he drew more of a crowd than the tribunal.
The door that the tribunal sat before was the side entrance to Valencia’s cathedral, while people poured in and out of the grand building on the other side, in Plaza de la Reina. Plaza de la Virgen was smaller and was home to the majestic Basilica de la Virgen de los Desamparados, just a few steps from the cathedral. The stone surface of the plaza gleamed in the sun as he walked across the square, between the locals, tourists and pigeons, and over to the fountain. In his full torero’s suit, he now had the full attention of many around, and he almost looked like a tourist attraction himself, his red cape draped over his shoulder only added to the suggestion he was up to something. No matter how many people were in the square, Luna would spot him soon.
The whole Ciclo Comunitat Valenciana cycling team had assembled, all twenty riders, with team managers Marco and Tomás, and Luna. She looked out of place as Cayetano watched her; as if uncomfortable with the whole set-up. He had no idea what she was up to, and what he was doing almost as much of a mystery. He had gone to her apartment, all dressed up in an effort to surprise her, only to find her not there. It was lucky that he bumped into a beautiful young woman named Lucía, who told him where Luna was today. Now he had found her, dressed in the new-look cycling team jersey, and cycling trousers and riding shoes. She wasn’t a rider. Never wanted to be. Her hair was perfectly done, her wavy black curls combed to perfection, and her face all made up. She was doing some kind of promotion work for the team and the tourism board, or maybe as the lone female mechanic on the pro-tour? Maybe as the wife of the adopted son of Valencia, Fabrizio Merlini? Should he speak to her at all?
A large crowd of onlookers were held back while the team posed for photographs with bikes and one another around the fountain. Lucía had told him that Luna and Darren were doing photoshoots in popular areas around the city, today the first day of the work they had to do. Cayetano watched Luna, she stood on the small ledge around the fountain, being extra careful. She must have had pedal cleats on the bottom of her cycling shoes, because she was unsteady. But she radiated beauty in the sunshine that reflected off her shiny black hair while she posed for photos. She had Fabrizio’s heavy watch on her wrist again. His heart jumped when he saw her wobble above the water, and even more when Darren jumped forward and grabbed her. The photographer took the opportunity to take a few more photos as he held her steady. The smile that they shared wasn’t for the camera; it was a genuine smile while she held his hands. She looked happy with him. Maybe when she said she needed a break from Cayetano, she meant more permanently. But there was the message on the phone in the middle of the night about the diary. He had to go through with talking to her again.
The world was invaded by the sound of a ringing bell. The Miguelete bell tower attached to the cathedral struck twelve, which started the Water Court’s session behind him. With the bells ringing in his ears, Cayetano continued to watch Luna, who had her hand out to touch the water pouring into the fountain around the statue of Neptune in the centre. Around the sides of the fountain were seven smaller statues, there to represent the seven ancient irrigation channels to the city. The sound of the bell ringing had made the pigeons jump up off them for a moment, spooked by the sudden noise. He thought they should have been used to the bell by now, apparently not.
You’re procrastinating by thinking about pigeons, Caya. What the fuck are you doing? Burst through everyone and talk to her, or go home. The way she had smiled at Darren; it hurt. What if… what if she had changed her mind, and wanted to be with Darren instead? Or what if she had gone to Italy, and found she was truly not over her husband? What if your idea to win her back is so fucking…
“Look! It’s ‘El Valiente’ Beltrán! Here, in Valencia!”
Too late to run. Someone had recognised him, and about 100 people turned to look at him. The guy had said it loud, just as the bells had stopped. Everyone heard. Including Luna Montgomery. Cayetano watched her, still on the ledge of the fountain, her eyes able to skim over the top of the watching crowd, and he watched her spot him, easy to find his sparkling gold and blue suit. Coincidentally, she was dressed much the same, her cycling uniform the colours of the Valencian flag, yellow, red and blue. He watched the smile drop from her face, frozen on the spot. Now or never.
Cayetano pushed through the crowd, who were more than happy to step aside. The photographer’s assistant, who had been constantly asking people to step back didn’t say a word as he walked straight over to Luna, and stopped in front of her. Time to say something profound. “Ah… hola.”
Her face broke into her smile again. “Hey, dude, what’s up?”
“Oh, you know, just hanging out.”
“Planning a little bullfighting later on, perhaps?”
Cayetano took a deep breath and relaxed. “Maybe. It depends on how the afternoon goes. You?”
“Just having my photos taken for work, in front of more onlookers that I expected. Hard to blend in when a torero comes over to say hi.”
“I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Here?” Luna looked over him at the others, her friends, colleagues, strangers; all watched their conversation. Even the crowd that the Water Court had drawn watched from across the plaza, as did the café-goers that sat in front of the Palau de Generalitat, the imposing but beautiful Valencian government building at the other end of the plaza.
“May I?” Cayetano jumped up onto the ledge next to Luna, grateful his leg didn’t let him down. He pulled his cape from his shoulder, to the cries of ‘¡ole!’ from some in the crowd.
“Señoras y señores.” His deep, robust voice echoed out across the open air space. “I have a story to share with you. A long time ago, 70 years to be exact, there was a woman named Luna Beltrán. She was in love with a man, Cayetano Ortega. They lived across the street from each other. But fate, beliefs, mistakes and war hurt these two young people. He had given his beloved a beautiful ring to show her his love, but life intervened and they were parted forever. But, as we all know, you can never lose those you love, because even if loved ones slip away, they are always in your heart.”
Cayetano paused for a moment and looked back to Luna. She didn’t seem to see where his speech was headed. “But the story didn’t end there,” he continued to the intrigued crowd. “What happened was, 70 years later, a not-so young bullfighter named Cayetano Beltrán…” he paused as the crowd laughed, “… a bullfighter was sipping a drink, when he saw a beautiful woman fall on the street. Little did he know that when he helped her up, she was Cayetano Ortega’s granddaughter, Luna. This woman stands here next to me now.”
Luna couldn’t help but smile when he said that, and the crowd who commented to each other on the coincidence of it all. “She’s a beauty!” someone yelled. “Keep her!” The crowd laughed again.
“I wanted to,” Cayetano called back. His voice
was loud and clear. “But again, while the Beltrán and Ortega families came back together, fate tried to intervene. Today, I say history will not repeat itself.”
Cayetano jumped off the ledge of the fountain, and turned to face Luna, to the cheers of the crowd when he took her hand. “Luna, love is made up of dreams and reality. Most fall in love with only the dream. Yet, when you find true love, you fall in love with both.” His hand started to shake around hers. He desperately needed to take a deep breath, but he had nerves. He fumbled briefly in his tight-fitting sleeve and pulled out the Medina diamond.
“This ring could not fulfill its destiny and bind Luna and Cayetano together in 1939. Today, I ask it to fulfill its destiny with us. I am touched by your tenderness. I am inspired by your love. I am encouraged by your passion. I will drop a tear into this fountain, and whenever they find it, I will stop loving you. Until then, Luna… ¿quieres casarte conmigo? Will you marry me?”
It seemed that the crowd knew the answer before Luna, a round of applause going up, laced with a sea of ‘¡sí!’ replies. He held the ring up hopefully to her, her face stuck in an expression of total surprise. He saw her look away just briefly in Darren’s direction. Cayetano knew he had put her on the spot, but he loved her so much, and he didn’t care who knew it. She may have not been one for grand gestures, but by Christ, he was and wasn’t afraid to put on a show for her, impromptu as it was.
“Please, la chispa,” he said, his tone quiet so only they could hear. “I love you. Maybe you could change your mind about us if I explain myself. Even if you say no, please let me talk to you.”
“I don’t need an explanation,” she said to him. She cleared her throat gently and raised her voice. “¡Sí, me casaré contigo!”
The crowds around them all gave out a cheer. By now they had the attention of everyone in the plaza, several hundred people on the busy morning. “Please, accept the ring, preciosa.”
“I can’t take that ring,” she said but held her hand out tentatively anyway. She had only just taken her wedding ring off and put it on her right hand, the tan line still visible on her finger.
“You can, trust me.” His own hands were shaking a little bit as he held the ring in his fingers. “Shit, I hope it fits,” he muttered. “I only want to do this once.”
With a little persuasion, the small band just fitted on her hand. “This is the third time you’ve proposed. I only want to marry you once.”
“Once is enough for me.”
“It’s always been a dream of mine to have a man propose while we’re both wearing tights.”
“Oh shut up, mujer,” Cayetano joked. He grabbed her by the waist. He pulled her from her ledge and slid her body down his enough so their lips could meet, to another round of applause from the crowd.
“Any chance I could whisk you away? Could we just make a run for it?”
Luna looked down at her cycling shoes. “In these things I can’t run anywhere. I left my regular shoes in Darren’s car.” She looked over at him; he stood with his arms folded, his face stuck in an obviously fake smile.
“Kick them off. Do it.”
Luna slipped the shoes off, the ground cold beneath her feet. She squealed when Cayetano swept her up into his arms, and grabbed his shoulders, his sequined chaquetilla rough on her hands.
“¡Discúlpeme!” he called to the crowd, and proceeded to push through them, his bride-to-me in his arms.
“Go through the archway between the cathedral and basilica,” Luna said to him. “There are feweer people around that side.”
Cayetano continued to carry her right around the cathedral, and came to where his car was double-parked in Plaza de la Reina. He was pleased to see the Mercedes hadn’t been towed.
“Were you planning on this not taking very long?” she asked when they got to the car.
“I barely know Valencia, the city is a maze. I wasn’t going to waste time finding a parking space.”
They got in the car, relieved to have no more eyes on them. Well, Luna seemed to be relieved. Cayetano couldn’t care less who saw what he had just done. As far as he was concerned, the whole world could know. He watched Luna pull her keys and phone out of the strange little pockets in the back of her jersey. “Where are we going now? My clothes are in the back of Darren’s car.”
“Your place then.”
Cayetano navigated the busy roads in the direction of the riverbed, through Plaza del Ayuntamiento and past the Plaza de Toros de Valencia, the bullring, and hoped to find a place to cross the Turia. There wasn’t a lot of romance in asking a woman for directions. They stopped at a set of lights, and he noticed Luna looking at the precious diamond on her hand. “Not too tight, is it?”
“It was made for a small hand,” she commented. “This belongs to your family.”
“It belongs to Cayetano Ortega, who is a member of your family. Technically, it’s returned home.”
“You got my message last night then?”
“I was wide awake in bed when I got it. What do you mean, ‘a man’s sins cannot be warmed up once you have let them cool?’ Am I forgiven?”
“It’s something your grandmother wrote in her diary. She forgave my grandfather for what he did. She held everyone’s happiness in her hands, and she made the right choice. If I hold the María situation against you, I hurt everyone, and I don’t want to do that.”
They moved forward, Cayetano relieved when he saw her apartment building across the Turia. “Preciosa, in the glove box is an envelope. Inside is a present for you. Open it and take a look.”
Luna did as he asked, and pulled a piece of paper out of the envelope on top of the pile things in there. “Semen analysis? Interesting…”
“Fuck! No! The other envelope!”
Luna laughed when he tried to swipe the paper from her, but she wouldn’t give it to him. Instead, she reached in and pulled out another envelope. This time he watched her pick up the right one. He saw her face change when she found the old letter and delicately unfolded it. “Oh my God.”
“I know,” Cayetano said smugly as they crossed the riverbed, the park that teemed with people below them. “Cayetano Medina Ortega, born 31 August, 1914. That is the original birth certificate issued in Madrid. I know it’s basic, but it should be enough for your residency paperwork.”
“How did you get this?”
“Leandro Medina, María’s father, had it. His father is Cayetano’s half-brother. I went to tell him that I had found Cayetano’s granddaughter. He is an unwell man, and I thought the news would make him happy. He is interested in the history of Ortega.”
“You have been with María?”
“Just with her father. Leandro told me about how he was so disappointed that María and Paulo are in a relationship now. He said he hoped I would take María back. So, I had another sperm count test. It says the odds of me becoming a father are not as pathetic as we first thought, but that doesn’t mean the baby is mine. She has been seeing someone else.”
“You can’t go looking for reasons why the baby might not be yours. You have to own your mistakes. Why would she lie?”
“Desperate people do stupid things. There is less glamour in having a baby with a nobody. María is shallow enough to think that way. Either way, I need to know the truth.”
Luna let out a deep breath as Cayetano parked his car in a space near the entrance to her building. “Wow, it’s a lot to take in all at once.”
“I know.” Cayetano’s stopped the car and turned to her. “I don’t expect you to forget all this. I fucked up, I know that. But still, I found Cayetano’s birth certificate and you deserved to have it. I have already shown Sofía, to see why it’s not in the official records database. She will have the information entered for you.”
“It has Sergio Medina is his father.”
“Well, maybe once upon a time you could lie about the real identity of a baby’s father, but not anymore. Babies and fathers need to know the truth. Your grandfather knew who his real
father was anyway, and María’s baby will need the whole story, one day.”
“I’m just sick of all the drama. I filled my life with people who don’t do things like this. Honest people, trustworthy people.”
“Noble people.”
“Yeah.”
“You wanted noble. I can do that, I promise.”
“Come inside. I’m sure we can think of more enjoyable things to talk about.”
Cayetano dropped the bag of clothes he had brought in from the car the moment he got inside Luna’s apartment. He had only been in there in the dark until now. It was just how he imagined, simple and neat. The full-length mirror in the entranceway was familiar. The memorable moment against it would never fade. He watched her put her keys down on a little side table and looked at him in the mirror with a smile. Her short zip on her cycle jersey was undone, and her perky breasts begged to be touched just beneath the opening.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t. I just got here and found you were out. Your neighbours told me where you were.”
“So, your plan was to turn up here, in a costume, and propose?”
“Not much of a plan I admit. But I did worry, I didn’t want to make a scene in front of the kids if you said no.”
“I appreciate that. It was good timing, they are at the pelota day that the school is running. If Paco turns up and tries to cut my hand off to get the ring back, he needs similar opportune timing.”
“No, Papá knows I took it. He knew I had a plan to win you back. He wasn’t so impressed when I burst into his house at six this morning to get the ring… but he’ll live…. forever probably, knowing my luck…”
“That’s enough of that. The only time I have met him was when he told me that I was fucking my cousin, and I needed to get out of his house, but even so, don’t wish death on people.”
Cayetano took a deep breath, his eyes not leaving hers in the mirror. “I thought you were going to say no… just for a second, I thought you were going to step off that ledge and say no.”
Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) Page 38
