Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (28 page)

“Got t
o wonder what they’re afraid of.” Luna looked out the window. There could be bodies anywhere out here, and no one would ever know. Or maybe they did… maybe they were sat in long buried secrets.

“We’re of a generation that doesn’t have the horrors of war on
our minds. Who are we to judge what others say or feel?”

“Very, very true,” Luna agreed.

“The war may be old news, but the tough life that followed isn’t that distant. Franco still signed death warrants from his death bed in 1975. That isn’t stuff in history books for people over 40, that was part of life. Spaniards deserve a lot of credit for the work they have done to form the country they have, despite all the ups and downs since the 1978 constitution.”

“The conservative media, the army, the church, the Royal House, all like to think the wounds have healed, but not all of them have.”

“Maybe they haven’t, but there’s no quick fix.”

27

Valencia, España ~ noviembre de 2009

“There you are!”
Darren said when Luna came in the front door of the apartment.

“What,
is something wrong?” She pulled her scarf from her neck. “I thought you would pick the boys up from school.”

“I did! No, no, everything is fine with the kids, but I wanted to talk to you. Tomás came by earlier.”

“You’re babysitting, not having friends over. What are you, a 15-year old girl?” Luna teased.

“Very funny. No, he had something int
eresting to say.”

“Al
l right, one minute.”

Darren
stood in the living room, and heard the sound of squeals of delight when the boys saw their mother in the doorway to their bedroom where they had played. It was several minutes before Luna returned, with a smile on her face.

“So, have you become a real e
state tycoon yet?” he asked as they sat down together.

“I own one apartment, and want one house. It’s hardly an empire,” she snorted. “It was a fascinating trip. The place was perfect, but… I don’t know…”

“Good, because I have a counter offer to you going off on your life of country living. Tomás asked if you would be interested in coming back to work for the team.”

“As a bike mechanic?”

“Yes. You have been out for three years, and he wondered if you would like to come back. One of the guys has quit, so there is a space for you. The team is finished for the year anyway, so next year you could join us on the road. We are sending a team to the Giro D’Italia, the Tour de France, and the Vuelta a España, plus some smaller tours, like Switzerland, Austria, Ireland. I won’t ride all of them, but you could work on them all.”

“With you.”

“And the others.”

“The others. Your teammates are assholes. I always knew that. They seem to think
that since I’m a woman, they can speak to me like I’m a piece of shit.”

“But we all worked together for years…”

“Yeah, I did that because Fabrizio needed all his lesser men around him for work. It wasn’t because I was happy.”

“But it gives you a job, which extends your permit here. You could sign the contact and always bail out later.”

“I’m not that kind of person.”

“I thought you would be pleased I got you a job. One you liked… or I assumed you liked.”

Luna sighed. “I love being a bike mechanic. I appreciate that you want to help. But… but you and I don’t need to spend that much time together, do we? Plus, the kids are older now, it’s hard for me to move around for work and have them with me. They need things they can’t get on the road. It’s not like when they were infants on the tour bus with the team. It’s harder now.”

“Since when did something like that stop you? We will still be based in Valencia most of the time.”

“It’s not the life I want for myself anymore.”

“What’s so bad about what we have?”

“We don’t have anything.”

“You know what I mean. Who would want to leave Valencia?”

“I don’t; I want to enjoy more of it, outside the city.”

“It was Fabrizio’s idea to leave the city, you always wanted to move into the old town. Rescue an old building here instead of out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I know that. Sometimes plans change.”

“You don’t have to change y
our plans. It’s your life, Lulu.”

“Exactly! My life! Why would I want to work for a cycling team that is funded by the Valencian government, as a tourism promotion tool? That money was spent on bike racing, which I love, but it has come at the expense of essential services to this city. There is so many problematic areas in Valencia not being addressed, yet they can pay for you to ride your bike!”

“The money spent on the team wouldn’t be enough to save the world, Luna.”

“No, it wouldn’t, but it would be a bloody good start!”

“Since when did it matter where the money came from, as long as the team got paid? Neither of us got rich by saving the world.”

“I care about the place I live in,” Luna said with a shake of her head. “Spain is the home of my kids. It’s their country. Am I bitter? Of course! I spent years fighting the legal system that was happy to let some guy off the hook for killing an innocent man. I have seen the in-fighting and the disdain that this region’s government has for its people. The thought of taking money for a cycling campaign, after all the money already blown on stupid things…”

“Then take your part of the cash and do good things with it!”

Luna shut her eyes for a moment. Why did life have to be so fucking hard? Now she was moaning about some moral code of not accepting money that was a foolishly spent by the government. She was far from the only person who didn’t trust the leaders of the region of Valencia, but they all would probably take money from them given the chance.
Stop fighting everything, Luna. That was never going to happen. What she wanted was to run off with her half-cousin, and that creepy thought clouded everything she did. That wouldn’t happen – Cayetano was a famous man, he was never going escape the life he had. The good life, in his swanky Madrid apartment. His family was rich of the back of entertaining a dictator in the sixties. Okay, that was mean. If only Paco was wrong about it all, but he had got the information first hand from his mother.

“Lulu, I’m sorry,”
Darren said. “I thought I could help.”

Luna opened her eyes and looked at the man across from her. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap. I’ll have to think about it. I’m just sick of lurching from one disaster to another. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“It’s not like that. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I know what my problem is. My life is devoid of people. I stand here and say I am proud to have come to Valencia and made it my home. I say I belong here, like my blood
is in the soil. I don’t belong here! I’m not living a life like an average Spaniard. How many people come home to their large new apartment, that is fully paid for, after a day of not working for a living? I’m not living with many generations of my family because life is a struggle. I have nothing in common with the people around me. I don’t have any friends. I know people who were friends with my husband, either real or superficially, but I’m not an extension of him. Whatever bond I had with Fabrizio and his life is over. It hurts, but it’s true. I came here because I was pulled along, but I’m here now because I want to be. At least if I moved I might have a chance to genuinely, meaningfully integrate into the place I’m raising my children in. Like the guy I met today, when I went to look at his property. He took one look at me and wrote me off. I can’t blame him.”

“If only you had found Cayetano Ortega. Maybe that would have given you a bit of peace.”

Maybe she was the King’s long lost cousin. No, she still refused to believe that ludicrous scenario. “I’m the daughter of Alex Montgomery, and granddaughter of Scarlett Montgomery. That is all that matters. Surely what I do with my two little Montgomery’s will define me.”

The sound of two little raised voices echoed down the hallway, and Luna rolled her eyes. They had Fabrizio’s temper in them, that was for certain. “I will go and see what international crisis has been sparked in there,”
Darren chuckled.

“You don’t have to,” Luna said, but he was already on his feet.

“You and I may not be a couple anymore, but I still care about them as much as ever.”

“You’re going to make an excellent wife one day,” she teased.

“Anything that means I can ride every day works for me,” he called back as he went down the hallway.

The phone rang the moment Luna sat back in her seat, and she groaned. She pulled from her pocket and looked at the screen. Michael. “Hey, back so soon.”

“All part of the service,” he replied. “I just wanted to apologise again for today. It wasn’t my best viewing.”

“Not your fault,” Luna said as she examined her slightly chipped blue fingernail polish. “Honestly, don’t worry.”

“I might have time to go back up there tomorrow and talk to Alejandro, if you like. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s my job. Who knows, maybe I will get inside his messy little house full of bullfighting memorabilia again yet.”

“Bullfighting?” Christ, who didn’t like bullfighting?

“Yeah, the guy is a massive fan. We all love something. If you want to buy Alejandro Beltrán’s property, I will make it happen, don’t worry.”

Luna’s polite farewell to Michael was distracted at best. Alejandro Beltrán, who loved bullfighting? No way.
How did you find me? What else had he said? Your hair is black. Luna Montgomery, the black-haired mirror image of Scarlett. Scarlett, who once knew a man named Alejandro Beltrán. Shit.

28

Valencia, España ~ noviembre de 2009

The blue rock thrush birds chirped when Luna stepped from her car at Escondrijo. The roads had been silent as she made the steep and winding trip. Being up here was a splendid example of the Spain that she loved – the differences that made up the country. Not long ago she was in the city, a vibrant and modern place to live, and now she was not just out in the country, but isolated. A whole community lived out here, tucked away, living a decidedly different life to the Spaniards in the city. When Luna had first come to Valencia, she only had to drive five minutes south, and she would come to where donkeys and carts were still a legitimate form of transportation. While the city grew and changed right in front of her over the last ten years, out here on the mountain was the same as it had been for countless years. Spain was like that – embracing the new and holding on to their traditions all at the same time. A 40-minute drive had transported her to a different world.

A few purple heather flowers clung to life in the rapidly cooling November weather as she walked t
owards the house. The silence almost overwhelmed Rebalsadors mountain. Not too far away there would be cyclists and hikers, but in this cold weather, only the hardy souls would be out. Fabrizio would often ride L’Oronet mountain nearby, along past Rebalsadors and on to the Olocau and Gátova townships nearby. Luna had time to stop and take in the view from the house again. The house was built just back from the limestone cliff, and the world dropped away, spread out along the flat Turia land to the city, and the Mediterranean was beyond it, shining in the sunlight. What had gone on in the hills and out on the plain over the last several thousand years was mind-boggling.

“You again.”

Luna spun to see Alejandro there, covered in dust. “Me again,” she replied and took her hands out of her pockets.

“Whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here.” Alejandro marched straight past her in the
direction of the front door to the old house.

“How do you know what I’m looking for?
” she called over her shoulder; she didn’t bother to turn and face him. She heard his rough footsteps stop on the flaky ground.

“You’re another one of them,” she heard him call back. “You come to Spain, no idea what it’s like here, taking over the place without any thought of what
it means to be a Spaniard.”

“Is that why you are out here, not even speaking Valencian? You’re a
lso a foreigner around here, aren’t you?” Anyone who wasn’t a native of Valencia could be considered a foreigner.

“Where I come from doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “You don’t belong out here.”

Luna turned around and faced him. He stood tall in an attempt to be intimidating, but it wasn’t going to work. “Why are you surprised that I found you?” Luna had no idea why he had said that to her on her last visit, but she may as well see where it lead.

“I was mistaken.”

“Mistaken for someone that you used to know?”

“I don’t know anyone.”

“Not even Scarlett?”

Al
ejandro’s gaze fell to the ground. He was looking for a lie, and she knew it. But she saw him glance back up. “Who are you?”

“Luna Montgomery.”

She saw him raise his eyebrows. “Luna?”

“Are you Alejandro Beltrán Caño?”

“No.” Alejandro turned away again and started back towards the house.

“I know you are,” Luna called. Now that she thought about it, he bore a resemblance to Paco Beltrán.

“What the hell do you want?”

“I’ll tell you what I want!” Luna cried. “All I bloody wanted was to find a place to live out here, somewhere to hide away from the world. None of it had anything to do with you.”

“For some skinny little girl, you seem damn sure of yourself. What would you have to hide from?”

“You would be surprised.” For a man who wanted nothing to do with her, he seemed to have an interest in what she had to say. “But, the question is, why do we know each other?”

“We don’t.”

“Fine.” Luna
passed the dusty man by the house in the direction of her car. “I can hide out anywhere. I will leave you to hide out here on your own.”

“You shouldn’t mess with things you know nothing about.”

Luna stopped and turned around again. “I know more than you would think. Besides, once you have your husband die, most things in life don’t seem like such a big deal.”

“You lost your husband?”
He couldn’t suppress his interest.

“Yes.”

“Any kids?”

“Two boys.”

“You poor girl,” he muttered.

“I’m no poor girl,” she fired back. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying on alone. If there is another property out here that would happily take my money, then so be it.  You can rot out here. But remember, I know where you are now.”

“You wouldn’t do anything with that information.”

“So you are Alejandro Beltrán Caño.”

He sighed. “La chispa.”

Luna frowned. “Meaning?”

“You have the spark in you.”

“Are you, or are you not the man who knew my grandmother during the war in Cuenca?”

“You’re the spitting image of her. You have the eyes… and the attitude. But I have no idea what happened to her.”

“She died in 1973, in a small town, in New Zealand.”

Alejandro’s head hung as he listened to the words. “She was such a wicked woman. I hope she had a happy life.”

“I didn’t know her.”

They stood in silence as they looked at the expansive view before them down the mountain. “You’re looking at the monastery.”

“Yes,” Luna said. “That’s
Porta Coeli monastery, ¿no?”

“Sí.”

“The one used as a concentration camp after the civil war?”

Alejandro sighed. She had said those words out loud without any hesitation. “The pla
ce has been down there for over 700 years. It’s seen worse.”

Luna glanced over at him. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“It was a long time ago now.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, because grief is infinite.”

“Some things don’t heal.”

“They say that thousands of prisoners in that monastery are listed as dying of tuberculo
sis, but they were murdered and dumped in graves around here.”

“It was more people than they claim it to be. But those details are hidden away. The courts have made sure those papers aren’t released.”

“You lived here back then?”

Alejandro just shook his head. “I don’t look back if I can help it.”

“You were a Republican, weren’t you? I know Scarlett was.”

“I… I can’t… some things just…”

“Did you hide out here, you know… when they were rounding people up to kill once the war was won?”

“La chispa,
you have to stop.”

“Who will hear us out here?”

“The dead can hear you. I can hear them. You won’t ever understand.”

“Try me.”

“Why?”

“Somewhere out there, I bet
some bastard killed my grandfather, and he’s dumped in a grave. I’m one of thousands of people whose identity is in the soil here, along with the blood of our family members.”

“I know that. But surely you have more immediate family. Scarlett had a baby, I take it that the baby is your…?”

“Father. Alexander was my father. Both of my parents died a long time ago.”

Alejandro squinted at the young woman. “You’ve had it tough.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“Scarlett named the baby Alexander after everything.”

Luna turned to him. “You spoke to her about her baby?”

“I knew Scarlett exceptionally well. My wife, Sofía, was drawn to Scarlett when she came to town.”

“Cuenca.”

“Yes. We were close. Cayetano lived across the street from me, and he offered Scarlett a place to stay. They met at a meeting about the war. The war was not kind to your
abuela.”

“My father told me that she was a tough, outspoken woman.”

“She was when she came to us.” Alejandro almost smiled. “But she came to Spain to change the world, and reality taught her some harsh lessons. After she was raped out in Huete just before the camp was bombed…”

“What?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Are you sure?”

“She told Sofía about it. Raped by a group of Falange members who thought women deserved it. Scarlett was darkened by it. The fact she met Ulrich was a relief, and then all that business…”

“Who?”

“Ulrich Hahn was a German volunteer with the International Brigade, like Scarlett. They got married during a visit to Barcelona before he went to fight at Ebro. She buried him a month later, and returned to Cuenca instead of going home, as all foreigners were asked to do.”

“I had no idea she was married.”

“All wartime Republican marriages were annulled by Franco. I guess there was no sense to mention it.”

“But she would have carried that pain her whole life.”

“We all carry something.”

“So, how did she ever get pregnant to Cayetano Ortega?” Luna’s heart leapt in her chest. If Ulrich fathered the baby, then she and her own Cayetano wouldn’t be related…

“That was just a one-time mix-up. A night drinking in Requena… it happens.” He had no idea how much hope that comment crushed.

“Are you sure?”

“I was in the next tent. I remember more than I ever wanted to know.”

“Cayetano was definitely the father?”

“La chispa, my body is old, but my mind isn’t. Why?”

“What happened to Ca
yetano? He was your best friend.”

Alejandro shook his head, his
gaze at the uneven ground beneath their feet. “He’s gone.”

“Murdered?”

He nodded his head. “Like so many.”

“And dumped somewhere?”

“You better come inside.”

The house was sparse at best. While the stone building was enormous, Alejandro’s whole life appeared to be jammed in one room in the front. It consisted of no more than a single kitchen sink and table in the corner, with a gas cooker on the floor. A single bed lined the opposite wall of the large room, and all else in there was a small table and chairs in the centre of the room. But papers, they were everywhere. So many newspapers and magazines and books, in piles, all seemingly put around the room at random. The table was covered in newspapers, which Alejandro hastily tried to move away.

“Don’t go to any effort on my account,” Luna said.

“I don’t want you prying through my things,” he shot back.

Bullfighting. So many things about bullfighting. “You follow your family.”

“They’re not my family.” He didn’t bother to look at her as they both sat down at the table.

“How can you sit here, knowing who they are and not go to them?”

“I haven’t left this place in years. I will never go to Madrid.”

“Not home to Cuenca?”

“I shut my home, and the building across the street in 1939 and never went back.”

“You own them?”

“I can only presume they’re still there. I get a bill from the town hall now and then.”

“Then why not sell them, and not this place?”

“I want nothing to do with them.”

“I was there, not long ago.”

Alejandro frowned. “In Cuenca?”

“Yes. Not much there. I looked for any trace of Cayetano Ortega. There isn’t one.”

“You need to look under his full name.”

“Medina.”

“You have been doing well, la chispa. That’s a hefty secret.”

“Cayetano wrote it in a note to your sister, Luna. I found the letter.”

“A letter to my sister? How did you get it?”

“It’s a long story.” Luna’
s eyes were on her hands on her lap. Across the table was a magazine article about Cayetano and his accident a few months ago and she didn’t want to look at it.

“Isn’t all of this?”

“Cayetano Beltrán and I… we looked together to figure out a story. He has so much from your sister. His father, Paco, kept it all.”

“What is Paco like?”

“You have never met him?”

“Never.”

“He’s a hard man. Strong. Fanatical about bullfighting and his family. Your sister, Luna, told him that his family loved it.”

“We did,” Alejandro smiled. “We did love it. There was a bar… up from our house, the Libertad. We would spend hours in there talking bullfighting with others from around the town. But… the war ended that love for me…”

“But your sister saw to it that Paco grew to love it. And he does.”