Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (33 page)

“I’m sure Scarlett could rip the head off anyone who dared cross her path,” Alejandro chuckled.

“My husband used to say that about me.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of Scarlett in you. You look like her.”

“My father used to say I looked like my mother, but I think that was Dad being nostalgic.”

“You have no parents now?”

“No, my mother died when I was a chi
ld, my father died when I was 23. Scarlett died before I was born. Cancer, all three.”

“It’s a horrible illness.”

Luna watched him bring his hand to his stomach, and she frowned. “Why are you selling this place, if you have lived most of your life on it?”

“I don’t actually have any choice. It’s a big property, I can’t tend to what I grow, or to the animals I keep. I can’t plant trees and take proper care of the house. I haven’t been able to for a while.”

“You are sick?”

“At my age, who isn’t? That’s not your concern. So, did you tell your bullfighter what you know?”

“I told him that you’re his grandfather.”

“I wish you hadn’t. But you did it for yourself, didn’t you?”

Luna glanced at the children, who happily sat back from the fire. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why? They hate me, don’t they?”

“No! I only told Cayetano. But I wish I had never been there.”

“Why?”

“It makes no difference.” Her voice quiet as she shivered in the cold. “He is married, and now his wife is pregnant.”

Alejandro took a deep breath. “You’ve been messing around with him, haven’t you?”

“He left María nearly a year ago, and then he and I met. But… but after we discovered that we shared a grandfather, or so Paco told us, we spent some time apart.”

“And he went back to his wife.”

“He said it was one night only. One minute only to be exact.”

“And now?”

“And now he has asked me to marry him, but how can I?”

“Sounds like you have the curse of Cayetano and Luna, how fitting.”

“It’s bizarre. My grandmother got pregnant in a one-night stand to Cayetano, which broke Luna’s heart. Scarlett wrote to Luna many times and ever heard back.”

“Scarlett
wanted to right the wrongs that she did in Spain.”

“Scarlett named her baby Alexander, awfully close to your name.”

“When she was first going to take Paco away, I asked her to call him Alexander. I guess she honoured that in her own way, with her own baby.” Alejandro’s eyes were wet when he said it.

“Do you know why Paco called his son Cayetano?”

“I guess because Luna told him of her great love.”

“
Yes, but he told his own family that Cayetano was Luna’s brother.”

“Paco said
Cayetano was Luna’s brother?”

“Paco t
reated you and Cayetano as the same man. He always knew he had an uncle. I guess Luna just wanted your baby for herself and never told him that she wasn’t his mother. I guess it was hard for him to understand, and even harder to explain.”

“I can’t blame her, she raised the boy. I told her to name him Paco. I’m glad she did that, and raise
d him to be a bullfighter. I wish I had been able to see her again.”

“She died of tuberculosis in 1960.”

“I was in the concentration camp at Porta Coeli until 1944, and in prison until 1956. After that, I came up here and never wanted to see another person again. I assumed Luna would have washed her hands of me.”

“You were in the concentration camp at the monastery?”

“I was. I got caught not long after I refused to leave on the Stanland, but they didn’t kill me because they thought I would be useful for labour. The camp was full so they moved some of us into prisons, and we were eventually released.”

“What was it like? I have heard of people talk about the giant camp at Albatera, inland from Alicante…”

“I can’t talk about that, la chispa, I’m sorry.” The old man looked thoroughly defeated by his own history. “They killed at will, at random. They hated us. We were ‘enemies of the State.’ A lot of people starved to death or died of infections. When they shut the camp in 1956, I still didn’t feel free. I still don’t now. I wish they had killed me.”

“Did they kill Cayetano?” Luna whispered.

“He was shot and buried.”

“Where?”

“I can’t say.”

“Because you don’t know, or don’t want to tell me?”

“Please, don’t ask me anymore. Your grandfather was my best friend, like a brother to me. He and Scarlett were all I had in the world, along with my sister and my wife. I’m grateful you have come here, but please, those years I can’t talk about.”

“Do you think that Luna would have ever overcome the pain of Scarlett getting pregnant to Cayetano?”

“You mean, should you forgive your Cayetano for his indiscretion with María? That’s up to you. What I know is that the love that my friend had for my sister was so strong it could have sunk a ship or moved a mountain. His last moments were spent thinking of her.”

“You witnessed his end?”

“Every moment. And when I close my eyes at night, I can still hear the gunshot that went in his back, and the sound of the flies buzzing around his lifeless body.”

The conversation fell silent with that. The room was filled with the sound of the fire in the corner, and the quiet voices of the boys chatting away to one another. The only window was covered in condensation from the fire
that warmed the stone structure in contrast to the bleak winter outside.

“I hate what this has done to me, and others,” Luna said to break the silence between them. “I’m just a regular person, getting on with my life, and then I met Cayetano by accident. We uncovered all this, and in the process have unravelled our own families. It has hurt Paco, and you, having to bring all this back up. I’m hurting, Cayetano’s hurting… it’s a disaster, and all my fault. It’s made a miserable and whining mess of me.”

“If you lost your husband you can be excused for being sad about your life,” Alejandro said. “I carry the same type of weight, and it doesn’t get lighter. You just learn to carry it around.”

“It’s been three years,” Luna said. “I have only adjusted because I
met Cayetano.”

“That’s good. To meet another person you love is a blessing.”

“Then why has it become a curse?”

“Sofía’s kisses still linger on my lips. Her whispers in my ear can still be heard. Her touch can still be felt on my body. The smell of her skin, the softness of her hair, I still have all those things. I’m sure you have those things, from your husband.”

“I do.”

“They won’t leave you. But I hid myself away, unable to move past Sofía’s violent death. Your grandmother delivered Paco, after shooting the nun and the nurse who were going to take our baby and give him to a God-fearing Nationalist family. The whole thing ripped my heart out. I couldn’t get past it, and I have lived my life alone with my demons. If you have found love a second time, then you should do anything you can for it.  If you deny your desires, they will hurt you. Don’t come here to hide away.”

“I like it here, I feel drawn to the place.”

“Do you know who the last owners were? The Medina family, they bought it for a summer home. They abandoned it, and
I was able to purchase it. It could have been Cayetano’s land, had he lived. Maybe that’s why it’s suitable for you here.”

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered. Maybe fate was real after all.

“I’ll let you have Escondrijo, if you want it that much, but only once I know you haven’t wasted your second chance on fixing the Luna and Cayetano curse first.”

33

Valencia, España ~ diciembre de 2009

Luna shivered in the morning winter sun. She sat in the café that was on the bottom floor of her apartment building, with the sun that streamed in the enormous window next to her. The place bustled with people going about their daily lives. Luna glanced down at her table; a cup of café con leche, a glass of orange juice, and a little chocolate pastry. Everyone needs chocolate for breakfast. She glanced her watch; 9:45. The jeweller had done a superb job, Fabrizio’s watch looked like it had never been broken in Madrid. She had stressed she needed it perfect, as if that day never happened. She didn’t want to look at its silver face and links, and remember the day she met Cayetano. Whether she liked it or not, she had to forget the man. He obviously didn’t love her as much as he had claimed to.

Luna’s eyes gazed around some of the people in the café. In the far corner was a young couple. Satchels lay at their feet, the symbol of the Universitat de València visible. They
sat across from one another, hands held over their cups of coffee. Luna knew them; she was the daughter of an older couple who lived in her building, and her boyfriend who had recently moved in. They were both studying law and wanted a career in the public sector. Luna couldn’t fathom why. The old-fashioned notion of job security may have enticed them.

There was a group of three men at the counter,
who ordered coffee, beer and toast with olive oil. They were construction workers; she had seen them at the apartment block nearby. They had whistled at Luna a number of times, and each time she had given them the international one finger salute. As they moved away to sit down, she saw Bonita, the elderly woman who lived alone on the first floor; her daily bread sat in a bag on the table as she sipped her drink. Bonita would rush over every time she saw Giacomo and Enzo, to tell Luna to dress them warm. Bonita’s husband had died nearly 50 years ago, leaving her alone and childless. She would wander the building late at night, mumbling to herself, her knitting in tow. Luna felt sorry for her, and hoped her own grief wouldn’t last that long. Bonita had told her that she hoped the same thing for her sake.

“Luna,
bon dia.”

Her friend and former work colleague,
Tomás Vega, stood there with a wide smile. She hadn’t seen him since his 40th birthday earlier in the year. Before he sat down at her table, he gestured the young girl at the counter to get him a round of everything Luna had.

“Bon dia.”
Luna smiled; now that Tomás ran a Valencian cycling team, he was eager to practice his Valencian dialect.

They kissed on both cheeks, and Tomás sat down across from her. “How are you, beautiful?”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been better.”

Tomás nodded. “Wow, I can’t believe the three year anniversary of Fabrizio’s accident is already upon us. I swear, when we’re riding, I can still hear his voice on the team radio in my car.”

Luna brought her hand to her face in an effort to hold back the tears that instantly sprung to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he implored, and reached out to her. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” Luna said with a sniff. “You think you’re over it, and then little things remind you of it all.”

“Where are the boys? At school?”

“Yeah. They have no idea that it’s the anniversary of their father’s death this week. It means nothing to them. I’m glad; that way it doesn’t hurt them.”

Tomás shook his head. His solemn face spoke of true sympathy. “I think that maybe if I had told the guys to take a week off training…”

“It would have made no difference. Fabri
zio wasn’t riding because his manager told him to. He did it because he wanted to every day. Thousands of moments lead up to that accident and we didn’t have the power to change any of them. Trust me; I have been over every one of them.”

“Killed only a few weeks before Christmas. Nothing could be crueller.”

“I don’t find much joy in Christmas, that’s for sure.” Luna sighed as the waitress brought over Tomás’ breakfast. “With no family I never did like it, but now, even less so.”

“
Will you go to Palermo for Christmas this year?”

“Yes,
in a couple of days. A few weeks in Italy will do me good. I will bury Fabrizio’s ashes on his family’s property.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“I thought so. I wanted to do it here, since he loved it so much. But his parents and sisters are all still in Sicily, so I thought he should go home to them. It’s time I did it.”

“He would appreciate that. He was such a family man.”

“He was.”

“I remember him, on the podium in Paris when he won the Tour de France, unable to wave to the fans because he had two one-year olds in his arms.”

“That photo is on the wall in the boys’ bedroom.”

“That’s nice.” Tomás took a sip of his coffee. “What did you ring me for, Luna? Anything you need, I can help you.”

“Darren told me that you have a job for me on the team.”

“He told me that you had reservations. I also saw you punch Paul in the face.”

“You did? I can understand if you didn’t want to hire me after that.”

“Actually, I told Paul to go back to England to think about his career. We will have 20 riders on our team, and I won’t waste a space on him. There are plenty of splendid Spanish riders we can hire, and Valencian locals would be even better. Good for our image.”

“Darren will still be the number one rider?”

“Yes, we need to take the best we can get, and
Darren’s the best with Fabrizio gone. If we want to win grand tours, we will do it with Darren. We are in need of another mechanic, so the job is yours, if you want it.”

“I want it.” Luna was certain of that.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I want my career back. It’s an odd life, but I enjoy it. I can’t work full time for you, 10 months a year on the road isn’t something I can do. If
Darren is the top rider on the team, he needs his own mechanic anyway. I want that job. ”

“Have you told
Darren?”

“No, he went to Australia a week ago, and I haven’t heard from him. This is my choice.”

“Luna, I would love to have you on the team with us,” Tomás said. “Marco is the team leader, and I have already spoken to him about hiring you. He is behind it. We are doing a photoshoot, the team on bikes around the main sites of the city, to use as promotion for the city tourism board. Marco said that having you there would help. After the loss of Fabrizio Merlini, Luna Montgomery is back on the team. He thinks that would be a delightful story. You in Fabrizio’s gear, at the famous sites of the city…”

“Using my husband’s fame and death to promote the team? Classy.”

“I know. I told him to fuck off.” They both smiled. “Unless you wanted to?”

“I’ll think about it.” Luna took a deep breath. Time to go back to work in pro-cycling without her husband. There was a sense of freedom in that. “I need to get my work permit renewed if I work for you next year.”

“No problem, Luis is still working as our lawyer. We can get him to sort it so you don’t have too much hassle. I know the process can be difficult for New Zealanders. What about the kids?”

“Any chance I can ride in the team car with you and put their car seats in with us? They would love it.”

“For you, anything.”

“Great. When I get back from Italy, I’ll sign a contract. New year, new start.”

“Did you ever find your grandfather? Darren told me all about it.”

“Sort of, I know that he was here in Valencia at the end of the war. He was an anarchist who was killed i
n a concentration camp when Franco took power. What happened to him after that, I may never know.”

Tomás nodded thoughtfully. “My grandfather was the same.”

“Yeah?”

“My family lived in Barcelona when the war started. They were fascists, but Barcelona was the stronghold of the Republicans. My grandfather was dragged out of the house one night and shot. My grandmother saw it, and so did my mother, though she was young. His body was carted away and dumped.
They never did find out where his body was buried. Doesn’t matter what side your family was on, you were still wronged, one way or another. When the Nationalists won the war, those who had killed my grandfather were murdered in reprisal killings. My grandmother said justice wasn’t done in that, it’s all just misery.”

“No one is innocent. They were all as bad as each other.”

“I agree, but you have to just leave that all alone. Why bring it up? We are the future of Spain, and life is hard enough now. If I hear the words ‘crisis económico’ one more time…”

“Let’s just race bikes and be happy.”

Tomás smiled. “Now that is a plan.”