Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (38 page)

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 cath
edral 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 fit
ted 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,” L
una 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. Cay
etano 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?”