A Love for Rebecca (27 page)

“He’s right,” Enric was saying a while later, over soup for lunch. “As much as it pains me to admit.”

“OK, it was a farce of a marriage. But Sofi was born of it, and she’s real. She was conceived in holy matrimony, blessed by—”

“Oh, Sis, leave it alone. You were pressured to get married by our mother and forced by that imbecile’s blackmail. Now you can fix it and remove all of God’s responsibility for keeping you united for all eternity.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Pablo said. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I know a good lawyer who specializes in canon law, with years of experience. If Mario initiates the process, maybe you should declare grounds. It can be a unilateral action—that is, you aren’t obligated to have a part in the proceedings. But it would be better if you did. Besides, everything is done confidentially, there’s no public hearing, and it’s usually resolved in a couple of years.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility they’ll grant the annulment?”

“Getting married under pressure, fear, or coercion are normal grounds for annulment for a Catholic marriage,” Enric said.

Rebecca breathed deeply. “OK, I’ll do it. I’ll make a statement if it’s necessary.”

The other unexpected occurrence that month had to do with Lola. Six months earlier, she’d landed a job with a Spanish-language newspaper in Boston and had moved to the States to fulfill her dream of being a journalist. Rebecca wasn’t surprised by her friend’s decision; it was foreseeable, given their holiday conversations. Nor was it surprising that Rory began traveling to Boston whenever he was able to get away for two or three days. The arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t impossible either.

At Christmastime, the day before leaving for Brussels to take Sofi to her father, Rebecca got a phone call from Berta. “Lola left Rory,” Berta informed her.

“What?”

“She called at three in the morning, forgetting about the time difference; you know how she is. She asked me to tell you. She didn’t want to burden you, since you have your own problems.”

“I don’t have any problems,” Rebecca protested.

“I feel so bad for him. He spent four months crossing the ocean to see her, and the idiot has an affair with her editor.”

Rebecca couldn’t believe it. “Seriously?”

“She says she’s fallen in love with the guy, some sketchy Argentinian. She didn’t use that word, but it’s obvious. He’s ten years older, has been married three times, and has four kids from his three wives.”

“Oh, God. Poor Rory.”

“As far as everything else goes, she’s thrilled with her new job. She gets to travel around the States, reporting news of interest to the Hispanic community.”

“I hope it’s all worth it.”

“Rory sure didn’t deserve it, but that’s life. It looks like the Scottish boys lose again.”

“Berta!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just that Lola’s call freaked me out. I know it was different with you.”

“Completely different!”

“I’m really sorry.”

“OK.”

“And how are things with you? We haven’t talked in ages.”

“Matt and I broke up, and Mario moved to Brussels for a new job, which means I have to take Sophie there this Christmas. And to top it all off, the idiot has requested an annulment.”

Berta got lost in the rapid update. “Wait, wait, wait. Start over. Wow, we really should talk more. Of course, I never have anything going on worth talking about
 . . .
”

The next day, Rebecca took Sofi to Brussels. They would spend three days together doing tourist things before Rebecca returned to Barcelona. Three days just for them. The elegant city had a decidedly Parisian air. The weather was cold and windy, but they didn’t let it slow them down. They made the rounds of the comic-strip museum, the chocolate museum, the toy museum, and more.

On the appointed day, Mario appeared, holding hands with a woman. Unexpectedly, Rebecca felt sorry for her, even though she hadn’t forgotten that the woman had been seeing Mario while he was still married. But Rebecca wasn’t bitter; her marital life had by then already become nonexistent. Julia looked about forty. She was a blonde, not so tall, and still quite slender. Her brown eyes looked happy, and her mouth wore a perpetual smile. If she was half as pleasant as she looked, Mario was a lucky man. Julia’s affectionate manner with her daughter was enough to lessen Rebecca’s anxiety when the time came to leave her with them.

UNEXPECTED NEWS

Barcelona

February 19, 2014

The most tedious aspect of Rebecca’s job was correcting exams. It was monotonous and repetitive, and she never felt it was an effective way to evaluate what a student had learned. She really couldn’t complain—she loved her job. But at that moment her eyes needed a rest. The sound of her phone ringing provided the perfect excuse.

Her father’s picture popped up on the screen.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Sweetheart, where are you?”

“At home, grading exams. Why?”

“I need to see you. Can you come to the office?”

“Is something wrong?”

Her father didn’t answer immediately, and Rebecca was afraid they’d been cut off.

“Daddy, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Can you come?”

“I have to pick Sofi up in an hour. She’s at a friend’s house.”

“Fine, get her and then come here.”

“You’re not going to tell me what it’s about?”

“Don’t be so impatient.”

“OK, I’ll see you then.”

Sofi came out to meet her mother with her face decorated in bright colors and glitter. “Where are we going?” the little girl asked when she realized they weren’t taking the usual way home.

“To Grandpa’s office. Do you want to see it?”

“Yes! Will Uncle Enric and Uncle Pablo be there?”

“Maybe, but I won’t let them give you a single piece of candy. They spoil you.”

Sofi scrunched up her face at that.

Enric greeted them first. He picked Sofi up and threw her in the air. Then he gave her a kiss that echoed throughout the reception area. “You got sparkles all over my face,” he protested. The little girl laughed. “Look what I have in my pocket.”

Sofi looked to her mother.

“No sweets!”

Víctor came out of his office, along with Pablo.

“Can you two take her to get a treat?” he said, going over to Enric and taking the girl in his arms to give her a kiss. When he saw that her face was full of little sparkles, he kissed her on the head.

“You too, Daddy? She eats too many sweets as it is. I should charge her dental bills to your practice.”

“Just for today,” Víctor warned Sofi. “And remember to brush those little mouse teeth of yours really well.”

“I don’t have mouse teeth,” Sofi complained.

Before they left, Rebecca gave her brother an inquisitive look. He shrugged. She was very curious.

“What’s up, Daddy?” she asked when they were alone.

“Here, let’s go into my office.”

Her father’s new office was more welcoming than the previous one. It was simple, less ostentatious, and she felt comfortable as soon as she stepped in. The new law firm had done well from the start. Large-scale international negotiations may not have been within their reach, but they didn’t need them. Víctor Bassols had an impeccable reputation, and he had managed a dignified separation from Caralt without damage to it. In Barcelona business circles, he was known as a fair man with a thorough understanding of financial matters.

He took an envelope out of the drawer and placed it on his desk. “Please, sit down.”

“Do you want me to make out a will or something?” she asked in amusement.

“No, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get that in order. It doesn’t matter how old you are; a good lawyer will always advise that you have your will up to date.”

“It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.”

“Well, relax,” he said. “It’s not about that.”

“So what is it?”

“Rebecca, what was the name of the young man you met in Scotland?”

The sudden query took her breath away. “Why do you ask?”

“Answer the question, honey.”

“Kenzie.”

“Kenzie what?”

“MacLeod.”

“Is this him?” he asked, taking out a photo.

Disconcerted, she felt a sudden lump in her throat. He prompted her to take the photo. She held her breath as she took it and looked at it. It was Kenzie. His hair was shorter, and he was wearing winter clothes, but she recognized him instantly. The picture was taken in Beauly, next to the Bank of Scotland.

She sat back in her chair. “Yes,” she whispered, “it’s him. Where did you get it?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Víctor ignored her comment and removed a document from the envelope. Then he began to read:

“Kenzie Connor MacLeod, son of William MacLeod and Elisabeth Hay, born in Inverness the sixteenth of September, 1980. Married to Mary Margaret Campbell the sixth of November, 2009. No children.”

Rebecca jumped up and snatched the paper from his hands. “How did you get this?”

“I’m a lawyer, remember?”

She sat down again, suddenly weak in the knees.

Her father pulled another document from the envelope.

“Daddy, I don’t want to know any more. I don’t know why you’re showing me this.”

“Perhaps this will interest you,” he said, waving the paper in her direction.

Rebecca took the document. She skimmed it and raised her eyes, incredulous and confused, to meet his.

“A petition for divorce?”

“A photocopy, and don’t ask me how I got it.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Well, he filed the petition six months ago; it’s a contested divorce.”

“What does that mean?”

“That one of the parties doesn’t agree, probably the respondent. I have some reports here from lawyers regarding court appearances, but there’s still no verdict. According to the reports, however, it’s just a matter of time.”

He stopped talking. Rebecca was formulating a thousand questions in her head. Her father saw her confusion and added, “Look, honey, ever since you and Mario divorced, I can’t help but feel responsible for everything you’ve gone through. If I’d been more attentive to you, perhaps
 . . .
Well, the thing is, a few months ago I decided to investigate. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but this is what I found, and you have a right to know. From now on, your decisions are yours alone.”

In the bathtub that evening, Sofi played with suds and chattered about the afternoon she’d spent with her friend Anne. But her mother hardly heard a word. All she could think about was the envelope she’d left on her bed in the middle of the pile of exams yet to be graded.

After bath time, Rebecca made dinner while Sofi entertained herself coloring and listening to her favorite children’s CD. They both knew all the songs by heart and sang along before supper.

Once Sofi was sleeping, Rebecca returned to the kitchen and cleared the table, her heart pounding. Then she went to her room and picked up the exams scattered on the bed. Putting them in a stack, she told herself the children could wait one more day to find out their grades.

The first thing she did was take out the photo of Kenzie. Now she could take her time looking at it, analyzing every inch in detail. His face was slightly blurry, and she wished she could see his mouth and the expression of his eyes more clearly. She could hardly believe she was holding a photo of him, after nearly eight years.

Kenzie’s youthful appearance had given way to that of a man. But if she liked looking at him before, the attraction she felt now was unbearable. She knew her feelings for him had not changed. In the years since returning from Scotland, she’d held them back so they wouldn’t destroy her. But her love for Kenzie was as strong and passionate as ever.

“Kenzie Connor,” she said aloud. She hadn’t even known he had a middle name, but she liked how it sounded when she said it.

Her heart was still pounding. She tried to calm herself down by reflecting on her own appearance. She’d changed more than he had. She didn’t work out much and still hadn’t lost all the weight she’d gained during pregnancy. She wondered what he would think if he saw her now.

Anxiously, she pushed that thought aside and pulled out the documents. There were two pages. One had the basic facts her father had read, including that his address was still on Croyard Road, and on the other was the date of his petition for divorce and the names of both spouses. Rebecca felt guilty for a moment, as if she were snooping. But there was nothing on earth that could have kept her from looking.

Opening the drawer of her night table, Rebecca took out a worn book:
The Bridges of Madison County
. She opened it to the page she knew held another photo. She hadn’t looked at it for some time, a restriction she’d imposed on herself. It was in bad shape after having been torn up, put back together, and mounted on a piece of construction paper. She thought about the dance where their eyes had first met, and it brought back the feelings that had flooded her the first moment she saw him. Her skin tingled with the memory of his first touch.

She took the new photo and placed it in the book with the other one. She fell asleep that night rubbing her silver band.

Over the next several days, she had a hard time concentrating. The school days dragged on with her mind mostly elsewhere. Her work responsibilities felt like Sisyphean tasks. Every time she finished one, the next one materialized, like a boulder she had to push up a steep hill again. Thus her days passed.

“How long have you known?” Enric asked.

“Two weeks.”

“So that’s what you and Dad were up to. And you say he gave you the information?”

“Is that odd?”

“Well, he must have known it was important to you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have done so.”

Across the room, Pablo was entertaining Sofi by playing a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Rebecca had invited them to lunch. She couldn’t take one more day without talking to someone about her father’s findings. Her brother was the best person to talk to because she didn’t want to say anything to her friends yet, especially not over the phone.

“I had no idea your romance in Scotland meant so much to you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything, and your dislike for Mario would have been out of control.”

“True, but I’m sure we could’ve done something about it.”

Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ears and looked sharply at her brother. “I don’t want to talk about the past, Enric. I realize now that things might have worked out differently, but for once I want to look to the future without being burdened by the past.”