Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (14 page)

“I thought this trip was strictly business… not that I’m complaining.”

“This trip does need to produce something,” Luna sighed. “I lost my job yesterday afternoon. I’m unemployed, effective immediately.”

“What? Why?”

“The boss laid off at least half of us. He blames the recession. I could see that we had fewer tourists than normal lately, and it seems there isn’t enough money to pay us anymore. In turn, the chance of getting my work visa renewed is now zero. I need to be able to prove my Spanishness.”

“Spanishness?”

“Yeah, my Spanishness.”

“I could hire you. You could be my personal assistant.”

“You have a personal assistant?”

“Yes. His name is
Hector. I am a brand, not just a person. I run my own company, which needs staff.”

“You’re a company?” she asked, and looked him up and down. “Where do you keep this staff?” she teased.

“Where you would like to hide on me?”

“Now, now, this is a children’s playground. Let’s keep it clean. No, you don’t have to hire me, but thanks for the offer.” She paused for a moment. “You’ve never had to change jobs before, have you?”

“I’ve known what I will be for my whole life. I was ready to be in the bullring from age four, so my mother tells me.”

“Is it true, what you said before, that I did something that caused your accident?”

Cayetano smiled, touched by her concern. When he sat with Luna, his leg didn’t hurt. Everyone else pitied him, or coddled him, but she didn’t. “It is my fault that I got hurt. Bullfighting is an art that requires me to draw inspiration for the skill of the performance. I require an emotional connection with the audience in order to concentrate on what I’m doing. However, I wasn’t connected, because I was fixated on you.”

“Wow… I’m not sure what has blown me away more, the way you
speak about what you do, or the fact that I just heard a man use the words ‘emotional connection’ in a sentence.”

“If I don’t sound manly, can I remind you
that I have a sword to kill an animal when I make the connection? I’m what every woman wants – I can be the man, but I can also write a poem about how sad I feel afterwards, if you like.”

“My God, you are unbelievable.”

“I thought I was charming and funny.”

Luna watched the cheeky grin on his scruffy face grow when he tried not to laugh at himself. “You are very charming,
Señor Beltrán. Passionate too, but from someone who has been called the greatest torero of his generation, I’m not surprised.”

“It’s my responsibility to keep the tradition alive in this country. The
anti-taurinos can’t be allowed to win just because they incorrectly label bullfighting a blood sport. It’s not even a sport, there is no competitive aspect.”

“See? Spoken with such passion. That must be the
‘El Valiente’ side of your personality.”

Cayetano leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his cheek against hers. “There are only two places I would let a woman call me
‘El Valiente’. Since I would never allow a woman in the ring because it would endanger her life, she would have to come with me to the only other place I like to be passionate.”

“I think I have already been there.”

Cayetano moved to bring his lips almost to hers. “You have been there,” his lips murmured against hers, “and there isn’t a day that passes when I don’t think about you.”

“But then I got you hurt,” she whispered. She looked into Cayetano’s eyes, and there was that flicker of green in the honey brown again.

“We need to get out of the sun,” he said and leaned away from her. “I can’t take the heat. You scorch me enough. I have no idea how we’re supposed to have a platonic visit to Cuenca.”

Luna laughed and looked away t
owards the kids who played together. She felt rather hot herself. Lucky she had brought the boys with her, or who knows where the afternoon would have headed. Not to the Registro Civil, that was for certain. “Come on,” she said. “We should get on with what we came to Cuenca for.”

12

Cuenca, España ~ septiembre de 2009

For all the drama and the dead-ends that Luna had faced on her search for Cayetano Ortega, the moment she got a helpful bullfighter was the moment things started to work. They made it to the Registro Civil just before they closed for the afternoon, but the information was ready, thanks to a phone call from Sofía’s office. Enchufe. It was the only thing that would get this job done. The woman at the desk, a weary looking middle-aged woman named Milagros, thought it was her lucky day when she saw Cayetano walk into her office. A few flirtatious charms and the folder appeared. Now flirting was helping to unwrap the mystery for Luna.

It was refreshing out on the streets of Cuenca in the mid-afternoon. The crowds had all headed indoors for
siesta, the restaurants and bars all full of the locals and tourists alike enjoying their lunch. The weather in Cuenca was much cooler than the fiery depths of Madrid, or the hot sea breezes of Valencia. It was a chance to wander the maze-like streets and relax. Cayetano watched Giacomo and Enzo both hold their mother’s hands and walk along the steep paths between the stone buildings. He still wasn’t sure which boy was which. “Who holds my hand?” he joked.

The boys both looked at Cayetano and giggled. “You have full hands,” Enzo commented and gestured at his cane and the folder of details from the records office.

“Do you want me to take the folder?” Luna asked him.

“No, a man provides the directions. At least let me have the time-honoured tradition of the man getting the group lost.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked. They walked along Calle de San Martín, and it was less of a path and more of a constant set of stairs on the hillside. The entire Barrio San Martín was a cluster of buildings thrown together, with winding staircases through the narrow gaps left between them. On a cane on uneven steps could spell disaster, and Luna couldn’t help. She already had to balance two five-year olds.

“Honestly,
preciosa, you worry too much,” Cayetano dismissed her. The walk from the San Pablo bridge that had brought them over the gorge from the parador to the area was not that far. “Wait,” he said and opened his folder. “This is it. San Martín 16. This is where Cayetano Ortega and Scarlett Montgomery lived.”

They all stopped in the shade of the four-storey building and looked up. It was an unassuming place; the light patchwork stone matched the cliffs of the town, as if rising from the land itself. The wooden frames of the windows suggested they had seen serious wear, but the whole thing was very innocuous. But what else could they expect? “Any idea what floor they lived on?” Luna asked. “Or is it one house?”

“No idea,” Cayetano replied. “I would say it is all one house, since it’s very narrow. Guess we will never know.” The wooden arch-shaped door looked original. Cayetano Ortega would have put his hands on there to open it not all that long ago.

“My grandparents lived here once,” Luna said to the boys. “Your great-grandfather and great-grandmother.”

“Wow, that is so old,” Giacomo said.

“Yeah, like about 100 billion years,” Enzo said.

“We aren’t that old,” Cayetano chuckled. Though, with all those stairs, he felt it. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Cayetano turned and looked at the building across the narrow path. “Number 15.”

Luna looked at the building, which was identical to number 16, except that side of the street was hard against the cliff edge. The view through its windows would have looked straight out over the Huécar gorge towards the
parador. “What is so special about number 15?”

“That is where my grandmother lived.
The house was owned by Juan Pablo Beltrán Moreno. He lived here with his wife, Isabel. Their son, Alejandro, and his wife, Sofía, and the only daughter of the family, Luna Beltrán Caño, also lived there.”

“You’re
kidding! Did our families live across the lane from each other? That’s astonishing!”

“I prefer to think it’s a sign.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know yet. But everything happens for a reason.”

“They could have wandered right by each other. They would have known each other. Who knows… if they were similar ages then they could have been friends… it’s almost scary really.”

“I wish Papá was here right now. He never talks about his mother. He has never been here. He’s missing out on so much.”

“Maybe you can bring him one day. What happened to Alejandro? Is he the owner of the building now?”

“I have no idea. Those details aren’t listed here, but we could probably find out. I only found out that I have a great-uncle a few weeks ago. I will ask Papá, but he doesn’t like to talk about anyone.”

“Why not?” Luna asked. She looked at the children, who kicked a stone back and forward to each other, oblivious to the conversation.

“I don’t know. Something happened
here, and I don’t know what just yet.”

They stood in the silence of the shaded street. It was almost eerie. This street would have been full of life once. Children would have played. Women would have chatted. Men would have met after work. The end of the road stopped with the drop into the valley. The heavy walls held secrets, but they were locked behind the doors that surrounded them. “No one lives here now, do they?” Luna asked. She stepped forward to the window at number 16 and tried to peer inside.
It appeared that the building was derelict, with a thick layer of dust over everything. “I would love to get inside. Who knows how long it’s been shut up.”

Cayetano stepped across the cobbled path and peered into the window of number 15. He couldn’t see anything either.
There appeared to be a stove against the wall, but nothing else. “We need to get in there. I will get Sofía to ring and find out who the owner is.”

“These buildings shouldn’t be left to disintegrate.”

“The council probably watches over them, in keeping with the world heritage listing that the town has. But still, who knows… maybe the owners will let us inside. We will have to come back.”

“We certainly will,” Luna said and peered in again. She turned around to see Cayetano grimace. “Should we go and sit down somewhere? There was a bar just up around the corner.”

“You are such a mother.”

“Yep, our Mummy,” Enzo added.

“She does all the Mummy stuff,” Giacomo added. “Like caring for us and being lovely.”

“You have these children well-trained,” Cayetano joked, and the group turned back into the direction of the top of the street. “They say all the right things.”

“Now Mummy needs someone to look after her so she doesn’t cry all night long,” Enzo said.

Luna shut her eyes. Kids. Never could keep their mouths shut. She opened her eyes and tried to pretend it never happened. “Would you boys like some lunch?”

“Yay!” they both cheered and started up the stairs of the narrow lane again.

“Luna…” Cayetano began.

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Please, just don’t ask.” Some pain needed to remain private.

It was only a short walk to the bar, the Libertad, on the corner of the street. From there it was only another short stroll to Plaza Mayor and the cathedral, the next stop. The foursome sat outside, to enjoy a lunch of the boys’ choosing – tortilla bocadillos and chocolate milkshakes. Luna watched Cayetano in his seat; he was almost back to his old self. He sat straight back, his posture was perfect. His confidence had returned to him. She was happy to see it, because to see him broken was such a shame. He was an interesting and proud man. He possessed a gentility about him that no longer existed in others. It was like there was contemporary sophistication on the outside, but inside was still a very traditional gentleman. She certainly had her hands full with this torero. He stared at the table, but his mind was elsewhere. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he half-smiled. “Just work.”

“Do you have to fight again soon?”

“I got an offer
to make my comeback after injury already. In Valencia, for Las Fallas in March.”

“Wow, that is a big one,” Luna said with raised eyebrows. “Fallas means everything to Valencia. It will be an honour to perform.”

“Maybe put all these retirement rumours to rest. I would rather die doing what I love than give up.”

“Like Daddy,” Enzo said innocently. “He died riding his bike.”

“Díos mio, Luna, I’m sorry,” Cayetano spluttered. The sudden pain in his chest outweighed the pain brought on by any bull horn. His panic-stricken eyes looked at the two boys that sat either side of him at the table. They seemed totally unfazed.

“It’s al
l right,” Luna said with a deep breath.

Cayetano could see that it wasn’t al
l right. In quiet moments, he could see that Luna’s heart was fragile. She was as delicate as an eggshell that might crack if handled incorrectly. He couldn’t think of the right words for this one.

“It all means nothing to the kids. The boys don’t know their father. They were too young to know what was going on. I’m both deva
stated and grateful for it. At least they don’t have to be hurt because of it… but they have missed out on a father. Fabrizio was a wonderful man.” She paused for a moment. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because it’s true?” Cayetano offered.

Luna smiled and watched the kids, engaged in their own conversation again. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “It is true. You should have seen his face the day that the boys were born. He had two sons, and he was so proud. Then he realised they had red hair… certainly not normal for Italian babies, but he loved it.”

“Where does it come from?”

“My father told me that his mother, Scarlett, had red hair. She would have stood out here in Cuenca with red curls.”

“It’s nice. They wear a bit of fiery family tradition.”

“Cayetano Beltrán?”

Cayetano turned to the man who had appeared next to the table and squinted to take a look at him.
“¿Sí?”

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“After years of brutally killing animals for entertainment, how does it feel to get what you deserve?”

Cayetano rolled his eyes. A great time for an anti-taurino to come and hassle him. He never even saw Luna reach for her glass of water before she threw it on the guy. The chilled liquid landed squarely on the front of his beige trousers, and he yelped.

“Ha-ha,” Enzo said. “It looks as if that man wet his pants!”

“Puta. Bitch,” the man spat at Luna and tried, in vain, to wipe his pants. It did look as if he had pissed himself, and Luna had planned it that way.

Cayetano rose from his seat in an instant and towered over the man. He looked straight down on the guy, who took a few steps back. He knew how a bull felt now. Cayetano didn’t need to say anything to make his intentions clear – the guy turned and left the table at a brisk pace, and only once dared to glance over his shoulder at the angry
torero he had left behind. The thunderous scowl on Cayetano’s face would have scared the sun itself away had he looked up at it. When he turned back to the group, he still had his shoulders back, his chest out. “I’m very sorry,” he implored.

“Don’t be,” Luna said.

“That was really funny, Mummy. You got him,” Enzo said.

“And Cayetano scared him away,” Giacomo giggled.

“Come on, boys,” Luna said to them. “Let’s carry on our day.”

They started up the hill along the paths in Plaza Mayor toward the gothic cathedral, the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Gracia. “I am sorry about that,” Cayetano said while he limped along on his cane, and hoped that the children weren’t listening. “Unfortunately, I do have to hear the opinions of those who hate bullfighting sometimes. Most don’t have the guts to say anything, but every now and then I get an idiot who can’t help himself.”

“It’s okay, really,” Luna replied. “Fabrizio was the same. Though his were mostly over-enthusiastic female fans.”

“I have those, you know,” Cayetano said in an effort to talk himself up.

“Oh, do you now?”

“I rather like it.”

“I’m sure you do, you cheeky bastard,” she muttered with a smile.

“None from them ever compare to you.”

“Keep it clean, we are just friends, remember?” She gestured at the boys, who walked in front of them, and Cayetano saluted back.

Luna helped Cayetano and the twins up the big stone steps to the entrance to the cathedral, and they stepped through the huge iron doors inside the archway of the white stone façade. The cool of the building washed over them; as it did its peacefulness. It had only just opened again after siesta, and was empty, except for the young women who were the staff at the entrance way.

“You must be very quiet in here, boys,” Cayetano whispered. “There are ghosts in here, and you don’t want to disturb them.”

“Ghosts?” Enzo asked, instantly convinced.

“It could be anyone. This building has been here for over 700 years. You never know who could be lurking. Look at me back at home, I wa
s just having a beer, and I was struck by an angel. Who knows what could happen in here?” He smiled and watched the boys’ eyes widen. “And also, whoever behaves gets more lollipops at the end of the trip.”