Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (37 page)

37

Valencia, España ~ diciembre de 2009

Luna wasn’t sure what she
had hoped for when she arrived home to the sunny shores of Valencia. The house was as she left it, empty and lonely. Darren had phoned a few times, to report that he was on his way back to Spain. Luna had put her suitcase in her room and exited quickly – she could swear that she could smell Cayetano on the sheets on her bed. They needed to be washed right away. But there was one surprise; a package had arrived for her, and the portero had kept it for her until they returned. Expressed couriered from Madrid by Paco Beltrán. Could be anything.

Late into the evening, Luna sat down with her package. How did Paco even know her address? Cayetano knew, obviously, so it was safe to assume the men were speaking again. At least that harm had been undone. She opened the box and pulled out a short note –

Dear Luna,

I have enclosed the letters written by Scarlett Montgomery to my mother. We felt you should read them first. Also, enclosed is one of my
mother’s diaries, which I never had the courage to read. I never kept them in the chest, so that is why you haven’t seen them before. Maybe these will help you put some of the pieces of your family together. If you find it in your heart to forgive my idiota son for what he has done, return the diary to him. If we do not see it again, we will know the secrets are safe with you.

Kind regards

Paco Beltrán Caño

Luna looked at the treasure before her. The bundle of letters from Scarlett she had seen in the chest. The diary was a new thing, and it could house secrets. With care, she slipped the old ribbon from the pile, to free the mystery. This was her grandmother writing to Cayetano’s grandmother. She briefly considered whether Paco knew the truth about his parentage now, but brushed it aside. Luna Beltrán had been his adoptive mother, and maybe that was all that mattered. She picked up the first letter, eager to all read 50 or so.

14 July 1945

My dear Luna,

I know this letter may come as a surprise. We have not seen one another for six years now. It is almost impossible to get information out of España, especially something as detailed as your address. I sincerely hope this letter finds you well.

Nothing I could write will ever right any of the wrongs that have been committed between us all. I do worry for you. I feel guilty for being here, safe and well with my son, Alexander. I do not know what life you have come to live. I do not know what has become of the baby. Is his name Paco? I have never heard from Ale or Caya. I try, with all my might, to believe they are safe. If anyone can save themselves, it is them.

I told myself that you would be well, because a smart woman like yourself would know how to take care in a difficult world. But alas, I sit in bed at night, and am haunted of the news we hear from España, and indeed from all of Europe during the war. I would have come back, but I worried for the safety of my son. I have no help with the boy. I am on my own. My family turned their backs on me.

Alexander is about to turn six and is such a delight. I have many regrets from España, but he is not one. Paco must be very similar to my Alex. If only they could meet.

If you ever need anything, please contact me on the address on the envelope.

Forever your friend,

Scarlett Montgomery

Luna read the note a few times; obviously the first in the series of letters. She flicked through the pile; they carried on for years. Luna had died in 1960, and the letters stopped soon after. Luna picked up the last in the pile.

10 November 1960

Dearest Paco,

Thank you for your letter. I will admit that my heart jumped in my ches
t when I received the mail. I have been writing to your mother for 15 years and have never received a reply. It is heartening to know that she received the letters. But your news of your dear mother’s passing fills me with enormous sadness. If your mother has kept my letters, please read them. Luna and I shared a moment in our lives that we could not forget, whether we wanted to or not. Your mother is one of the strongest women I have ever known, to have taken care of you as she has. I search constantly for news on life in Madrid and have seen your name several times. I see that you are a young bullfighter. Alejandro and Cayetano would be so proud of you.

Please remember that I am here, and if you ever wish to write to me, I would love to hear from you. Your mother can never be replaced, but as a friend of your family, if you ever need a moment in time filled with memories, perhaps I can help. Thank you for taking the time to inform me of your sad news. Luna will forever be in my heart.

Deepest sympathises,

Scarlett Montgomery

Paco had always known who Scarlett Montgomery was. The wicked redhead. What had his mother said about her? Surely, somewhere deep in her soul, Luna had forgiven Scarlett. The woman had gone to considerable lengths over many years to beg forgiveness. If Luna kept the letters, that meant something.

Luna read every letter; she read
so much about the early life of her own father, something she never thought she would be able to learn.  Tiny pockets of history were wrapped up in the letters, and she could swear she could almost feel her father’s comforting presence as she read about him, and his mother’s life, through the 1940’s and 1950’s. What would Alex have made of all this? Had he ever wanted to know his father? Scarlett had clearly spared him all the gruesome details of her fateful time with the man.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when Luna completed the letters, but now her mind was more awake than ever.
Next was Luna Beltrán’s diary. It must have been difficult for Paco to have parted with such a special item. How could she not return it? The man was cunning; the book arriving home would be a sign that Cayetano was forgiven. Luna Beltrán’s reluctance to forgive Cayetano Ortega hurt so many people over such a long period of time. Was she prepared to make the same mistake 70 years later?

Maybe Luna Beltrán had the answer. She opened the old leather bound book, and began to read the carefully penned Spanish. Pleasure was as fragile as glass, but maybe held with care, love could live forever. This diary surely knew that.

A man’s sins cannot be warmed up once you have let them cool...

38

Valencia,
España ~ marzo de 1939

Luna watched Scarlett push through the crowd ahead of her. They moved towards the ship, which only had one entry ramp. All they had to do was get on, and they might be safe. She looked back; there was no sight of Cayetano or Alejandro. What if they didn’t come? What if they weren’t coming at all? “Scarlett.”

The tall redhead turned around. “What?”

“Is this the right thing to do?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

Luna glanced down at the baby. “Do you want to leave?”

“It’s not about wanting, Luna. I’m listed as an officer in the Republican army, but I came to España to represent the Spanish Medical Aid Committee, and if they want me back in Nueva Zelanda, it’s my responsibility to go home. The reality is that there’s no place for me here.”

“Why did you ever come?”

Scarlett sighed and watched Mark gesture to her through the crowd. “Because I knew there would be people, people like you, who would be caught in a war being fought out for the desires of others. They claim that this is a battle for all of España, but it’s not. It doesn’t matter who wins the war, everyone is still a loser. Will anything change tomorrow when Franco's forces stake their claim on Valencia? Will life in España be fair? Of course not. I have done all that I can.”

“You give up.”

“I haven’t given up on España, I have been beaten back by the flames that rage here. Maybe I could come back, maybe under another name… who knows. War is imminent through all of Europe, so who knows what comes next.”

“You have a baby now.”

“Then maybe it’s best I do disappear. I’m sorry for what I’ve done here, but I won’t let a baby be blamed for the sins of its mother.”

“No,” Luna shook her head, “that’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. Luna, why is this so hard for you?”

“Caya and Ale aren’t coming, are they?”

“I really don’t know the answer to that.” Scarlett paused for a moment. “You’re not coming, either, are you?”

Luna turned back and looked at the view back toward the clock tower where she had left Alejandro and Cayetano behind, but didn’t say anything.

“Luna, can you live with yourself if you don’t see Cayetano again?”

“No, I can’t.”

Scarlett pulled her bag off her back and pulled it open, to fetch her passport and a few papers she had with it. “Here.” She handed her the bag. “Here is all the money I have, and milk for the baby. Take it and go. I know that’s what you stopped me for, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Luna took her bag in one hand and awkwardly slipped it over one shoulder. “I can’t take your money.”

“Then keep it for the baby, because I know you won’t hand him over to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I have no idea. I have never even been in a city before.”

“Okay, go back to where we parked the truck by the church and stay there. Either one or both of the men will end up there, for sure. And take the chest with you. I know Alejandro’s money is in there. I can’t believe he worked for all that time, only to leave it behind. The man is crazy.”

“
That’s why I can’t let him make decisions for the baby.”

“If, for any reason, you don’t find the guys, there’s a building in town, the Pelayo trinquet. It’s a pelota court that the trade union took over. There is a guy there, his name is Alvaro. Tell him that I sent you, and that you need a place to stay. He’s a nice guy; we have stayed at his home before. He also has a phone, have you ever used one?”

“No.”

“I don’t know what to suggest… the train line to Madrid is damaged, the roads
are blocked… who knows what’s going to happen now. Blend in, any way you can. No one knows you here; say you are a religious conservative that has come out of hiding, or something. Put those rosary beads of yours to good use. A woman and her baby will be okay. You have money.”

“Maybe I could go to Madrid and find Papá. I know the address of where he is staying… where Ignacio and his family are hiding…”

“Your father is not the saint you think he is, Luna. He is living with a young woman, in Ignacio’s family home. He took it for himself, since they are fascists trapped in the Republican zone. I have no idea why your father didn’t just shoot them. I can only assume he is no real anarchist at all. Your father makes no sense to me. He doesn’t care about the Republican cause; he only cares about squeezing money out of once-wealthy conservative landowners, like the Reyes family, who are now trapped in Madrid. But now that the Nationalists have won, the Reyes family can stop hiding. Your father will probably be killed by the time you get there.”

“Then let’s hope I find Alejandro and Cayetano.”

“You will be safe with them. But do me one favour.”

“After all you have done?”

Scarlett pursed her lips for a moment. “One day, when you and Cayetano have a large family and are blissfully happy, and your babies are grown, tell the children they have a sibling in Nueva Zelanda. Please. I will never contact you again, if that is what you want, but don’t deny them the truth of what happened here. But remember, a man’s sins cannot be warmed up once you have let them cool.”

Luna nodded and took a deep breath. “Adios, Scarlett.”

Scarlett nodded once and turned away, and edged through the busy crowd towards the ship. Luna stood on the spot and watched her disappear. Now it was too late to change her mind. Baby Paco started to cry, and Luna was ready to do the same. Get the chest, Scarlett said. She needed to go back.

Luna hurried back to the
broken building, and straight to Antonio, to find the man at his desk. He looked even more miserable than the first time she met him. “I need my chest.”

“You just missed Cayetano,” Antonio said. “He left a note, and asked me to get it on
to the ship.”

“For me, or Scarlett?”

“For you.”

Luna took the piece of paper from Antonio’s sweaty hand. Cayetano loved her. He promised to find her. He was the illegitimate
son of the King in exile, and that is where the ring had come from. She had to find him.

With n
othing more than a quick thank you to Antonio, Luna left the clock tower, baby in one arm, and pulled the heavy chest with the other. The short walk from the port to the church seemed so far while juggling the two. She was happy to see the vehicle still there, parked on the small alley off the main port road. She pulled the back door open and put baby Paco down, much to his annoyance. “I’m sorry, Paco,” she said while she loaded the heavy chest into the back of the truck, and pushed it in. “I’ll give you some milk.”

Luna opened the bag that Scarlett had given her, surprised to see how much m
oney was in there. She had never personally had more than a few pesetas in her life, and now here was more than she ever hoped to have. She didn’t dare wonder where it all came from. She pulled out the milk and the bottle. It was dirty, but she had no way of washing it, and pouring the tinned milk into the bottle was a challenge. But the basic equipment was all she had for the baby.

She sat on the back of t
he truck to feed the child, and watched the people pass by out on the main road. Her heart pounded. She wasn’t afraid to admit it; she was scared. She was young and naive. The girl from the country was suddenly on her own in the city, with a baby. But if Scarlett could travel across the world in search of adventure, then Luna could see herself through the times that would come. If nothing else, she had the truck to sleep in.

“Luna! What you are doing here?”

There stood Cayetano. He was a mess, his clothes pulled and torn, and breathing heavily, like he had just been in a fight. Luna wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I’m not going without you… and Ale. Where is he?”

“You should have got on the ship! Where is Scarlett?”

“She got on board. I saw her. But I’m not going. I can’t. And baby Paco isn’t either. Scarlett offered to take him, but he belongs here with us.”

“Do you have any idea ho
w many people climbed the Pyrenees in the cold winter to try and escape this place? Or the untold thousands of people stranded at ports down the coast who want to get away? This was your chance!”

“I can’t go without you!” Luna put the now happy infant down on the truck again, cushioned from the cold metal by his blanket. “I got your note from Antonio.”

Cayetano swallowed hard. “I guess you read it?”

“Now I know who you are. You weren’t going to get on board, were you? You were going to leave me.”

“I thought you didn’t love me.”

“I do.” Luna’s deep brown eyes let a few precious tears go.

“You forgive me for what I’ve done?”

“I don’t care what you’ve done.”

In the shade of the burned and damaged church, Cayetano pulled her into his arms, and rewarded her courage and forgiveness with a tender kiss. It was all it took to tell her that she had made the right choice. That tiny moment, tucked away from the sense of worry and panic that crackled in the Valencian air, Luna knew she had made the right choice not to get on the ship with Scarlett. His body was warm against her, but also stiff, as if he were on guard.

“Did something happen to you?” she asked.

“I found Alejandro, and he punched me. I tried to stop him from running, but we ended up fighting. He is drunk and consumed with grief. It does strange things to a man.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. But we have the truck and he doesn’t. I bet anything he will go back to Sofía.”

“But that’s miles, especially on foot.”

“Then let’s get this baby in the front of the truck, and hope we have enough fuel to get there ourselves, and we find him. If we are going to survive this, we need to stick together.”

“We can do this.”

“Of course, la chispa, of course we can.”