Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (36 page)

“Luna Beltrán’s brother. Papá, do you know what happened to your uncle Alejandro?”

“No. Mamá never knew what happened to him. She said it was his deci
sion to disappear from her life,” Paco said.

“She kept photos of him, didn’t she? Photos, letters, little bits and pieces. He was the one who loved bullfighting, the one who prompted her to push you into the art of bullfighting.”

“Caya, I don’t care. Yes, my family were left-wingers. I have lived my life not believing in the same things that my family did. I have had a happy life with the people I surrounded myself with. I met your mother, and yes, the Morales family are a strong conservative family, and I didn’t care. It’s as your abuelo told you, it’s all old grievances. None of this matters.”

“The bitterness in Papí’s voice is still there when says that he thinks the
rojos all deserved to be shot.”

“And I won’t change my opinion!” José cried. “History only favours the winner, Caya. Stick with the winners,
it’s who we are.”

“Alejandro Beltrán is still alive,”
Cayetano said lightheartedly, and looked out the window. “He lives just outside Valencia. He and Luna have been spending quite a lot of time together.”

Paco had gone pale. Very pale. “How can you be sure?”

“They have been chatting. Alejandro has taken quite a shine to her. Cayetano Ortega and Scarlett Montgomery were his best friends. The man has lived a terribly lonely life, far from home, and his son.”

“Who is his son?” José asked.

“He sits at the desk here. Paco Beltrán is the son of Alejandro Beltrán, an anarchist supporter from Cuenca, and Sofía Perez, a young nurse. They were married in a revolutionary wedding, not even a marriage sanctioned by the church or the State, but instead by the unions. And you thought my civil wedding to María was a slap in the face of Catholicism!”

“Paco?” José asked. “Is that true?”

“No, Luna was my mother.”

“You know Alejandro and Sofía had a child. You said the baby died,” Cayetano said.

“Mamá told me that the baby died.”

“You are the baby,” Cayetano told his father. “Alejandro named you Paco. He has been reading about you in the paper ever since,
he watched you in favour with the political parties that tried to kill him, who killed his father, and who murdered his best friend, Cayetano Ortega. Whether we like it or not, there is a political hangover in this country. Those with crazy right-wing opinions still make their presence known.” Cayetano looked at his grandfather. “I have a feeling one of them is sitting across the room.”

“Franco saved us,” José said. “I will never apologise for my support to the man. Socialist ideals won’t be forced on me by some downtrodden, working class fanatics.” He stood up from his seat and left the office, not another word said.

Cayetano and Paco sat eye to eye for a moment. “What I don’t understand, is that for the last 40 years, we never had these conversations. I have never considered us political,” Cayetano said.

“We’re Spanish; were all political.”

“But we live with a Francoist.”

“José can believe whatever he wants.”

“What do you believe, Papá?”

“I believe there are no innocent or honest parties where politics are concerned.”

“That we can all agree on,” Cayetano scoffed.

“Caya, I left all this behind when my mother died. She left me a lot of money, money she had got from Ignacio. Having money allowed me to make decisions for myself. It gave me choices. Many here were starving, but I was able to pursue a career in fighting bulls. This put me in the path of the conservatives, the wealthy right-wingers who controlled the country. The middle classes and the rich were happy. It was easy to blend in and get by. I had no allegiance to anyone; it was
only when I met your mother that I was considered right-wing also. But all I have ever done is get by. I won’t form a political opinion based on a war that happened before my time. I make my own decisions, just like my mother did.”

“Your life hasn’t been as cosy as you claim, has it?”

“I grew up watching unrestrained vengeances being carried out. I decided that I wouldn’t take sides.”

“Is that possible?”

“No. But I loved your mother, and that drove most of my life’s decisions. I make no apologies for that.”

“I want my life’s decisions
to be based on being able to be with Luna, Papá. You and I aren’t that different.”

Paco paused. “You have fallen in love with a foreigner, maybe you are the lucky one.” He watched Cayetano smile. “Don’t ever tell your mother, but the left-wing candidates always get my vote. I like the ideas of freedom and of the
State and the church being separate.”

“Yet you sit in church every week with Mamá and her parents.”

Paco shrugged. “Women. What can you do?”

Ca
yetano nodded in agreement. “I know all of this is irrelevant. I have opened a can of worms, and for nothing, none of this has anything to do with me and Luna.”

“Well, if she is telling the truth, and I doubt she has a reason to lie, then you are not related to her.”

“How do you feel about this?”

“I have nothing against Luna personally, I don’t know her.”

“I mean, how do you feel about Alejandro being your father, and Sofía being your mother?”

“Luna Beltrán was my mother as far as I’m concerned. We lived a lonely existence together. None of that can be changed. But I don’t want to know Alejandro Beltrán, if that’s what you’re getting at. The past can stay buried.”

“How did you keep all this a secret from me all this time?”

“Do you feel better for knowing the truth?”

“No!” Cayetano cried.

“There you have it. It’s ugly. I don’t condone your grandfather’s behaviour, but I can’t change it either. He had already given up that life for country living when I met him.”

“Does his wife know he’s a rapist? Does Mamá know that her father is a murderer?”

“No,
and it needs to stay that way. Can you see why I tell you to not dig into your family’s history?”

“It does make sense now.”

“It wasn’t about Luna, Caya. Never. She wasn’t the problem; she simply woke you up to things that we were lying about.”

“I’ve done something terrible, Papá.”

“What? Besides enflaming your psychotic grandfather?”

“María is pregnant.”

Paco’s face dropped. “What? When? How?”

“How? The usual way. Drunk and stupid and miserable.”

“And Luna knows this?”

“She does.”

“And?”

“And I think she hates me.”

“So you’re not related, but still can’t be together?”

“Seems not. But I still want a divorce from María.”

“Then, if Luna forgives you, then you can be with her?”

“You support me now? After everything?”

“This time, I’m not going to let my own defiant attitude influence your choices. It’s not my place to tell you what to you, Caya. Where is Luna? Don’t extranjeros celebrate Christmas on December 25? That’s tomorrow. You should go and see her.”

“She is in Italy with her dead husband’s family.”

“That is very kind. When is she back?”

“This week.”

“Then fuck Cayetano Ortega and all the drama he has created. We all need to get out of his shadow and be happy. You need to win that girl back. I would do anything for your mother. It’s time you did the same for your girl.”

“I don’t deserve her.”

“No, I agree. But that doesn’t mean you need to give up.”

36

Palermo, Italia ~ diciembre de 2009

Sending an envelope on its way. That was how it felt to let Fabrizio’s ashes go on Max and Paulina Merlini’s Italian olive grove. He had ridden his bike through the grove as a kid, while he dreamed of a life as a cyclist. Now, after passing away at the age of only 37, Fabrizio was buried in the centre of the grove, where a large tree stood. Max and Paulina spent time there, to enjoy the peace of their property, and now their son could rest there. For Fabrizio’s parents, it was a painful and emotional homecoming, with a sense of relief that their son was back with them. For his three younger sisters, it was upsetting; the shining star of the family had dimmed, and only now were they able bid to farewell to him. For his sons, it was confusing; all the adults in their lives were sad, and they were still not old enough to understand.

For Luna, it was many things. It was sad; she had kept Fabrizio with her much longer than was probably healthy. But when she curled up the little piece of paper she had written a poem on, and placed the varnished box into the earth, she felt free. Not of her husband, but of the pain that his death had caused. So much had gone through her mind over three years – did he know he
would die when the car hit him, did he see the car coming, did he feel any pain, what crossed his mind at his final moment? None of these questions would be answered, but her dreams weren’t haunted by the uncertainty of not knowing, as they used to be. Luna didn’t wish for him to be with her all the time, as she once used to. She didn’t feel helpless, as she once used to. She didn’t feel bound to a ghost, as she once did. Now, the misery of their whole ordeal had let her go. Now, she accepted what had happened.

Luna had no recollection of her own mother, and to spend time with Fabrizio’s mother was always an experience. She never had a
woman she could turn to for advice, love, or comfort. It was hard to know how to interact with Paulina and her husband Max, even when Fabrizio was alive. Christmas Day saw 40 family members in attendance, parents, sisters, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews of the man they had laid to rest. Luna loved to see Giacomo and Enzo so welcomed, and so happy with the other children. While the comfort she gained from her husband was long gone, the Merlini’s still cared for Fabrizio’s boys like they had once cared for their son. That was all Luna needed from them.

“Qualcosa di sbagliato, Luna?”             

Luna looked up from her full wine glass and looke
d at her mother-in-law across the living room from her. Paulina and Max had chatted in her direction most of the evening while they sat together near the fireplace, but she hadn’t listened. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t touched your wine – again.”

Luna looked back at the drink, a heavy red wine. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that she didn’t like it; it was Fabrizio’s favourite. “I’m just tired.”

“It has been nice to have you
here,” Max said. “You know how much it means to us to have Fabrizio’s children here.”

“We know you have to move on with
your life, so we appreciate you coming, Luna, really,” Paulina added.

“You never have to worry about me not bringing them here.” Luna looked out the window, the sky dark over the olive grove. “It’s been really enjoyable to be here, calming. Relaxing. It’s good to get away from the world.”

“Is there something you have forgotten to mention to us?” Paulina asked. “You won’t drink your wine, you’re tired all the time, you have a glow…”

Luna just shook her head.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No!” she scoffed. “Please, no, nev
er again. Besides, it would be hard to get pregnant, given the state of my marriage.”

“I would hate to think you are as sad as you seem because of Fabrizio. Of course, we all miss him very much. But I would be seriously worried if you
still suffer as much now as you did when he died. You are young; you have a lot of life left.”

“Moving forward has been a lot harder than I imagined.” Luna set her glass down on the table in front of her but couldn’t bring her eyes back to the pair.

“Who is Cayetano?” Max asked. “I’ve heard the boys mention him a few times, and when I asked them who he was, they said that he was the man that Mummy would marry, but they couldn’t tell anyone.”

Luna covered her eyes with her hand and sighed. Five-year-olds simply couldn’t lie. All the bribes in the world wouldn’t win them over. “He is a guy I met a few months ago.”

“You are seeing him? Is it serious?”

“No. It’s not. It’s nothing.”

“Luna.” Paulina waited until she made eye contact again. “Luna, is this man the reason you’re sad?”

“It’s a long story, and not one appropriate for here. I came to see you, and celebrate Fabrizio’s life. Nothing else.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t talk about your life, or see another man. It’s horrible to think of you so alone in the world. Everyone needs someone that can count on.”

“No, that won’t happen. No man will come before Fabrizio.”

“Fabrizio is gone,” Max said in a serious tone.

“No one will replace him.”

“No one has to, but you can still be happy with someone new.”

“I wish it was that simple.”

Paulina sat forward in her seat. “Luna, you had two children with Fabrizio. You will always be bound to him. You will see him in their faces. You can’t raise them in a home of grief and guilt. They won’t thrive in that world. Fabrizio loved you when you were young, free, spontaneous, vibrant. Honour him by being the girl he loved.”