Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (7 page)

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“I won’t be injured much longer. When are you coming to Madrid again?”

“I have no need to come back at all. I think I need to go to Cuenca instead. But kids, work… who knows…”

“My father’s family is from Cuenca, but I’ve never been there. What about next weekend? We could both go, and I can be your assistant and translator.”

“Hablo español.”

“I know you speak Spanish, very well. But maybe I can help you anyway?”

“Maybe.”

“Bring the children along. I love children! We will have a great time.”

Introduce him to the kids? She barely knew him. Darren would be away in the coming weeks, to coach some riders during the Vuelta a España, but she wanted to go to Cuenca now. “Maybe.”

“My heart can wait on a maybe.”

“I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier at the Registro Civil.”

“It’s all forgiven. Go home to your children.”

“Thank you for the cake,” she joked. “It’s my favourite flavour.”

“What a coincidence, I’m really enjoying the taste myself.”

6

Madrid, España ~ septiembre de 2009

“It’s looking good,” the physiotherapist said to Cayetano. “Another week or so and I think you will start to see some improvement. Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course he has,” Paco grumbled from his seat across the small doctor’s office.

Cayetano sighed, and
nodded to the kind woman who assessed his thigh muscles to see if he could have his stitches removed. He had been coming to twice-weekly appointments at the private clinic in the hope that the staff could help him regain some strength in his leg. His father had to come to every appointment with him. He had to answer every question on his behalf. Paco was a strong man for his age, and not just physically. He was 70 years old, yet his jet-black hair and strong, demanding attitude had not at all diminished with age. Paco may have been too old to enter the bullring on a competitive level, but that did not stop him from forcing his only son into the spotlight. Cayetano was an asset that needed protecting.

“Gracias,”
Cayetano said to the young woman. He didn’t even pretend that he didn’t enjoy her soft, supple hands rubbing his bare thigh. Not only did it ease the pain, it distracted him from the thoughts of a certain woman in Valencia that had followed him wherever he went.

“When can he start back at the gym?” Paco asked her as Cayetano carefully got off the massage table and pulled on his trousers. “Cayetano needs to be back in the bullring as soon as possible.”

“You should consult your doctor about that on your next visit,” she said. “You were very lucky that the main artery was missed during your accident, Cayetano. So you shouldn’t worry that you can’t go back to your training. Your leg needs to rest.”

“This isn’t a game,” Paco snapped. “We have his public and his sponsors to consider.”

And male pride to repair. Paco had been ashamed of his son taking a fall in public like that. Cayetano knew that fact. The famous Paco Beltrán Caño had never fallen in the bullring, and neither had his prodigy. Until now. Cayetano’s first major injury had been in training and Paco had been grateful that no one had seen it. “I appreciate all your help,” Cayetano said to the therapist. “I will come on my own next week,” he whispered and winked at her, and she smiled. Not many people could deal with the attitude that Paco carried with him.

The two men left the quiet clinic and stepped out of its air-conditioned comfort and onto the street where the heat of the September day wafted over them. Cayetano had to be careful every time he took a step with his black cane; the cobbled path was very uneven, and he didn’t need a repeat of the fall at the
Registro Civil last week. “Papá, you don’t need to watch me. My treatment is fine.”

“I care, Caya,” Paco said without a glance at his son. “It’s important we get you the best treatment.”

“I’m getting good care, Papá. I’m 40 years old. I can look after my own treatment.”

“You wouldn’t have fallen in the ring if you could look after yourself.”

Cayetano gritted his teeth. There was no sense in arguing. “Should we go for a walk in the park?” he suggested. “Give me a chance to use my leg.”

Paco raised his eyebrows. “Certainly. That’s a good idea. I’m glad you are ready to push your recovery.”

Cayetano rolled his eyes as the men crossed the quiet, narrow street. He could rely on his mother for support, but all he was ever likely to get from his father was pressure. They stepped into El Retiro park, and wandered down the smooth and empty pathway, covered from the sun by overhanging trees. The whole park was unusually green despite a dry summer.

“I walked through here a few weeks ago,” Cayetano said casually. “I met a woman.”

“Was that the one that Raul said you saved from the bag-snatcher when you were at the bar?”

“I didn’t save her. She was pretty tough on her own. She fought the guy, but he punched her in the face.”

“Disgusting. Raul said she was very beautiful.”

“She was. She came to Madrid to find her grandfather.”

“Did she find him?”

“No, he died in the civil war, and she can’t find any records.”

“Some things don’t need to be discovered,” Paco said in a grave tone.

“It’s important to her. Very important. She wants to know where she comes from.”

“You speak as if you had quite a conversation with this girl.”

“She told me that
I have very good English.”

“She is not Spanish?”

“No, she is from New Zealand, but lives in Valencia now and speaks Spanish. Her grandfather was Spanish, but not her grandmother.”

“Nueva Zelanda?
I knew of a woman that came from there. She was a wicked woman.”

“Something you would like to tell me, Papá?”

“No, no,” the old man smiled. “I loved your mother from the first moment I saw her. This woman was with someone else. But she was trouble.”

“Mamá has told me the story of you falling in love with her on the same day you met. I thought perhaps she was just saying it… you know women…”

Paco chuckled. “No, your Mamá is right. She had come to the bullring with her father one day while I was training, and that was it. As soon as I looked over at her, I knew she would be my wife. I just knew it.”

The conversation stalled for a moment as a young woman came towards them, out for an afternoon run. She gave Cayetano a wave with a cheeky smile, and he waved back when she went past them. He looked back over his sh
oulder to see the woman check him out.

“I see that the cane doesn’t put the ladies off my son,” Paco said, and glanced over his shoulder at the young blonde who then disappeared around a corner.

“Just looking, Papá. I’m not interested.”

“I never thought I would hear that from you.”

Cayetano just shrugged. He had already forgotten the girl. “Papá, why have you never told me about your parents?”

“There’s nothing to know. They died a long time ago. You have your mother’s parents who have loved you since you were born. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

“But you were born in Cuenca?”

“Why all the questions, Cayetano?” Paco snapped. “Just because this girl you met wants to find her family, it doesn’t mean you need to go digging up your own.”

“I… just wondered, that’s all.”

“Wondered about things which have no importance just because of some girl you spoke to?”

“Her name is Luna, not some girl.”

The two men walked in silence for a minute. Cayetano set the pace on his cane. “Your grandmother’s name was Luna.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Luna Beltrán Caño. She was the most beautiful woman. She had long curly black hair. I guess that is where you and Sofía got your curly hair from.”

Cayetano smiled while Paco spoke. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly make his father want to keep his life a secret for over 40 years.

Paco sighed. “My father died when I was very young. Mamá told me that he had been sick for a while, but she never wanted to talk about it. She raised me on her own until she died in 1960.”

“You were already fighting in the bullring by then.”

“Sí.
She always told me that my father loved bullfighting, but never had the chance to try it for himself.”

“I never knew that,” Cayetano said. “Even after all this time.”

“I didn’t want you to be a torero just because I was, Cayetano.”

“Why would you not tell me that?”

“Because it doesn’t matter. My mother asked me to stay quiet on the subject of my father. None of this is anyone’s business!”

“Papá, don’t yell at me,” Cayetano said, trying to calm his father. “I was just curious, that’s all. You have that chest that sits in your office, and it’s locked. I know it’s full of things you had before you met Mamá. You act as if your parents were murderers, and yet you tell me family and tradition are the most important things.”

“I can promise you that your grandmother was not a murderer. She was a wonderful woman. She was heartbroken after my father died. She was wealthy after her husband passed away, and she cared for me very well in a time when our nation was starving. I don’t know how she coped. There were men interested in her, but she refused them all. She said she had already had her great love. She told me that I was all she needed. It was her who pushed me to be a torero. She was the one who gave me the opportunity. She was the one who wanted me to build a family with a woman I loved. That is why, when I fell in love with your mother in a heartbeat, I knew I was doing the right thing. Mamá told me that when you lock eyes with your true love, you know it. That is what she did.”

“So… you push for this life of family ties and bullfighting because that is what she wanted for you?”

“She wanted me to honour my father, and to have the happy life that she didn’t have.”

“So why keep her a secret?” Cayetano asked with a frown. It made no sense. “What is wrong with any of that?”

“Things are never that simple. My reasons are just that – mine.”

“So who was my grandfather? Was I named after him?”

“My mother married a man named Ignacio Reyes Paz. Of course, I have no memories of him. But she did say to me once, one night when she was particularly teary, that if I had a son, that I should name him Cayetano.”

“Why?”

“It was her brother’s name.”

“You have an uncle?”

“No, he died before I was born.”

“In the war? Was he a soldier?”

“¡No escarbes el pasado!” Paco cried.

“I’m not digging up the past! I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“Then don’t. Let’s go back to the car.”

Father and son turned and headed back in the direction they had walked in; the total silence failed to fill the awkward space between them. Cayetano didn’t think that he had any reason to apologise to his father. Paco had no reason to stay quiet about his family. They were just normal people who had been through a difficult time. Every family in Spain had grandparents who could say the same. “You and your mother are right about one thing,” he said.

Paco sighed. “What?”

“About knowing when you love someone. The moment you look into their eyes, you know you have found something special. I know how you felt when you first looked at Mamá, and how
abuela would have looked at abuelo. I have felt that.”

Paco frowned at his son. “I thought you said you were sure that
you and María were over.”

“Who? No, not María, Papá. María was a mistake. I shouldn’t have married her. No… I am in love with another woman. I knew it the moment I looked at her.”

“Cayetano…”

“It’s Luna, Papá. The girl
I saved from the bag-snatcher. I helped her up off the path, and I swear, the moment I looked at her, something in my life changed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy,” Paco barked.

“How is that ridiculous?” Cayetano scoffed. “You said that was how you felt when you saw Mamá for the first time.”

“Yes, I was infatuated with her. It was lust as well.”

Lust between his parents? Pass. “But you just told me about this romantic story of love at first sight that happened to you, and the same happened to your own mother! Did you just make that up? Why is it so hard to believe I felt like that?”

“Because you make mistakes, and you’re already married.”

“I recall it was you and Mamá who pushed me to marry María. Marry the girl from the wealthy and well-connected Medina family. I was the reluctant one, remember?”

“Oh yes, blame us for your mistakes. That wouldn’t be new. At your age, Cayetano…”

“At my age?” Cayetano cried. “I’m able to run my own life! But instead, I have my father as my manager, who wants to control my whole career and my personal life! I’m surprised I was even allowed to move out of home! At least Sofía has a life, even if it is not of a high enough standard for you and Mamá. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t feel!”

“Yes, al
l right! Your mother and I… I loved her as soon as we met. And what happened? I got her pregnant, Cayetano. She was 15 years old. I was 30. What went on between us caused a lot of pain. Yes, it all worked out. Yes, you came into the world, and we loved you. Yes, the rifts it caused in her family did heal over time. But don’t think love at first sight is an instant happy ending.”

“I’m not saying that my life has become a fairytale. I nearly lost my leg three weeks ago. My mind is in reality. But I am in love with Luna.”

“Really? Do you even know her surnames?”

“Luna Montgomery Merlini. At least… I think that is what her
name is…”

Paco rolled his eyes.
“Terrífico.”

“No… I mean… her surname is Montgomery. She is not Spanish, so she only has one family name. Merlini is her married name. I don’t know if she uses both or…”

“She is another man’s wife? This just gets better.”

“No!” Cayetano practically squealed in frustration. “Do you remember, a few years ago, there was one of those Tour de France cyclists, an Italian guy, who was killed in Valencia by some drunk driver?”