Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (39 page)

Fernando didn’t leave it at that. He followed the man to the brothel. Found out his name and that he was an army officer. He didn’t need any more information. He was the enemy. He had to be taught a lesson.

When Fernando told his parents they were devastated. Chiquita couldn’t understand why her daughter hadn’t told her, why she hadn’t asked for help.

‘She’s always told me everything,’ she said tearfully, shaking her head in disbelief. Miguel wanted to kill him for abusing his little girl. Fernando had to physically restrain him from reaching for his gun.

Fernando felt heroic; it was he who had found out who the man was, followed him, stalked him. He was the one in control of the situation and his parents were grateful. They needed him, relied on him. He told them not to worry, that he was going to deal with it himself, and to his surprise and delight they agreed. For the first time he saw pride in their eyes when they looked at him. He had gained their respect and it felt good.

Santi, imprisoned for the last four years in his own gloomy world, at last broke his bondage. At first Fernando didn’t want him involved. This was his moment and he wanted to bask in the glory alone. But when he saw how full of admiration Santi was for him he relented. ‘You can come,’ he said gravely, ‘but you have to do it my way. No questions.’ Santi agreed. Fernando saw that he was grateful, humble even. Fernando knew that it was going to be dangerous, but he was ready. He felt stronger than he had ever felt before.

The two brothers sat and discussed Maria. In the darkness under the stars, looking down from the balcony onto the busy streets of Buenos Aires, they

talked about their childhood. When Fernando felt the first twinges of a bond developing with his brother he barely noticed; it crept up on him when he was too busy talking to Santi as an equal - an equal with a common cause.

They waited their moment, then together with two guerrilla friends of Fernando’s they stole into Facundo Hernandez’s apartment in the middle of the night. Breaking the curfew, risking their lives. With their faces covered in black stockings they pulled the terrified man out of his bed. Tied him to a chair and beat him until he arrived at the frontier between this life and the next. He begged to live. Fernando told him that if he ever went near Maria Solanas again, spoke to her or communicated with her in any way, they would return to finish the job. Facundo gasped with fear before passing out.

Chiquita talked to her daughter. It wasn’t easy. In the cosy security of her bedroom Chiquita told Maria what she knew, of his beatings and his whore. Maria tried to defend him, saying they were mistaken - Facundo had never hit her, ever. Emotionally she backed into a corner and scratched anyone who came near her. She accused them of spying on her. It was her life - she could see who she wanted. They had no right to get involved.

It took a long time, but with Fernando and Santi’s help they gently wore her down until she hung her head and shook like a child. ‘I love him, Mama. I don’t know why, I just do,’ she cried. As the evening drew in they talked and talked, Miguel, Chiquita, Santi, Fernando and Maria, all together in that small room, united. Maria looked around her and took comfort from their loyalty and love. Worried, Chiquita left her daughter asleep in their matrimonial bed and called the doctor to come and take a look at her. Dr Higgins was unavailable so he sent someone from his practice. A gentle young man called Eduardo Maraldi.

Slowly, life at Santa Catalina returned to normal. The winter months finally thawed and gave way to the lengthening days and budding flowers. The scent of fertility filled the air and the birds returned to announce the arrival of spring. Past wounds began to heal over and resentment dissipated with the winter mists. Santi opened his eyes and began to see the world again; it looked different somehow. It was time to shave off his beard.

Eduardo Maraldi was tall, lanky and intellectual. He had a long sensitive nose and grey eyes that betrayed his every emotion. If it had not been for his small, Trotsky-style spectacles, they would have declared his feelings to anyone who got close enough to look into them. When he first visited Maria she was immediately struck by the soft voice that belied his tall frame, and the gentle way he placed his hands on her when he examined her.

Tell me, where does it hurt?
⁷
he asked her and she found herself playing down her pain for fear of upsetting him. She was used to doctors who were coolly detached, doctors who didn’t get too involved with their patients.

By the second visit she was telling him all about Facundo. Things she hadn’t even told her mother. Like how he’d force himself on her when he was drunk -he had never wanted to have sex with her, he had wanted to save her virginity for their wedding night, but he had run his hands over her body and when he had been drunk he had hurt her. She told Eduardo how he had made her touch him in a way that she had found distressing. How he had made her do things she didn’t want to do. How he had frightened her and won her love at the same time. Encouraged by Eduardo’s unassuming smile and kind expression she told him things she never thought she’d tell anyone. Suddenly, responding to his sympathy, she started to cry. He placed his arm around her and without overstepping that fine line that separates doctor from patient, he did his best to comfort her.

‘Seinorita Solanas,’ he said after she had calmed down a little, ‘physically your wounds will heal until they disappear altogether and no one would ever know you had been hurt. That is not the problem.’ She looked up at him quizzically. ‘It is your mental scars that I worry about. Is there anyone you can talk to at home?’

‘I haven’t talked about it really with anyone.’

‘What about your mother?’ He recalled the slim, affectionate woman whom he had met on his first visit to her house.

‘Oh, I talk to her. But not like I talk to you,’ she replied and blushed. She lowered her eyes.

‘You need to be looked after and loved,’ he said. She flushed a deeper red and hoped he hadn’t noticed. He had and he also felt hot under his collar.

‘Oh, I have a very loving family, Dr Maraldi.’

Those mental scars will take a long time to heal. Don’t expect miracles. You may suddenly get depressed for no apparent reason. You may find it difficult to start a new relationship. Just be patient and remember that you have been through something that will have affected you more than you realize.’

Thank you, Doctor.’

‘If you need to talk, you can always come and see me,’ he suggested. He hoped that she would.

‘I will. Thank you.’

When she left his surgery, Eduardo splashed his face with cold water. Had he spoken out of turn? Had he scared her off? He wanted to tell her that
he
would look after her, but he couldn’t ask a patient out. It was unprofessional. Oh, how he hoped she’d come back.

Maria wished Sofia were around. She would have been able to talk to her frankly about all of this. She missed her. She thought of her often, wondered what she was doing, who she was with. She had tried to write again to explain, but Dominique had sent the letter back with a note of her own, telling her that Sofia had gone to live in London and that she had no idea of her address. Well, Maria wasn’t that stupid. Sofia had obviously told her that she didn’t want her family to know where she was. She really had cut herself off-and it was all her fault. The guilt she felt weighed heavily on her heart. She half wanted her cousin to come back so she could explain, and half never wanted to see her again because she felt too ashamed. She knew she would never find a friend to replace Sofia.

During the next two months Maria thought of Eduardo more often than she had expected to. The images of Facundo slowly receded in her mind and Eduardo’s long, angular face took his place. She hoped he’d call, but he never did. She knew she could go and see him, under the pretence that she needed to talk, but she worried that he might see through her. She doubted he had thought of her once since their last meeting.

Then the strangest thing happened. God, or whoever controls our destinies, realized that if He didn’t intervene these two self-effacing creatures would never find each other again. So He placed Eduardo in the middle of the street as Maria was wandering absentmindedly down it with her basket of books, on her way back home after a lecture at the university. Not looking where she was going, she bumped right into him. They both apologized at the same time before they raised their eyes and recognized each other.

‘Senorita Solanas!’ he exclaimed and his misery lifted. The last two months had dragged by as he had plunged himself into depression for no reason at all. Suddenly, his spirits jumped out of their socks and he smiled wider than was normally comfortable.

‘Dr Maraldi,’ she laughed in surprise. This is such a ...’

‘Coincidence. Yes, isn’t it!’ He chuckled and shook his head in awe of his luck.

‘Please call me Maria,’ she said, her face aflame.

‘I’m Eduardo. I’m not your doctor today.’

‘No, no you’re not,’ she replied and giggled foolishly.

‘Do you want a coffee or something?’ he asked, then added quickly, ‘You probably don’t have time.’

‘Oh, I’d love to,’ she said just as quickly.

‘Good. Good,’ he stammered. ‘I know a nice cafe a couple of streets from here. Here, let me help you with your bag,’ he insisted. She let him take her basket, which was really quite heavy due to a new hardback history book she had bought, and they wandered slowly down the street. Eduardo made sure he walked on the outside.

Cafe Calabria was cool and not very busy. Eduardo chose a table in the corner by the window and pulled out her chair. When the waiter ambled over Eduardo gave him their order and asked for two
alfajores de maizena.
‘Oh, I really couldn’t!’ protested Maria, worrying about her figure. Eduardo looked at her and thought how truly beautiful she was because of her luscious body. She reminded him of a ripe peach. Maria noticed his expression behind his glasses and heard herself adding, ‘Well, all right, just this once.’

Their coffee lasted through lunch and tea and they didn’t leave until six in the evening. Maria told him all about Sofia; she confessed everything. He understood all her actions and had an explanation for every one. He seemed to have a deep knowledge of psychology. She told him of her cousin’s relationship with her brother and trusted that he would never tell anyone.

‘I did a terrible thing,’ she explained sadly. ‘I burnt Sofia’s letters. I wish I hadn’t, I’ll never forgive myself. Because now I’ve lost my best friend and I almost lost my brother.’

Eduardo looked at her, his face full of compassion. ‘You thought you were doing the right thing. The path to Hell is paved with good intentions,’ he said and chuckled kindly.

‘I know that now.’

‘You shouldn’t have done it. But we learn much more from unhappy times than we do from happy ones. With every sadness there is always something positive just around the corner. Perhaps one day when Sofia is happily married with five children, she'll come to you and thank you. Who knows? The important thing is not to torment yourself about it now. There’s no point crying over something that is done and irreversible. Look forward,’ he advised, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the napkin.

‘So you don’t think I’m evil?’ she asked and smiled shyly.

‘No, I don’t think you’re evil. I think you’re a good person who made a mistake and - well, we all make mistakes,’ he said, reassuring her. He wanted to tell her that he thought she was a beautiful person on the inside as well as on the outside. He wanted to love her enough to erase any trace of hurt or guilt or pain. He knew that he could make her happy if she would only give him the chance.

Eduardo told Maria that he had almost married. When she asked him why he had changed his mind, he replied truthfully that there was something missing. A spark, a connection. ‘Call me an incurable romantic,’ he said, ‘but I knew I

could love someone more than I loved her.’

Since that afternoon they had spent long hours on the telephone, gone on a few dates to the cinema and dinner before he attempted to kiss her. She knew he was taking it slowly and was grateful even though she had wanted him to kiss her that afternoon in the cafe. He arrived with a small bunch of wildflowers to pick her up. He then drove her to a restaurant on
La Costanera
overlooking the river where they gazed at each other through the candlelight and talked without pause. After the dinner he suggested they walk a little by the waterside. She knew he was going to kiss her and she suddenly became nervous and quiet. They walked along in silence for a while until the silence became too arduous to bear. Finally he took her hand and held it firmly, then he stopped walking and took her other hand, swinging her around to face him.

‘Maria,’ he said.

‘Yes?’ she replied.

‘I . . . I’ve wanted to . . .’ It was agony. She wished he’d just kiss her and get it over with.

‘Eduardo, it’s okay. I
want
you to,’ she whispered finally, then caught her breath at her boldness. He seemed relieved that she had given him her

consent. Momentarily she feared it would be unpleasantly awkward but then as he placed his warm hand on her face and his trembling lips on hers he kissed her with a confidence she didn’t think he possessed. Later when she told him this he smiled proudly and informed her that she gave him the belief that he could do anything.