The Fountains of Silence (23 page)

55

Rafa bursts from the shack and runs to Daniel. “Texano, it is decided. You must come to the bullfight next Sunday!”

“I’m not sure your friend would like that,” says Daniel. “He hasn’t been too friendly.”

“
Ay
, that’s just his way. Like many, the war has stolen his trust. His pain makes him not so friendly, but a very brave bullfighter. Please come with us. It will be a great adventure for your photography.”

Daniel considers the idea, photos for his contest submission.

“Also, I must be honest with you,” says Rafa. “We need transport to Talavera de la Reina. My boss at the slaughterhouse said we could ride in a truck with dead animal parts, but that is not confirmed. If we could ride in your nice big car, we could make a grand entrance.”

Ana emerges from the shack with Fuga. His face is clean. His hair, the color of black crude oil, is parted on the side and slicked expertly back from his strong, architectural face. The turquoise suit of lights throws sparkles with each small movement. The man who looked like a murderer now looks like a matador. Julia leans against the doorframe, a small smile upon her face. Rafa cannot contain his excitement.

“
Ay
, look at the maestro! Quick, let’s take the photos before the children come running. Ana says film is expensive, but could you take two pictures?”

Daniel positions Fuga in the center of the long dirt road. The late afternoon sun throws golden light onto the young man’s face. Rafa is right. Fuga looks handsome and regal in the suit of lights. But he eyes Daniel with such contempt it won’t make for a good portrait. So
Daniel instructs Fuga to look toward Ana, who stands nearby. Fuga’s expression eases and Daniel snaps the photos in profile.

“Please, Texano, say you’ll drive us in your car.”

“Rafa, stop,” says Ana. “Perhaps
Señor
Matheson has plans next Sunday.”

“I don’t,” says Daniel. “I can take you if you’d like.”

“¿Sí? ¡Gracias!”
Rafa showers Daniel with gratitude and discusses details. He then follows Fuga, who has stomped back into the shack. Daniel says goodbye to Julia and Antonio.

“Ana, will you be going next Sunday?” asks Daniel.

“No,
señor
. I know it must sound strange, but I don’t care for bullfights.” She sighs and looks off in the distance. The sun transforms her faded dress and kindles highlights in her hair. Daniel snaps a picture.

“Okay, Robert Capa, let’s walk you back to your car,” says Ana.

They walk without speaking. Daniel smiles. He feels so comfortable with Ana, there’s no need to fill the space with conversation. But when the car is in sight, she asks the inescapable question. “
Señor
, why did you come here today?”

Daniel lets out a breath. “I’m so sorry. Nick told me he thought it was a good idea.”

Ana nods stiffly and continues walking. “I’m grateful to you,” she says, arriving at the vehicle.

“It was nothing, just some small gifts. I know you like the purple candy.”

“I do,” says Ana, looking up at Daniel. She reaches out and touches his scabbed fist. “But I’m grateful to you for saving Nick.”

“Oh.” Daniel takes a moment to swallow. He’s not sure what to make of the gesture. Ana’s touching him, but she’s speaking of Nick. He looks at her fingers resting upon his hand. “I didn’t save him.”

“That’s not what I heard,” says Ana.

“It wasn’t a fair fight.”

“Life isn’t a fair fight.”

They stand by the car in silence. Echoes of gypsy guitar rhythms climb in the distance. Her sudden expression of quiet sadness—it’s the same look he saw at the embassy, the look that pulled and spoke without speaking.

“Ana, is there some way I can help?”

She gives a soft laugh. “No,
señor
. Everything is fine here. But perhaps now you understand that I wasn’t swimming that evening at the hotel. I am allowed to bathe there twice per week.” She looks up at Daniel, full of both sincerity and humiliation. “Do you see? I am so fortunate to work at the Castellana Hilton. I could never jeopardize my job to help you with your project”—she pauses and her voice drops to a whisper—“even though I desperately want to.”

Her hand slides from his. She turns and departs down the dirt path toward the shack.

Daniel stands, watching Ana. As the distance between them grows, his thoughts call silently after her.

Ana, if you desperately want to, then please don’t walk away.

56

Fortune.

Born into, unearned. The mute accomplice of fate that determines futures and carves lines to divide. It’s the word Ben mentioned the very first night, the word that Daniel thinks on during his drive back to Madrid.

Upon his return to the hotel, the lobby feels opulent to Daniel. Too opulent. It’s the way he feels when he returns from the oil fields to their estate in Preston Hollow.

Ben Stahl gives a beckoning wave from the upper lobby. He’s sitting with Paco Lobo.

“Have you two met? Dan, this is Fred Wolf, but everyone calls him Paco Lobo.”

The portly, bald gentleman wears wire-rimmed spectacles and nurses a fat cigar as if it were his last meal. He’s the man that Ana says has adopted a village. Is his village similar to Vallecas?

“I’ve seen you, but we haven’t been introduced. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Are you enjoying your stay in Madrid? That is, when Ben isn’t dragging you into brawls.”

“I dragged him outside, but the brawling was all his,” laughs Ben. “Your paws doing okay, Dan?”

“They’re fine.”

Paco Lobo stands. “Well, I’m off. Ben, give some thought to our discussion. This one might be easier than you think. We just need the right team.”

Paco Lobo departs and Ben’s posture eases. He sits back in his
chair and reaches into his blazer for cigarettes. The package is empty. He crumples it and tosses it into the ashtray. He runs a nervous hand over the back of his neck and looks across the room. He motions to Lorenza, who is circulating the lobby, selling cigars and cigarettes.

“So, what did you do today?” asks Ben.

“I went to church, gave a good Catholic confession, and then went to Vallecas.”

Lorenza arrives at their chairs. Ben selects a package of cigarettes. “Vallecas, what the hell were you doing out there?” Ben puts a wrinkled bill on Lorenza’s tray. “Thanks, doll face, keep the change.”

“
Gracias
,
señor
,” says Lorenza. Instead of leaving, she hovers nearby.

Ben leans in to Daniel. “I think she likes me.”

“I think she’s eavesdropping,” whispers Daniel.

“Could be.” Ben waits for Lorenza and her red lipstick to saunter off. Once she’s out of earshot, his words come freely. “Don’t tangle with her. She gets away with a lot but there’s a reason. Word from the bird is that her dad’s a Guardia Civil.”

“He is?” Daniel looks off toward Lorenza.

“Keep that between us. Hotel management knows but the employees don’t. Like I said, steer clear of those fire engine lips. You don’t know who she’s flapping them to.”

“Don’t worry, she’s not my type.”

“So, what pulled you out to Vallecas?” Ben repeats.

Daniel hesitates, wondering whether he should tell Ben. After all, Ben’s the one who told him to peel back the layers of Madrid. “Nick gave me directions to Ana’s, the girl here at the hotel. He assured me it was fine to visit.”

“You went to her house? Oh, Dan, people don’t do that here. This isn’t Texas.”

“So I’ve learned. But it worked out okay in the end. I think I got some great shots for the contest.”

Ben’s head lifts from the cloud of cigarette smoke. “Really? I’d like to see those. I might be able to use them. Boy, you’re my kind of guy, Matheson. Most photographers would beg Max Factor to get them onto a movie set. But you head out to Vallecas.” Ben points his cigarette at Daniel. “Intrepid. That’s the perfect word for you. I like it.”

“Thanks. It definitely showed me a face of Spain that I haven’t seen here in Madrid. I’ll take the film to Miguel tomorrow. Say, Ben . . . what do you know about Valley of the Fallen?”

“The Valley? The paper sent me out there, but I haven’t reported on it yet. Don’t think I will.”

“Why not? It’s a symbol of reconciliation, right?”

Ben laughs hard and loud, which leads to a fit of coughing. “Reconciliation? Where’d you hear that, Matheson?”

“I didn’t. I was just wondering. The hotel magazine makes it sound like it’s a tribute, but it seems to upset some people.”

“Sure it does.” Ben lowers his voice. “It’s being built by Republican prisoners. Forced labor. Some have died building the Valley. And now there’s talk of exhuming mass graves all over Spain and bringing the remains to the Valley. When it’s done, the forest floor could hold over forty thousand exhumed bodies. Imagine that walk in the park.” Ben shakes off a shiver.

“Bodies from both sides of the war?” asks Daniel.

Ben looks at Daniel carefully. “Yes, bodies from both sides of the war. But since the war ended, there’s only been one side, Matheson. You were in Vallecas today. You saw. There are so many villages like that throughout Spain.” Ben lowers his voice. “For years Spain was collapsing, people were starving, and Franco, he was spending money on this monument?” Ben shakes his head and takes a deep drag on his cigarette. He speaks as he exhales. “After World War II, even Germany, our archenemy, was a recipient under the Marshall Plan, but Spain?” Ben forms a “zero” with his hand. “Spain was the only major Western
European nation excluded from the economic recovery plan. What do you think that says?”

“I’m not sure what it says,” replies Daniel. “That’s why I’m asking questions.”

“It says the topic of Spain is very controversial. Look, you study Hitler and Mussolini in school, but you don’t study Franco,” whispers Ben. “Because he’s still alive. The history hasn’t written itself yet, Matheson. But you’re capturing it as we speak with your photos. Exciting stuff.”

Ben’s mention of his photos makes Daniel uncomfortable. And something else makes him uncomfortable—the fact that Franco and his men personally invited his father to Spain to discuss a collaborative project. Why is his family doing business with a dictator?

“You’re asking good questions, Dan. I hope your photos are as interesting.”

Daniel nods absently, his mind cluttered with confusion. Despite his better judgment, he decides to ask one last question.

“Say, Ben, do you think Nick likes Ana?”

Ben exhales a sleeve of smoke and chases it with the last of his scotch. “Likes her? Oh no, cowboy, he loves her.”