The Fountains of Silence (49 page)

133

“Your sister runs a mile a minute. I’d never keep up with her. You’re sure you don’t mind this?” asks his father.

“Not at all. Just a bunch of sightseeing. It’ll give me a chance to use my camera.”

“Sissy wants to take a vacation too. But of course Spain isn’t appropriate for us. I think I’ll whisk her away for a weekend.” Daniel’s father appraises him. “It’s been a long time since our trip to Madrid. Think it will all come back to you?”

“Maybe,” he lies. It’s never left him.

“Have a good trip, son. Give a call if you need anything. Do you have enough travelers checks?”

“Plenty. We’ll be fine, Dad. I traveled for the magazine with just a backpack.”

“I know. But Cristina’s hardly a backpacker.”

His father is uncharacteristically attentive. There’s a quiet sadness in his eyes. “I hope this won’t be too emotional for her,” he says.

I hope this won’t be too emotional for
you
, thinks Daniel.

His father gives a defeated sigh. “I know you didn’t want to leave
National Geographic
, Dan. But having you here these past years, well, I couldn’t have done it on my own.” His gaze turns to his daughter. “And I think we did a mighty fine job.”

Cristina stands near the TWA gate in red culottes and large sunglasses. She’s speaking Spanish to the gate agents. Cristina has the strength of their mother but a warmth and sense of humor all her own. She comes bubbling over to them.

“Dad, don’t look so serious. It’s only two weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. I just learned that our hotel, the InterContinental, used to be the Castellana Hilton. Isn’t that where you stayed? The gate agent said it was quite a scene back in the day. Do you remember much about it?”

“Of course I do.” Their father’s eyes become misty. “Your mother loved it. She loved everything about Spain. It was her true home.”

Daniel’s eyes begin to well.

“Good grief. You two are worse than a pair of debutantes. Enough of that or I’ll start crying and we’ll all be a puddle. Mom wouldn’t like it.”

She’s right.

His father hugs Cristina to him as if she might blow away. Without making eye contact with Daniel, he gives an extended handshake and pats him on the shoulder as they board the plane.

“You take the window now,” says Cristina, “and I’ll take it when we land.”

Daniel accepts her plan and takes his place at the window.

Eighteen years. He could have returned to Spain. But he didn’t. He could have accepted magazine assignments in Madrid. But didn’t. Instead, he remained miles away, both in geography and relationships. Photography kept him on the road, making it easy to be alone. He hopped from assignment to assignment, continent to continent. He developed film in the sea, broke his leg jumping from a helicopter, and worked through two bouts of dengue fever. Fellow Texans referred to him as intrepid, venturous, mysterious. When he returned home to Preston Hollow, people whispered.

Poor Daniel. No wife. He lost his mother to cancer. What did he see covering Vietnam? Had he been jilted by a fiancée along the way? So eligible, especially since he cut his long hair. The casserole committee came out in force.

“My daughter, Fern, made this Stroganoff for you. She isn’t married either.”

“You remember Alice. She’s quite recovered from her episodes.”

“Call me sometime. We could have a drink,” said Laura Beth.

“The sweet girl in Madrid,” his mother commented quietly one Christmas. “It probably wouldn’t have worked. The divide was too wide. Memories are hungry,
tesoro
. You mustn’t feed them. I’d hate to think that a teenage fling might leave you alone for the rest of your life.”

Ben never called it a fling. He understood. He scheduled intersections with Daniel’s assignments whenever he could to reminisce.

“Our summer in Madrid, Dan. That summer in Madrid! I’m counting down to the ‘I told you so.’”

The card from Nick gave him hope. Cristina’s interest gave him courage. Nick was elated to learn of their visit.

Daniel releases a breath, trying to loosen the tightness that’s lived in his chest for eighteen years. He looks out the oval window of the plane.

Behind the tall glass terminal window waits his father. He stands, staring at the jet, Stetson clutched in his hands. Daniel squints to sharpen his view.

Despite their many differences, he and his father do have one thing in common.

They love their family.

Daniel buckles his seat belt. He’s really doing it. He’s returning to Madrid.

134

“There he is! Over here, cowboy.”

Nick Van Dorn stands in the arrivals hall of the airport with a young woman. He’s older and journey-weathered, but has the same darting eyes and mischievous exuberance. He slaps Daniel into a hug.

“Not fair. You haven’t even aged!” says Nick. “I expected you to look mealy and road-torn like the people you photograph. Or maybe my ego hoped the Marlboro Man would pickle a bit.” He laughs. “This is my secretary, Ruth.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” nods Daniel.

“Texas. Nothing but ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no sir’ from this guy,” says Nick to Ruth. “So, where’s the baby sister? Did she get fed up with you already?”

Daniel waves to Cristina who approaches. “There she is.”

Nick’s face loses animation. “That’s not your little sister,” whispers Nick.

“Yes, that’s Cristina. And hey, eyes off. She’s eighteen, but barely.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what you meant.” Daniel laughs. “You haven’t changed at all, Nick.”

“
Buenas tardes
,
Señor
Van Dorn! I’m so happy to finally meet you!” says Cristina. Her extended hand hovers, ungrasped, while Nick just stares. “Oh, forgive me, we’re in Spain!” she says. “We’ll kiss on the cheek, of course.”

She turns to greet Ruth. “
Buenas tardes
, I’m Cristina Matheson. Daniel’s sister.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you,
Señorita
Matheson,” says Ruth. “I work for Mr. Van Dorn. On behalf of the embassy, welcome to Madrid.” Ruth retrieves a massive bouquet of flowers from the chair.

“
¡Qué bonito! Gracias!
” says Cristina.

While the women chat about the flowers, Nick’s brow twists in confusion.

“What is it?” asks Daniel.

“Nothing.” Nick looks from Cristina to Daniel. “I guess I’m . . . just surprised that so much time has passed and we’re all adults.”

Daniel takes in the scenery as Nick drives them to the hotel. Things have changed. Women wear pants and sleeveless tops on the street. There are cars of every color. Foreign magazines appear on corner newsstands.

“You still fighting?” asks Nick.

“Fighting?” calls Cristina from the back seat.

“He means boxing,” replies Daniel.

“You didn’t know, Cristina? Your brother’s a brawler. He hits harder than any drink,” laughs Nick. “Don’t tell me you never threw a punch while on assignment, Dan. You had to protect your camera gear, right?”

“Well, maybe once or twice. What about you, Nick? Are you still fighting?” Daniel laughs.

“Of course I am. Life’s a fight. Speaking of, I’m sure you read about Shep and the New York campaign scandal. What a doozy. But somehow the guy always lands on his feet.”

Daniel thinks of the letters he wrote to the embassy and the State Department about Shep Van Dorn. Nothing came of them. Nick is right. Guys like Shep always seem to land on their feet. He should have decked him when he had the chance.

“My parents are finally divorced,” says Nick. “Mom is dating a college rowing coach. Great guy. Ben told us about your mom. I’m very sorry. I should have sent a card. But I bet your dad is happy to have you back in Dallas. Try as we might, we both ended up in the same professions as our fathers. Isn’t that crazy, Dan?”

“Yeah,” says Daniel, staring out the window. “Crazy.”

135

The arrival at the hotel takes on a surreal, dreamlike dimension. The crescent apron drive, the marbled chessboard foyer with steps up to the circular lobby. It’s completely the same, yet different. An old film ghosts through Daniel’s head and heart. He expects Carlitos to pop out at any moment or Lorenza to stroll by selling cigars and cigarettes. He looks to the corner of the lobby where Ben and Paco Lobo sat for hours. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat.

Ruth handles check-in while a porter takes their luggage. “Is any of the old staff still here?” asks Daniel.

“I doubt it. Maybe one or two.” Nick sighs. “Life’s a river, Dan. It moves and it flows. So, is there anything specific Cristina would like to do?”

Daniel follows Nick’s gaze to his sister, chattering away to the porter handling her towers of luggage. “Well, think of us when we were eighteen. I’m sure Cristina wants to see as much as possible.”

“And what about you?” Nick studies his face. “As much as possible?”

Daniel scans the lobby. The opening to the staircase and the double basements is still there. Dinner with Ana in the staff cafeteria flashes before him. The same narrow elevators are still there. Her reflection in the mirrors blinks through his mind.

“I know you won’t ask, so I will,” says Nick. “I’ve reconnected with Ana since I’ve returned to Madrid. Do you want to see her?”

The question has such an easy answer, yet Daniel stands, frozen. He thinks of his mother’s words, that feeding memories is dangerous.

“Let me rephrase,” says Nick. “I’ve reconnected with Ana since I’ve returned to Madrid. We’re friends. She’s single. Are you single?”

Daniel nods.

“Okay, then. I’ll speak to her.”

“Wait, when?”

“Probably today.”

“Today? That’s so soon,” says Daniel.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of notice. I have to speak to her anyway.”

“How is she?” asks Daniel. “How’s her family?”

Cristina comes running, waving a key. “We’re in suite 760!”

Daniel looks to Nick. He shrugs. “A little bird reminded me.”

“We stayed on the seventh floor when we were here,” he tells his sister.

“Ruth says Ava Gardner used to stay on the seventh floor and that she held wild parties. I’m so excited, I could just burst!” says Cristina, hugging Daniel.

Excited. Is that what he’s feeling? No. It feels more like the old unholy ghost of Spain.

Fear.