The Fountains of Silence (50 page)

136

Cristina unpacks her luggage and chatters nonstop. “Your bag is so small. You did bring shoes other than boots, didn’t you?”

Daniel assures his sister that he brought clothes and won’t embarrass her. He also brought his camera, and for the first time in years he feels an incredible desire to use it.

The layout of the suite is exactly the same. Only the furnishings are different. Two beds are situated in the bedroom. In addition to a radio, there is now a television in the suite and a modern rotary dial phone. The Castellana Hilton crest is gone, replaced by the InterContinental logo.

Eighteen years ago he stood in this exact room, taping photos to the wall. He looks to the floor in front of the sofa, where he and Ana sat for hours after their room-service dinner. He sees the wall where Ana pulled him in for the kiss that never let go. He thinks of the knife and fork she smuggled to the room. It makes him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” says Cristina.

“The amount of luggage you brought,” he replies.

Daniel takes a seat on the terrace. Madrid’s heat wraps him in its arms, stirring anticipation from ash. He’s excited, scared, and nervous. He’s never felt this way, not even during a dangerous photo assignment. Nick seems exactly the same, just a bit more mature. Is his unpredictable nature the same? Will he show up tipsy at the hotel room door with Ana in tow? He hopes not. Should he shower and shave just in case?

Cristina joins him on the balcony. She reclines, lifting her long, dark hair and dropping it to hang off the back of the chair. She closes her eyes.

“It’s so odd,” she says. “I only spent a few months of my life here. But as we drove from the airport, I felt this magnetic tug toward the city. I felt . . . emotional. Do you think I’m having a midlife-adoption-identity crisis?”

Daniel looks at his sister. She doesn’t resemble him nor their parents, but doesn’t stand out in Dallas as different, either. “Well, I think you’re a ways from midlife, Cris. But identity, sure. Roots and heritage, they’re powerful. I’m glad you feel a connection here.”

“It’s more than a connection. I can’t describe it. Maybe I’m just excited to be here. Or excited to be out of Texas. Or maybe I’m creating emotions to fill the gap of Mom.”

At times his sister displays surprising insight for her age. Sometimes it’s as if she’s observing and commenting on her life from above, rather than living inside it as an eighteen-year-old girl. He raises his camera and takes her picture.

Nick calls and insists on taking them for a late dinner and a brief walking tour. He says nothing of Ana. Daniel feels too awkward to ask. When they return to the hotel, it’s after midnight. They’re exhausted but Madrid is just beginning to rouse. Nick and Ruth suggest an outing the following day for Cristina.

“Ruth and I will take you to the Prado Museum and for tea at the Ritz.”

“And what about Daniel?”

“I’ve imposed on Dan to take a meeting tomorrow afternoon,” says Nick. “He’ll join us for dinner.” Nick looks to Daniel, his face completely sincere.

“Tom Collins will meet you at the Sorolla garden tomorrow at three,” says Nick.

137

Daniel arrives an hour early, telling himself that he wants to photograph the gardens and fountain. He also tells himself he’s not nervous, he’s not sweating, and he’s not hopeful. So much can happen in eighteen years. She’s probably an entirely different person. Maybe he’s an entirely different person. That’s normal, isn’t it? Ana told him that he couldn’t understand her. How could he understand her now, with nearly two decades between them?

Visitors stroll and linger amidst the lush, richly scented gardens of the museum. The trickling sound of the fountain is familiar, the figures still whisper, but the courtyard has been slightly altered. The bench they sat upon is no longer there. New benches have been added. He momentarily worries, unsure where they’re supposed to meet. The feeling resembles an anxious dream, but one you’re able to wake yourself from. They no longer have to hide, he reminds himself. They can be friends openly. Yes, they’ll be friends.

He chooses a bench that allows him to remain slightly concealed while still having a view of the entrance. This way, he’ll see Ana before she sees him.

The hour approaches. He feels nauseous.

His mother’s words return and issue warning.
The divide was too wide,
tesoro
. I’d hate to think that a teenage fling might leave you alone for the rest of your life.

He sets his camera on a ledge and wipes his palms down the sides of his jeans. This is crazy. He should leave.

He doesn’t want to.

They’ll say hello, speak awkwardly for a few minutes, and then properly close a door that’s been open way too long.

Ana. He feels her before he sees her.

Daniel stands, locking his eyes to the archway draped with ivy and blooms. She walks through the entrance, aglow. Her dark hair swings and lifts in waves as she turns, looking toward their fountain. The skirt of her flowered dress sways about her legs, dancing above her high heels. And then, as if in slow motion, she turns toward him.

They stand, suspended within the eighteen years between them. The moment is a fraction. An instant. Ana’s face flares with an enormous smile. She takes a step toward him. Then another. Her stride is suddenly longer, quicker. She’s running. His heart vaults as Ana jumps into his arms. His face is in her hair. Her arms are around his neck. She’s kissing him. She’s crying. He feels her drawing deep breaths against his chest. He pulls her closer, spiraling her small hips beneath his arms.

She looks up at him, her face awash with joy and tears.

“
Hola
, Daniel.”

He gently takes her face in his hands.

“
Hola
, Ana.”

138

“It’s crowded here. Let’s go to
El Retiro
,” she whispers, threading her fingers through his.

They head down the stairs to the Metro. The platform is clogged with passengers.

Women look twice at Daniel and Ana knows why. He’s more handsome than ever. Same lean build with jeans and boots, but an older, more alluring version of his rugged teenage self. Some men soften and stretch with years. Daniel’s jawline and cheekbones are more defined. His shoulders and arms cut broader. His disobedient hair is now fashionable.

He catches her staring and laughs. “Do you approve?”

“Definitely,” she breathes. “Quick, let’s catch this train before it departs.” Ana pulls Daniel by the hand into a throng of people boarding a car. The door closes, sandwiching the passengers together.

Instead of grasping the metal handrail, Ana grasps Daniel. The air inside the car is heavy with heat. A trickle of sweat make its way from Daniel’s hairline down to his ear. They stand so close a sheet of paper could not slide between them.

“Is it too hot for you?” whispers Ana.

He leans down to her. She feels the wisp of his breath on her ear. “No. It’s perfect.”

Ana gazes at him with an elated smile. “I’m so happy you brought your camera. I’ve been a faithful reader of
National Geographic
, you know.”

“Really?”

“
Sí
. The librarians must have thought I was obsessed with travel or that I was some sort of detective. In one of your photos from Buenos Aires there was a faint reflection of you in the glass.”

“You saw that?”

“I not only saw it, I asked the librarians for a magnifying glass. I sat there with the magnifier trying to pull you out of that photo.” She runs her hand along the seam of Daniel’s shirt. “I researched photography to decipher your thoughts. In the beginning, your shots were aggressive, pushing so far into life that it scared me. The aerial photos.”

“Sitting on a helicopter skid. Stupid. Early on I pushed boundaries and always tipped toward ten. Felt like I had something to prove, I guess.”

“If your photos had horizon lines I learned that meant hope and possibility. A quiet photo meant you were sitting, contemplative, waiting for the moment to come to you.”

“Kinda like I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

She runs her finger down his nose and lips to his chin. “I can’t believe it. You’re really here. I haven’t slept. I’ve been too excited.”

“Me neither. I was so nervous at the museum I felt sick.”

“How do you feel now?” she asks.

Daniel takes her hand and presses it flat against his chest. Ana’s eyes expand.

“Exactly. If my heart beats any harder or faster, we’re in trouble,” laughs Daniel.