“Leave Luna alone,” Sofía said. “She’s an innocent.”
“I’m not a fool!” Luna bit back. “I know things and have seen things that I should never have had to experience because of this war, just like the rest of you. If there is a way I can help España, I will do it, but I care about the people I love first. Don’t berate me for that.”
Scarlett rolled her ice-blue eyes, and turned to fetch her bag off the seat of the truck. “I’m going home for a while. Are you coming or not, Cayetano?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he replied.
“We might head back to our house for a while,” Alejandro said. “You don’t need to be at the hospital right away, do you, Sofía?”
“No, I have hours left yet,” she said with a cheeky smile.
“I might go for a long walk,” Luna said and threw a look at her sister-in-law. “You need some space.”
“Cayetano,” Alejandro said firmly. Cayetano smiled back at him when Alejandro threw him the ‘leave my sister alone’ expression.
As Alejandro, Sofía and Scarlett headed back down the hill in the direction of their homes, Luna noticed that Scarlett looked back over her shoulder at Cayetano. Her gaze also looked Luna up and down. She felt relieved when Scarlett disappeared around the corner and out of sight.
“I was wondering,” Cayetano said, “do you have an escort for the fiesta next week?”
“No.” Luna couldn’t help but smile. “Besides, there was talk of it all being cancelled this year. Parties aren’t exactly a priority. Last year they tried to hold it and it ended up being a riot. Sixteen people died!”
“Would you care to accompany me if your brother permits it?”
“Will you ask him that?”
Cayetano cringed. Alejandro’s words rang in his ears. Stay away from my sister. She deserves better than some bastard who has nothing to offer her except being a husband who will be dead before the end of the war. “Perhaps we can meet at the fiesta,” he offered. “Alejandro wouldn’t object to us dancing. Besides, he is so caught up in Sofía. I have a suit, and I can use the bathhouse before then.”
Cayetano at the bathhouse by the river? The poor young girl shivered at the thought. Imagine catching a sight of him while doing the laundry. “I would very much like to dance with you,” she stuttered.
Cayetano grinned so much that he started to laugh. “Excellent. I will meet you at Plaza Mayor then.”
“But won’t you be taking Scarlett?”
“We live together as friends. Her husband only died six months ago. Even if it was appropriate to be romantically involved with her, I wouldn’t be interested. Scarlett doesn’t care what people think, and I’m not sure if she is even going to the fiesta.”
“Scarlett doesn’t like me.”
“Scarlett doesn’t like anyone. She has earned the right to not trust people. The pain she has suffered defies belief.”
Luna watched Cayetano put his torn cap back on again. Luna could mend that hole in his cap. A little thread, a little time. “I will let you go and rest, you have had a long trip from Valencia.”
Cayetano took her little hand in his, brought it to his lips, and gave her a tender kiss that was full of promise. “Until we meet again, Luna,” he said in his deep, sensual voice.
She bid him a polite farewell, and decided to head in the direction of the river for a walk. The nation that Luna lived in burned around her in fear and bloodshed, and the fire in her heart had also been awoken.
2
Madrid, España ~ Agosto de 2009
Mañana, mañana.
Luna groaned as she fought her way through the busy Madrid streets. Mañana, mañana. Procrastination at its finest. Bloody Spanish. Sure, I will put everything off another day, she had yelled at the woman at the desk of the Registro Civil. Sure, I will come all the way back to Madrid another day, just because you’re closing for siesta. August was unofficial holiday month in Spain, so Luna should have been grateful the place had been open at all. Shit.
The trip to the New Zealand embassy after the trip to the registry office had been painless, but she couldn’t get anything she needed from them until she had a copy of her grandfather’s birth certificate from the Registro Civil. That place was like a zoo for humans. She had sat for hours amongst whining Spaniards, fussy babies and dozens of other irritations, only to be told the woman at the counter couldn’t be bothered to help, because she was off to a bullfight that afternoon. Unbelievable. So typically Spanish. Work to live, not live to work.
Luna had walked 16 blocks in the 40-degree heat through the crowds for nothing. Now she had walked another 12 blocks back towards her hotel. Her white blouse and long, deep purple skirt clung to her tiny frame, and the sweat that poured from her made her feel awful. Her long curly black hair was tied up in a high ponytail, but it was stuck to the back of her neck. Even the folder of paperwork she carried was damp. She stopped at the pedestrian crossing and glanced through her black sunglasses at the electronic thermometer sign across the street. The red numbers read 43. It was still getting hotter. That was August in Madrid for you.
The lights changed, and Luna set off across the street with the other tourists, and the locals who probably weren’t going back to work after siesta. Luna was on Calle de Alcalá, the main road alongside Las Ventas, Madrid’s famous bullring. People jostled and hurried to get into the ring for the fight that was due to start. The air was mixed with cigarette smoke and frustration as people tried to get out of the sun.
Over the sounds of the bustling Madrid streets, Luna heard her phone ring in her bag, and she stopped on the edge of the path, eager to answer it. She had left her twin sons, Giacomo and Enzo, at home in Valencia. It was the first time in their lives - all five years of it – that she had been away from them. Was something wrong? What if something horrible had happened? Her heart pounded in fear any time they were out of her sight. She felt guilty not bringing them along – there was so much to explore in Madrid.
“Darren?” she answered the phone. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course,” his warm Australian accent said back to her. “Lulu, you need to stress less.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” she muttered as she glanced up at the terracotta coloured bullring across the street. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check and see how everything is going in Madrid.”
“Miserable. The city is full, the people are rude, the embassy couldn’t help me, and the Registro Civil was a fucking nightmare! The woman in the line ahead of me, she stood for 20 minutes, telling the woman who worked there her whole damn life story, and then it turned out they were cousins anyway, so she already knew the whole thing! What the fuck was the point?”
“So, it’s much like the bank here?”
“Like the bank, or the pharmacy, or the phone company, or anywhere. Oh to be Spanish and have a friend who works somewhere that could be useful to you.”
Darren chuckled as he listened to her little upset voice. “Calm down, Lulu.”
“I don’t want to fight the Spanish bureaucratic system!”
“Come on, you love a good fight.”
“Not today.”
“What did the embassy say?”
Luna started to walk along the path again; head down as she tried to concentrate on the conversation. “They said that if I have proof of my Spanish grandfather, then I am eligible for Spanish citizenship. I should be granted a permit. I haven’t gotten into any trouble on my work permit in ten years, I have a job, and have children that were born here. But when they run my name through the court system database, Luna Montgomery flashes up.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“The embassy guy, he was a New Zealander like me, and he knew who I was. That kiwi woman in Spain who fought the legal system…”
“Don’t be ashamed!” Darren replied. “You campaigned for harsher sentences for drunk drivers, that’s not a negative thing.”
“Ye
ah, I know…” Luna was tired. The last few years had been difficult in ways she never imagined. “If Fabrizio hadn’t been killed…”
“It’s okay, Lulu,” he tried to reassure her. “Once this is done, everything will be under control, and we can live our lives together.”
Luna sighed. Thank God for Darren James. He was the best friend anyone could hope to have. He had moved into her apartment with her and her twins when her husband Fabrizio died in a hit-and-run accident. Since then, he had helped her with the kids and been her support. “What if they don’t renew your work permit next year? You will have to go back to Australia.”
“No way, I will get my professional cycling contract renewed, and they will let me live here while I train. Don’t worry, Luna. I’ll never let you down.”
“I guess I could get my citizenship and then marry you, so you could stay in Valencia with me,” she joked.
“At least let me propose to you!” Darren had imagined it multiple times before, propose while they took the kids to school, or stood and laughed in the kitchen together, or just sat on the balcony of their apartment to watch the world below them. Many times Darren had imagined what it would be like if Luna loved him back, but it always seemed too soon after the death of his colleague and friend, Fabrizio Merlini.
“Well… you never know what could happen… a year from now.”
“Indeed not,” Darren replied with the sound of satisfaction in his voice. He could wait. “So, is your work in Madrid complete?”
“No! I couldn’t get the birth certificate of Cayetano Ortega, this alleged grandfather of mine, so the trip is wasted. I’ll need to come all the way back another day.”
“That’s a pity, but at least you have the rest of the day to enjoy Madrid. How is the hotel?”
“The hotel is excellent. You didn’t need to book me into the Ritz. But… I think I might just get the train home. I could be home in five hours.”
“No! Lulu, no, you wanted to spend a day in Madrid, so you should do it. And before you say it, don’t worry about the kids. They have been fine all day, and they will help me cook dinner, so they say. I have finished all our housework. My godfather role is important to me.”
“You’re too kind to me. If you and the boys were here I could enjoy it...”
“Pity we don’t have our babysitter available, or I could be there with you,” Darren said. Stay the night in the hotel, just the two of them… away from the kids… a chance for her to understand how he felt about her. Luna would never agree to that; she worried about the kids too much.
“You’re my babysitter,” she chuckled. “Okay, I will stay. I think. Maybe.”
“Good. Go to the Prado, even though you know every painting in the museum. Wander in the park. Browse the bookstores if they open after siesta. Relax. I’ll call you later to check on you.”
“Okay. I love you, Darren.”
“I love you, Lulu.” More than you realise.
Luna stuffed her phone into her bag and continued to step between the ambling masses. Luna Montgomery walked with purpose; no matter what the activity. There was no time for a stroll, no time to admire, no time to stop and relax. Shit, it was hot. The last thing she felt like doing was to fight crowds after an already difficult morning. She turned onto a shaded side street, a narrow cobbled lane that was protected from the blaze of the summer sun by the buildings and their leafy balconies. She started down the quiet street, a moment’s peace away from the Madrileños and tourists.
Luna didn’t feel the man come right up behind her, didn’t hear a single sound. He shoved her and she stumbled, but knew what he wanted. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to steal her bag. She grabbed the leather strap as he yanked it from her. The sudden pull caused her to drop her folder full of paperwork everywhere as she wrestled with him. But when he struck her in the face with a closed fist she had to let go. Luna fell to the ground as the wretched man ran off down the narrow lane.
“¡Oye!” A deep and full-bodied voice echoed down the street. Luna looked up to see a tall man dart out from a bar a few doors down from where she sat. The man pushed the bag-snatcher hard against the stone wall across the street and grabbed the bag from him. She watched as the man paused for a moment, undecided about which way to go – chase the man who had made a run for it, or come to her in the other direction.
Luna looked down at the path, and her heart sank. In the fall, her silver watch had come off her wrist and smashed on the smooth cobbles. Everything in her bag didn’t mean a fraction to her compared to her watch. Silent tears, the same that accompanied her everywhere, every day, started to fall on her cheeks. She didn’t have power or desire to stop them as she picked up her battered watch.
Through the haze of her tears, a hand appeared. Just as her stubborn nature was about to refuse the gesture, she glanced up, and the gentleman knelt down beside her. The olive features of his face accompanied a gentle but genuine smile. His jet-black hair was messed from his impromptu scuffle. A curl had fallen forward, and covered one of his honey brown eyes that gazed at her. “¿Estás bien?” he asked in a soft tone.
“I’m all right,” Luna replied, her Spanish momentarily forgotten. “Perdón…” she apologised.
“I speak English,” the man’s rich voice replied. “Please don’t cry, preciosa, I have your bag for you.”
Luna almost felt a smile come to the corners of her lips. Just the word precious coming from his mouth made her feel better. She looked at the man who was right in front of her. Luna had blue eyes, but not just any blue eyes. They were a bright ice-blue, and they stopped people whenever they looked at her. With black hair, pale skin and cold blue eyes, her features were striking, and this handsome man had noticed. She took his outstretched hand. It felt like the first time in an age that Luna had accepted any kind of assistance.
“I’m Cayetano.” He could feel the dampness of one of her tears between their hands. He glanced down for a moment and saw a wedding ring on her other hand. He let her hand go, and handed her the bag back.
“Gracias, Cayetano,” she said. “I’m Luna.”
“Let me get your papers, Luna,” Cayetano replied, and bent over to scoop them up.
“No, please, I can do it,” she pleaded, but it was no use. Cayetano had gathered them all together for her.
“Come and sit down with me,” he said, and tried to tuck the papers back inside their folder. “My friend has a bar, just here…”
“No, I should keep going…”
“I insist.”
Luna looked the man up and down for a moment. He was handsome. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and combined with the shining eyes, the cheeky smile, and concerned tone, he enticed her. No one enticed Luna. She glanced down at her broken watch felt a pang of guilt for even looking at this man. “No, I should go back to my hotel.”
“You must come and sit with me. I don’t want you to get the impression that Madrileños are unscrupulous people.”
“I don’t think that, assholes are everywhere.”
Cayetano laughed as they reached the wide open doors to the small bar and the cold air-conditioned air that greeted them. “Please, Luna, reward me for my good deed and let me buy you a drink.”
“Is that why you did it, for a reward?”
“Not at all,” Cayetano replied. He gestured for her to go and sit at the table right at the back of the bar. “The fact that you are very lovely does make the victory far sweeter.”
“Cayetano,que fue impresionante,” the man behind the bar said.
“No, it’s nothing,” Cayetano muttered as he glanced over his shoulder back onto the street. Not that fucking impressive, he hadn’t caught the guy, which disappointed him. He turned to see his friend open his mouth again, and he shook his head. Shut up.
They sat down opposite each other, and Cayetano watched Luna with her broken watch in her fingers. He frowned; it was a bulky watch for a woman to wear. It looked like an expensive sports watch, and it looked t
oo big for a small wrist like hers. She wore it on her right arm, he could tell from the slight tan line just above her hand. He wore his watch on the right arm, too; an unusual thing, even for a left-handed man like him. “Your watch is broken?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “The clasp has been damaged for a while, but I didn’t fix it. Now it’s ruined.”
Cayetano could swear she was about to cry again. She hadn’t minded that her bag had been taken, and she didn’t seem to mind her paperwork all jumbled and screwed up, but the watch hurt her. “Are you alone in Madrid?”
“Sí.”
“Is there someone I can call for you? Perhaps your husband? He would like to know his wife is well after being hit in the face like that.”
Luna brought her little hand to her face for a moment and looked up at the concerned man across the table. “This is my husband’s watch.”
Cayetano nodded. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“I suppose not,” she replied, and tucked it into her large handbag that was on the spare chair against the wall. “He died almost three years ago.”
“Oh,” Cayetano stumbled. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
The conversation was stalled by Cayetano’s friend behind the bar, who had come and put two small glasses of red wine on their table. “Cayetano,” his friend said in a cocky tone,“ésta es hermosa.” He gestured at Luna.
“She can speak Spanish,” Cayetano replied.
“Perdón, Señora,” he said and excused himself from the table.
“I’m sorry,” Cayetano said to Luna. He leaned forward over the small square table. “Please pay no attention to him.”
“There are worse things than someone saying that I’m beautiful,” Luna smiled. She picked up her wine and sipped it. She needed it today. “This is his bar?”
“Sí, he is an old friend of my father. My father helped him to decorate it years ago.”
Luna looked around, the walls adorned with bullfighting memorabilia, photos, posters, the customary mounted black bull head over the bar. “He’s a big fan of corrida de toros.”
Secrets of Spain Trilogy Page 2