by Susan Conley
I was so surprised to see him there that I just stared. Then, before I could hit the button to lower the window, Richard opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat.
“I hope you don’t mind my intruding,” he said, while my eyes took in his smart trench coat glistening with rain. “But you did say you could drive me to the station. Does your offer still stand?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Good.” He shot a nervous look over his shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here before Bécquer sees us together and calls me back.”
Chapter Fifteen: Richard
“I was waiting for you in David’s car,” Richard explained as I put the car in reverse.
“Why? Why didn’t you leave with Rachel?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you.” His voice sounded tense, and a quick glance at him as I looked over my shoulder to make sure it was safe to back up my car, was met with a cold stare from his pale blue eyes.
My stomach sank with apprehension. Was Richard thinking of breaking his contract with me now that Bécquer didn’t represent me anymore? Despite my previous realization that my interest in Bécquer overruled my desire to get published, the thought hurt more that I cared to admit.
“About our contract?” I asked, glad that the sound of gravel cracking under the tires and the constant pelting of the rain had drowned the quiver in my voice.
Richard snorted. “The contract? Is that all you care about?”
Too shocked by the suppressed anger boiling in his questions, I said nothing.
“Could you at least pretend you care for Bécquer a little after all he has done for you?”
I stopped the car at the end of the driveway, and turned to him. “Would you please explain what this is about? You’re obviously upset with me and I’ve no idea why.”
Richard stared at me for a long time. Finally, he ran his fingers through his blonde curls that, wet with rain fell flat over his forehead, and shook his head. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” I was angry now because something in his expression had scared me, and anger seemed a better option than to follow up in that fear.
“I see you don’t,” Richard said. “Could you please drive on? I’ll tell you what I know, I promise. But I’ve already missed the five-thirty train and I’d like to get home before nine. I have to walk my dogs.”
I hesitated for a moment then nodded my agreement. After taking a deep breath to release the tension building in my muscles, I turned on to the road and headed toward Princeton.
“First, I want to apologize for my harsh words,” Richard started, his voice loud enough to be heard over the grating sound of the windshield wipers. “I assumed Bécquer had shared the news with you, and I was appalled by your lack of concern.”
“News? The only news Bécquer ever shared with me was in regard to my book. Bécquer is my agent, Richard. He does not discuss his personal life with me.”
“You mean, he never told you about his car accident on Halloween night? He did say he had been the only one hurt, but because you two left the party together, I thought you had been involved in the crash.”
A car accident on Halloween night? So that had been Bécquer’s official story. So that was why Richard was worried, because Bécquer had been hurt? He was right to be concerned, for his wounds had been serious, fatal even, had he been human. But Bécquer was immortal, and thus Richard’s concern, unwarranted.
Relieved that a simple misunderstanding was behind Richard’s fears, I loosened my grip on the wheel, and answered him lightly. “No, I wasn’t with him.”
“You don’t seem surprised, though.”
“I wasn’t with him when the accident happened. But I did know about it.”
“You knew?” Anger crawled back into his voice. “You knew and you don’t care? You knew and yet, today, you come to the meeting and act as if nothing has happened and never even ask him how he’s doing?”
“I — ” I started, then stopped, confused. Why was Richard mad at me? Bécquer had told me he was almost healed when we talked the previous Tuesday. And today he had looked perfectly all right.
But when I told Richard this, he was not appeased.
“Bécquer is not all right, Carla. He will never walk again.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, then, when their meaning finally hit me, my mind went blank. My body reacted instinctively and my foot pushed hard on the brakes. The tires skidded on the wet road, causing the car to swerve in and out of the right lane.
Richard yelled and reached for the wheel. I pushed him hard, rejecting his help, rejecting his words. But his scream had broken the standstill in my mind and my brain was once again in charge of my body, and soon I had the car under control. Somehow I steered it into the shoulder and brought it to a halt.
For a moment we just sat there, side by side, the sound of the rain not covering, but underscoring, the silence that had fallen between us.
“What was that about?” Richard said at last, sounding more dazed than scared. “You could have gotten us killed.”
“I’m sorry. But, really, it was your fault. Why did you say that to me? Why did you make up such a horrible lie?”
Richard’s look of shock melted into something else, something like pity, which scared me even further. “So, Bécquer didn’t tell you.”
“No, of course not. Bécquer didn’t tell me because it is not true. You just made it up now to … to … ” But for all I wracked my brain to think of a reason I came up empty.
“I’m afraid I didn’t make it up, Carla. And, again, I apologize for misjudging you. Had I known you do care for him, I would have broken the news to you more gently.”
I braced myself against the wheel. “It’s too late to spare my feelings now. So please, just finish your story.”
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Drive?” I repeated, then, as I realized we were still on the shoulder when we were supposed to be driving to catch a train, I put the car in gear. But my movements were shaky, my vision blurred. I shifted again into park and nodded to him. “If you don’t mind.”
“Bécquer did not give me all the details,” Richard said after we’d exchanged seats. “All I know is that he was doing better after the accident. Then this past Monday, Rachel found him unconscious in his study. She called 9-1-1 when he didn’t respond to her attempts to revive him, and they rushed him to the hospital. Later that night, he came back to his senses. Apart from not remembering what had happened to bring him to that point, his mind suffered no damage, but his spine had been irreversibly broken. There is no doubt on his prognosis. He will never regain the use of his legs.”
I said nothing for I could not find my voice.
Bécquer is immortal. He’s not paralyzed, a part of my mind repeated, convinced perhaps that if I said it enough times it would be so. But another part of me was remembering my recent meeting with Bécquer, and, as it did, details I had ignored came to the foreground as if forced from my subconscious by Richard’s words.
Bécquer had been sitting when I came into the study and never got up during the meeting, not even to say goodbye. Conveniently, when I was ready to leave, somebody had called and prevented him from accompanying me.
As for his bizarre claim that he didn’t know how to make a copy, it made perfect sense now. It had been an excuse to avoid getting up. Bécquer was almost 200 years old. He had grown up in a world without technology, but he had learned how to drive, and knew how to use a computer for he had sent me e-mails. How could I have ever believed he was too stupid to know how to work a copy machine?
So, yes, it was possible that Bécquer was paralyzed and had tried to hide it from me. But that didn’t mean his condition was permanent. In fact, it couldn’t be, for Bécquer was immortal.
Then another detail came to my mind. His reaction when his pen rolled out of his reach had been slow. And losing it had been clumsy to start with. Bécquer, the immortal Bécquer I remembered from the party, from our meetings in Café Vienna would not have dropped it. I started to shake.
Richard released a hand from the wheel and touched my arm. “Carla. Are you all right?”
I started at his touch, but didn’t push his hand away. “Yes,” I lied and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by a sense of loss so intense I felt like drowning. Bécquer, the perfect immortal who had so impressed me, was gone, replaced by an injured man forever dependent on others.
No. My mind fought back. Bécquer could not be mortal and paralyzed. Federico would have told me. Federico knew I loved Bécquer. Why had he not contacted me?
According to Richard’s account, only Rachel had been with Bécquer at the time, which meant Federico had left before Bécquer was fully recovered. Did he even know about the accident?
“Who is Federico?” was Richard’s answer when I asked him. “Is he Bécquer’s friend?”
“Yes. They have been friends for many years. Just friends,” I hurried to add to quench the note of hope I had noticed in his voice. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call him now.”
I was aware I couldn’t talk freely to Federico with Richard sitting next to me. But I needed Federico’s reassurance that Bécquer would be fine.
I reached back for my purse without waiting for Richard’s answer and grabbed the phone and Federico’s card. But when I punched his number on my cell, my call went directly to voice mail.
“Will this Federico come to stay with Bécquer?” Richard asked after I finished recording my message.
“I hope so.”
“Good,” Richard said, sounding relieved. “And until he does, would you agree to check on him?”
“You want me to check on Bécquer?”
“Yes. Actually it was because I wanted to ask you this that I waited for you. I don’t think it’s good for Bécquer to be alone right now.”
“But he’s not. Matt lives over the garage. And — ”
Richard shook his head. “Not anymore. Rachel told me Matt left last week.”
“What about Rachel?”
“Rachel doesn’t live with Bécquer.”
“They may not live together but they — ” I stopped, embarrassed when I noticed the trace of jealousy trailing in my voice.
Richard took his eyes from the road and shot a glance in my direction. “Lovers. Is that what you think? That Bécquer and Rachel are lovers?”
I nodded.
“You’re wrong. They are not lovers. I’m sure of it.”
I disagreed. Even if I had not seen them flirting in Café Vienna, Rachel’s behavior today was proof enough that her feelings for Bécquer went well beyond a simple boss-secretary relationship.
“If, as you say, they are not lovers, why was Rachel so upset today?”
“I didn’t say she didn’t care for him. The distress she showed today obviously suggests she does. But Bécquer does not care for her that way, or he would not have fired her. Today was her last day with him.”
I thought about it for a moment. I wasn’t convinced. “It may be her last day as his secretary. That does not mean she won’t continue seeing him.”
“Yes, it does. Rachel told me Bécquer was adamant. He strictly forbade her to come back any more, which means Bécquer will be on his own. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But he can’t be alone. Doesn’t he need help?”
“Yes, of course he needs help. That’s why he hired David and two other nurses who take shifts around the clock. I was talking about friends.”
“I don’t think Bécquer thinks of me as a friend. He didn’t even tell me he was incapacitated.”
“Maybe he didn’t tell you because he cared too much and didn’t want your pity.”
“He cares for you, Carla,” Richard told me when I said nothing. “I saw the way he looked at you at the party. I would have given my soul for him to look at me that way. And I was not the only one to notice. Beatriz was jealous of you, so jealous that she quit that very night. What more proof do you want, Carla?”
He had gotten it all wrong, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him Bécquer only cared for me because I was the descendant of his wife’s third son. I couldn’t tell him Beatriz had left because she had stolen Bécquer’s blood and become immortal. And I was too ashamed to tell him that, regardless of the fact that Bécquer didn’t love me, I was in love with him.
“I don’t know what happened between you two that night that makes you doubt him so. But I know he still cares for you. He has never pushed me so hard to read a manuscript in the ten years I’ve known him.”
“That might have been because he wants to finish all his projects before retiring.”
“Retiring? Did he tell you he was retiring?”
“But he mustn’t,” he added frantically after I told him what Bécquer had said. “He shouldn’t make such a big decision right now. Bécquer loves being an agent and he’s good at it. Of course he’s upset now, but he won’t always feel that way. His clients would understand if he takes some time off. Losing the use of his legs and his career at the same time could be too much, even for someone as strong as he is.”
“Are you suggesting he may be thinking of killing himself?”
Richard remained silent for a moment as if considering my question. Then he shook his head. “No. Bécquer loves life too much for that. But he needs help to adapt to his new situation. He needs friends. Knowing he has decided to retire only makes my request more pressing.
“Please, Carla, promise me that you’ll check on him tomorrow and on the following days, as often as he will allow you to visit him. I don’t want him to be alone.”
I promised. Not only because he was right that Bécquer should not be alone, but also because I wanted to know the truth. Was Bécquer really human? And if he was, who had changed him and why? The only explanation I could think of was that the Elders had punished him for making Beatriz immortal. But if they had, where was Federico? And why hadn’t he told me?
Chapter Sixteen: The Consequence
After I dropped Richard at the station I called Madison to let her know I was coming home. The call was mainly for my own peace of mind, because, as usual, she didn’t seem to care whether I was in Princeton or being eaten by a shark, as long as I was back in time to chauffer her around. And right then, as she was grounded, she had no need for me.
I had just crossed the toll bridge over the Delaware and was back in Pennsylvania when my phone rang.
“Carla? Can you talk?” Federico’s voice broke through the speaker, his Spanish accent thicker than I remembered it.
“Bécquer is not answering his phone,” he continued, after I confirmed I was alone.
“Have you tried his cell?”
“Yes,” he said. Switching to Spanish, he rushed on, “Both his house and his cell. Have you seen him? Are you sure he can’t walk?”
I pulled to the shoulder because I didn’t trust myself to drive, and told him about our meeting, Bécquer’s confession that he was retiring, and Richard’s account of Bécquer’s accident and of his staying at the hospital.
“Hospital?” Federico interrupted me. “Bécquer was at the hospital?”
“He was unconscious when they found him. Rachel called an ambulance.”
“Don’t you see, Carla, if he is still immortal — ”
“ — they would have noticed he’s not human.”
“Exactly.”
“But he is immortal, isn’t he? He is still immortal.”
“I don’t know, Carla. Something is wrong.”
“You mean it’s possible for an immortal
to become human again?”
“Sí,” Federico said after a slight hesitation. “Es posible. The Elders have the power to do so, and Bécquer did break the law by making Beatriz immortal, but even if they made him human, he shouldn’t be paralyzed. He was walking when I left him.”
“You knew the Elders could make him human and you left him alone? How could you? Why didn’t you wait until the Elders had passed their sentence?”
“I never thought they would apply such penalty given that it was Beatriz who stole his blood. Besides, why do you act so surprised that I left? You know I’m only allowed to be with Bécquer for a week and you were the one who told me I had to let him make his own mistakes, if I wanted him to stop acting like a child.”
Yes. I had said that. Maybe the fact that my children never followed my advice had pushed me to giving it too freely. If people were going to listen to me, I would have to be more careful, or more precise, when expressing my opinions.
“I didn’t mean it literally, Federico. I didn’t expect you to leave him when he was still in recovery.”
“He was doing much better when I left,” Federico insisted, “and he had Rachel to care for him. Obviously it wasn’t enough and now he’s in trouble. So, at the risk of eliciting his fury, I’m coming to check on him.”
“Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?”
“No. Matt will drive.”
So that’s why Matt was not with Bécquer anymore. I should have guessed they were together, for their mutual attraction had been evident last time I saw them, but somehow, the thought had not occurred to me.
“Matt — ” I stopped. Whether Matt and Federico were together was none of my business. “Where are you now, Federico?”
“Washington. Washington, D.C., which means we’ll be there later tonight, but until we arrive, could you please go back to Bécquer’s house, and stay with him?”
“I … I don’t think it’s a good idea. Bécquer chose not to tell me of his condition. I think he will hate to see me now.”