“Don’t look at me,” the captain said. “I agreed when you said you’d be here by nine. I don’t care what you do. You just better be here by nine. Not a moment later. If you aren’t, you’ll be in for a whole mess of trouble when you do get back.”
“You know what that means then, don’t you?” Adam asked Martin.
“What?”
“We better be back here by nine. Didn’t you just hear the captain?” Adam laughed.
The small crew continued talking about everything from the local food to the local women, to what they would do when they first got back home, and so forth. After an hour or so, some of them started excusing themselves to go turn in for the night. By eleven they were all either asleep or passed out from drink—well, mostly just Jones.
Chapter Twenty-Three
WHEN ADAM AND MARTIN ARRIVED back at the Velasquez estate just after sunrise the next morning, they were immediately allowed through the gate and then shown up to the main house by Felipe. Once they were inside, the short Spanish servant, Timoteo, escorted them into the house. The two of them followed him through the palatial home and were taken to the room where Martin and Charlie had been several days earlier. It was Santiago’s study.
Isabel was there, sitting in her son’s chair, staring out the huge picture window that looked out onto the courtyard. When she saw Adam and Martin enter the room, she turned her attention towards them and smiled.
“I am glad you are here,” she said to Adam. “And I see you have brought your friend.”
Martin bowed his head as a courtesy and said, “I’m pleased to see you again, ma’am. I didn’t get to say it yesterday, but before we left for home I just wanted to apologize for the damage I caused in your house a couple of days ago.”
“Thank you. I accept your apology,” said Isabel. She gave him a reserved smile. “Now, I do not wish to be discourteous, but I need a moment to speak with my grandson alone, if you would not mind giving us a few minutes.”
Martin looked at Adam for an indication as to whether or not he should leave the room. Adam nodded, so Martin smiled and said, “Certainly, ma’am. I’ll see myself out.”
Once he was out of the room and the door was closed behind him, Isabel invited Adam to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“My goodness, it still feels strange to say that—‘grandson’—and not just because it is in English.” She began to weep. “I never even knew I had a grandson until . . .” She waved her hand and sighed in exasperation. Adam guessed she was probably thinking about everything that had recently happened with her son.
“You haven’t said . . . How is my father?” he asked.
“My son is so very strong. He is still holding on to life—if only by a thread—if you can believe it. He is very much the way he was last night. I do not see that there is any improvement, but I think he is just trying desperately not to let go.”
Adam swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to believe his father might actually have a chance of recovering, but he knew with almost all certainty that he was very near death, and Adam didn’t want to be around when it happened. He wanted to honor his father’s wishes in that respect.
“Even though I only barely got to know him, I’m still thankful that I found him,” said Adam, “and you.”
“Yes. Me too,” she said. “It means a great deal to me to know that my Santiago’s line lives on in his son.”
Isabel lowered her head for a moment, as if she was thinking about what to say. “Mijo, I know you do not have much time here before you have to return to your ship, so there is something we need to discuss.”
Adam nodded. “Alright. That’s just fine. What is it?”
“It is a practical matter, but we need to consider the current circumstances. As you already know, my son—your father—is in a terrible state. You know as I do that it seems very unlikely he will recover. I continue to pray for a miracle, but only God knows when exactly his time will be up. The signs we are having here, though, that we can see are saying that he will die.”
“I hope you know,” said Adam, “I’m praying for him too. I never thought meeting him would happen like it did, but regardless of what happened eighteen years ago—or all the years in between—I will always be grateful for what he did for me here, and I will carry those memories with me always.”
“Yes, I believe you will. And I am happy to know that you feel that way. I want you to also know that if I had known he had a son and a wife somewhere in this world, I would have done everything in my power to make him go to you—either to make a home with you there, or to bring you back here. I would never have approved of him leaving you both the way that he did.”
“But you know he did it to protect us from Eduardo, don’t you?”
“I know this, but I believe there is something that I could have done to help—if only he would have talked to me about it. I never knew my brother-in-law had this . . . this . . . madness.”
Adam scratched his temple. He wondered if she did not fully understand why Eduardo had threatened Santiago’s life. He also wondered if he should say anything about it.
Isabel continued: “I want you to know just because my son made his decisions as he did, you are still his rightful heir if something happens to him, regardless of what Eduardo says. You know he does not have a will, however. He is a young man, of course, and I’m sure he did not consider that something like this would ever happen.”
“Well, actually,” Adam began, trying to figure out what to say. In reality, he was thinking about the fact that this woman didn’t know about her son’s will, or what all it said. For now he thought it best to not address it. “You know, to tell you the truth, being an heir is the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “but do not be so quick to dismiss your potential inheritance. There is something you will need to consider. You say your name is Adam Fletcher, but you are the child of my son, and he is Velasquez de Leon. Since he does not have a will, in order to inherit you will need to assume his surname, Velasquez. It is of little concern to me what you call yourself in America, but here you must take your father’s name. You must call yourself Adam Velasquez.”
Adam tilted his head and made a face that indicated his discomfort with the idea. “My father isn’t dead yet. You know . . . maybe the best thing to do would be to wait and see if he dies, and if that happens, then you can send some sort of correspondence to let me know. Then we can talk about this. I’m not so sure how I feel about having this conversation right now.”
Adam was no fool. He understood that this was a perfectly reasonable conversation to have, but given the circumstances—that Eduardo had insisted Santiago was illegitimate, which would of course implicate Isabel, and that Santiago knew about that—Adam really did not want to be the one to tell all of this to his grandmother. He hoped she would take a hint from his reluctance to discuss it and change the subject.
“You are right,” she said. “He is not dead yet, but I think it is preferable that you and I have this conversation now rather than me having to try and communicate with you about this via written correspondences to America. We need to discuss your name change, so you can inherit.”
Adam wrinkled his brow and sat forward in his chair. He paused for a moment to think about what she was asking him to do and what he wanted to say. On one hand, he still didn’t want to confront her with Eduardo’s charges of her infidelity to his brother, but on the other hand, he was taken aback by her ability to treat the situation like a standard business transaction.
“I’m sorry. Let me be sure I understand what you are telling me. You want me to change my name so that I can be accepted as my father’s son, so that I can inherit whatever it is that I’m supposed to inherit?”
“Well, yes. That is the way it will have to be. Otherwise, it will appear that you are a bastard, and the court will not likely recognize you as his heir if other members
of the family wish to contest your inheritance, namely land holdings and property that would go to some of his cousins if he died without a legitimate heir.”
“I can’t do it,” said Adam. “I know I’m his son, and I know that I’m not a bastard, but nevertheless I have been Adam Fletcher all of my life. I can’t pretend to be somebody now that I’m not, just to get some inheritance.”
“It is only when you are here,” she said. “You can call yourself whatever you like once you are gone.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I don’t want to disrespect you in any way, but the fact is that because of problems between him and his uncle, almost nineteen years ago he had to leave my pregnant mother, who was barely eighteen herself, to give birth to me and raise me alone. They decided way back then to hide their marriage, to pretend that it never even happened, and the fact that she was carrying his heir, and all because Eduardo paid men to try to kill her. Do you understand? Eduardo was ready to kill my mother, and I would imagine any other woman my father might have taken the notion to marry, because he was not going to let him have a legitimate heir.”
Isabel’s eyes grew large. Adam could tell she wanted to say something, but he continued: “My father was ready to give up the Velasquez inheritance to protect our lives. For more than eighteen years, my mother has been called every name you can imagine because the folks back in Beaufort thought she was a woman of loose morals. They didn’t believe she was married, because they never saw a husband. And what did that make me? I have been called a bastard more times than I could count.”
“Adam, I’m sorry that—”
“Listen,” said Adam. “I understand that you hold the balance of this family’s estate until you die, except for the part that was already given to my father in your late husband’s will. If my father dies, I want it to be clear in your will that you will give what he would have stood to inherit to the children of Eduardo.”
“But why?” Isabel sat with her mouth agape, clearly perplexed at his suggestion. “Why would you say that? Eduardo is dead now.”
“Yes, he is. Now his sons are without a father, regardless of what a lousy father he may have been. I don’t need this family’s riches. I never even knew about them, but Eduardo’s sons? Who’s to say they wouldn’t come after me or my family one day out of the same kind of greed that motivated Eduardo?”
“If you are so concerned about what they might think, then I will leave it up to you to give to them as you see fit from the inheritance. In fact, it is fully within my power to transfer the inheritance to you now, while I am still living, if my son has died, but you need to assume his name. Otherwise, it will raise far too many questions, and it will look scandalous.”
“I don’t think you would need for me to change my name for you to give me property,” said Adam. “And anyway, I would just sign it all over to Eduardo’s family. I’m trying to make you understand that I don’t want it.”
“You are being foolish,” said Isabel.
“I am not!” Adam insisted. “There will never be a day when I abandon my mother’s name.”
Isabel’s posture stiffened and she raised her eyebrows at his reaction. She pressed her lips together and looked like she was waiting for him to respond.
He said nothing at first, then finally, “I won’t do it.”
Isabel appeared to be incredulous at Adam’s response. “My late husband loved Santiago and was a wonderful father to him. He wanted him to have everything, and he would want the same for his grandson.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I won’t do it,” he said.
Adam thought he was being clever. Maybe if he kept taking this route, she’d leave the subject alone. The last thing he wanted to do was to let Isabel know that Eduardo had been calling her a whore all these years, and that her own son acknowledged Eduardo’s accusations in his will—the will she knew nothing about.
“I think you are being stubborn and immature,” she insisted.
“Maybe. But I am not going to pretend that I’ve grown up with the benefit of knowing he was my father or him helping to raise me, regardless of how virtuous his reasons were for leaving.”
“You are being unreasonable, mijo,” Isabel pleaded. “I can assure you that it will make no difference to you or your mother if you do what I ask, but what do you think your mother would say if you walked away from such an inheritance because of your stubborn pride?”
“My mother would understand? Have you forgotten what I just said? Eduardo tried to have her killed!”
“Yes! All the more reason for her to want you to have justice now.”
“You don’t know my mother,” said Adam. “And anyway, even if that were true, I still wouldn’t change my name just so I can receive property.”
“But why not? It would only be while you are here.”
“I’m leaving in a little more than an hour anyway, remember.”
“I am sure your master would let you return to take care of this business if he understood everything that was happening.”
This tiny old woman was far more stubborn than Adam could have imagined. It was time to try to fend off her insistence using a different tactic. “Are you telling me that if you were in my mother’s shoes, you would be alright with your son living a lie just for economic gain?”
Isabel took a deep breath and gazed out of the window again. Finally, she stood from her chair and walked over to look out on the courtyard. Adam wasn’t sure if that meant their conversation was over. He thought that it might, so he got up and started walking towards the door.
“Mijo, wait.” Isabel walked around to the front of the desk and motioned for him to sit back down.
He came over and took a seat. She took the chair that was nearest to him and brought it very close to where he was sitting, and she sat down facing him.
“You see things in a very simple way, but sometimes in life things are very much more complicated than that.”
Adam looked at her but said nothing.
“You are leaving soon, and we do not have much time to argue anymore, so to answer your question, yes, I would done so, and I have done so.”
“What?” asked Adam, stunned. “I don’t understand what you mean.” He wondered if she was about to confess to him more specifically what his father had alluded to in his will.
“Sometimes we do not choose to lie,” she said. “We choose to hide the truth. Perhaps it is because it is something of which we are ashamed. Or perhaps we are not ashamed, although we should be, but it is not our wish to hurt someone that we love.”
Adam wrinkled his brow and shook his head. “What is this about?”
“I want to share something with you—something I have kept a secret for many, many years, but I am hoping by my telling you it will cause you to reconsider what I am asking you to do.”
“What is it?”
“When I was a young girl, only about fifteen or so, one of the places my family lived was in Trinidad. My father was a government official, and although there wasn’t much of any kind of Spanish colony there at the time, he was a royal appointee, and so that was my home. I met a young Englishman who used to visit our little island when he was sailing here and there in the Caribbean Sea. You could say we became sweethearts, and we fell in love, but nothing was to come of it. My father would not have permitted me to marry someone like him. Yes, he had money, but he was not Spanish, and he had no title or substantial holdings. Still, he would come see me, and we would spend beautiful afternoons together on the beach at my family’s estate. Oh yes, we were very much in love, but fate had other plans for us.”
“What happened?”
“My father was appointed to a new position here in Havana. At that time I was a couple of years older. There was an older gentleman who had recently lost his wife and only child during childbirth. He was grieving terribly, and my father thought him to be a good and decent man, so he made an agreement with the man that I co
uld be his bride. So we married.”
“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me or my father,” said Adam.
“My husband, Juan Diego, que Dios le bendiga,” she said, crossing herself, “was a good man, but he was so grief stricken and fearful after losing his first wife that he was unable to, well, be as a husband to me. He traveled frequently. One of the times he was away, I was surprised that my young Englishman had found me.”
Adam’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
She continued her story. “He had gone all the way to Trinidad looking for me, but I was not there. The man who had taken over our estate told him we had come to Havana, so he came here and found me. He had been told I was married, but he wanted to see it for himself. You see, he had come into a great deal of money and was hoping that we would be able to finally be together with my father’s blessing, but it was too late.”
Adam discreetly looked at a clock that was across the room and remembered he had sent Martin out to wait for him. Isabel must have detected his nervousness about the time and said, “Do not worry, this will not take much longer.”
Adam smiled and nodded. “It’s alright. I’m listening.”
“Mijo, I have never told this to another living soul, but when I consider what you have been through in your life and that your father cannot be there for you now, I think you should know this.”
This was taking forever. Adam was very interested in what she was going to say.
“You see, this Englishman and I, we created a child together—in a moment of weakness and indiscretion. Not long after my husband returned, it started to become apparent that I was growing big with child. He knew that the babe could not be his, because we had never even consummated our marriage, but to admit that would have brought much shame and embarrassment upon him. Santiago is that child, and he was raised with the understanding that Juan Diego Velasquez de Castillo was his father. Santiago has never known anything different.”
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