The Sisters of Alameda Street

by Lorena Hughes

  He parked a block away from Joyería Platas. “I don’t want anyone—”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.” There was a hollow sensation in her chest. She was the other woman, and as such, deserved a different kind of treatment. She had to be dropped off in the dark, a block away from her house, so nobody would see them. Had her mother lived the same humiliation with her father?

  “Buenas noches, Sebastian.” She opened the door before he had a chance to do it and rushed outside so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  With every one of her steps a tear slid down her cheek. She cried for Sebastian, for the love she had found and lost on the same night; she cried for her father and the torment he must have lived with Cesar’s persecution during that entire year. And she cried over her innocence lost, for she had never imagined her father—the man she admired and strived to please for years—to be a murderer, to have taken someone else’s life. She remembered now Mamá Blanca’s words when she told her about Fausto’s death. She’d called his killer a “despicable” man. Malena couldn’t reconcile that adjective with the image of her father smiling at her from across the dining room table. By the time she reached the Platas home, her shoulders shook uncontrollably.

  She fought the urge to scream, to hit the door. She’d better compose herself before she walked in. She took a deep breath, drying her tears with her gloves, and removed the key Javier had given her from her purse. Trying to sleep would be useless; she knew that much, especially if she didn’t know for sure what had been going on between her father and Cesar. She slipped quietly into the house and headed for the study.

  She shut the door and picked up the phone, whispering Pedro’s number to the operator.

  It took several rings before a raspy man’s voice answered.

  “Pedro?”

  She could picture his big round face and his white guayabera shirt stretched over his gigantic belly. He always wore it, and it always had sweat stains under his armpits. The last time she’d seen him had been at the funeral, when Pedro had refused to answer her questions about her father’s suicide.

  There was a short silence at the other end of the line. “Who is this?”

  “Malena Sevilla.”

  Pedro’s voice turned agitated, urgent. “What’s wrong? Where are you? I’ve been so worried about you. Your neighbor said you left town.”

  “Pedro, I need you to answer me truthfully. Was there someone blackmailing my father?”

  Her question was met with silence.

  “Pedro, please. Whatever you promised my father, you have to let it go. I need to know.”

  After a moment, he finally answered. “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “A reporter who knew”—he paused and sighed—“his real name.”

  “And what he had done?” she finished.

  “How did you find out?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Tell me, why did he kill himself?”

  “That man, the reporter, wanted more money for his silence. He told your father that if he didn’t pay more, he would tell the police where he was. The morning of his death, Hugo said he was going to La Previsora to get a loan. He must have not gotten the money.”

  Malena shivered when she heard the name of the building from which her father had jumped.

  “He was so tired of hiding, Malenita. He’d been running away for twenty years.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me anything? I could have helped.”

  “He didn’t want you to think less of him. He didn’t want to get you involved. That’s why he made me promise not to tell you anything.”

  “So he killed Fausto. It’s true.”

  Pedro’s silence only confirmed her statement.

  She brought her hand to her chest. “Why did he do it?”

  “That I don’t know. I swear. He never said.”

  Chapter 40

  Malena hated to admit it, but Claudia looked stunning in her empire-waist satin wedding gown. The lace sleeves themselves were a work of art and the embroidery of the skirt must have taken hours of labor.

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Ana asked.

  Malena faced the window so neither one of them would see the tears threatening to come out. With her finger, she wiped a black tear rolling down her cheek. Good-bye mascara.

  Ana hugged her daughter and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Are you happy, hija?”

  “Yes, Mamita.”

  As discreetly as possible, Malena removed a compact mirror and wiped the smeared makeup with a tissue.

  “I’d better go get dressed,” Ana said. “It’s getting late.”

  “And you’re not going to change?” Claudia asked Malena after Ana left the room.

  Malena glanced at the delicate lemon lace gown waiting for her on her bed, the one the nice seamstress had sewn for her. A dress especially made for her. Who would have thought? Ordinarily Malena would have been ecstatic to wear this beautiful outfit. Not today, though.

  Malena removed her bath robe and put the crinoline over her undergarments, followed by the sleeveless dress. She wore her silver sun pendant today. She needed to feel her grandmother Eva near her heart; to give her strength during this ordeal.

  Claudia was looking at her through the vanity mirror.

  “Do you need help with your veil?” Malena asked.

  “Not yet.” Claudia turned around. “I want to speak to you first.”

  Malena couldn’t read Claudia’s detached expression.

  “I want to apologize for all the things I told you the day of the bus accident.”

  “You don’t need to. I also said some ugly things to you.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Malena didn’t like the sound of that, or the serious look on Claudia’s face.

  “Who is Malena?”

  Malena’s legs nearly faltered; she held on to the bed pole.

  “Malena?” she repeated her own name. It sounded foreign coming from Claudia.

  Malena had known it was a matter of time before everyone found out—and Claudia knowing meant everyone would find out. But why was this so hard? The thought of losing her place in the family pained her. No more talks with Mamá Blanca, or walking along those squeaky floors, the smell of Trinidad’s kitchen, following Amanda across town, dancing at the Madreselva, or that feeling of belonging, of being part of a family.

  Claudia stood up and opened her night table drawer. She removed two pieces of paper and handed them to Malena.

  Even without touching the papers, Malena knew what they were. Her father’s last note. Her mother’s letter to her grandmother Eva. How could she have been so careless? She should have tossed both letters, the same way she did with Lili’s, and not given in to stupid sentimentalism. She should have seen this coming. She’d seen Claudia snooping before. It was ironic, in a way. There she was, spying on everyone in the house, peeking through drawers and other people’s correspondence, when all along, Claudia had been spying on her. Life had a way of making things even, fair.

  “I am Malena.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened. She recovered the papers from Malena’s hands and read through them, as if attempting to connect the dots. “And who is A?”

  “I still don’t know,” Malena said. “One of your aunts or …” She lowered her voice. “Maybe your mother.”

  “I knew it. The minute I saw that birthmark, I knew you were one of us.”

  One of us.

  “Where is Lili then?” Claudia asked.

  “In Quito, with her boyfriend.”

  “You met her? Are you a friend of hers?”

  “No.”

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Your brother and …” she stopped herself.

  Claudia finished the sentence for her. “Sebastian.”

  Malena stared at the wrinkled paper in Claudia’s hand.

  “You love him?” Claudia asked.

  Malena sat on the bed. “Sebast
ian would never betray you. He loves you and he’s going to marry you.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Malena’s hands were trembling.

  “Last night, you were crying for him,” Claudia said. “You must love him.”

  A knock on the door interrupted the thick silence that had grown between them.

  “Please, don’t say anything,” Malena said. “Wait until after the wedding. I don’t want to ruin this day for everyone.”

  Without saying a word, Claudia opened her door.

  Alejandra walked in, wearing an emerald green ball gown. She held a small box in her hands.

  “I wanted to bring your wedding present before all the craziness begins,” she told Claudia. As she handed the box to her niece, she glanced at Malena, as if she had just noticed her presence. “It was my father’s tradition to give a necklace to his daughters when they got married, and I thought he would have liked it if I did the same with you.”

  Malena looked away, glad to be wearing a wide skirt to cover the tremor of her legs. She could almost hear Claudia accusing her, telling Alejandra that an impostor stood before them.

  As Claudia unwrapped her present, Malena could feel Alejandra’s eyes on her. Self-consciously, she touched her low chignon. For once, every hair seemed to be in its proper place, thanks to Amanda’s magical hands, but Malena didn’t like to be the subject of anybody’s examination, especially someone she admired, someone like Alejandra.

  “Thank you, Tía.” Claudia removed an exquisite pearl necklace from the box.

  Malena collected her ample skirt with both hands and gave one last pleading look to Claudia before heading for the door.

  “I’ll be downstairs.”

  Sebastian, in a black tuxedo, was talking to the priest at the end of the nave. The pain in Malena’s chest expanded like a hurricane all the way to her extremities and swept through the tips of her fingers. She sat in the last pew at the back of the church. She doubted she’d be able to sit through the entire ceremony. Did Claudia even want her here anymore?

  Sebastian’s mother entered the church. Malena hadn’t seen the woman since the New Year’s incident and was surprised to see her looking so elegant.

  Ofelia stopped beside her. “Liliana, right? I never got a chance to thank you for taking care of me that night.” She patted Malena’s back. “And for washing my shawl.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ofelia looked at her pendant. “I like your dress.”

  “Thank you, Doña.”

  Ofelia’s approval felt good, even though Sebastian would never be hers. In only a few minutes, she would lose him forever—not that she ever had him.

  Ofelia waved at her son. He waved back. His gaze drifted to Malena for an instant. But he quickly diverted his attention to the priest.

  During the next thirty minutes, the church filled up. There was no sign of Claudia yet, but it was customary for the bride to be late. As the minutes passed, family members dashed in and out of the church and whispered into each other’s ears.

  A stiff Sebastian stood by the altar.

  After an endless wait, Rafael appeared at the entrance. Malena pressed her fingers so hard against each other her knuckles turned white. She’d been hoping something—anything—would stop this ceremony.

  Javier approached his father. Rafael told him something. Javier crossed the nave toward the altar. He stopped by Sebastian, held his arm and whispered in his ear.

  What was happening?

  The color drained from Sebastian’s face. He found Malena’s eyes among the crowd and held her gaze for a second. What was going on? Removing his arm from Javier’s grasp, Sebastian retraced his steps down the aisle. He kept his head up during the entire walk to the entrance while murmurs grew louder around him.

  After he’d left the church, the priest spoke.

  “Brothers and sisters, I regret to tell you there’s been a problem with the bride, and there won’t be a wedding today.”

  The murmurs grew into loud rumblings all around Malena. On impulse, she exited the pew and hurried after Sebastian.

  “Please step out of the church in an orderly fashion,” the priest was saying as she darted outside.

  In the street, Sebastian had already started his car.

  “Sebastian! Wait!”

  She raised her skirt and attempted to run after him, but it was too late. The tires of his Ford squealed as he sped down the narrow road.

  After a moment, the curb filled up with people, pointing at Sebastian’s car, eager to make sense of what had happened. It would probably be a long time before people stopped talking about today. Javier squeezed through the crowd toward her.

  “Here you are,” he said.

  “What happened? Where’s Claudia?”

  He whispered in her ear. “She ran away.”

  “How?”

  He took her aside. “She told my father to stop the car, claiming she felt sick and needed a bathroom. They stopped at a restaurant and she went inside. My father waited for a long time and seeing that she wasn’t coming out, asked the owner to open the door. She wasn’t in there anymore. She had left through the window.”

  Claudia left? She couldn’t believe it.

  “Now my parents and Mamá Blanca are going home to see if they can find her. My aunts and I are going to the reception hall to cancel the party.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Malena clung to Javier’s arm, for her preservation instinct told her it would be better to be away from the house when Claudia told the family about her.

  The sun was already setting when Malena returned home with Javier, Amanda, and Alejandra. She drew close to Javier as the four of them entered the foyer. She’d imagined yells and hysterical cries welcoming them into the house, but the voices in the living room were soft and mellow.

  “They’re here,” Mamá Blanca said.

  There were no signs of destruction to any of the furniture in the living room and Claudia was not there. Ana, Rafael, Mamá Blanca, and a woman Malena had never seen before sat with aplanchados and coffee.

  Alejandra grabbed Malena’s arm, as if to prevent her from taking another step. It was the first time Alejandra had ever touched her. She looked into the woman’s eyes. Was that fear in them? There was a strange tension in the room, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Ana approached Malena.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello to your mother?”

  My mother? Malena was confused. She looked around. Javier looked as equally puzzled as Malena. Alejandra tightened her grasp on Malena’s arm.

  Malena turned to the redheaded woman sitting by Mamá Blanca. She was pleasant-looking, dignified, and probably beautiful underneath that sunburned skin.

  Ana held Malena’s hand. “Your mother wanted to surprise you by coming to Claudia’s wedding. I know you’ve had your problems but—”

  “Who is this?” the woman asked.

  Ana exchanged a bewildered look with Amanda. “Lili, of course.”

  The woman stared at her. “This is not my daughter.”

  When Malena realized she was standing in front of María Teresa, she wanted to die of shame. Of course Lili’s mother would be coming to the wedding—she was Ana’s best friend! How stupid of her not to consider that possibility.

  “Lili?” A confused Mamá Blanca turned to Malena.

  Malena looked at Amanda, standing beside her, speechless probably for the first time in her life, and then at Ana. It had come to this. The moment Malena had been dreading for weeks. The performance of her life was over.

  Rafael’s voice startled her. “If you’re not Liliana, then who are you?”

  She could lie again. She’d become an expert of deceit, but what good had that done (to anyone, really)? Her father, her grandmother, the Platas women, everyone had lied. And Malena, in her attempts to find the truth, had become the biggest liar of all.

  “My name is Malena. I’m Enrique Hidalgo’s daughter.”

&n
bsp; A silence as thick as glass threatened to cut through Malena’s heart. She looked at the faces around her. What she read was disappointment, shock, disbelief. The pain in Mamá Blanca’s eyes was so intense Malena was afraid she might never recover from it. The word “despicable” came to mind. Had she suddenly become as hateful as her father to Mamá Blanca?

  María Teresa was the one to break the silence. “I don’t understand. Where’s Liliana?”

  “She left with Juan Pablo,” Malena said mechanically. “She’s in Quito now.” She paused and then whispered almost to herself. “I’m so sorry.”

  “In Quito?” María Teresa frowned. “Did she send you here to take her place?”

  “No.” Malena ran her hand by her forehead—it was burning. “It was just a confusion, a coincidence.”

  “A confusion?” María Teresa stood up. “Can you be more specific?”

  “How could you lie to us? And why?” There was no trace of the usual sweetness in Mamá Blanca’s voice.

  “Is this about revenge?” Rafael said. “Of course, that no-good father of yours sent you here, didn’t he?”

  Malena couldn’t get a word out. Worse yet, the reproach in her grandmother’s eyes had left her cold.

  “Well, speak up! What do you want from us?” Rafael asked. “Is this about money?”

  “No!”

  “Would you let her explain?” Javier said.

  “Shut up, Javier! This is none of your business.” Rafael crossed his arms. “Well, Miss Hidalgo, we’re waiting.”

  Malena lifted her chin. “I came to find my mother.”

  “What mother?” Mamá Blanca asked.

  “One of your daughters,” Malena said.