Legacy of the Highlands

by Harriet Schultz

Diego gazed into the amber liquid in his glass as if he’d find an answer there. He tried to maintain a pleasant expression, but Alex had seen his eyes grow cold and his jaw clench. He reached across the table and took both her hands in his. The physical link seemed to ease his tension and he rubbed his thumbs back and forth over her knuckles as he gathered his thoughts.

  “Okay. You have a right to know and since there’s no one else who can do it, I’ll tell you, but not in the middle of a restaurant...later, when we have privacy. Can’t we simply enjoy our meal and talk about inconsequential things? Tension is bad for the digestion.” Diego’s lips curved into a tentative smile and she watched him rearrange his face into a reflection of the lighter mood he hoped for, yet there was still that unfamiliar hardness in the ebony eyes that rested intently on her face.

  “I guess I have no choice since I can’t very well force you to talk about something you don’t want to,” she conceded, and smiled coolly as she withdrew her hands from his grasp.

  The strain eased somewhat when the waiter brought their first course. They limited the conversation to innocuous comments about the delicious food, friends they had in common, Diego’s parents, Alex’s enjoyment of the villa, even politics — anything to avoid talking about Will. They gradually became comfortable with each other again, assisted no doubt by the quantity of alcohol they consumed.

  “This has been nice, Diego,” Alex admitted once the table had been cleared, “but don’t think I’m so drunk that I’ve forgotten your promise to tell me what went down between you and Will.”

  “Don’t insult me, Alex. I’m a man of my word. I said I would tell you and I’ll keep that promise. But first some dessert and coffee,” and he motioned to the attentive waiter.

  “We’ll have the molten chocolate cake with cognac anglaise, and two coffees.”

  “Just one order of cake,” Alex said to the waiter, “and two forks, please.” She knew she’d want a taste and she didn’t want Diego to feed her. It would be too intimate and she sensed he needed clear boundaries. Maybe she did too.

  The confection was heaven — gooey, warm and intensely chocolate. Alex rarely ordered dessert, but she was glad Diego had a more hedonistic approach to food. The stimulation of the sugar and caffeine seemed to counteract the effects of the wine and her mind began to clear. After Diego signed the check, she asked him to phone Miguel to pick them up.

  “You’re in no condition to drive. You remember that my parents died in a car wreck after too much wine, don’t you?”

  “Of course, and I remember very well what it did to you. I value my life — and my car — too much to ever drive after drinking. And I would never put you in danger.” Reassured by the sincerity of his words, she relaxed. They strolled past the small shops near the restaurant as they waited for Miguel. The night was warm and breezy and Alex felt pleasantly relaxed in the company of an old friend. Once more she congratulated herself on the decision to leave Boston. She knew she’d have to go back, but except for Francie and David, she didn’t miss the place a bit.

  She didn’t notice the crack in the pavement until her narrow heel became wedged in it and she stumbled. Diego’s arms came around her in an instant and he caught her before she fell.

  “Jesus! I could have broken my neck!” She studied the impractical stiletto sandal and the sidewalk crack until her erratic heartbeat quieted. “Good reflexes. Thanks,” she said quietly, as their eyes met.

  “I told you that no harm would come to you while you’re with me and I meant it. You know I’d protect you with my life if needed.”

  “Isn’t that a little melodramatic?” Alex responded, but he ignored her. She bit her tongue before she blurted out that he sounded like a macho egotist and that she could protect herself — or at least she thought she could. The arm that was still around her waist tightened possessively and as his hand drifted toward her hip, she drew away, putting distance between them. Give this man an inch and he takes a mile she thought. Although she was pretty sure that he wouldn’t come on to her, this was Diego, after all, and his proximity made her nervous. Will had often joked that seduction came as naturally to his friend as breathing. He might instinctively make a move on her before he realized what he was doing and she wasn’t absolutely certain how she would react.

  He feared the same. His heart had lurched when she’d stumbled and then did it again as he drew her body against his side. He was relieved that she had the sense to pull away before he did something he’d regret.

  With perfect timing, the now-familiar black Mercedes rolled to the curb beside them. Diego waved Miguel back into the car and held the door for Alex. She deliberately slid to the far side of the seat and relaxed when he took his place in the opposite corner. Neither spoke on the short ride back to the villa. They were aware that Diego could no longer avoid talking about the rift with Will. And even if she wasn’t absolutely sure that she was ready to hear about it, Alex had to know.

  Despite blaming herself for sending Will on the errand that ended his life, Alex had gradually accepted that his murder wasn’t of the wrong time, wrong place variety. Someone had marked him for death. But why? And who? On those questions, she still drew an increasingly frustrated blank. She didn’t think that Will’s fight with Diego had anything to do with it, but whatever happened between them must have been pretty bad if it had ended a friendship that had lasted since they were boys. And she’d never bought the outrageous tale Will had spun for her. She needed the truth and the only person who could provide that now was inches away from her.

  “You still up for going through with this tonight?” Diego asked, when they reached the villa.

  “Yes, more than ever.” She wanted this sword of Damocles out of the way.

  He led them through the courtyard and past the pool where he grabbed a couple of oversized towels. They kicked off their shoes and walked barefoot onto the moonlit beach. Diego spread the towels on the sand and they sat for a few moments, settling themselves like mirror images, backs straight, hands wrapped around their knees. Stars filled the sky and there was a gentle breeze off the ocean. Alex inhaled the sea’s briny perfume and allowed the sound of the surf to soothe her as it always did. If it were Will beside her, she thought, it would be a perfect night to make love on the deserted beach.

  “Where do you want me to begin?” Diego’s voice broke through the increasingly erotic images flitting through her mind. Focus, she told herself. She was sure he would tell her the truth. Diego might be many things, but above all he was a man of honor.

  “Was this fight building for a while or was it something sudden?”

  “The roots of it weren’t so new, but what happened…oh, it was definitely sudden,” he began. “Your husband betrayed my trust and for me that was unforgivable. When I found out, I guess our testosterone got out of hand and then stubbornness took over. We might have gotten past this eventually. After all, he was my brother.” He paused and grew quiet.

  Alex knew the men had felt as close as brothers, but this was the second time she’d heard Diego refer to Will as his brother. She thought it was strange, but didn’t want to interrupt him. After all, she always thought of Francie as her sister.

  A moment passed before he sighed deeply and continued. “Not only am I furious that my best friend was murdered, but it kills me that we never had the chance…the chance…I wish…shit!” His voice broke and he turned away from her as he began to weep.

  Alex was shocked that this paragon of masculinity was sobbing unashamedly next to her. She wanted to comfort him, but friend or not, he had hurt the man she loved. So she turned away as tears ran down Diego’s face and waited for him to compose himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes. He took the tissue she handed him and wiped his eyes, blew his nose and took a steadying breath. “What kind of man am I, crying like a child? The last thing you need is for me to fall apart, but reliving that night is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “I know, bu
t I still don’t understand what happened. Please tell me,” she implored. “Once we put this behind us, maybe we can figure out why he was killed and who did it.”

  “You’re right, that’s the important thing now.” He stood and extended a hand to help her to her feet. “Let’s walk. I can’t do this sitting still.” They strolled quietly for a few minutes before he spoke again. “I’m sure you know the old story about how Will’s parents met mine right after both couples were married.”

  “Of course. So?”

  “My guess is you don’t know the whole story.”

  She wanted him to talk about the reason for the fight with Will, not the oft-told, ancient history of their parents’ first meeting. “Okay, fine. Do it your way, as if I have any choice,” she grumbled.

  “You think this has nothing to do with what happened, but you’ll see that it does. Anyway, my parents and Will’s were seated across the aisle from each other on their way to Paris from London. My parents had flown there from Buenos Aires, and the Camerons from Boston. The stewardess brought a bottle of champagne to each — this was in first class when there was no such thing as upgrades and you knew that if someone was in first, they belonged there. Well, anyway,” he continued smoothly, oblivious to how obnoxiously elitist that remark was, “they discovered that not only had their weddings taken place on the very same day, but they had reservations to honeymoon at the same Paris hotel, the Georges V.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Alex interrupted. “I wish you’d get to the point. What does this have to do with a fight you and Will had so many years later?” She thought Diego was avoiding the real issue and wanted to get him back on track.

  “It has a lot to do with it,” he shot back. “If you’d be quiet and listen, you’ll find out.”

  “Okay, okay. Go on,” she said, ignoring his obvious irritation.

  “So anyway, that’s how they met and they became…I guess you could say ‘intimate’ friends. They visited each other’s homes and…well…one thing led to another and, and…”

  Alex had never heard Diego stammer before and it frightened her. His tension was making her edgy. “And what?”

  He paused as if to gather his courage and blurted out, “About five years ago Will and I found out that his father had slept with my mother and my father had slept with Anne Cameron.”

  “What? No way! That’s awful. How can you say something like that? You’re lying!” she shouted, appalled by this twisted fantasy. The Navarros might be sexual creatures, but the Camerons? And especially the glacial Anne Cameron? Impossible!

  “Why would I lie about something like this? I was blown away too, but I’m convinced it’s the truth. I found some pretty steamy letters from John Cameron to my mother in an old piece of furniture my parents asked me to empty before they gave it to one of the maids. My mother likes to redecorate and our staff benefits. I showed the letters to Will and we figured the rest out.”

  Alex gasped, unable to form coherent speech.

  “Do you want me to continue?”

  “You mean there’s more?”

  “I’m afraid there is. Are you all right?”

  “Not really, but you may as well tell me the rest. Surely it can’t be worse.”

  Diego almost said, “That’s what you think,” but suppressed the urge. “John’s last letter referred to the news of my mother’s pregnancy. He wrote that he was sure that my father was thrilled that they were expecting a child and he mentioned that Anne was pregnant also. He assured my mother that all would be well, their children would be great friends, and that was it. Once I told Will about the letters, I stopped thinking about them, but your husband…well, he thought that because of our parents’ intimacy, that last letter was strangely worded.”

  “Did he ask John about it?”

  “No. We knew the letters weren’t meant for our eyes and we were mature enough to realize that our parents had moved on and we should let their past stay there. I was okay with that, but last year Will decided that both of us needed to have a paternity test. He couldn’t get it out of his mind that he might be Ricardo Navarro’s son and that John Cameron could be my father. Our mothers gave birth within weeks of each other, so…anyway, he said that he couldn’t live with the uncertainty. He told me that his foundation, his very sense of self, had cracked and only the truth could restore his equilibrium. He had to know who he was. It’s obvious that there are lots of similarities between us — our dark hair, the way we both talk fast when we get excited, that we’re the exact same height.”

  “Oh...my...God. Holy shit! Wait a minute. Let me digest this.” Alex strode toward the water gesticulating like a mad woman. Diego didn’t go after her and when she came back she seemed a little calmer. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You and Will could be brothers? Like for real? And Will knew this?” Alex’s mind was racing, thoughts popping up with the staccato speed of a machine gun’s rat-a-tat-tat.

  Her eyes darted restlessly from the starlit sky to the expanse of sand and ocean until they finally settled on Diego. He was lying on his back watching her, his head supported by his arms. When their eyes met, he reached for her hand and she curled up next to him. “So is it possible? “ she whispered.

  “Will thought so. I didn’t care. I’m a Navarro. I told Will it didn’t matter who’d stuck his cock in my mother, I am my father’s son! Jesus, Alex, I’m sorry. I should have found a better way to say that.”

  “Are you finished or is there more?”

  “More. Where was I?” He took a breath, then continued. “Will finally had a DNA test. He lifted some strands from John’s hairbrush and the results proved that John is indeed his father. It should have ended there, but that wasn’t good enough for your husband. Oh, no. He demanded that I do the same with my father. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing. To shut him up, I finally caved. I told him I’d do it, but that was to get him off my back. I never intended to have the test.”

  “And you haven’t…?”

  “No, but someone else made that decision for me. Last year, when we all went to Buenos Aires to visit my parents, Will snuck into my father’s bathroom, took some hair from his brush and a sample of mine and sent them to the same lab he’d used.”

  Alex thought she finally understood. “He didn’t tell you he was going to do this, did he?”

  “Of course not, the deceitful bastard. He didn’t give a shit about what I wanted. I’ll never forgive him for that,” he whispered as his throat tightened and his eyes filled. “When he told me about it, I went ballistic. I think I hit him first, but it happened so fast that I’m not sure anymore. I wanted to kill him and he was banged up pretty badly, but he broke a couple of my ribs. We never had a chance to make it right. That was the last time I saw him.” He covered his face and began to cry softly.

  “Hush, hush,” Alex finally said as she wiped her own tears away. She rubbed his back and stroked his hair, the way she would have soothed a child. Her mind was reeling from this bombshell and until she had time to absorb all its implications, she’d have to treat it as a fairy tale. It was too grotesque to be anything else.

  “I’m glad you told me.” She hesitated before asking the next question, but she had to know.

  “So…did he tell you what the test said?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “That’s probably why I wanted to kill him. My father didn’t make my mother pregnant. John Cameron did.”

  “So you and Will are…”

  “Brothers. Yeah, we’re really brothers.”

  They trudged back down the beach toward the villa in silence as each tried to cope with the emotional overload of Diego’s revelation. Alex couldn’t figure out why Will had done something so despicable to his best friend. If he was worried about his own paternity, well, that was his business. But to deliberately turn Diego’s world upside down? To betray someone’s trust like that was so uncharacteristic of the man she loved that she’d never understand. Why hadn’t he trusted her enough to tell her about this? To
explain away his bruises and a cut lip that needed stitches, he’d made up an elaborate story about joining a bar brawl when someone insulted his beloved Red Sox. A few weeks later, when she’d asked him to invite Diego for a visit, he admitted the lie and simply said that Diego had attacked him and he didn’t want to talk about it. She was astounded that Will’s best friend would beat him so viciously. When she’d pressed him for the reason, Will told her he’d found out that his mother and Diego were having an affair. Will had confronted him and Diego had denied it. They’d traded insults until one of them took a swing at the other. Will swore he’d never speak to Diego again. It was obvious to her that the hurt went way deeper than her husband’s external injuries and if Diego had the power to inflict such lasting pain on someone she loved, she would have nothing to do with him either. And now she was left to wonder if Will would have ever told her the truth. Maybe eventually, but they’d run out of time.

  Instead of going inside when they reached the villa, they collapsed onto chaises near the pool, reluctant to be alone. Diego quickly closed his eyes, but Alex knew he was awake. The man next to her had laid his soul bare, so how could she not give him the same honesty? She began to tell him Will’s version of their fight.

  In the middle of her story, Diego’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright. “Will told you that I slept with his mother? Me? Holy shit, couldn’t he come up with anything better than that? Drunk or sober, no one would believe that even someone with my overactive libido could ever lay a hand on that cold bitch’s skinny body. His first story, the one about the Red Sox bar fight — now that was pure Will and something you and I know could’ve happened. He loved that team.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he recalled how fanatical Will was about the Red Sox.

  “The thing about you and Anne was pretty hard to believe, but he stuck to it so I accepted it as the truth eventually” replied Alex. “I couldn’t imagine that even a letch like you would have sex with — how did you say it? — a cold, skinny bitch like her.” She made a face that looked like she’d sucked on the sourest lemon as she imagined the unlikely pairing, then shook it off. “I’ve seen the women you date. They’re all exquisite, not bony old hags. I mean, look at you. It’s obvious you can get any woman you want.”