A Love for Rebecca (23 page)

Rebecca was kneeling on the floor, frantically picking up the pieces of the photo. Inés was helping her without understanding why her sister was suddenly so unhappy.

“Why did you tear it up?” Inés asked her sister. “Want me to help you glue it back together?”

Rebecca caught sight of her mother in the doorway and glared at her. Both women were distraught.

“Baudelia!” shouted Elvira.

“Yes, Doña?” Baudelia promptly called up the stairs, alarmed at her mistress’s tone.

“Take Inés, please.”

“Right away, doña Elvira.” Baudelia hurried up the stairs. “Let’s go, little one. Let’s you and me go play.”

“But why? I want to stay with Rebecca and help her glue the picture together.”

“Do as you’re told!” her mother ordered.

The little girl stopped protesting and took Baudelia’s hand. Baudelia smoothed her hair affectionately as she led her down the stairs.

Elvira closed the bedroom door behind them and addressed her daughter. “Mario was here this morning,” she said, irate.

Rebecca got up slowly from the floor and faced her mother’s angry expression. Elvira, beside herself, drew nearer, stepping on the scraps of the photo still on the floor.

“If I hadn’t found that cursed photo, I would have thought Mario was playing me for a fool.”

“Well, now you know,” Rebecca retorted coolly.

Her mother’s hard slap made her stagger.

“How could you!” Elvira yelled. “How could you behave like some harlot?”

Rebecca sobbed, stung less by the blow than by the vehemence of her mother’s reaction. She hadn’t expected sympathy or understanding, but her mother’s violent eruption overwhelmed her. She wanted to defend herself, to explain that she’d fallen in love against her will. That she hadn’t meant to, but that she truly loved Kenzie and could never love anyone else. She knew that argument, however, wouldn’t work with her mother. Love was not what mattered most to Elvira.

“I can’t marry Mario, Mother,” she managed between sobs. “You don’t know him. He threatened to ruin the family if I don’t marry him.”

“And you think he can’t? If Josep and Mario choose to, they can align themselves against your father! They could throw him out of the firm!”

“Mario wouldn’t dare.”

“Of course he would! I saw it in his eyes when he was here this morning. He’s very hurt, and he will not allow you to ridicule him in front of everyone. If we cancel the wedding, you know it will destroy the relationship between our families.”

“The man is sadistic! I will not marry such a malicious person.”

“Mario is being ruthless. No doubt he’s convinced his reputation and career are at stake. And it was your impulsive behavior that precipitated all this. In this life, one must accept the consequences of one’s actions. I’ve been teaching that truth to you and your brother since you were children. It pains me greatly that the lesson has gone unlearned.”

“Mario will ruin my life.”

“Do you really imagine you can run off with that man and be happy? Get your head out of the clouds, Rebecca.” Elvira put her hand to her forehead to hold back the sudden, stabbing pain. “What on earth are you thinking? Have you really looked at him?”

Rebecca did not respond, struggling inwardly to not allow her mother’s tirade to penetrate her defenses and overwhelm her. In a battle of wills with her mother, Rebecca had always come up short.

“Maybe you think you’re in love,” her mother continued, pacing the room, “but I assure you it won’t last. Your love won’t survive a year with you knowing you betrayed your family. And then you would hate yourself and end up hating him, wishing you could come back—but you won’t be able to. Do you think you’re the first person this has ever happened to? It happens to everyone, for heaven’s sake. All the time. But there are some principles that you have conveniently overlooked, such as loyalty and commitment. There will always be people you are attracted to, but that doesn’t mean you let yourself be carried away by every fleeting desire. That would be irrational, the height of foolishness. You’re young, and this has been your first life lesson. You’re lucky he still wants to marry you. In time, you’ll understand, and you’ll be ashamed of your irresponsible behavior.”

Elvira walked out, her words reverberating in Rebecca’s head.

Rebecca curled up on her bed, trembling and miserable. She wasn’t even aware of the sting on her cheek. Her pain was deeper. She realized she would not win, that her dream of returning to Kenzie’s side was an illusion.

She didn’t know how long she had lain there when, through her tears, she saw Baudelia’s kind and worried face. “What’s wrong, child? You’ve been acting so different lately.”

“Oh, Baudelia!” Rebecca sobbed. “I just want to die.”

The woman crossed herself. “Virgin of Guadalupe! Don’t say such things, child. It’s a mortal sin!” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed heavily when she saw that Rebecca’s crying was not letting up. “What happened, child? Tell Baudelia. Your mama’s very angry, but you know her. She’ll get over it. Now, now, don’t cry.”

“Not this time, Baudelia. This time I’ve done something terrible.”

“It can’t be as bad as all that, honey.”

Rebecca dried her tears, sat up a little, and laid her head in her longtime nanny’s lap. Little by little, amid grimaces and sniffs, she told Baudelia the story, tears never far from her eyes. Baudelia cooed to her and rocked her like a baby. With no children of her own, Baudelia had always poured her maternal love on Rebecca and her siblings. The children were devoted to her, returning her love without effort.

When Rebecca had told her everything, they sat in silence. Baudelia discreetly brushed her own tears from her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, Baudelia? Am I a terrible person?”

“No, child, of course not. I was just thinking about what you said. It’s a beautiful story.”

“But Mario will never let me go. I have to tell Kenzie I’m never coming back. But I can’t. I swore; I promised him I’d return.”

“Gangster lawyer! I never liked Mr. Mario for you, child. He’s a damn fool! Your mama forgive me, but it’s not right for her to make you marry that greedy man.” Baudelia thought a moment. “Tell your papa, child. He’s not like her; he’ll understand.”

“I can’t, Baudelia. If I don’t marry Mario, my father will lose his partnership in the firm, and I
 . . .
”

She burst out crying once more. Baudelia wiped her own blurry eyes.

THE END OF THE DREAM

The next morning, Mario stopped by the house to pick her up. Rebecca knew her mother had informed him that the wedding was on as planned. She felt broken and guilt-ridden. Not only had she betrayed Mario; now she must betray her beloved Kenzie. Arrows pierced her heart whenever she thought of him. The next day would mark a week since she’d returned, and he would call her. What words could she possibly say? Her mother’s pronouncements kept coming back to torment her. They swirled around her mind like vultures, her cherished dream of a life with Kenzie their dying prey. The beautiful world born of their love was dissolving before her eyes. Must this be the price she had to pay?

Standing next to his dark blue Audi, Mario unexpectedly greeted her with a smile. The shadows under his eyes, however, belied the thin layer of cheer. From the route they took, Rebecca knew they were headed to his house. She was silent the whole time, not even looking at him. She was aware, however, of his efforts to appear lighthearted, as if nothing serious had happened, as if he had not threatened her family. But he was smart enough not to force conversation, knowing when it was better to keep quiet.

It didn’t take long to reach the imposing house that had belonged to Mario’s family for generations. Designed by an architect whose name Rebecca could never remember, it was a Catalan Modernism-style building from the end of the nineteenth century. Mario had told Rebecca the architect’s name any number of times, along with stories about his great-grandfather, Donat Caralt, who had the house built when he returned from Havana in 1895 after the decisive Cuban uprising against Spanish control.

Mario was very proud of his family history. His ancestors had been some of the first colonists on the Caribbean island, and they had amassed great wealth, first from slave trafficking and then from the sugar industry. Their library housed mountains of documents and private diaries from that period. One time, when Mario read her a passage about the onboard conditions for the enslaved Africans during their abduction to Cuba, Rebecca had suffered a wave of nausea. The Africans were referred to as inanimate objects, devoid of humanity. Among the hardships they endured on the eighty-day voyage, the worst was being brutally packed together in the dark, airless holds of ships, with no provision for the removal of their excrement and urine. With no fresh air and little food, disease spread. Those deemed too weak to sell on the docks of Cuba were tossed overboard.

That Mario should take pride in such a family history sickened Rebecca. Perversely, he seemed to take pleasure in showing her such documents.

They entered the house and passed through a long hallway to the spacious room that had been decorated in antique Baroque style the last time Rebecca had seen it.

“What do you think?” Mario asked, standing in the middle of the big room and spreading his arms wide to encompass the space. “While you were on vacation, I decided to surprise you by remodeling. I knew you didn’t like the antique look, and I wanted you to be more comfortable when we were married.”

She looked at the gleaming new light-colored walls, which had originally been covered with a dark, ornate wooden frieze. The furniture was modern, and the white, airy curtains covering the glass balcony doors had replaced thick, wine-colored velvet drapes. She noticed new brightly colored prints on the walls. It didn’t look like the same room. Seeing Rebecca’s astonished expression, Mario took her by the hand and led her up the wide staircase with its wrought-iron balusters and wooden handrail.

She was fatigued. The short climb up the stairs left her heart racing, and she sat on a bench in the hallway.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, a little surprised, is all.”

“You still haven’t said if you like it.”

“It’s amazing,” she whispered. “You’ve done a great job.”

They went back downstairs, and Mario offered her a drink. Rebecca took it and sat on the new, modern sofa. Her heart was still beating fast. She was sweating and short of breath, her anxiety threatening to undermine her composure.

Rebecca told herself to relax and breathe deeply as Mario began an updated speech that was nothing like his earlier threats. Mario was strong-willed and a persuasive speaker. As with her mother, she always felt at a disadvantage in conversation.

“Look, Rebecca, I know I didn’t behave very well when you returned from your vacation. But I don’t want you to think badly of me. I was really upset because I didn’t want to lose you. But I’m sure your thing was just a fling and
 . . .
I can even understand. We’re human; we make mistakes. You’re young and inexperienced. It’s not so surprising something like this happened. But I’m convinced that passion and obsessive thinking clouded your judgment. You need someone objective to bring you back. Your mother and I are very worried. You came back to us changed, different from the real you. And it’s our responsibility to do everything we can to help you find your center again. It’s true that you’re young, but you’re not a child. You need to behave like an adult, responsible and dependable. As for me, I ask your forgiveness for my reprehensible behavior. It was because I was so worried.”

She listened without blinking. The difficult effort of swallowing was the only thing that distracted her from her nerves. But Mario’s eloquence softened her; she believed his apology was sincere. Perhaps she had judged him too harshly. She thought it possible that she could view his violent outburst and threats in a new light, even forgive the rage that had overcome him when she confessed her betrayal.

“I know I hurt you
 . . .
” she whispered.

Mario knelt in front of her and took her hands. “You don’t have to say anything, babe. We’ll never mention it again.” He raised her hands and pressed them to his forehead tenderly.

She closed her eyes. The two rings she wore pressed against her fingers: the gold and the silver, two symbols of union, two courses for one river.

That same afternoon Rebecca met Berta at
a café near the harbor
. They drank iced tea under the shade of a large umbrella. Berta was dying to hear how things had gone and was astounded when Rebecca told her she intended to go forward with the wedding. A few days before, Rebecca had been certain of her love for Kenzie, and now she was ready to marry Mario? What had happened? Her confusion prompted Rebecca to divulge the whole story.

Berta could not hide her alarm. “That bastard!”

“I could have dealt with everything else, Berta. My mother’s outrage and whatever else others might think. But I can’t let this destroy my family. That’s too high a price.”

“But surely there’s something you can do about this.”

Rebecca just shook her head no.

“Have you told anyone else?”

Rebecca shook her head again, a lump in her throat. “It makes me so sad. I always thought love could conquer all.” She paused and looked into the great blue sky. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?” She let out a long sigh, but her eyes remained dry. She had used up every tear yesterday, after the fateful conversation with her mother.

“Do you remember my favorite book?” Rebecca asked her friend.

“Sure,
The Bridges of Madison County
.”

“Do you know what I like best about that story?” Berta shook her head. “When Francesca gives in to the love she feels for Robert Kincaid and packs her bags, ready to leave with him, to leave her family and follow her dream.”

“But she doesn’t do it.”

“No, she doesn’t do it, because she wouldn’t be happy. She realizes she can’t abandon her family even though they are so in love. And he understands and leaves.” Her voice broke. “They know they can never see each other again and they’ll suffer the rest of their lives, but they also know it’s the right decision.”

Berta heaved a sigh and squeezed Rebecca’s arm. “What makes me sad is that no matter what you do, someone gets hurt.”

Kenzie phoned punctually at the agreed-upon time. The phone rang repeatedly, and he held his breath until she finally answered. Her voice washed over him, bringing everything back, including his intense longing for her.

“Rebecca
 . . .
”

She began to sob, though the sound was muffled.

Kenzie’s initial anxiety deepened, but he waited for her to speak.

“I can’t do it, Kenzie,” she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Kenzie did not immediately respond. His worst fears were playing out. When he managed to find his voice, he said he would fly to Barcelona and they would talk about it. He asked her to wait, to not do anything until he got there. But the desperation in her voice telling him not to come, that they could not meet again, deflated his fervent hopes. He begged, he pleaded, to see her before she made a final decision. They would talk, he reasoned, and then she would be free to decide. That the distance between them put him at a terrible disadvantage was not lost on him. He must go to her!

But Rebecca’s emphatic insistence that he not do so hit him like a mortal blow. The oxygen was sucked from his lungs. He listened in shocked disbelief when she assured him that Mario was all she needed to be happy. How could she forget her promises so quickly? How could she undo in a heartbeat all the love they had shared, their moments of passion and joy?

Rebecca stared mutely at the silver ring on her left hand. She sensed he was giving up, and that hurt. She wanted him to fight, to not give in to her arguments so easily.
Doesn’t he realize the precarious situation I’m in?
Doesn’t he understand I’m dying inside?

She summoned all her strength to continue the charade. She had no choice but to feign toughness and indifference, when in her heart there was only love and devotion.

Into a deafening silence, Rebecca whispered good-bye.