A Love for Rebecca (24 page)

THE REUNION

As planned, Rory accompanied Lola to Barcelona. The two-week visit would give them just enough time for Rory to meet her mother and to get everything ready for the move to Edinburgh, where Rory would begin his classes. Shortly after their arrival, the three girlfriends met at the beach in the afternoon. Lola desperately needed some tanning time before returning to Scotland.

Right away Lola brought them up to date on her plans. There was no hiding how in love she was. Rebecca listened in silence, her face clouded and distant. Berta let Lola, beaming with happiness, chatter on without interrupting. Berta didn’t have much to tell. Albert was still studying; his exams were in one month, and they had hardly any time together. But she was confident Albert would get the position; he was preparing diligently, practically without letup.

Caught up in the details of her life, Lola only registered Rebecca’s preoccupied state when she stopped talking. She frowned. She’d promised Rory that she wouldn’t meddle, had sworn she wouldn’t say anything. But her friend’s inattention galled her. Lola’s resolve not to meddle dissolved, and her tongue loosened. “So what about you?” she asked, turning toward Rebecca. “Have you destroyed the lives of any other men?”

“Lola, please!” Berta said.

Rebecca bristled and spoke through clenched teeth. “You have no right to talk to me like that. You don’t know anything.”

“I know enough. While you’re engaged to one man, you fall in love with another, promising him your everlasting love. And then you go and decide to marry the first one. Makes all kinds of sense.”

“I have my reasons.”

“So why don’t you explain them to me? Or better yet, explain them to Kenzie. The man’s a wreck.”

“Have you seen him?” Rebecca said.

Lola realized she’d said too much.

“Tell me!”

“No, I haven’t. Calm down, Rebecca.” Lola knew she could not withhold what she knew. She took a breath and began. “Rory saw him
 . . .
”

Rebecca’s eyes bored into her impatiently. “Go on.”

“Kenzie’s father was very worried, and he called Rory that same afternoon you and Kenzie talked for the last time. Apparently he drank too much and was locked up in his room with a bottle of whisky. He didn’t want to see or speak to anyone.”

“Lola,” Berta interrupted, “are you sure this will help?”

“No! Don’t stop, please,” Rebecca insisted.

“When Rory got there, William was desperate. He didn’t know what was happening in the bedroom, but he heard a lot of banging, as if Kenzie were breaking things. His sister’s cries and his father’s pleas to open the door didn’t do any good. Finally, afraid he’d do something crazy, they forced the door open.”

William’s words came to Rebecca’s mind to torment her: “The only thing I want for him is to one day have the family he deserves, a family of his own, the one his mother and I couldn’t give him.” He was the only one who knew what would happen, and now he was the one who had to pick up the broken pieces and help Kenzie put his life back together.

“They found him on the floor,” Lola continued, “leaning against his drum. He’d destroyed it. Rory told me that when he got down next to him, Kenzie sobbed like a child. He was so worked up he couldn’t sleep that night.”

At this, Rebecca broke down in tears. Berta tried to comfort her. Lola, for her part, was regretting having told all, although deep down she thought Rebecca should know. She couldn’t understand why Rebecca had gotten so intensely involved. It was one thing to have a fling, but quite another to promise to return.
She shouldn’t have done that,
Lola thought.
She should have enjoyed it for what it was, without falling deeply in love.

She listened to her friend explain between sobs why she had to break it off with Kenzie. Her confession served to confirm Lola’s low opinion of Mario: he was a cruel and selfish man who wanted to control Rebecca, just as her mother did. How did Rebecca ever imagine she would be able to prevail against them and return to Beauly? They would never have allowed it.

Over the next week, Mario and Rebecca saw each other every day. He didn’t want to leave her alone, fearing she might change her mind. Even when the negotiations with the investors from Qatar filled his days, he found time to be with her. But Rebecca’s depression deepened after Lola told her about Kenzie. She was irritable and showed small signs of rebellion that worried Mario even more than they did Elvira. The latter tried to reassure her future son-in-law when he complained about how distant Rebecca was, her mind always somewhere else. Elvira urged him to give her time and said that her moodiness was normal given the circumstances. They both tried to keep Rebecca occupied by unwrapping wedding presents, keeping the useful or meaningful ones and exchanging the others.

Things improved after Rebecca had her interview with the school headmaster. He told her she would be starting as an assistant teacher in a class of five-year-olds. It was a trial period that all teachers had to complete successfully before becoming a permanent member of the staff. To Rebecca, it provided a ray of hope in the middle of a situation that was driving her to despair. But it failed to lift her spirits completely.

Her busy father, usually unconcerned with domestic affairs, saw that something was wrong. One night, before going to bed, he knocked on her door.

“Come in, Daddy,” she said when he stuck his head in.

Rebecca was lying down, with a book of teaching strategies in her hands. Her father went over to her bed and sat down next to her.

“Are you excited about your new job?” he asked.

“Very,” she replied in a quiet voice.

He took the book from her and closed it. “If you had a problem, you would tell me, right?”

Rebecca felt a knot in her throat and made an effort to sound convincing. “Of course,” she said, putting on a smile.

“You look very down in the dumps, sweetheart, and I’m worried about you.”

She thought quickly. “It’s just
 . . .
When Lola came back from Scotland, she told us about someone we met in Beauly who’s having a rough time and
 . . .
well, it made me really sad, that’s all.”

“Is it serious?”

“Someone fell in love with the wrong person, and then they had to go their separate ways.”

“Well, then, you don’t have to feel so bad. These things happen sometimes. But at your age they’re quickly forgotten.”

“And what if they’re not forgotten? What if the pain lasts forever?”

“It won’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“Did it ever happen to you?”

Víctor’s eyebrows drew together and he looked up, remembering. “When I was nineteen, I fell in love with a girl at the university. Her name was Alicia, and we were together for a few months. Then she left me.”

“She doesn’t know what she missed,” Rebecca said.

Her father smiled. “At any rate, I had a bad year. And then I had to look on as she dated a friend of mine.”

“Did they get married?”

“No, he left her for another girl.” He frowned and then gave a half-hearted smile. “When they broke up, I felt better, but the truth is I soon forgot about her. Now, as I think back on it, it seems ridiculous. But at the time I was devastated. A broken heart when you’re young feels like the end of the world. But time tempers your feelings, and you come to see things from a different perspective. But to reach such a perspective, we have to go through what your friend is right now. You know what I mean? Advice doesn’t help much when it comes to love and heartache. You have to live through it.”

WEDDING BELLS

Barcelona

October 7, 2006

The Barcelona morning dawned clear. Another day of sunshine would warm the city with its typical autumn vigor, making the season a pleasant transition to winter.

Rebecca looked at the wedding gown hanging in her room, and her stomach tightened with nerves. Her mother and Baudelia would burst into the room any minute now to help her dress. Before they did, she reread one last time the letter she had been up all night writing. Her wastebasket was filled with earlier drafts. She sighed as she folded it and put it in an envelope—the most difficult words she’d had to write in her life. They had come from her heart, in the hope of soothing the man she loved. She shook her head to clear it and stood. It was time to get dressed and depart for her wedding ceremony.

Her father helped her out of the car when they arrived at the Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus at the summit of Mount Tibidabo. The guests, dressed in their finery, had already begun filling the pews. Rebecca ascended a red-carpeted staircase, holding her father’s arm as the breeze lifted her veil skyward. Inside, the church was cold and smelled faintly of incense. She walked down the aisle, modestly returning smiles from family, friends, and strangers. Inés walked in front of her, carrying the wedding coins in a beautifully decorated basket. Mario was waiting for her in front of the altar.

Her eyes sought out her brother, her friends, and her mother. They wore a variety of expressions: her brother serious, her friends worried, her mother triumphant, Baudelia troubled.

The ceremony was nearly perfect. Rory in his formal Highland attire was the only thing that marred the event for Elvira and Mario. It was a glaring reminder of what had happened that summer, something they wanted to forget permanently. Rebecca couldn’t help looking at Rory with nostalgia. Standing in front of Father Arnau, who would unite her to Mario in the eyes of God, she couldn’t stop fingering the simple silver band she wore on her other hand, as if the union it symbolized would be the only legitimate one. It had been blessed by the powers of the Earth, and yet now she was joining herself to another man.

She felt lightheaded. The dress was constricting her. She couldn’t breathe freely, couldn’t wait to get out of it. Mario kept glancing at her with concern, fearing she might faint. He took her hand in his, though it wasn’t the appointed time yet. Rebecca looked into Mario’s eyes and felt very cold. The church began to spin. To steady herself, she tuned out Father Arnau’s nuptial sermon and brought to mind instead the old druid’s simple, serene words: “All things are circular. Night becomes day, and day leads into night, which again gives way to day. These are the flowing rhythms of the Cycle of Existence, and in the center of the Circle is the stillness of the Source, eternal and brilliant.”

The stillness of the Source . . . the stillness of the Source . . .
She kept turning these words over in her mind, seeking her own elusive stillness, longing for illumination or a respite from the ache in her heart that would not go away. Time was playing tricks on her. Had she already uttered “I do”? A jumble of sensations threatened to overwhelm her, to immerse her in a numbed state somewhere distant from the reality of the day’s events.

The only time her spirit was united with her body was when she looked for Rory after the banquet. She wanted to speak to him alone; she had something to give him. When Rebecca asked him to dance, Lola gave her a look, supposing that Rebecca wanted to submit Rory to an unwanted interrogation.

“You’re attracting more attention than the bride, my Scottish friend,” Rebecca teased as they began a waltz in the center of the dance floor.

“I shouldn’t have let Lola talk me into it. She insisted I wear my kilt.”

“Don’t worry; I like seeing you in it. It brings back good memories.”

“I guess so,” he said, “but your husband looks like he wants to kill me.”

“Don’t worry about him. I’m very happy you’re here.” Then a shadow of sadness came over Rebecca. She bit her lip, unsure she wanted to hear the answer to the question she was about to ask. “How is he? It’s been almost two months since
 . . .
”

Rory avoided looking at her. He didn’t want to talk about it; it seemed inappropriate. His discomfort was evident. He’d only come to the wedding for Lola’s sake; he couldn’t say he was happy for the bride and groom, because he knew what the event signified for his friend.

In response to his silence, Rebecca added, “Lola told me.”

His face twisted into a scowl. “She shouldn’t have.”

“That doesn’t matter now. Rory, I need to know how he is.”

“Knowing won’t do you any good.”

“Please.”

Rory sighed in resignation. “He went to Skye and hasn’t come back. I haven’t heard from him since, so I can’t tell you anything.”

“And his job? And the band?”

“He left everything.”

“Oh, God, no!”

“I talked to William. I know he and Sophie have gone to see him, but they told me he can’t bear to be with anyone.”

They didn’t realize the music had stopped until Lola came to free Rory. “That’s enough, Rebecca. Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable?”

“That’s because you made him wear that.”

“I know,” she said, taking his arm, “but tell me he’s not adorable.” She grinned.

“Rory,” Rebecca spoke hurriedly. “I want you to give him this letter. Will you?”

He looked at the envelope in Rebecca’s hand. He did not look pleased.

“Forget it, Rebecca!” exclaimed Lola. “Can’t you just leave things alone? You’ll only hurt him again.”

“Please,” she said, ignoring her friend and pressing the letter on Rory.

“Let him forget, for heaven’s sake!” Lola insisted.

Rebecca begged Rory with her eyes, and finally he put the letter in his sporran. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to give it to him.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca whispered. She squeezed his hand. They were beginning to draw attention, and Rebecca drew away, emotionally spent. She politely declined an invitation to dance with a guest she didn’t know and went to the garden. The guests were distracted by a charity event for which men were cutting up their ties in exchange for donations.

She didn’t realize her brother had followed her outside.

“Are you OK?”

She turned around, startled. “Yes. I just wanted some air.”

“What was going on with you and Lola’s boyfriend?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“I gave him a letter for a special friend who lives in Scotland. He and his sister were very nice to us.”

“A special friend,” Enric repeated, letting the words hang in the air. He thought a moment and added, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had an affair.”

Her face flushed, and she avoided meeting his eyes.

“You had an affair with a guy in Scotland?”

“I never said that, Enric.”

“Yeah, but it’s written all over your face.”

Rebecca sighed. She no longer had the strength to deny it. “It never should have happened.”

“Does Mario know?”

She nodded.

“That’s why you were acting so weird when you came back.” Enric thought a moment. “My God, if Mother knew
 . . .
”

“She knows.”

“No!”

“You haven’t been home much lately; that’s why you didn’t know. Mother was absolutely beside herself for a while.”

“Tell me about him. I bet I would like him. Honestly, I’d rather you married a circus chimp than Mario.”

“Yes, you would like him. But I don’t want to talk about it now. I just got married.”

“Maybe when we’re old and toothless, we can reminisce about the trials of our youth.”

“Yes, then I’ll tell you everything.” Talking with her brother helped Rebecca regain her composure. She remembered that Enric had come to the wedding alone. “I’m really sorry you couldn’t bring Pablo.”

“Me too. For now it’s better like this. But I swear one day I’ll show up with him at home and introduce him to Mother. Dad’s already met him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and they got along great.”

“I wish Mother understood.”

Enric took her hand. “I hope you’ll be happy, Sis.” Rebecca took his arm, and they went back in together.