The Ghost of Hannah Mendes (34 page)

“Is it possible, for me?” she whispered, reaching back to feel the hand on the handles of the chair.

“I promise you,” the woman said, grasping her hand warmly, like family. “If you just hang on. If you do everything you can to keep on living.”

She put her hands in her lap and leaned back, exhaling long and hard. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “And now, please, take me back. I need to have a word with my doctor.”

Nothing happened.

She twisted around in her seat. Her mouth hung loose in surprise: pale light floated like a golden bubble until it burst and disappeared. The corridor was empty.

A very put-upon nurse from the maternity ward wheeled her back to her room.

Janice was waiting, her nails polished a striking peach, her eyes red.

“Mother!” she jumped up, wringing her hands. “The bed was empty. No one knew where you were. What happened to you?”

“It’s all right, Jan, I’m fine, fine.”

She allowed Janice to help her back into bed, arranging the tangle of tubes. Then suddenly, Catherine sat erect. “Jan?”

“Mother?”

“Come, let me hug you for a moment.”

Janice walked stiffly into her mother’s outstretched arms, surprised.

“My child,” Catherine whispered. “I love you, Jan.”

“
Madre!
” Janice collapsed inside her mother’s arms, resting her head on Catherine’s bony shoulder as if she were five years old.

Catherine stroked her soft, shiny hair. My little girl, she thought, aware of the sudden wetness on her daughter’s smooth, made-up cheek.

“He’s got another woman! He said he would give her up, but I know he hasn’t. He doesn’t love me anymore. I don’t know what to do….”

“Look to the future, child. There’s always a future. I’ll help you. I’ve decided I’m going to live a while yet after all.” Catherine smiled ruefully. “Simply out of curiosity….”

“Curiosity?” Janice wiped her eyes, looking up.

“Never mind. What’s that you’re holding?”

“It’s another message from Francesca. I think it’s just the news you’ve been waiting for.”

26

“What are you thinking about, Francesca?”

They were on their way to Cáceres in a rented convertible. The wind was rummaging through her hair like gentle fingers. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back toward the sun. A field of red wildflowers burned their way through her eyelids.

“About Gracia. In the first chapter she calls herself a young widow. I’m wondering what happened to Francisco Mendes and how she could have possibly survived without him.”

He shrugged. “Life goes on. People fall in love again.”

“They were more than just lovers! They were partners in every sense. It wasn’t just about passion. It was about friendship and respect and devotion to the same values,” she said emotionally. “They were soul mates. You can have only one soul mate in your lifetime.”

He looked at her, intrigued. He had never before heard her so stirred. She looked out dreamily at the enchanting shady grove, the quiet, blue waters lying at its back. Her face shone mysteriously.

“What?” He smiled.

“Oh, nothing. Everything. Wishing…”

“You? Wishing? For what?” he asked, surprised.

“That I could just…I don’t know…forget everything and just get out here and spend a month swimming.”

“Such frivolous thoughts from Francesca Abraham. I’m shocked!” he said, wide-eyed with mock horror. “Do you really want to stop and get out?”

“No, of course not! I mean, I know we can’t. We’ve got to get to Cáceres…”

He sighed. “Right.”

“Do you think we’ll make it before nightfall?” she asked, looking up at the suddenly overcast sky, the gray, gathering clouds. “It looks like the weather is turning.”

He barely had time to agree when the rain began in earnest. He hurriedly put up the top. Wind-driven sheets of water dashed against the car, making it rock. Lightning split the sky and thunder crashed above them with explosions of menacing sound that made the ground tremble. The windshield wipers moved with useless fury to keep up with the deluge, to no avail. Visibility was almost nil.

“Marius, stop the car! This is too dangerous. Let’s just wait it out.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, turning off the road and shutting down the engine.

Mists rose in thickening darkness against the windows, giving them the feeling of being adrift together on a large silver sea. He sat watching her. Her face was soft in the fairy light of the forest, the eyes pensive and a little frightened. Her breasts rose and fell, stirred with quiet emotion as she contemplated the ghostly sway of the branches, the rustling song of the forest. She was an unknown creature to him, he realized. The essence of woman’s otherness. Her beauty was all the more tantalizing, wrapped around the mystery that was the key to her nature, a mystery that had so far eluded him. He touched her shoulder lightly. “Francesca…”

She turned toward him, her lips slightly parted in surprise, her teeth a flash of gleaming white. The tender beauty of her features took his breath away.

“Frightened?”

She shook her head, drawing her sweater around her. He reached out to help her, his fingers brushing her soft, bare shoulder. “You had this same look after we visited the Cathedral of Toledo, right after leaving Señor de Almazan’s. You never did tell me what happened to you in there.”

She looked at him. “I came across this shrine…. It had a picture carved into beaten brass: weeping women holding infants; small children being dragged away; old men bent over their staffs. And on either side were these lovely stone angels with this look of serene happiness on their faces, you know, like models in a refrigerator commercial: ‘Just look at this wonderful product we’ve created just for you!’ I read the inscription. It was a shrine dedicated to Ferdinand and Isabella in honor of signing the Edict of Expulsion.”

“Exactly what about it upset you?”

She was silent for a moment, her fingers pressing into her thighs. “How anyone could depict all this human misery and then praise those who’d caused it! But it was more than that…”

“What, then?”

“It was the picture itself; the idea of suddenly waking up one morning and finding yourself thrown out of your safe, happy life by forces you couldn’t have predicted and had no control over.” She stopped, looking out the window at the raging sheets of rain that had so suddenly transformed the world around them. “I went to work one morning and found myself out on the street just because some corporate president signed papers in lawyers’ offices hundreds of miles away.”

“Life is unpredictable.” He nodded. “It’s hard to lose a job you love. I’d hate to lose mine.”

“But Marius, you don’t really expect to go on doing this forever, do you? The constant traveling…and it’s all so…so risky and unstable. What if you run out of leads? If you don’t find anything valuable for years, then what?”

He shrugged. “Hasn’t happened so far. But I’m realistic. I expect I’ll have to make some changes over time. When I’m eighty, for example, I’ll probably need someone with me to hold the ladder,” he grinned, but his dark eyes went suddenly serious and searching. “What is it
you
really want, Francesca?”

“I’m not sure.” She frowned. “A feeling of safety, maybe. Of being in control and secure. A feeling of being respected.”

“Safety, control, security, respect….” He shook his head, reaching out and running a finger along her elbow down to her wrist. “What about happiness, love, excitement, meaning….”

She vibrated with unconscious pleasure, like a perfectly tuned note. She looked at his dark, handsome face, the beautiful tan flesh of his neck and strong arms.

If it were Suzanne, and not me, I know what would happen now, she thought, wanting to give in, to move toward the warm promise of his arms, hating the fact that she simply couldn’t do it.

She pulled open the car door and dashed out into the warm rain, letting it fill her open mouth. She felt a sense of giddiness, a reckless freedom as she flew down the hill to the lake, sheets of rain soaking her to the skin.

“Francesca!” she heard him call. She ran faster, ducking the heavy branches of trees that swayed around her like dancers in some strangely choreographed dream. Only my part is improvised, she thought. I am the one who writes the program that controls all the actions of this little, defective machine. But, still, I’m in control, she told herself. I know exactly what I’m doing.

She plunged into the water. It was wonderfully cool and fragrant, with the smell of warm summer nights. She floated on her back, staring at the blurred faces of sleeping stars as the rain tickled her face. Everything seemed to float upward, lifted and borne away, turned ghostly and strange. The lights on the distant shore blinked in astonishment.

Then suddenly, he was there beside her, his wet chest solid against her own. She felt his arms encircle her waist and touch the small of her back. No, this was not under control, she thought. Not at all…

“Francesca,” he murmured, his breath warm in her ear, his lips touching her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her chin. Then, finally, her lips.

“Don’t!” she moaned softly. “You don’t understand. I can’t. I’m not like that. Not like my sister.”

He lifted her in his arms, nuzzling the soft skin of her chilled shoulder. “Who are you like?”

“Put me down!”

“But why?” He was loath to let her go.

The rain suddenly stopped, and yet he saw the rivulets streaming down her cheeks. He hugged her. She slapped him, hard.

Stunned, he released her, his hands hanging helplessly at his sides. “Francesca! Why?” his voice echoed in the forest.

She ran, wet branches cracking beneath her, filling the air with sound. Suddenly, she cried out in pain.

“Where are you! What’s wrong?”

He found her in the thicket.

“It’s my…ankle, I think.”

He crouched down beside her, probing it gently. “It’s not broken, but it’s swelling up. Here, lie still.” He covered it with cold, wet earth and damp leaves as a poultice.

“Mud?”

“An old hiking remedy. It’s been around for ages. The point is to keep it cold.”

She felt the gentleness in his hands as he touched her bruised skin. She looked up shyly. Everything seemed to glisten.

“Are you cold?” he whispered, rubbing her arms.

“A little. Marius?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I’m insane. I have been ever since I set foot in Spain. It’s as if something’s gotten inside me that I can’t control.”

“Why do you always have to be in control? Why not just…live? Moment to moment. Why does everything have to fit into your little planner, your little Bible of minutes and hours and days?” Suddenly, a gleam of understanding came into his eyes. His jaw flinched. “Someone—sometime—hurt you, didn’t he, Francesca? Badly.”

She leaned back silently, studying the darkening skies, the yellow and purple vapors rising across the moon.

“I want you to know that I’m not that kind of man. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. I swear.”

They sat unmoving in the growing shadows, listening to each other’s soft breathing.

“Marius? Could you carry me back to the car, please?”

She felt his strong arms lift her off the ground and leaned into his chest. Her cheek tingled against the smooth, damp skin of his shoulder. A sudden, eerily sharp sense of déjà vu made her stir and look around for a presence that seemed to be hovering over her, watching her.

I stopped struggling, feeling a burning tingle that began in my forehead and streamed through my body. And as I peeked at the dark rim of his eyes, the rich thickness of his manly beard, I felt a clap and a sharp, white-hot wrench to my heart
.

It was the moment where one’s soul enters into another’s and emerges, dazzled
.

The words went through her like alcohol, making her dizzy and warm. She looked into his eyes and suddenly she felt as if she had crossed some secret threshold, emerging into a brand-new world. For a moment, her whole body suddenly gave up its resistance as she allowed herself to lean against him. For the first time in a very long time, she felt absolutely safe.

27

Speeding down the Costa del Sol, the great palms waving in the distance, Suzanne saw the Mediterranean as a winking blue eye. She leaned over, her fingers burrowing through Gabriel’s warm hair, caressing the smooth skin of his neck. “What do you say we dump the relatives, Gabriel, and hole up at the beach for about a month?”

He turned his head slightly, kissing her fingertips. “One day, I promise. Perhaps we’ll spend a summer here, with our children.”

She sat up straight, hands massaging each other tensely in her lap, the vision of romantic coastline and nude, warm flesh dissolving into the specter of thigh-heavy mothers carrying undiapered, wailing infants. “No way. You’ve got the wrong girl!”

His voice was deep and serious as he answered, “Isn’t it natural for a man to want children from the woman he loves?”

A flash of joy went through her and the temptation to sink into the comfortable niche he was building became almost irresistible. And so, quite perversely, she decided on vigorous opposition. “What about overpopulation? What about jeopardizing the survival and quality of life for humanity out of selfishness and ignorance?”

“I love children,” he said simply. “Don’t you? And isn’t that what we’re both working so hard for, to make a better world for them?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But I just think we have plenty of time to settle down to all that boring domesticity.”

“Statistics for problem pregnancies go shooting up in older prima-paras,” he said matter-of-factly.

What could you say to that? she thought sullenly, cornered.

“You are such an interesting woman, Suzanne! Most women adore it when men start talking babies, families…”

“That’s because they’re insecure about their ability to hold their men in sexual thralldom forever….” she said, grinning.

“So, that is where you think your power lies, yes?”

“Don’t you?”