A Love for Rebecca (22 page)

CONFESSIONS

Late in the afternoon the next day, Rebecca went to her father’s office. She knew Mario would still be there. With his ambition in high gear, he would be the first to arrive and the last to leave. She found him gathering papers from his desk and placing them in his satchel.

When he heard her arrive, he turned toward the door with a smile. She looked him in the eye and inwardly shuddered.

“Rebecca, you’re here! I’m just finishing.”

She heard his voice and felt nothing. “Hi, Mario.”

“How are you, babe? Did you miss the sunshine?”

He was like a stranger; she fought the impulse to walk away as he came over to hug her. She felt not one iota of intimacy, not one hint of attraction. Her head told her what her heart already knew: she did not love him.

“Yes,” she replied. “I missed the sunshine, but I wasn’t ever cold.”

“Good, you can tell me all about it over dinner,” he said, leading her by the elbow.

They were about to leave when Rebecca stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Come on, babe, I’m starving. Can’t it wait until we get to the restaurant?”

“No. It has to be now.”

“Is it that important?”

“It is.”

He removed his bag from his shoulder and set it down. Then he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, ready to listen.

Rebecca rubbed her hands together nervously.

“Is it about the wedding?” he said. “I know things are moving quickly, but sweetheart, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Have you ever thought about what I want?”

“Well, I thought you agreed, and your family seems so happy.”

“I’m tired of always doing what everyone else wants.”

Her outburst surprised him. It wasn’t like her. Then, for the first time, he registered the look in her eyes and realized something serious was going on.

“We can postpone it a few months if you want,” he said cautiously. “Our mothers won’t be happy after all the work they’ve done, but—”

“Mario, I think this is a mistake.”

The blood drained from her fiancé’s face. He stood up immediately. “A mistake? What do you mean?”

“We still have time to call it off.”

“Rebecca, what’s wrong? This isn’t you.”

“I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I don’t know how else to do it.”

Stunned, Mario stared at her in disbelief. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Well
 . . .
these last few weeks.” There was uncertainty in her voice.

“So you realized this in Scotland?” He threw his arms up in exasperation.

“We don’t love each other.”

“I love you! I do!”

“In your own way, but not enough for us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

Mario ran a hand through his hair, at a loss. “I don’t understand. When you left, everything was fine. And now you want to break our engagement? I don’t understand, Rebecca!”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She watched him move to the window that covered one wall of the office and looked out on a magnificent view of the city.

“Did you meet someone?”

She expected the question. Mario was astute, as well as a good lawyer.

She chose to be honest. “Yes,” she whispered, her heart pounding.

Mario tensed but remained calm, clasping his hands behind his head as he continued looking out the window.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting that.

“Did you sleep with him!” he repeated, turning to look at her. “It’s a simple question with a simple answer.”

Rebecca was flustered, unable to reply.

“Forget it! You don’t need to answer. You already have.”

He began to pace with his hands on his hips. His jacket was pulled back, revealing his blue tie, polished belt buckle, and impeccable white shirt under an expensive gray suit. Not once had she heard of Mario losing his cool, even in the most difficult situations. But when he looked at her again, she saw an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“Since we made our engagement public, I haven’t stopped receiving congratulations. Everyone’s excited about it. Not only are we the perfect couple, but our firm will become even stronger with our marriage.” He scrutinized her face, as if cross-examining her. “The same firm, Rebecca, that paid for your private schools, your vacations abroad, the chalet and ski lessons in Baqueira-Beret, the ostentatious knickknacks your mother shows off, and your big house in Pedralbes. Everything came from the law firm my father founded, which your father later joined. No one gave us anything.”

“I am truly sorry, Mario. But getting married just for the good of the firm would not be enough for either of us.” Rebecca hesitated. “You’ll find someone
 . . .
someone who really loves you.”

Mario stepped toward her, his face a handsbreadth away, his gaze harsh.

“What do you mean, someone who really loves me?” He did not hold back his anger. “You still believe in love? Haven’t you seen the divorce rates? No one really loves anyone. The only love I believe in is filial love; everyone else is just shacking up. People are selfish by nature. The only unconditional love is for your children. Any other love is a deception needed by those who don’t benefit from a father’s inheritance. But you and I are different. Maybe we’re not crazy in love, but our marriage will protect our position, the prestige of our families, and the lifestyle you were raised to expect. In the end, Rebecca, that’s what matters. Leave the romantic stuff to the movies. In real life, it creates more emotional damage than war does.”

She could hardly breathe. Mario always managed to confuse her with all his words. He got inside her head and smothered her efforts to be heard, making her point of view seem ridiculous and immature. But this time she would not be swayed. “Maybe if I hadn’t learned there was another way to love,” she said. “But now I know I can’t live any other way. Have you never been in love?”

He stepped away and walked slowly around the office, rubbing his hands. “Falling in love creates an absurd dependence on another person.” Regaining his composure, he spoke calmly, as if he had in front of him a simple court case to argue. “Of course, that only lasts a little while. Then all that’s left is affection and some common interests. That’s what we have. We skipped the first phase, but we have the foundations for our marriage to work. Don’t you see?”

“No, Mario, I don’t see.”

His composure was short-lived. “But what has changed? Is it because of some Scottish guy? I’ll bet he raises sheep. Is that what you want? To move to Scotland and raise sheep?”

“Kenzie doesn’t raise sheep.”

Mario pursed his lips. “Kenzie,” he scoffed. “Come on, Rebecca! Have you lost your mind?” He stepped toward her and held her face. Her heart was in her throat. “Listen, it doesn’t matter. I’m prepared to forgive you. It was a summer fling, that’s all. You’ll soon forget about it. I’ve never been the jealous type.”

“But I love him. I can’t help it.”

He stepped back and spoke in a steely voice. “Do you think I haven’t had opportunities? You think beautiful women with incredible bodies never throw themselves at me? But I’m not so mundane. I know what I want.”

“I know what I want too.”

“What do you know?” His tone grew harsher. “If you knew, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself into the arms of the first man you saw.”

Rebecca’s resolve was breaking down under the onslaught of Mario’s accusations. She fought to stay afloat, to not allow herself to be brought down by his words. She brought the image of Kenzie to mind—his forlorn face when they parted, the promise of his words: “I’ll hold you in my dreams until you come back to me.”

Her courage returned. “I will not marry you.”

His look changed from disbelief to disdain. “So what did that Scot do to you? Did he have an enormous dick, or what?”

She was astonished at his vulgarity. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“And how do you want me to talk to you?” he yelled.

She covered her ears, her eyes filling with tears.

He grabbed her wrists to make sure she heard what he was about to say. His efforts at persuading her changed to threats through clenched teeth.

“Do you think I’m going to let you make me the laughingstock of the city? Did you think I would just give you a nice hug and wish you Godspeed? If you call off our wedding, I will personally make sure the entire city knows about the slut daughter and faggot son in the Bassols family. I will force your father out of the firm, and your brother will never practice law again in his whole fucking life! You do this to me, and I will bury you in shit! Do you understand?”

His expression terrified her. Abruptly, he picked up his bag and left the office.

Rebecca stood frozen, petrified by his threats. Where had Mario been hiding this perverse personality? She struggled to compose herself enough to walk the few blocks to Enric’s apartment. Mario’s threats followed her like a black cloud over her head. She knew he was capable of carrying them out. If he chose to, he could destroy her family. She thought about her mother and couldn’t breathe. When she thought about her father, she felt an invisible hand squeezing her heart. Enric, Inés
 . . .
She wouldn’t have believed Mario could be so cruel. But after seeing the cold, pitiless anger in his eyes, she knew she was mistaken.

She wanted to get to her brother’s and tell him everything. Maybe together they could figure out what to do. But as she got closer, it dawned on her that telling him the truth wouldn’t help. In fact, it might detonate a volatile situation.

Enric opened the door with a smile, which evaporated the moment he saw her pained expression. Rebecca tried to camouflage her anguish, but she had never been good at hiding her feelings. Under her brother’s persistent interrogation, she struggled to find a plausible excuse for her emotional state. She felt dizzy and her ears were ringing. She gathered herself and managed to calm down before speaking.

But she couldn’t tell him the truth. “It’s nothing. Mario and I just had a disagreement.”

“You look like this because of a disagreement?”

“I accused him of not caring about me and what I do.”

“I know. He only cares about himself.”

She forced a smile. “Well, you know how demanding the law firm can be.”

“But there’s always time to ask someone how they’re doing.”

She cast her eyes down and wrung her hands nervously.

“Oh, Rebecca, I don’t understand why you’re going through with marrying that jerk. Every time I think about being the uncle of his children, it makes me sick.”

Rebecca let out a ragged sigh. “Don’t say that.” She changed the subject so her eyes wouldn’t well up with tears. “Tell me about Pablo. He’s cute.”

Enric’s face lit up with a huge grin. “He’s special. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He told her they’d hardly been apart these last few weeks. He’d never met anyone like Pablo. They were soul mates, he enthused.

She loved the spark in her brother’s eye, the emotion underlying his words. Enric was only sorry he had to hide Pablo from the family, but he assured her he was determined that they would accept him in time. He vowed he would stand up to anyone to defend their happiness.

A chill ran up her spine. Was she capable of standing up to anyone to defend her and Kenzie’s happiness? Would she even have the chance to fight? In that moment, she felt beaten before the battle had even begun. She couldn’t tell her brother that she too had found her true love. Or how incredible Kenzie’s eyes were when they reflected the light, or how the sun brought out the coppery color of his hair. She would have to bury her feelings deep inside. Her chest already felt as if it would burst from the effort. She wondered bitterly why a love like hers had to be hidden.

Because you were unfaithful,
a little voice whispered from inside.

CONSPIRACY

At the law office, Mario was swiveling restlessly in his chair. He hadn’t heard from Rebecca, and it was driving him crazy. It had been three days, and his patience was running out. He had never had cause to question Rebecca’s obedience, but this time, he realized, there was a chance she would rebel against everyone and take off.

He wouldn’t make it easy for her.

He called her home in Pedralbes. Her mother answered. Elvira sounded alarmed when Mario asked if he could see her right away. Even more so when Mario insisted that Rebecca not be present. She tried to get out of him what was so urgent, but he insisted the matter was too delicate to discuss over the phone. Holding back a sense of foreboding, she told him Rebecca would be taking Inés to the park at noon and wouldn’t be back until two for lunch.

After she hung up, Elvira went to find her daughter. Maybe Mario didn’t want to tell her what was going on, but perhaps she could learn something before he arrived. She didn’t like surprises and wanted to be prepared for whatever it was. She went up to Rebecca’s room and found her lying on the unmade bed. Normally, she knocked before entering her children’s bedrooms, but she was so agitated that she’d forgotten. Rebecca looked up, startled, and slipped something under her pillow. Her mother pretended not to notice.

“Mother, you surprised me. Is something wrong?”

“Why? Can’t I come see you?”

“Of course; it’s just unexpected. Is it something urgent?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was just looking for your sister and thought she might be with you.”

“She’s in the garden.”

“Fine. And how are you?”

Rebecca sat up on the bed. “Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been acting a little strangely lately.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t really thought much about it, but now, having said it, she realized it was true. Rebecca seemed distant. She hadn’t been talking at dinner lately the way she used to, and she spent a lot of time shut up in her bedroom.

Elvira went to the bed and sat next to her daughter, clearly intent on questioning her. “You’re excited about the wedding, aren’t you?”

Rebecca considered her response carefully. It was the perfect opportunity to tell her mother everything. She’d been dreading the moment she had to give Mario her answer, but she’d managed. She was sure she didn’t want to marry him, but she couldn’t forget his threats. These past few days had been awful. She felt trapped in a tunnel with two exits that both led to suffering. Whichever direction she went, she would hurt someone. It was her happiness in exchange for her family’s stability. She hoped something would happen, that some light would enter the dark tunnel and show her a way out. But she was alone in this for now. Kenzie would call in a few days, as they’d agreed before she left. They had decided to wait one week to allow her the time she needed to sort everything out and let everyone else begin to accept the news.

But nothing had gone the way she had expected. She hadn’t counted on Mario’s vicious and vindictive reaction. She decided not to say anything for now. “I’m a little stressed, that’s all.”

“It seems you and Mario haven’t been seeing much of each other lately.”

“He’s really busy with those Arab businessmen. You know how it is.”

“But there’s not much time before the wedding. You haven’t even opened the gifts that have been delivered.”

Rebecca ducked her head. If her mother kept interrogating her, she would crumble. She stood and excused herself, making for the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.”

Elvira stood too. “Fine. It’s probably just nerves. It’s completely normal. Every bride gets irritable before the wedding. Doubts
 . . .
you know. But it’s just the stress.”

“Yes, Mother,” Rebecca said dispiritedly. She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Elvira’s brow furrowed as she left the bedroom. Something was going on, but she wasn’t sure how serious it was. She was about to go downstairs when she remembered Rebecca’s furtive movement to hide something when she’d entered the room. She returned to the bedroom and cautiously opened the door. Rebecca was still showering. She crossed to the bed and felt around under the pillow. Out came a photo.

Her heart skipped a beat. What she saw was a close-up of her daughter dancing with a wild-looking man. As if scalded, she dropped the photo, and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry. It couldn’t be. She picked up the photo again and had to sit down before her legs gave way. She examined the man holding her daughter close around the waist. His eyes were locked on Rebecca. Elvira was repulsed by his appearance: the long hair, the vulgar tank top, those horrendous tattoos. What was this? Did Rebecca get involved with this man when she was in Scotland? Could Mario have found out, and was this the reason he wanted to talk to her in person?

She returned the photo to its hiding place and left the room. She felt ill, so much so that she asked Baudelia to take care of Inés until Rebecca could take her to the park. She shut herself in her room, fraught with worry. First Enric, now Rebecca. She was convinced that Mario was coming to call off the wedding. Half her friends were gossiping about Enric, and now this. She began to cry, her life crumbling around her.

Elvira awoke to Baudelia gently shaking her. “Doña Elvira,” the housekeeper whispered so as not to startle her. “Do
ña
Elvira, Mister Mario is waiting for you in the foyer.”

She awoke disoriented, but then it all came rushing back. She splashed cold water on her face and noticed her pale complexion. She put on lipstick and added a little of the color to her cheeks, blending it in with her fingertips. However serious things might be, she wouldn’t look anything less than polished in front of anyone, especially not her future son-in-law.

She walked downstairs, still feeling a bit shaky. She greeted Mario politely, hiding her worry, and invited him into her husband’s study. It was the most appropriate place to hold a private conversation.

With no preamble, Mario recounted the situation. He spared no detail, with the exception of his threats to Rebecca. Not because he regretted them—he was sure his mother-in-law would understand—but so as not to risk going too far and turning Elvira against him.

Mario watched closely the effect his words had on her. What he interpreted as surprise was actually her reaction to having her suspicions confirmed.

“I warned Víctor,” she said, sounding vexed. “I warned him that girls that age, on their own for three weeks, was a terrible idea.”

Mario leaned against the gleaming mahogany desk. “Elvira, I—”

“You want to call off the wedding, don’t you? What a catastrophe! Everything is ready! What are we going to do?”

“I don’t want to call off the wedding,” he said.

She looked at him, confused. “You don’t?”

“What, and become the butt of jokes and the talk of half the city?”

“But—”

“Don’t get me wrong, Elvira. If I go ahead with the wedding, it’s only because it’s in my best interest. I’m just as worried about a scandal as you are, which is why I’ve told you. Your daughter doesn’t want to marry me; she wants to take off to Scotland with that guy.”

“Has she lost her mind?”

“I know you can influence her decision; we both know she’s always done what you want. But it looks like our Rebecca has spread her wings. I knew she wasn’t in love with me, but I thought she would make the perfect wife. You and I know this marriage is more of a business transaction than anything romantic. When it comes to that kind of love, I’ve never been one to let my passions carry me away. To tell the truth, I thought Rebecca and I were alike in that respect. Perhaps I am mistaken. Nevertheless, I will marry her to protect my reputation. I’m willing to forget everything. Deep down, I consider her the victim of that rogue who seduced her for his own entertainment.”

“You haven’t seen him, Mario. You haven’t seen what he looks like. I swear, I don’t understand how she could fall in love with someone like that.”

“What do you mean? You’ve seen him?”

“I found a photo, just this morning after you called. He’s got tattoos and long hair. He looks like a degenerate, and possibly dangerous. I’m still in shock.”

They were silent, each trying to imagine Rebecca’s romance with someone like that. Elvira spoke first. “What are we going to do?”

“You have to convince her to marry me. She’ll listen to you.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll speak to my father. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that there are only three partners in our firm. Enric is just an associate
 . . .
I’m sure you understand.

Elvira could not suppress a look of repugnance. “I understand quite well. I’m not stupid.”

“Fine.”

“I will speak with her this afternoon, and tomorrow you will have your answer.”

Mario left, and Elvira remained in the study, pacing, considering her next move. That Mario was hurt was completely understandable, but his veiled threat had surprised and unsettled her.

She left the study, jaw clenched, and went up to her daughter’s bedroom. Everything was orderly, the bed made. She looked for the photo, but it was no longer there. She searched the drawers of the night tables and found a tourist brochure for Beauly. Opening it, she discovered the photo tucked inside. Elvira studied the photo. The image angered her so much that she ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces on the bed.

The whole family gathered for lunch. Even Enric was seated at the table. His father had insisted he join them, saying how much his youngest sister missed him. And it was true. Inés greeted Enric excitedly when she saw him. She followed that with a running patter about her world and questions about his.

Upon her return from the park, Rebecca had immediately noticed the troubled look on her mother’s face. Elvira was visibly upset. Indeed, everyone noticed.

Elvira announced that she had a terrible headache. She didn’t suffer migraines often, but when she did, everyone knew it was best to leave her alone.

That her son was also present surprised Elvira. “Hello, Enric. Come give your mother a kiss.”

“Of course, Mother,” he said, complying.

Víctor spoke up, addressing his wife sympathetically. “You were fine this morning, darling, before I went to work.”

“Yes,” Elvira said, avoiding her husband’s concerned gaze. “It came on suddenly. You know how it can be for me. My head is throbbing.”

Inés continued telling her brother about her latest adventures.

“Don’t forget to tell ’im about the worm, child,” Baudelia prompted as she served the salad.

“What worm?” Enric inquired.

“Oh, Mr. Enric, one that squirmed right inside my dress,” answered Baudelia, shooting an accusatory glance toward Inés. “I almost fell down, it scared me so bad. Fat and slimy thing!”

“That’s enough, Baudelia. You don’t need to be so graphic while we are eating,” Elvira said, simultaneously giving her younger daughter a severe look.

“I didn’t do anything,” Inés protested. “The worm jumped inside her dress.”

Her mother removed the cloth napkin from her lap and threw it on the table. “For heaven’s sake, Inés! Worms do not jump! Why can’t you behave?”

“Elvira, please,” Víctor said. “I’m sure it was just a joke.”

“Yes, doña Elvira,” Baudelia hurried to add. “It was nothing. It just startled me, is all.”

Elvira got up from the table, her hand on her forehead. “Excuse me, I don’t feel well. Please continue eating. I’m going to my room.”

“Would you like me to bring up a tray for you, Doña?

“No, Baudelia, I’m not hungry.”

Elvira lay awake, eyes closed, listening to the muffled sounds from the dining room. Her headache had let up some. She knew it came from the stress of the last few hours. It had begun at the base of her neck and then crept up to her left eye and settled there. The pain had become so unbearable that the only relief was to stay out of the light and try to stop thinking.

She strained to listen to the voices downstairs and identified her daughters, chatting freely. Elvira suddenly recalled the photo she had torn to shreds and thrown on her daughter’s bed. Rebecca would see it the moment she came up to her room. Elvira looked at the clock; it was three thirty! Víctor and Enric would have already finished lunch and returned to the office. She got up quickly, ignoring the stabs of pain that shot though her with the sudden movement. She went into the hallway at the same moment Inés and Rebecca disappeared behind the door to Rebecca’s bedroom.