Broken Soldier: A Novel (12 page)

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Emily’s hand fell still. She was afraid to even slip it back to her own lap. There was no way the stewardess would fail to notice.

“I’m good,” Rafa said.

The stewardess nodded. Emily thought she’d managed to fool her, but the stewardess’s eyes flicked down to Rafa’s lap and over to Emily’s face. She didn’t say anything, but Emily knew she was busted. When the stewardess left, Emily withdrew her hand. She had two weeks in Spain with Rafa, and she’d surely be able to find some time alone with him, even if she had to steal it in the middle of the night.

“You’re acting like a guilty child,” Rafa said, chuckling.

“I feel like one.”

He slid his arm around her, letting her lean against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t. Are you ready to meet my family?”

“I think so. It can’t be any worse than it was for you to meet my dad.”

His breathing paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t be so sure. My mother can be a difficult woman.”

Emily tensed. What was that supposed to mean? He hadn’t really talked about the woman much. And she wondered about the ex-girlfriend. Surely she wouldn’t be there. Right?

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“
Mamá’s
family is large, yes? An old family in an old city.
Mamá
always seemed to think that I would one day marry a nice Spanish girl.”

“I’m nice.”

“You are, there can be no doubt. But you are not Spanish and you are not related to anyone in my mother’s bridge group.”

“Like the ex?”

Rafa started to speak, paused, nodded.

“I take it that she’ll be there?”

“I would be more surprised if she were absent.”

Emily mulled that. Rafa hadn’t talked about the other women before her, other than that one.

“What was her name?”

“Lorena.”

Lorena. Something had happened between them. Something more than just Rafa ending the relationship for fear of widowing her.

“Is she pretty?” It was a silly, childish question, but it slipped right out.

“Not really.” He hesitated, and it made her wonder. Perhaps she was the kind of woman that was pretty at 17 and looked 50 by the time she was 30.

“She is the past, Emily. You have nothing to fear.” It was like he could read her mind. That idea was equal parts comforting and frightening. “You are the present.”

“And the future?”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Of course.”

Emily let herself relax into his embrace. It felt good to hear the words. She didn’t know what she would do without him. After only a few months together, she felt like she’d known him for her entire life. And he could already read her mind.

“That’s good. As long as I have you, I think I can face anything.”

T
HE
 Madrid baggage claim clamored with Spanish and English and the clank of machinery. Large round lights hung overhead like full moons, gleaming on the marble floors. Emily tucked her passport and immigration papers back into her purse and looked around.

“Do you see anyone?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Rafa stood beside her, scanning the crowd for his mother.

“Rafael!
Mi hijo!
” A dark-haired, long-legged Spanish woman burst through the crowd, arms outspread. Somewhere between forty and sixty with a face that would age gracefully until one day it leaped forward two decades like a portrait of Dorian Gray, she had eyes only for Rafa.

“
Mamá
!” He caught her as best he could, only staggering back a little as his arms wrapped around her.

Rafa’s mother said something in rapid-fire Spanish that Emily couldn’t understand, but had an enthusiasm that was unmistakable. It warmed Emily’s heart to see how Rafa treated his mother.

Rafa and his mother disentangled and Rafa pointed to Emily. “
Mamá
, this is the girl I told you about. Emily, this is my mother, Maria.”

It was a like a cloud passed over her face. One moment she was all cheer and sunshine as she greeted Rafa, but when she saw Emily her expression darkened and became more guarded.

Emily took a step forward, expecting a polite hug. “Hi, Mrs. Carpenter, I’m Emily.”

The older woman didn’t make any move toward her, leaving Emily poised in a no man’s land of trying to offer a hug or a handshake that was not reciprocated. Emily settled back onto her heels.

Rafa’s mother smiled, seemingly enjoying Emily’s discomfort, then extend her hand. “Your flight was comfortable, yes?”

The message couldn’t have been clearer if it were on official letterhead: Rafa’s mother didn’t like her. “Yes,” Emily said.

“So you are the woman that has become the center of Rafael’s life?” She looked Emily over. A cow being led to slaughter received more dignity.

Emily nodded, her old doubts and worries creeping back in. Whatever test Rafa’s mother had in mind, she was failing it miserably. She wasn’t sure what this woman saw, but it couldn’t be good. “Rafa has told me a lot about you,” Emily said, just trying to break the glacier of ice.

“But he has not told me so much about you.” Rafa’s mother stepped back, still with that frosty look of judgment.

“Well,
Mamá
, we need to get our luggage,” Rafa said.

“Go ahead.” His mother stayed where she was, expression unyielding.

Emily followed Rafa to the conveyor. Her eyes were on him. She couldn’t have cared less about their luggage, not after that. “Is everything okay with her?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. She is never a truly warm person but that...”

Emily nodded. It was not a good start. She looked back to the conveyor just in time to see two of their bags passing. “There!” She darted forward, wrestling Rafa’s bag off the moving belt. Rafa tried to help grab her largest bag, but it was already past.

“I’ll get it,” he said, trying to dodge around more passengers. His movements lacked his usual grace, the prosthetic leg making it awkward for him to sidestep around the other travelers.

An elderly man, silver headed with a face creased like old parchment, pulled it off the belt and held the handle up for Rafa. “
Aquí estás, joven
.”

“
Gracias
,” Rafa said, taking it.

Emily’s second, smaller bag came around. She plucked it from the conveyor and paused by the elderly man. “Thank you.”

He smiled and spoke carefully, enunciating each word. “You are welcome.”

Emily loaded her smaller bag on top of the larger one and pulled the pair of them away from the crowd. Rafa’s mother stood and watched, her arms crossed.

“Alright,
Mamá
, we are ready,” Rafa said.

“This way.” She spun on her heel and started marching.

Emily followed her, unsure what to think. His mother hadn’t offered to help, and had barely even said hello. Emily hoped she warmed up, otherwise it was going to be a difficult two weeks.

#

Emily looked over at Rafa as the gates in front of the house swung open. Ornate and black, the metal was shaped into a crest that looked both regal and intimidating. Beyond the gate, a drive lined with gnarled trees curved out of sight. She sat beside him in the back of his mother’s Land Rover while his mother drove.

“It’s not as grand as it seems,” Rafa said, sensing her unease.

“The house has been in my family for ten generations,” his mother said. “It is one of the grandest in Madrid.”

They passed through the gates and up the drive, circling a statue-filled fountain, the cherubs and prancing horses frolicking amid the spraying water. The house itself wasn’t a castle, but it was far from being a normal home, even in the Midwest where houses came large. It rose three stories of tan stucco with a tile roof. The Moroccan influences were clearly recognizable.

“Wow,” Emily said. “How big is it?”

“Twelve bedrooms, three sitting rooms, two dining rooms, a library and a courtyard,” Rafa’s mother said, stopping the car in front of the house. “
Vamanos
.” She got out and swept up the steps toward the front door.

Emily and Rafa followed, dragging their bags up the steps.

The inside of the house had high ceilings and rich, dark wooden floors. Motes of dust spun through the morning sunlight that shone through wide bay windows in the sitting room to the right. A faint scent of must was nearly covered by the tang of furniture polish.

Rafa’s mother paused in the foyer. “Rafa, you are staying in your old room in the Southern Wing. Emily, come with me.”

“Uh,
Mamá
,” Rafa began as he closed the front door, but his mother wagged a finger at him.

“You will have separate rooms, Rafael. Yaya and I are good Catholic women and this is a good Catholic house.” She glared at Emily. “Come with me.”

“
Mamá
, I am not a good Catholic boy. Emily can stay with me. You’re going to need the space for other people.”

“All the more reason for her to have her own room. I have already discussed it with your father.”

Rafa ground his teeth, his hand shaking. “Where is Dad? I expected he’d be at the airport.”

“He is in Washington until Christmas Eve.” She turned her gaze back to Emily.

Emily hoped Rafa could push the point, but an elderly, hunched-over woman came around the corner. Her eyes lit up when she saw Rafa, and her smile only grew wider when she caught sight of Emily.

“Yaya!” Rafa’s smile stretched from wall to wall. He left his mother and Emily standing at the stairs and went to meet who Emily could only assume was his grandmother.

The elderly woman rattled something in Spanish as Rafa caught her in a hug. He said something in reply, then pointed toward Emily.

“So you are the girl that has stolen my grandson’s heart,” she said in heavily accented English.

“I’m Emily,” Emily said.

“I am Yaya, Rafael’s grandmother. Welcome to my home.” She tottered forward, arms wide and gave Emily a hug. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she squeezed Emily’s waist.

“I’m happy to be here.”

Yaya stepped away, still smiling.

Rafa’s mother said something in Spanish to Yaya, then looked at Emily. “Come. I will show you to your room.”

“
Mamá
, really, is this necessary?” Rafa asked.

“Yes.” She tugged on Emily’s elbow.

“I will talk to you soon,” Yaya said.

Emily looked at Rafa and shrugged, as if to say ‘what can I do?’ She had expected to stay with him, and the fact that his mother was putting up a protest was a surprise, but it wasn’t like she could really argue with the woman, either.

“Rafa, how about I meet you back here once I drop off my bags?” Emily asked.

He sighed. “Alright. See you in a few minutes.”

He caught her arm as she started to leave, and pulled her into a kiss. “Don’t worry about
Mamá
,” he whispered in her ear. “She’ll come around.”

Emily hurried to catch up with Rafa’s already-moving mother.

“Mrs. Carpenter, have you always lived here?” Emily asked.

“I lived here as a child, but I have spent most of the last thirty years with Rafael’s father, not here.” She started up a wide stone staircase, not slowing for Emily.

Emily struggled with the luggage, her bag thumping on each step. Rafa’s mother stopped on the landing above her, her hands on her hips. “Your room is just up here.”

Emily thought that meant the next landing, but the woman continued up another flight of stairs, this one more narrow. They emerged onto the third floor and into a long hallway. Emily followed Maria to the end, around a corner and then down another hall, until the older woman finally stopped at a plain wooden door. She pushed it open, revealing a small, spare room.

“This will be your room.” Maria gestured inside, but didn’t enter.

Even from the hallway, it smelled musty. The bed was narrow and looked hard. The one dresser was covered in a film of dust. Lank, gray curtains hung from the window.

“Thank you,” Emily said. There was no way she was going to sleep in that room. She’d get a hotel if it came down to it. But she didn’t want to argue about it without talking to Rafa first.

“My son is a good boy,” Maria said. “There will be no hanky panky with him under this roof.”

“Mrs. Carpenter, I don’t know what--”

“This is a good Catholic house and those are the rules. Dinner will be served promptly at six.” She marched away.

Emily entered the room, hands shaking and heart pounding. That woman was treating her like she was a teenager, and it was infuriating. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn such hostility.

“Give her a chance, Em,” Emily whispered to herself. “She’s from a different culture.”

Inside the room, the temperature was 10 degrees cooler than the hall. Closer inspection of the window revealed a draft of cold air. Awesome. A room in the back of the house, and it was hardly fit for an animal. Emily left the bags and went back out into the hall, determined to go find Rafa.

R
AFA 
found Emily at the base the main staircase, fists balled at her sides. Her jaw was set as she peered around the house.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he approached.

She whirled around at the sound of his voice, and her features didn’t soften when she saw him. “Don’t leave me with her again.”

Rafa’s heart nearly stopped. His mother hadn’t taken it any easier on Emily, apparently. “What did she do?”

“She put me in a tiny room in the far corner of the house.” Her fists unclenched as she smoothed her slacks. “And it’s drafty.”

Rafa caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “I’ll talk to her about it. I’m sure we can find you another room.”

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Me, either.” He tugged her forward, toward the wide doors around the corner from the stairs. “Perhaps we can make that work out even if she does not agree, yes?”

“Where are we going? I don’t really want to talk to her about it right now.”

“I thought I’d show you around.” He stopped at the doors and pointed out at the courtyard and the lime trees. “It usually gets too cold in Madrid for the limes, but we heat the courtyard in the winter to keep the frost away.” He pushed open the door and led her outside.