“Withtodoshe has outdone herself!”Ana exclaimed, “It isperfecto, todo.I do not know how she manages.But I suspect that you help her a great deal,no?”
“Perhaps a tad, in the planning and such.”Ana’s black eyebrow arched as the corner of her mouth quirked to one side.Clearly she did not believe him.“I simply wanted it to be a special day for you.”
“And it has been adíamostespecial.I am so much grateful to you.”
“I would do anything to help you, Ana.I hope you know as much.”
“I do.”
A gust of wind rolled through the vineyard, causing leaves to twirl on their stems and warming Peter’s skin.It was hauntingly reminiscent of the region surrounding San Sebastián.How Peter wished that memory did not have to be accompanied by such horrors.But as he turned to his wife, her face was smooth and serene, her lips upturned and peaceful.Here she did not seem to be troubled by reminders of her homeland as he was.Perhaps that was something to be grateful for.
“Ana?”
“Yes?”
“Do you miss Spain very badly?”
“Sí,” she whispered, her voice breaking.“I miss the food, all the things so familiar to me.I miss hearing the most beautiful language all around me, like music.I miss myfamiliamost of all.Every day I remember their faces, their voices.”She paused, her voice thick and low with emotion.“I miss themtanto.”
With a flush of shame, Peter realized that he hardly knew of her family.The dire conditions they had faced had forced them together out of necessity, and the physical closeness they had found had blossomed out of such circumstances.But there was still a great deal that he didn’t know about her past, and that she didn’t know about his.
“Do you still have family in Spain?”
“Sí, mis abuelos.”
“Your grandparents?”
“Yes, and some aunts, uncles, and cousins as well.But many of them left Valencia long ago and move far away.Even fewer maintained contact withmi Papá.And so when I live with him in the army, I lose contact with them as well.”
“Perhaps you could write to your grandparents.Surely they would like to hear of your whereabouts and your condition—that is, if you wanted to share such things.”
“When I leave with my father, they consider me dead.Me desheredaron.”
“They disinherited you?For following your father to war?”Peter ran a hand through his hair.It was completely confusing, all of it.“But why?”
“BecausePapá, he choose the war instead ofMamá.”
Peter’s chest tightened, and he clenched his hands into fists.It was heartbreaking to learn how Ana’s family had fallen apart, but it was even more devastating to realize that his own act of joining the army could have left his family similarly estranged.It had certainly strained his relationship with Matthew, to say the least.Had he made just as difficult, as injurious a choice as Major Bailon?But the man brought Ana with him.She had not been left at home to wonder after his well-being and whereabouts, as Matthew and Mother had in Peter’s case.
“But he chose to remain with you, did he not?”
“Yes, becauseMamáchoose to leave me with him.”
“Ah.”Peter’s heart broke anew for his wife.But as he reached out a hand to her, pulling her into his arms, her face was strangely cold and dispassionate.It seemed she did not harbor the same great mourning for her mother as she did for her father.“I apologize.I do not mean to dampen our lovely Spanish picnic with difficult memories.”
“Está bien.It is good that you know.Perhaps I should have told you much time ago.My relationship withMamáwasmuy complicada,and I not like to think on it very much.”Her forehead creased and her lips pressed together in frustration or distress, Peter did not know which.
“You are already familiar with my feelings toward my father.Our relationship was just as complicated as yours, it would seem.He did not leave our family in a physical sense, but he abandoned us in every other possible way.”Peter rolled his shoulders, a familiar tightening of anger already winding them upward.“In a twisted sort of way, he has become a sort of inspiration for me as I anticipate becoming a father.I must become everything that he was not.I will be faithful, attentive, understanding, and compassionate.I want to enjoy my children rather than treat them as if they are a great inconvenience, always caught underfoot.Most of all, I want them to know they are loved.”
Peter’s voice tightened now, his throat aching with emotion.
Ana reached for him, their fingers interlacing as she brought his hand back to rest on her rounded stomach.He paused for a moment, moving his palm about her shape until he could feel the slight movements of the babe therein.
“I understand.I know it isdifícilto have these feelings so complicated.A parent should be a place of refuge for a child.And I know you will be that for ourbebé.You will be aPapá maravilloso, Peter.”
Peter moved closer until he was sitting next to her, their shoulders and knees touching.He laced his arm about her shoulders and brought her forehead to his lips.
“Thank you.And you will be a splendid mother, Ana, just as you already are.”
