‘I think so…but I will only try if you go to work.’ It was Sunday but she knew he had lots of stuff to catch up with, stuff he’d neglected while looking after her.
He pulled the stern face she’d become so accustomed to these past few days.
‘I’m better,’ she insisted. ‘I just need to build my strength back up, and then I’ll be as right as rain.’
He pursed his lips. ‘One more day,’ he decided. ‘If you hold down the food you eat today, I’ll go back to work tomorrow.’
She smiled. Her heart came close to exploding. ‘You have a deal.’
Beth managed to eat most of her breakfastandkeep it down. Even better, Xavi continued neglecting his work to snuggle in bed with her and watch a mindless action film. They were halfway through it when Carlota called. After chatting with Beth and satisfying herself she’d come off death’s doorstep, Beth gave the phone back to Xavi. When he spoke his native language, it was always at a breakneck speed she struggled to keep up with, but she picked up the gist of the conversation.
‘Have I translated it right that Carlota’s going to Egypt?’ she asked when the call was over.
He stretched back out beside her. ‘You have—she flies out in a couple of weeks.’
‘How long will she be gone this time?’
‘It’s a big site, so who knows.’
‘Is your mum going to do one of her big family meals to see her off with?’
‘Probably.’
‘Good. I love your mum’s big family meals.’
Putting her cheek on his chest, Beth cuddled into him thinking what a great life Carlota had. Blanca, too. Both de la Rosa sisters had always had complete freedom to follow their dreams. Xavi, too.
During the days she’d been in bed with her sickness, she’d spent a lot of time thinking about the past; old memories she’d never given air to in the intervening years had resurfaced, one of them being the time Xavi had told her of his childhood dream to grow up into a man just like his father. She supposed it had stood out because he’d so rarely talked about his father. Back then, she’d found his reluctance mystifying. Pretty much everything she’d learned about Javier de la Rosa had come from Xavi’s mother and sisters, who’d had no such reticence.
Back then, Beth had feared death, but she hadn’tknownit, not like Xavi did. She’d been too young and unworldly to understand how some wounds ran too deep to bring to the surface, and as she thought this, an old conversation with Carlota rose. They’d been playing tennis, Beth and Carlota versus Xavi. They’d had to cheat their heads off to beat him. He’d taken his revenge by throwing first Carlota and then Beth—he’d had to chase her round the massive garden to catch her—into the swimming pool, fully dressed. He’d sauntered back into the villa, whistling jauntily. Carlota had wrung the water from her hair and laughingly sighed. ‘It’s so good to see this side to him again.’
At Beth’s puzzlement, she’d smiled sadly. ‘He’s not been like this since Papi died. Happy, I mean. It’s been so long that I thought I’d imagined how he used to be.’ She sighed again. ‘I think he felt it was his duty to become the man of the house and care for us, especially those months Mami wasn’t herself, but…’
‘What?’ she’d asked into the silence.
Carlota had shaken her head. ‘I don’t remember seeing him cry, not even at the funeral. I don’t think he let himself. I don’t think he’s let himself feel many things since then, and now you’re here…’ Eyes bright with emotion, she’d thrown her arms around Beth’s neck and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘Are you okay?’
Xavi’s voice cut through the memory, and she undug the nails she’d unwittingly stabbed into his chest and kissed it better.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘And yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.’
‘About what?’
‘You and your family.’ She kissed the marks made by her nails again. ‘I was thinking about your father and how proud he must be of you all.’
The arm holding her tightened.
‘You miss him still, don’t you.’
He breathed heavily, then slowly said, ‘Very much.’ His hand groped for hers. ‘It is strange, but I’ve thought about him more in recent weeks than I’ve done in years.’
‘Good thoughts?’
‘Always. He was a good man.’
‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And I know how hard you tried to fill his shoes when he died.’ She knew a lot of things; things she’d forgotten.
