I know the conversation is about to loop back to me. They’ll ask about my plans after August and I don’t want to discuss that, so I scoop up the bag of candy and toss it onto my bedside table with a loudbang. “God, I’m exhausted. Aren’t you guys? Should we call it a night?”
“You think I’m leaving this heavenly bed?” Simone groans and rolls over, taking most of the blankets with her. “Shove over.”
Cristiano has called every day since I left Ibiza. Every day, I realize, at tenAMon the dot. He’s persistent, and the day after Annika and Simone arrive, I finally answer with a simple “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, his voice immediately affecting me like a soothing balm. I can hear the relief in his question. I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to pick up sooner. I didn’t want him worrying about me.
I walk away from the house, out into the garden that faces a faraway lavender field.
“For sending Annika and Simone. You didn’t have to go through the trouble, and it’s been so nice to have them here.”
“Of course, nena. How is Caterina? And your family?”
“Lita is getting stronger by the day. It was hard to see her in the hospital, but now that she’s home and the swelling has gone down, she seems mostly like her old self to me. I’m sorry I haven’t updated you sooner. I know I should have answered your calls…”
“Caterina called me a couple of days ago.”
“Did she?”
“It’s how I knew where to send Annika and Simone. They’ve been anxious to go see you.”
And you?
Have you been anxious?
“What did she tell you?”
“We talked about her recovery. Your parents…You.”
Anxiety creeps up my chest. “I’m sure she told you too much…”
“Dolores would have done the same,” he assures me. “I know she just wants what’s best for you.”
“Cristiano—”
“Isabel, if you want me there, I’ll come right now. I’ll be there this afternoon.”
The way he lays it out there so boldly and matter-of-fact makes my heart race. I squeeze my eyes closed. I can’t think clearly while talking to him, and maybe that’s one selfish reason I haven’t taken his calls this whole time. Talking to him is so tempting.
“Maybe I’ll still go back to California at the end of the summer. Back to my old life, like I originally planned.”
My voice sounds weak, like I’ve completely lost my backbone, but it had to be said. I don’t want to lead Cristiano on if I’m not certain about my future.
“Maybe,” he says, not in question, but as fact, and he doesn’t sound the least bit deterred by my indecision.
I don’t reply, and Cristiano lets the silence settle for a moment. The midmorning sun catches on my arm, right across “wwwd.” I look down and focus my attention there as Cristiano speaks again.
“Did Caterina ever tell you the story of how Dolores met her husband? My grandfather?”
I concentrate, racking my brain. “No. I only know of Caterina’s story, the uniformed officer who swept her off her feet.”
“Right, yes. Well, Dolores’s story is not so sweet, depending on who you ask. She was already engaged when she met my grandfather. Her fiancé was wealthy and from a proud, established family in Barcelona. He was set to take over his father’s textile factory, and her marriage would have made her parents very proud. Dolores would have wanted for nothing the rest of her life.”
“What happened?”
“She met my grandfather at her engagement party. He was a dockworker at the port in Barcelona with nothing to his name. He was only at the party as a guest of someone else. Dolores met him, and the next day, she broke off her engagement. My grandparents were married two weeks later.”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I can smell traces of lavender.
