He reaches for a reply, not sure what to say.
“No, señora, I would never hurt Ana.”
55
Rafa bursts from the shack and runs to Daniel. “Texano, it is decided. You must come to the bullfight next Sunday!”
“I’m not sure your friend would like that,” says Daniel. “He hasn’t been too friendly.”
“Ay, that’s just his way. Like many, the war has stolen his trust. His pain makes him not so friendly, but a very brave bullfighter. Please come with us. It will be a great adventure for your photography.”
Daniel considers the idea, photos for his contest submission.
“Also, I must be honest with you,” says Rafa. “We need transport to Talavera de la Reina. My boss at the slaughterhouse said we could ride in a truck with dead animal parts, but that is not confirmed. If we could ride in your nice big car, we could make a grand entrance.”
Ana emerges from the shack with Fuga. His face is clean. His hair, the color of black crude oil, is parted on the side and slicked expertly back from his strong, architectural face. The turquoise suit of lights throws sparkles with each small movement. The man who looked like a murderer now looks like a matador. Julia leans against the doorframe, a small smile upon her face. Rafa cannot contain his excitement.
“Ay, look at the maestro! Quick, let’s take the photos before the children come running. Ana says film is expensive, but could you take two pictures?”
Daniel positions Fuga in the center of the long dirt road. The late afternoon sun throws golden light onto the young man’s face. Rafa is right. Fuga looks handsome and regal in the suit of lights. But he eyes Daniel with such contempt it won’t make for a good portrait. So Daniel instructs Fuga to look toward Ana, who stands nearby. Fuga’s expression eases and Daniel snaps the photos in profile.
“Please, Texano, say you’ll drive us in your car.”
“Rafa, stop,” says Ana. “Perhaps Señor Matheson has plans next Sunday.”
“I don’t,” says Daniel. “I can take you if you’d like.”
“¿Sí? ¡Gracias!” Rafa showers Daniel with gratitude and discusses details. He then follows Fuga, who has stomped back into the shack. Daniel says goodbye to Julia and Antonio.
“Ana, will you be going next Sunday?” asks Daniel.
“No, señor. I know it must sound strange, but I don’t care for bullfights.” She sighs and looks off in the distance. The sun transforms her faded dress and kindles highlights in her hair. Daniel snaps a picture.
“Okay, Robert Capa, let’s walk you back to your car,” says Ana.
They walk without speaking. Daniel smiles. He feels so comfortable with Ana, there’s no need to fill the space with conversation. But when the car is in sight, she asks the inescapable question. “Señor, why did you come here today?”
Daniel lets out a breath. “I’m so sorry. Nick told me he thought it was a good idea.”
Ana nods stiffly and continues walking. “I’m grateful to you,” she says, arriving at the vehicle.
“It was nothing, just some small gifts. I know you like the purple candy.”
“I do,” says Ana, looking up at Daniel. She reaches out and touches his scabbed fist. “But I’m grateful to you for saving Nick.”
“Oh.” Daniel takes a moment to swallow. He’s not sure what to make of the gesture. Ana’s touching him, but she’s speaking of Nick. He looks at her fingers resting upon his hand. “I didn’t save him.”
“That’s not what I heard,” says Ana.
“It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Life isn’t a fair fight.”
They stand by the car in silence. Echoes of gypsy guitar rhythms climb in the distance. Her sudden expression of quiet sadness—it’s the same look he saw at the embassy, the look that pulled and spoke without speaking.
“Ana, is there some way I can help?”
She gives a soft laugh. “No, señor. Everything is fine here. But perhaps now you understand that I wasn’t swimming that evening at the hotel. I am allowed to bathe there twice per week.” She looks up at Daniel, full of both sincerity and humiliation. “Do you see? I am so fortunate to work at the Castellana Hilton. I could never jeopardize my job to help you with your project”—she pauses and her voice drops to a whisper—“even though I desperately want to.”
Her hand slides from his. She turns and departs down the dirt path toward the shack.
Daniel stands, watching Ana. As the distance between them grows, his thoughts call silently after her.
Ana, if you desperately want to, then please don’t walk away.
56
Fortune.
Born into, unearned. The mute accomplice of fate that determines futures and carves lines to divide. It’s the word Ben mentioned the very first night, the word that Daniel thinks on during his drive back to Madrid.
Upon his return to the hotel, the lobby feels opulent to Daniel. Too opulent. It’s the way he feels when he returns from the oil fields to their estate in Preston Hollow.
Ben Stahl gives a beckoning wave from the upper lobby. He’s sitting with Paco Lobo.
“Have you two met? Dan, this is Fred Wolf, but everyone calls him Paco Lobo.”
The portly, bald gentleman wears wire-rimmed spectacles and nurses a fat cigar as if it were his last meal. He’s the man that Ana says has adopted a village. Is his village similar to Vallecas?
“I’ve seen you, but we haven’t been introduced. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Are you enjoying your stay in Madrid? That is, when Ben isn’t dragging you into brawls.”
“I dragged him outside, but the brawling was all his,” laughs Ben. “Your paws doing okay, Dan?”
“They’re fine.”
Paco Lobo stands. “Well, I’m off. Ben, give some thought to our discussion. This one might be easier than you think. We just need the right team.”
Paco Lobo departs and Ben’s posture eases. He sits back in his chair and reaches into his blazer for cigarettes. The package is empty. He crumples it and tosses it into the ashtray. He runs a nervous hand over the back of his neck and looks across the room. He motions to Lorenza, who is circulating the lobby, selling cigars and cigarettes.
“So, what did you do today?” asks Ben.
“I went to church, gave a good Catholic confession, and then went to Vallecas.”