Under the Spanish Stars (42 page)

‘I make a good detective, yes?' Mateo paused but she didn't answer so
he continued. ‘You mentioned the name of the hospital where your
abuela
was. So I do the calling from Granada and she gives me your address. It is not science of the rockets.'

‘You called her and not me?'

‘I wanted to do the surprise thing.'

‘Meanwhile I'm …'
Wallowing in a puddle of pity.

‘You're?'

‘It doesn't matter.' She waved her hand dismissively although it mattered very much.

‘So your
abuela
, she is a special lady.'

‘It sounds like you two had quite the conversation.'
And Abuela didn't call and warn me?
What a sneaky, matchmaking broad. Charlotte would have to thank her later. ‘It's a long way to come for a glass of water.'

Mateo shrugged. ‘I wanted to find out what the water tastes like here.'

‘I could have sent you a bottle.'

‘I prefer to drink it fresh.'

‘Well given you've travelled from Spain, I would say this is super expensive water. I hope you didn't get ripped off purchasing a last-minute airfare.' What kind of statement was that? One to avoid the elephant in the room, no doubt.

Mateo shrugged. ‘I had set aside money from when I worked with my father. It was for a rainy day. When you left Granada, it poured with the cats and the dogs.'

‘I didn't think it was rainy season …' She slapped her forehead. ‘Oh …'

‘Yes, oh.' His grin reached his eyes then his expression turned serious. ‘You were right.'

‘What?'

‘You were right about me not trusting you.'

‘Gee, thanks.' She let the sarcasm hang in the air, before admitting, ‘But I was wrong. You did trust me by talking about Alicia and introducing me to the Giménez clan. I shouldn't have pushed.'

‘It is okay. I understand family is important and you will do anything to make them happy.'

‘Actually, I just told my dad I was giving up corporate life.'

‘You did?' He beckoned her with his finger. ‘Come. Please sit next to me, I do not like the distance between us.'

She did as he asked, happy to be near him again. Charlotte
surreptitiously inhaled his cologne and wondered how he hadn't taken on sweaty plane odour.

‘Did your father get angry?'

‘He took it better than I expected. Turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought. Anyway, he's preoccupied with figuring out what this news about Abuela means to him, so with his blessing I've got space and time to figure out what I want.'

His fingers wrapped around hers. ‘What
do
you want?'

She laughed. That seemed to be a popular question. ‘I have no idea!'

‘This is funny?'

‘Well, no, but it's freeing. Figuring out what I want might be a process of elimination but that's okay—I have some money, I have youth, I have time.'

‘You also have me.' He leant in, his lips close to hers.

Pulling back, she said, ‘You turning up here is confusing me.'

‘I am aware of this.' He moved away. ‘You want to know why I am really here?'

‘I'm guessing it's not just for the water.'

‘Your guess is right.' He shifted position on the couch, putting a short distance between them. ‘This talk about family we had in Granada, about the family of our heart versus our biological … it made a mess in my head. I love my
gitano
family but when I saw how you loved your natural family it made me think about my own. And of course, with my brother punching me in the face, two times …'

‘How is your nose?'

‘It is okay.' Mateo subconsciously touched the bridge. ‘Remember my brother with the papers? Doing this?' He waved an arm in the air.

‘Yes.'

‘He had legal papers to evict my clan from the land.'

‘Why didn't you tell me this before?'

‘I was embarrassed. My natural family are property developers and all they care about is making the money. It is impossible for me to be part of this lifestyle. My heart is in flamenco, in music and dance that makes magic, that sings to me and so many others.'

‘I'm beginning to understand.'

‘I think you already do.' He smiled. ‘My blood family own this land and the clan has been paying them for many years to stay. Then three
months ago my family decide to do the eviction thing.'

‘Are they going to build?'

‘No, and this is why it is a mystery. They do not want the
gitanos
on their land even though they pay good money for the privilege. The land is too far out of Granada to be of any value, but they want my clan to leave anyway.' Exhaling deeply, he said, ‘It is difficult for them to find somewhere to live. Unfortunately the name of the
gitano
is tainted by those who do not do the right thing. This makes it difficult for those who are honest and good people. Like the Giménez clan.'

‘Why now, after all this time, have they decided to kick them off?'

‘My father has made the retirement and my brother is now boss. Like my father, he has never understood why I choose the life of a flamenco musician and this eviction is a way for my brother to show he is more powerful than me.'

‘Running the company isn't enough?'

‘There is a long history of jealousy and I cannot comprehend why he is like this. We both received the same things growing up but he feels I always got more.' Shrugging, Mateo said, ‘Please know the reason I did not tell you of my natural family is because I thought if you knew what they are like, you would not want to be with me.'

‘You're joking, right?' Did he think she was that shallow?

‘I am very serious.'

Shaking her head, she said, ‘Mateo, with all the strange things going on with my family that you've been privy to, why on earth would you think I would blame you for the doings of your relations?'

‘It was stupid, I know.' Squeezing her fingers, he said, ‘I like you, Charlotte Kavanagh. Actually, no … I love you. Very much.'

When Charlotte heard the words she'd thought she'd never hear Mateo utter, her body grew lighter, as did her heart. Reaching out, she stroked the back of his neck with her thumb. ‘I love you, too.'

‘I am sorry for pushing away but I got scared. I was afraid of losing you. It does not make the sense now, I realise. But I did not want to be hurt like the last time and I thought if I tried not to love you, I wouldn't lose you.' He shook his head. ‘Now I say this out loud it sounds ridiculous, no?'

‘Believe it or not, I get it.' She'd done something similar with her
painting because even though she'd tried to cover up and deny her true feelings, they eventually won out.

‘I never said I was good at this love thing.' He leant in so close his warm breath tickled her neck.

‘Well, that makes two of us.' They sat in comfortable silence but a question kept bouncing around her mind, its persistence finally wearing her down. Mateo leant in again but she backed away—only slightly. ‘I need to know what you were doing the day I left Granada.'

He leant against the back of the couch and sighed. ‘Family business.'

Charlotte raised her eyebrows.

‘I visited my brother to try to work the things out but we had another fight.'

‘He didn't hurt your nose again, did he?'

Mateo shook his head and smiled. ‘This time I do the ducking thing. His fist went through the wall of his office.'

‘Oops.' She laughed.

‘Although, sometimes it is good not to miss.' He pulled her close and pressed his warm lips against hers.

Charlotte balanced the guitar case in one hand and with the other pushed open the door to Abuela's room. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves outside and warmed Abuela as she lay in bed, hands clasped neatly in her lap and headphones over her ears. The moment she saw Charlotte's companion, Abuela positioned herself higher on the pillow, pulled the blanket up and fluffed her hair. She took off the headphones and once more, flamenco music floated into the sterile room.

‘You did not say anything about visitors, Charlotte.' Abuela sounded annoyed but she had a cheeky glint in her eye.

‘I thought you might like a surprise seeing as you're so keen on giving them to me.' Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. ‘I believe you're already acquainted with Mateo.'

‘
Buenos dias, Señora Sanchez
.' He bowed his head and they exchanged smiles as if they'd hatched a successful plan—which they had.

‘Lovely to see you in person, Mateo. You're more handsome than I imagined.'

‘Abuela!'

‘What? Just because I'm as old as the hills doesn't mean I can't appreciate good-looking when I see it.' She gestured for Mateo to sit on the chair next to her. ‘We'll need to speak English on account of missy over there not being fluent in Spanish. Perhaps you could rectify that for her?' Abuela looked out from under a veranda of lashes.

‘I am sure this is possible.'

‘Good man.'

‘Hey, I understand it!'

‘But you don't speak it very well—yet.' Abuela shot Mateo a wink. ‘So, dear girl, your father seems to be coping with your departure from the
company.'

‘He's taken it better than I expected.' Now Charlotte and her father only spoke of travel and Spain and a smattering of sport. Arts hadn't been broached yet, but in time it could happen. Perhaps she could finally teach him something after all these years as his student.

‘I got a message from Felicidad this morning to say she's looked all over the house for the missing letter, but she couldn't find anything. I'm sorry, Abuela, I wish I had better news. Maybe he missed that year.'

‘Why would he do that? It has to be somewhere.' She pulled the pile out from the drawer of the bedside table. Abuela flicked through the letters, her focus not waning and agitation growing. The mood swings had become more obvious, just as the doctors had predicted. The family hadn't discussed a permanent nursing home just yet, but that topic was only a day or two away at most.

‘I brought in Raul's guitar because I thought you might prefer it to be here.' Charlotte held it up, trying to quash the image of her beloved grandmother sitting in a depressing nursing home, her dignity and spirit crushed. If they could find a place that made an effort in creating beautiful surroundings then the shift might not be so bad—maybe.

‘It's a nice thought, darling girl, but I can't play.'

‘I can.' Mateo stepped forward. ‘May I?'

Abuela gave a half shrug. ‘If you wish.'

Charlotte handed it to him and he undid the locks and took out the instrument. Putting the case on the ground, he studied the guitar, running his fingers gently over the immaculately maintained and shiny surface. ‘This is a very special, very rare instrument, yes?'

Abuela's fingers gripped the sheets. ‘I'm not so sure this is a good idea.'

‘Playing the guitar?' asked Mateo. He leant forward, about to place it in the case. ‘It is okay, I understand.'

‘Maybe if you close your eyes, Abuela, it might help. What's your favourite
palo
?' Charlotte asked.

‘
Palo
?' Abuela laughed. ‘My, my, so you did learn something over there.'

‘I learnt many things. Not just about flamenco.' She raised her eyebrows at Mateo.

‘Yes, I can see that.' Abuela's tone softened. ‘My favourite
palo
is
tientos
.'

‘One of my favourites, too,' Mateo said as he positioned the guitar on his knee and straightened his back.

‘Why
tientos
, Abuela?'

‘I've always loved their dark mood.
Tientos
are about longing for love, loss—everything I have endured over the years when reminiscing about Raul.'

‘
Duende
?' Charlotte and Mateo asked in unison then smiled at each other.

Charlotte's phone pinged with the arrival of an email. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed the phone and was about to turn it to silent when the sound of an incoming call filled the small room. Glancing down, she nearly dropped the phone. ‘It's Felicidad.' Accepting the call, she said, ‘
Hola
.'

Felicidad's excited voice flew down the line, but she spoke so fast Charlotte couldn't understand whether Raul's daughter was speaking in English or Spanish.

‘
¡Un momento!
' Charlotte handed the phone over to Mateo whose smooth voice calmed Felicidad. As Mateo spoke with her, he kept glancing at Charlotte, then Abuela, his expression not relaying a thing.

Shortly after, he hung up and said, ‘You must check your email.'

‘Now?'

Mateo nodded and Charlotte pulled out her new tablet.

‘You and technology,' Abuela said, her voice shaky.

‘Hey, don't knock it.' Charlotte tapped on the inbox and up popped an email from Felicidad. She scanned the contents and with her limited Spanish she picked out words such as
poemas
,
amor
,
feliz.
‘Maybe you should read it, Abuela.'

Abuela was already motioning with her fingers for the device. She took a while to read and as she did so, wiped away the odd tear.

‘Did Felicidad find the letter from 1987?' Charlotte asked.

‘Yes,' said Abuela as she looked up with glassy eyes. ‘It was tucked in a book of poems Raul had stashed in a trunk with old clothes. She'd missed it the first time round. She's transcribed some of the poems.'

‘Lorca's poems?' Charlotte asked.

‘Lorca?' Abuela laughed and the smile reached her eyes. ‘Next you'll be reciting significant moments in Spanish history. No, they were poems Raul had written.'

‘Did you know he wrote poetry?'