Page 31 of After the Fire
“He died as a consequence of a fire in his home, the same year he moved into town. It was unexpected, obviously, but accidental nonetheless.” He pressed his lips together and frowned. “The official manner of death was smoke inhalation—the house was in a little disrepair since it was a summer home, and the gas fireplace leaked occasionally. I can’t recall the details of what started the fire but, you know, it is what it is.”
“Yes, Santiago mentioned something along those lines,” I said, my tone flat. “I meant to say: why did he move here?”
“You know, I think I was the only person that knew the full truth. He got in over his head with some creditors, used some money he wasn’t supposed to touch. He deeply regretted it; I can ascertain that.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense to me. We’ve always known he was kidnapped and despite the ransom being paid, he was never released. We assumed he died, obviously, because we never heard anything else.” I locked eyes with him, and he nodded, trying to understand what I was telling him. “At least, that’s the story I’ve been told. It happened before I was even born, so it’s not like I have any recollection of that.”
“Victoria, honey, I don’t think that is the full story,” he said. His voice was soft and calm. He moved closer to me, his hand reaching for mine and squeezing lightly. “I think that what you know, at least the narrative you’ve been told, is bent. It’s not the truth. But I’m not here to tell you what to think.”
I looked at him, bewildered. This man was confirming some of my suspicions. The story about his kidnapping was fabricated. Now I had to figure out who did it. And why.
“Why would my family lie about that? It just seems a little extreme, if I’m being honest.”
“I don’t know, but maybe you should talk to your grandmother about it. It was a difficult time for him, there’s no doubt in my mind about that.” I blinked at him, processing the information he was giving me. It wasn’t clear to me why he was here. Did he want to talk about my grandfather? Did he want to tell me the whole story? “I also think that there were other factors to take into account. He was an influential man, very well-regarded, respected. I don’t think the news would have been taken lightly. I think that whoever covered this up did it to protect themselves.”
He smiled at me and stood slowly, then made his way to the door. “If you want to ask more questions, you know where I live. I don’t know if I’ll have all the answers, but perhaps I can help you piece some things together. I loved him very much. He was a good man, and I think he would have been proud of what you’ve accomplished. Santiago has told me so much about you, I feel like I know you by now.”
He let himself out and shut the door behind him, all while I sat, stunned, looking at the wall.
* * *
My mind was racing, and I was out of breath by the time I reached Santiago’s clearing. It was still early afternoon; the town was sleepy and quiet, all activity stopped so townies could take their two-hoursiestas,like every single day. No doubt, this town was quirky. I wondered if my grandfather really liked it or if he was just trying to pass the time until he could go back home and be with his family.
It was clear to me at this point that I needed to talk to Susana. I wanted to talk to Carlos a little bit more, and I wanted to do more research locally. Catalina was still looking into things back in the city and in constant conversation with her contact up here in Córdoba. So far, she hadn’t been able to find much, but we were sure we weren’t looking in the right place. I wasn’t ready just yet to speak to my grandmother, but I did need to clear some things up with Pedro, my grandfather’s business partner.
He answered on the third ring.
“Hola,” I said. This man had been like a grandfather to us. When Susana’s husband disappeared, he helped her out as much as he could. He was unmarried, had no kids, and devoted himself to our family. I specifically remembered him as the person that taught me how to ride a bike. Not only that, he also took over for my grandfather at their firm, and I worked closely with him early in my career.
“Hi, honey. Goodness, are you okay?” This was the first time someone from my family had asked me how I was. Cata didn’t count. “Did something happen to you? Your grandmother is furious.”
“Oh, I know. I’m fine. How are you?”
“Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?” He was in his late eighties, but it wasn’t noticeable at all. He still had a full head of hair—albeit white—and didn’t need reading glasses.
“I need to talk to you about something, and you need to tell me the truth,” I said quickly. I knew that I needed to get him talking, otherwise I would lose my nerve. “What happened to my grandfather?”
A sigh. “Wha—where is this coming from,mi amor?”
“I’ve been realizing these past few weeks that I’ve never asked many questions. I’ve always accepted what was given to me. I’m lucky, I’ve never lacked anything in my life, but I’m slowly understanding that I never made choicesforme. I’ve consistently made choices based on what was better for others.”
“Is this about Manuel, Victoria? If you didn’t want to marry him or weren’t ready, I’m sure Susana would understand,” he said, although I wasn’t at all sure that he was convinced of what he was saying. “Marriage is a commitment that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“This has nothing to do with Manuel, Pedro, and you know it.” I closed my eyes, willing all of this to disappear. “Please, tell me what happened.”
“You need to talk to yourabuela, Victoria. You disappeared on your wedding day. Do you have any idea what that caused?”
I could hear Pedro moving around, the door creaking in a familiar way. It was clear he was at my grandmother’s house. His voice got lower, rushed. “Just call her, okay?”
“Why are you on her side, Pedro?” I had so many questions, but apparently, I wasn’t going to get any answers to any of them. “Por favor,tell me.”
I took a deep breath, eager to get answers, but the only thing I heard was the phone disconnecting on the other end.
So I stayed there, clearing my thoughts for a few hours. No answers yet. Maybe it was a sign I needed to go back to the beginning. Or to my old life, where none of this was even in question.
“What’s going on here?” a voice said behind me. I could barely contain my smile, so instead I rolled my eyes. “Why are you in my spot?”
“Someone told me it’s a really good place to clear your thoughts,” I replied, turning my head to see him standing behind the bench. His hands grabbed on to the back of the seat, and he leaned towards me. I had to crane my neck up to see him well. “How are you so stealthy? I never hear you come.”
