He realized that the wooden floorboards had advised her of his presence on the other side.
“Listen to me, Elisa,” he said with a serious expression. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
She seated herself on the bed, put her legs in a lotus position, and sat there attentive.
“It’s about what the marquess said when we were at the manor.”
She sat motionless and silent, but Manuel saw that her face had become more somber.
“I can’t tell you or ask you, or even feel I have the right to say what you should believe or not. But I hope with all my heart you don’t believe what she said.”
“Manuel . . .”
“No, don’t say anything. But do you remember you told me you knew Fran better than anyone else?”
She nodded.
“Well, I knew álvaro better than anyone else. I was confused and uncertain when I got here, but now I understand that though maybe I didn’t know absolutely everything about him, I still knew him better than anyone else. Just keep that in mind. You might be hearing a lot of things over the next few days.”
“I know what she said and why. I know her all too well. I’m aware that everything she does is deliberate, but just like you, I will not accept it. Do you understand, Manuel?”
“I do.”
They looked back at the sleeping child. “There’s a favor I need to ask of you, Elisa.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Gri?án told me there’s a tradition in the family that each male family member is presented at birth with a key to the church on the estate.”
She nodded.
“And I understand the keys are supposed to be buried with them after they die.”
“True, but . . .” she said, “Fran lost his.”
“Do you know if he had it the day of his father’s funeral?”
“Yes. When I took him something to eat, it was next to him on the pew.”
“Are you sure it was his, and not one of the other keys?”
“Yes, absolutely. They’re all different from one another. You can tell them apart by the initials and the gems set in the head of the key. Fran’s key had emeralds. I remember it well.” She looked down for a moment. “When we both were still on drugs, I tried more than once to persuade him to sell it so we could use the money. But Fran respected his father too much for that. He always said his father would never forgive him if he did.”
“But Fran didn’t have it on him when they found him.”
“We looked everywhere for it, but it was gone. It’s weird,” she said, twisting about to look into one dark corner of the room as if the memory was lurking there. “I remember my mother-in-law was extremely put out that the key couldn’t be located for the funeral. That fucking bitch!” she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes in a scowl so furious and vindictive that it shocked Manuel. “álvaro gave her his own key. Did you know that?”
Manuel shook his head.
“Did they make a key when Samuel was born?”
“Of course. You can imagine, what with their obsession with tradition. It never meant much to me. Just the sight of it evokes bad memories.”
“I assume it’s in your care.”
“It’s in a container for safekeeping, a kind of frame. Like for a picture, but deeper. Something you can hang on a wall and open up. A kind of receptacle.”
“Can you lend it to me?”
She opened her eyes in surprise and even seemed about to ask him to explain. But he found her answer even more astonishing.
“álvaro asked me the same thing the last time he was here.”
He was paralyzed. He sat staring at her. “Elisa, do you remember what day that was?”
“The day he arrived. He returned Samuel’s key that afternoon.”
He reassured her. “So will I.”
“Don’t be silly!” she chided him with a smile. “My room and Samuel’s are side-by-side with a door between them, just like here. The key’s on the dresser in Samuel’s room at the estate. You can take it anytime you like.”
Manuel leaned down and gently kissed the child’s cheek. He went to the door, his hands still alive with the memory of Elisa’s vibrant slim body. He recalled her confession that she’d tried to get Fran to sell the key.
He turned to look at her. “Elisa, there’s one more thing.” He hesitated. “And perhaps it’s a bit delicate. Remember I didn’t know you before, and the only information I have about the family comes from what they themselves have been telling me.”
She nodded and pressed her lips together, acknowledging she understood he was about to ask something of importance. “I’ve had a long time to face reality and my own past. You can ask me anything.”
“I know you and Fran were in a Portuguese clinic for almost a year.”
She sat still as a sphinx.
“I know you were already pregnant when you two came back and the old marquis was dying. Elisa, I know you’re a good mother; it’s enough just to see the wonderful job you’ve done with Samuel. But I know it’s very hard to break a drug habit, and relapses can happen.”
She began shaking her head from side to side, rejecting what she saw coming.
Manuel’s tone was apologetic. “I have to ask, Elisa, I have to. Because someone made the insinuation. I don’t believe it, but I have to ask.”
She kept shaking her head in determined denial.
“Have you ever given in and taken drugs, Elisa? Even just once?”
She rose and stalked forward to face him. Her naturally blue eyes had darkened like those of a cat. “No!”
“Elisa, please forgive me,” he said, turning to the door.
But she reached him before he could shut it. “Look in the second drawer of the same dresser where Samuel’s key is on display. You’ll find my medical reports. Our beloved mother-in-law forced me to submit to weekly drug testing. I was allowed to remain at the estate as long as I stayed off drugs. She threatened to take Samuel away from me, and she’d have done it if she’d had the slightest excuse. You can collect those reports when you go to pick up the key.” She closed the door after him.
Manuel went into his room and turned on the light. For a few moments, leaning against the warm wooden surface of the door, he surveyed the room from that angle, just as he’d surveyed his own apartment days before.
The energy-saving bulb in the ceiling fixture cast a weak glow. It would gradually brighten as minutes passed, but until then its reduced illumination would bathe the furnishings with a miserably dim light that only emphasized the room’s cold and desolate appearance. He glanced at the ancient radiator with its many coats of paint, reminding him of all the layers of fiction and reality he’d encountered. By way of greeting it emitted a clanking sound that signaled the heating was about to come on. He turned to gaze at the door between the two rooms. Carefully avoiding the floorboard that would betray his presence, he raised a hand to touch the dead bolt with the same care he’d have taken if manipulating an explosive device. He silently unlocked it and stood there examining it in silence for a couple of seconds. Then he quietly bolted it again with the same care.
He crossed to the bed as if responding to a call. The chocolate-colored bedspread, impeccably clean and carefully set, was the vacant stage for a white flower carefully positioned on the pillow. Without touching the blossom he looked again toward the door to the adjacent room. He was keenly aware he’d just unlocked that door and then bolted it once again.