Manuel couldn’t find words to respond. He stood there gaping at her, frightened of her almost telepathic ability to read his mind, and furious at allowing himself to be manipulated like this. Each time he met her, the woman intimidated him and made him feel like a child in the presence of the queen. He’d stormed upstairs determined to obtain the truth, and just as before she’d thrown it into his face, crude and hurtful. But it was the truth, even so.
She shut the door in his face. For a few moments he stood there in the gloom of the hallway, so close to the heavy wooden door that he caught a whiff of its polish. He became conscious of the group at his back that hadn’t dared enter the hall.
He turned and saw Elisa sobbing in Herminia’s embrace. Lucas stood a few steps behind them, his face indiscernible because he was lit from behind, but his body language showed that he’d heard what the Raven said. Manuel walked toward them, and one of the doors along the corridor opened. A milky light from within spread across the carpeted passageway. Samuel’s bare little feet appeared, and then they saw his smile.
Manuel looked at him and experienced such a surge of tenderness and love that he stopped short, unable to continue.
“Uncle!” The jubilation in his high little voice celebrated that word.
Manuel sank to his knees and accepted the child’s enthusiastic hug. Samuel babbled on and on, a torrent of words, only half of which Manuel understood. But he nodded and smiled and made no effort to wipe away the tears bathing his cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Uncle,” begged the boy, pouting and trying to stop the tears with his tiny hand.
Manuel rose, took the boy’s hand, and walked toward the women. Elisa threw herself into his arms, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Manuel, I’m so sorry.”
He gave her a lifeless hug, looking over her head at Lucas, who was watching them closely from a few steps away. There was a determination in the priest’s eyes that Manuel would later be grateful for, but at just that moment it was more than he could stand. Manuel looked away.
“Uncle, are you going away?”
Downcast, he looked into the child’s eyes and answered. “I have to leave.”
“Then I want to go with you!” the little fellow cried resolutely. “Mama, Mama, I want to go with Uncle!”
At that instant Manuel understood why álvaro hadn’t been able to renounce his inheritance, why he’d felt obliged to take care of them. Manuel gave Elisa a look and turned slowly to peer back at the dark door at the end of the corridor.
“Pack your things,” he said. “I’m not going to leave you two here.”
Manuel crossed the inn parking lot to where his BMW stood at the far end of a long row of vehicles. The first soccer match of the season had attracted a large number of locals. Perhaps that was why Lucas had chosen to wait in the car.
He saw the priest leaning back in the passenger seat with his eyes half-closed. It was the first time Manuel had detected in him any sign of fatigue or defeat. Manuel appreciated and admired Lucas’s ardent defense of álvaro, especially in the face of possibly damning evidence. Lucas was a man of faith, and not just religious faith.
When he got to the car he realized Lucas was praying. The priest’s usually mild and tranquil features were twisted in anguish.
Manuel knew the tide of his own grief had swept him into a wild, surging sea of emotion. People had reached out to him but he still felt marooned and cast away. Little Samuel’s pleading voice had reminded him he wasn’t alone in this directionless confusion. Now, standing in the darkness, he became witness to the spiritual torments of the man whose eyes he’d avoided, the man he’d considered entirely too assured.
The agonizing weight of their discoveries creased the priest’s brow with pain. His lips were pressed together in desperation. None of them had spoken of the dark shadow of child abuse too often associated with the Church, but the stigma was too horrible for any righteous man to ignore. Lucas must be accusing himself of taking Santiago’s moods and introspection too lightly.
Worse still was the revelation that álvaro, always forthright, had kept abominable horrors sealed deep inside, for it raised the specter of deeper duplicity. What more might álvaro have been capable of hiding? What else might he have been capable of doing?
Lucas crossed himself and opened his eyes. He saw Manuel, smiled wanly, and beckoned. Manuel took his place behind the wheel. “How are they?” Lucas asked.
“Samuel’s very pleased and probably overexcited. Elisa says this is the first time he’s ever spent the night away from the estate. I suspect he’ll have a hard time getting to sleep.”
“He’s never been anywhere else? They never went on a vacation or spent a weekend at the house in Arousa? I know álvaro’s mother spends every June and July there.”
“No, Elisa hasn’t wanted to leave the estate since Fran died.” He paused, recalling the young woman’s grieving expression when she touched the cross on Fran’s grave. “She felt it was important to stay to find out the truth.” Manuel’s eyes were heavy with regret. “I originally thought she was obsessed and trapped in denial. But now I see her instincts were good. She probably did in fact know Fran better than anyone else.” The way I knew álvaro, he heard his own voice from his subconscious. “She’s resting easy now. They gave her a room next to mine. This place doesn’t have the comforts of the manor, but it’ll do for now. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find something better for them.”
Lucas gave him a knowing look. “You’ve had a special rapport with Elisa and the boy from the moment you met.”
“She’s a bit like me, I guess—an outsider who came here under difficult circumstances. One more person who’ll never be part of the family, someone they barely tolerate.” He knew he was echoing the Raven. “But it’s more because of Samuel. He’s—I can’t really explain it. It’s like he’s my own child. The way he recognized me and accepted my presence as completely normal. As if he’d been expecting me. And the way he talks to me! He astonishes me sometimes with the way he reacts and the things he says.”
Intrigued, Lucas took Manuel’s chin and turned the writer’s face to the light as if to inspect it. Manuel batted the priest’s hand away with a grin. “You see what I mean? It’s true; the kid’s got me wrapped around his little finger!”
“Yes, he’s a firecracker, all right. Very mature for his age. Hardly surprising, since he’s been surrounded by adults since he was born, with no companions of his own age in that palace. And he’s troubled by his father’s absence.”
“Herminia said the same thing. She says it isn’t healthy for a child to be brought up that way.”
Lucas was concerned. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Nothing, really,” said Manuel, slightly annoyed. “She said that children in such circumstances can turn out to be strange.”
“Herminia worries too much,” Lucas said sharply. “She means well, but she’s not always right.”
That spurred Manuel’s interest. “Are you referring to something in particular?”
Lucas sighed deeply. “One of the last times I was at the estate she asked me to ‘take a look’ at Samuel.”
Manuel’s expression was baffled.
“To ‘take a look at him’ as a priest,” he explained. “I’m afraid that for once I have to agree with you. Sometimes regional folklore and superstitions are as prevalent as the teachings of true faith.”
“Herminia thought Samuel was acting strange?”
“She’s well on in years and grew up in a different time. She noticed something perfectly normal but didn’t know what to make of it.”
Manuel shook his head. “Just a second, your attitude confuses me. It seems contradictory. The innkeeper’s wife told me about a child in her family who was ‘haunted,’ but her visitations stopped after a visit to the sanctuary. That’s what I was referring to when I asked if exorcisms are done there.”
Lucas didn’t reply right away. When he did, the answer was circumspect. “I don’t know if I can talk about this with you.”
“Because I’m not a believer?”
Lucas didn’t reply.
“I used to be.”
“Before your sister died.”
Manuel looked at him in astonishment. His sister’s death was a forbidden topic, a catastrophe he never mentioned. Not in interviews and not in his author biography.
“How do you know that?”
“álvaro told me. I already told you he spoke about you a lot.”