Three hours later, Waldo and Kilian finished loading the dark Mercedes that Garuz had offered to take Manuel’s family to the city. The small boys, Ismael and Francisco, played in the dirt, oblivious to the sadness that engulfed their parents. Julia kept going in and out of the house with reddened eyes, and Manuel said his final good-byes to the hospital where he had worked for the past sixteen years.
Kilian lit a cigarette. A child came running over and joined in playing with Julia’s children, as he had on so many other occasions. Kilian smiled and looked around for the child’s mother. Bisila approached, accompanied by Simón.
“I will miss them,” she said.
“Yes, and so will I,” Kilian added.
Julia came out with her handbag. She gave a last glance inside her house, closed the door, and bowed her head for a few minutes, sobbing. Finally, she took out a tissue from her bag, straightened up, and turned to walk toward the car.
“Where is Manuel?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“Inside the hospital,” Kilian replied.
“Could you go and fetch him? I want this over as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, of course.”
Kilian found Manuel in the small office where he studied and classified his plants.
“I’ve hardly been able to take anything,” he said out loud as Kilian entered.
“Maybe you can come back someday . . .”
“Yes, maybe.”
“I’ll miss you, Manuel.”
The doctor shook his head. “And I you.” He hesitated, preparing to tell Kilian what he had wanted to say for a long time. “Kilian . . . I know what Jacobo did to Bisila.” His friend leaned against the desk. “I even have doubts about who Fernando’s real father is, but it’s obvious you are acting as if . . . I have children too, Kilian. I wouldn’t leave them either. But be careful, right?”
Kilian nodded. “Does Julia know?”
“She has always put Jacobo on a pedestal. Why correct her?”
“You are a gentleman. You always have been.”
Manuel smiled weakly, gave a look around the room, and put his hand on the doorknob. “Do you remember when we met in Ambos Mundos?”
Kilian nodded.
“It seems centuries ago.”
They went outside, where Julia was silently watching the children beside Bisila. Manuel said good-bye to everyone, hugged Kilian hard, put the children into the car, and went to the front, his eyes filled with tears.
“Come on, Waldo. Be our driver one last time.”
Julia came over to Kilian and crumpled in his arms. “Oh, Kilian, that child looks more like you every day. Look after him, Kilian, don’t abandon him . . . What will happen to you all?” Kilian stroked her hair, his heart in his mouth. Julia stood up and brought the tissue to her nose. “Good-bye, Kilian. Send us news.”
Waldo started the car and drove through Sampaka’s main yard, heading toward the royal palm tree entrance. Julia closed her eyes and let herself be overcome by listlessness, blurring the journey to the city: a downcast Oba in front of her parents’ house; the Factoría Ribagorza, where a young Julia had waited for a good-looking Jacobo to open the door with youthful exuberance and brighten up her day; and the casino, where she had spoken to Manuel for the first time, not knowing that they would end up joined together for life.
Years later, she would hazily remember the ship they finally embarked on in Bata. It was Generosa who told her about the Marines Special Forces Unit ship, which was repatriating the last members of the Civil Guard; a group of missionaries from Fernando Po; the last member of a scientific expedition who, years before, had found and sent to the Barcelona Zoo an albino gorilla they named Copito de Nieve; several plantation managers and owners; cockatoos, parrots, monkeys, and other species the crew brought aboard as souvenirs for their families; the last Spanish flag from those parts; and three generations of the same family. Ironically, the ship’s name was the Aragón, the same name as the region of Pasolobino, the place that had given them life.
“See? I told you so.” Simón pointed toward the sea from the balustrade. “The sacks are still there. They didn’t load one of them. The whole harvest will be ruined, if it isn’t already.”
Garuz could not believe what his own eyes were telling him. Hundreds of esparto sacks, with the Sampaka logo and filled to the brim, were piled up on the small cement jetty of Santa Isabel dock.
“They’re crazy,” said Kilian, devastated. “It’s worth a fortune!”
“Is that how they are going to take care of everything we have fought years for?” Garuz felt a bout of rage building in his insides. “The harvest of a whole year’s work rotting because of an incompetent government!” He saw two police officers leaving the guards’ hut and made to go down the slope of the fevers. “I’m going to sort this out right now. If necessary I’ll talk to the president himself!”
Kilian grabbed his arm. “Wait! I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Do you think I’m afraid of those two?” Garuz brusquely freed himself.
“If you go down there in a temper, you’ll give them a good excuse to arrest you. We should go back to the plantation. When things have calmed down, you can decide what to do.”
Just then, a car stopped, and several men got out and walked toward the slope. Garuz recognized one of them and went over.
“Maximiano. Fancy bumping into you! I’m happy to have caught you. I’ve just found out that the plantation’s harvest hasn’t been shipped. I’d like to know why not.”
“You’d like me to give you an explanation?”
“I cannot allow my business to go down the drain.”
Maximiano slowly licked his bottom lip. “Are you questioning our president?”
“What?” Something in the cold stare of the police chief made Garuz realize that it was best to change his tune. “Of course not. Nothing further from it. If you will excuse me . . .” He signaled to the other two. “Good afternoon. Kilian, Simón . . . let’s go.”
They began to walk toward the car. A voice stopped them.
“Simón! It seems you’ve recovered very quickly from your limp.”
Simón got into the car quickly. Garuz turned around, and his eyes caught those of Maximiano, who raised his index finger in the air in an accusing gesture.
When he got into the car, Garuz collapsed into his seat, cursing under his breath. Kilian understood that he had been left with no option but to swallow his pride and quickly leave his cocoa to rot. What will happen now?