Chapter Sixteen: The Consequence
After I dropped Richard at the station I called Madison to let her know I was coming home. The call was mainly for my own peace of mind, because, as usual, she didn’t seem to care whether I was in Princeton or being eaten by a shark, as long as I was back in time to chauffer her around. And right then, as she was grounded, she had no need for me.
I had just crossed the toll bridge over the Delaware and was back in Pennsylvania when my phone rang.
“Carla? Can you talk?” Federico’s voice broke through the speaker, his Spanish accent thicker than I remembered it.
“Becquer is not answering his phone,” he continued, after I confirmed I was alone.
“Have you tried his cell?”
“Yes,” he said. Switching to Spanish, he rushed on, “Both his house and his cell. Have you seen him? Are you sure he can’t walk?”
I pulled to the shoulder because I didn’t trust myself to drive, and told him about our meeting, Becquer’s confession that he was retiring, and Richard’s account of Becquer’s accident and of his staying at the hospital.
“Hospital?” Federico interrupted me. “Becquer was at the hospital?”
“He was unconscious when they found him. Rachel called an ambulance.”
“Don’t you see, Carla, if he is still immortal — ”
“ — they would have noticed he’s not human.”
“Exactly.”
“But he is immortal, isn’t he? He is still immortal.”
“I don’t know, Carla. Something is wrong.”
“You mean it’s possible for an immortal to become human again?”
“
“You knew the Elders could make him human and you left him alone? How could you? Why didn’t you wait until the Elders had passed their sentence?”
“I never thought they would apply such penalty given that it was Beatriz who stole his blood. Besides, why do you act so surprised that I left? You know I’m only allowed to be with Becquer for a week and you were the one who told me I had to let him make his own mistakes, if I wanted him to stop acting like a child.”
Yes. I had said that. Maybe the fact that my children never followed my advice had pushed me to giving it too freely. If people were going to listen to me, I would have to be more careful, or more precise, when expressing my opinions.
“I didn’t mean it literally, Federico. I didn’t expect you to leave him when he was still in recovery.”
“He was doing much better when I left,” Federico insisted, “and he had Rachel to care for him. Obviously it wasn’t enough and now he’s in trouble. So, at the risk of eliciting his fury, I’m coming to check on him.”
“Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?”
“No. Matt will drive.”
So that’s why Matt was not with Becquer anymore. I should have guessed they were together, for their mutual attraction had been evident last time I saw them, but somehow, the thought had not occurred to me.
“Matt — ” I stopped. Whether Matt and Federico were together was none of my business. “Where are you now, Federico?”
“Washington. Washington, D.C., which means we’ll be there later tonight, but until we arrive, could you please go back to Becquer’s house, and stay with him?”
“I … I don’t think it’s a good idea. Becquer chose not to tell me of his condition. I think he will hate to see me now.”
“I don’t care whether Becquer hates it or not. I just don’t want him to be alone tonight.”
“David, his nurse, is with him,” I argued because I found the idea of intruding into Becquer’s private life so late in the evening intimidating.
“A nurse? A nurse he could trick without even trying. You don’t know Becquer as I do, Carla. It’s not like him to push a publisher to sign a book contract in such a hurry. That, and the fact that he’s retiring, troubles me.”
Federico sounded relieved when I told him I would stop at Becquer’s on my way home. “I’ll take care of everything when I get there, I promise. But could you please contact me after you see him? Or better still, tell Becquer to call me?”
I called Madison again after my talk with Federico, to let her know I might not come home until much later. When she didn’t pick up, I sent her a text message.
It was close to seven when I drove up the narrow driveway and into the expanse before the main entrance where I had parked in the afternoon. The Jeep was still there, which meant David was in the house. Or so I hoped, because, apart from the two lamps flanking the front door, the house stood in total darkness.
I turned off the engine and stepped outside. The bang of the door closing, the cracking of the gravel under my feet, the beep from my car lock, the snap of the doors locking, each and every sound came back eerily amplified against the black silence that surrounded me.
Somewhere along the way, the rain had stopped but the clouds still must have covered the sky, for I could not see a single star and the house loomed in front of me, an imposing shadow against the dark sky.
I hesitated as I reached the stairs. It was clear visitors were not expected at this time, or welcomed, and at the thought of facing Becquer or, worse still, of having him refuse to see me, filled me with such dread, my whole body hurt with the urge to flee. But my promise to Federico bound me to at least try.
Forcing my legs to move, I climbed the steps to the porch and knocked. Nobody answered. I knocked again, slamming the iron knocker hard, then grabbed the knob and twisted it. To my surprise, it turned under my hand and the door opened.
I stood still, for a moment, straining my eyes to see. It was even darker inside, the only light being the one coming from the porch. No, not the only one, for, after a moment, I saw a faint glow to my right. Then, I heard a sound, the unexpected sound of someone cheering.
“Becquer?” I called. When there was no answer, I crossed the hall into the great room, and then stopped.
The glow, I could see now, belonged to a game playing on a TV screen. On the sofa facing the screen, someone was sitting.
“Becquer,” I repeated, louder this time. When he didn’t move, I turned the lights on to get his attention.
As the iron chandelier above us came to life, the person on the sofa jumped to his feet.
He’s standing, I thought. Becquer is standing. Relief washed over me — relief and embarrassment. If Becquer was all right, I had no reason to be there. But when he turned and I saw his face, I realized my relief had been premature, for it was David, not Becquer who was looking at me. David holding the video game controller in his hand as if it were a weapon to fend off an intruder.
“Ms. Esteban?” Recognition replaced the surprise on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer the door.”
“What?” he asked, loud enough to be heard a mile away.
I touched my ears and David dropped the remote in the sofa and jerked his headphones off. He smiled apologetically, “Sorry.”
Disappointment and anger fought in my mind because David’s presence reminded me that Becquer was disabled and in need of help, help David could hardly provide if he was so intensely engaged in playing a game. “Aren’t you supposed to be attending to Mr. Becquer?”
David raised his head defiantly at the accusation implied by my words. “Mr. Becquer has already retired for the night.”
I glowered at him in disbelief. “That is no excuse. What if he needs you?”
“He would call me on my cell,” David said, producing a phone from his pocket.
