I silently sip my wine, absorbing every word.
After adding chopped garlic, he turns to us, looking at me specifically. “But in the end, we are all Spanish, no?”
He returns to his pan, pouring what looks like tomato puree into it.
Leira catches my attention and raises her brow as though she’s just as fascinated by all of this as I am.
We nibble on almonds and olives as Sebastián cooks and continues to regale us with stories from his active youth in this region. Apparently, looking for trouble runs in our blood.
When the meal is done, cod in a Rioja tomato sauce, Leira sets the table and he instructs me to open another bottle of wine to go with it.
The dining room is large and oddly, both rustic and grand at the same time. The walls are covered in rough stucco in a warm, gold color. Paintings of landscapes in heavy frames hang around us. The table is large and sturdy, seating eight people. Although it’s dark right now, the picturesque windows would have a perfect view of the vineyards beyond in the daylight.
“Salud,” Sebastián says, lifting his glass of wine. Leira and I both do the same and echo his toast.
“This house is amazing,” Leira comments as we dig into our meal. “Don’t tell me you live here all alone.”
Sebastián gives a soft laugh. “My grandfather started this winery. Back then, it was normal to have many children. I came along after the war, the one with the Nazis. I had many brothers and sisters. They all went about their lives elsewhere. But I am the oldest and this—” He looks around with a fond smile. “—this was my burden.”
“Please tell me you don’t hate it!” Leira says in surprise.
He laughs and shakes his head. “It is a blessing as well, my dear. My last name, Abaroa, is taken from the Basque language. Abaro, it means refuge. I always found that significant. When my father entrusted me with this land, it was meant to be just that, a refuge that any one of my kin, or even a stranger could come to and find a home.”
Both Sebastián and Leira are staring at me, both with the same intent in their gazes. I find myself taking a page from Leira’s playbook, hiding my truth behind that glass of wine.
When they break away, I feel a sharp pang in my gut at the look on Sebastián’s face. Leira’s is dramatically exasperated.
“Did you ever have children?” She asks, no doubt hoping to bridge this obvious gap I’m determined to keep between my grandfather and me.
That only seems to compound his morose expression.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly backtracks. “That was personal.”
“No, no,” he says with a smile, waving away her concern. “I loved my wife, Carla, very much. We were both Catholic and wanted a large family. In the end, we had only one daughter, Daniela. Such is God’s will. But she was like me more so than my sweet wife, God rest her soul. She wasn’t meant to stay here, tied to the land of her birth. It was always somewhere she dreamed of going. Madrid. Paris. Rome. Then finally, America.”
That erases any hint of a smile from his face. “When she left, it was not on good terms. I always thought she would eventually return. She was an Abaroa, after all. Unfortunately, that is where she…died.” The bitter way he spits out the last word isn’t lost on us. “Carla died a year later, from the grief I’m certain of it, though the doctors called it a heart attack.”
“I’m so sorry,” Leira says.
I’m far too enraged to let grief take a starring role. This is the grandmother I never knew, never even met in the first place, no doubt due to Richard Coleman’s complete dominance over his wife. And thanks to him, I will never know her.
We eat in silence for a brief moment, while Leira surreptitiously casts glances between the both of us. I can read her like a book, and I know what she’s itching to do, but I can’t bring myself to stop her.
“Do you mind telling me more about your daughter? I’ve lost several sisters of my own, along with my mother. Sometimes it’s nice to talk about them, if only to hold onto the memories. My father likes to tell me stories I never knew about them.”
Sebastián’s smile returns and there’s a spark in his eye as though he knows what she’s doing.
“I would like that very much.”
Chapter Forty-Two Leira
“…and when she returned, she was grounded for three months. I thought even that was too lenient.”
I’m laughing, covering my mouth so I don’t spit out any wine. “Honestly, that is something I could see myself doing. Hitchhiking to see a concert?”
Sebastián shakes his head as he gives me a mild scornful smile. Enrique’s grin is a bit more conspiratorially wicked.
Any misgivings I had about bringing up Daniela have long-since evaporated. This night of good food, wine, and reminiscing has definitely been worth it.
We’re all well into our cups, finishing off the last of the wine as we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the moment.
“I know you usually stay in the city, but I would be negligent if I did not invite you to stay here tonight. As this lovely young lady has mentioned, this house is big, too big for me not to share. I must stay true to the Abaroa name.”
“We would love to,” I reply, giving Enrique a smirk.
“I’d like that,” he adds, first returning an indulgent smirk to me, then a gracious smile to the man situated at the head of the table.
“Good, good,” Sebastián says, clapping his hands together with pleasure.
“Although there are many bedrooms here, the one right above us has a beautiful view of the vineyards. Might I suggest that one?” He says, a cryptic smile spreading his face. “I am not so old fashioned as you might think. You are free to both use it,
