By now, Soledad must have learned the truth about her son, too. I felt sorry for her, but Franco had made his own decisions and unfortunately she would have to live with the consequences.
I’d thought that knowing the truth—finding Cristóbal’s killer—would give me peace of mind, but I was more heartbroken than ever.
As I held the ticket for the ship that would take me to Panama to give my husband a proper burial, I thought of Cristóbal and how na?vely he’d followed me across the ocean, unaware that this trip would signify the end of his life and his dreams. Yes, he deserved justice. He deserved all the things I’d taken away from him. For the first time, I admitted that it had been a mistake to come here. I’d ruined the lives of all of those around me—not just Cristóbal’s. As I lifted my skirt to board the ship, I couldn’t help but think of Martin.
Aside from Cristóbal, Martin was the only other man I’d ever been intimate with. I couldn’t dismiss what we’d done—what I felt for him—as if it was a casual act like drinking a glass of water. Perhaps he could do that, but I couldn’t. Not only had I disgraced my husband’s name by being intimate with another man out of wedlock and so soon after his passing, but on top of it all, Martin had been my sister’s lover. I was so humiliated, so vexed. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in days. I was certain that by now, everybody in town knew that I’d been staying at Del Río’s hacienda.
But Martin never came to see me.
I must forget him. I would have plenty of opportunities to do so since I doubted that he would continue to work at La Puri—not when his dreams of owning the plantation that had once belonged to his family had come tumbling down with my very existence.
CHAPTER 42
May 1920
The sight of my husband’s casket unleashed a turmoil of emotions. It was like opening a faucet; out poured all the pain and tears I’d been suppressing for weeks. Not only for my husband’s sake, but also for everything that had happened since my arrival in Ecuador.
For Martin. For my father. For my siblings.
I’d been doing everything wrong.
I hugged the casket, asking for forgiveness, and was unable to maintain my composure as the Panamanian authorities explained that Cristóbal’s body had washed ashore and a Jamaican fisherman had found him. The man had contacted the local authorities, who’d been aware that a couple of men aboard the Andes had been missing.
“But we suspect he died on impact,” said the somber officer, squeezing my shoulder.
*
Upon my return to Guayaquil, I learned that a judge had dismissed my siblings’ contention of the will since my father’s doctor, the bank manager, and Aquilino had all testified that my father was in his right mind when he wrote his last wishes. When hearing the news, Angélica, Laurent, and Catalina had left the plantation and were staying with friends in Vinces.
“But I never wanted them to leave,” I mumbled, fixing my gaze on the intricate carvings on Aquilino’s bureau. I’d been thinking, innocently perhaps, that they would come to resign themselves to my father’s desires and we would all live in harmony at the hacienda, like sisters.
I squeezed the handkerchief in my hand—I hadn’t been able to stop crying since the funeral.
“Aren’t you satisfied with the news?” Aquilino said. “As the majority holder, you’re free to take possession of La Puri now if you wish to.”
I nodded, but I never thought that good news could taste so bitter.
I dabbed the corners of my eyes with the handkerchief. “Why have you been helping me?” I asked. “You’ve known my siblings for much longer than me.”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. I worked for your father for many years and he always confided in me the remorse he felt about leaving you and your mother behind. He said his fortune was built thanks to your grandmother, who introduced him to chocolate. Without her influence, he would’ve never left Europe. So, he thought it was only fair that you should benefit from your family’s legacy. He felt he owed it to your grandmother and he made me promise that I would make sure you got your part—I think he suspected that his decisions might cause problems between his children.”
“What about Elisa? Did he ever talk to you about her?”
“He mentioned her a few times, but he always had doubts that she was truly his. Elisa’s mother didn’t have a good reputation around town. She was known to have had many”—he cleared his throat—“friends, so he was never sure that Elisa carried his blood. This is why he never truly accepted her, why he didn’t leave her anything.” Aquilino stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.” He removed a key from the pocket of his vest. “Here’s the key to the hacienda. La Puri is yours.”