58. Daniela

I’ve been up since four this morning, packing things we’ll need and trying to come up with a way to explain the inexplicable to Valentina.

What I’m most angry about is that he’s not here to say goodbye to her. I’m an adult and I can handle his moods, but she’s a child who’s had so much loss. She deserves more from him, and he damn well knows it.

“He doesn’t love us anymore?” Valentina asks when I tell her we need to stay at Quinta Rosa do Vale for a little while. Although I’m grateful she doesn’t press, because I’m not sure what a little while means. “I can be good. Tell Antonio I’ll be better. I won’t argue with you anymore. I know he doesn’t like it.”

I’m so angry at him, I’m practically shaking. I put my arms around Valentina and pull her to my breast, willing myself to stay calm for her. “Of course he still loves you. This has nothing to do with you, menina. Nothing at all. And it has nothing to do with me. Antonio’s hurting, and he holds everything inside. He needs some time alone to work through his sadness.”

I say it, knowing it’s only half true. Yes, he needs to mourn, but he’s pushing me away—and it’s different this time. Something feels different. It does. Why? I’m still stuck on that.

“Do we need to pack everything?” she asks, a bit calmer.

“No. Pack as if we’re going on vacation for a week. Maybe two.” I force a smile.

“Can we bring the horses?”

Good question.

“Let me check with Silvio. Why don’t you start by laying things out on the bed you want to take?”

Before I contact Silvio about the horses, I text my husband. He won’t respond, but he’ll read the text. I’m sure of it. Antonio’s going to know exactly how he made Valentina feel.

My hand trembles as I key in the message: “He doesn’t love us anymore?” That’s the first thing Valentina said when I told her you asked us to leave. “I can be good,” she promised. “Tell him I’ll be good.”

Congratulations, Antonio. This time you actually did it. You are the monster you believe you are.

It’s vengeful and mean, but he deserves it. Every word.

I press Send before I change my mind.

* * *

We saya quick goodbye to Victor, who has tears in his eyes that he wipes away before Valentina can see them. “One day, later this week, I’ll bring lunch,” he tells Valentina. “And maybe we can bake a cake.”

She nods. “A chocolate cake. It’s Antonio’s favorite. Maybe you can bring a piece back to cheer him up.”

“You have a kind soul, menina. He’s going to miss you.” Victor turns to me. “And you. More than he thinks.”

I don’t say goodbye to anyone else. Almost anything I say will invite speculation about my marriage. Victor can make the excuses.

This morning, I sent an email to Lara telling her to take a few days off. No explanations. This might be a good opportunity to sever ties with her. I would take Paula with me, but she’s been fired, and I don’t know how to reach her.

Santi, Mia, and Duarte ride with us, and there’s a car in front and one behind, carrying soldiers.

“What about school?” Valentina asks, eyes wide. “Will I still go to school?”

It crossed my mind last night while I was dragging a suitcase from the closet. But like so many others, the thought floated in and out.

“There’s a building in the vineyards that will make a good school,” Santi explains. “No one uses it much at this time of year.”

My father’s old office—I’m sure.

“What about my friends?”

“It’s a bit farther to travel, but we’ll send a car for them,” he replies, easily. Unlike me, he knows the details.

She smiles and nods.

“Has the building been made suitable for the girls?” It was an ample space and comfortable. I’m not worried about its suitability. I want to know how long this plan has been in the works.

Santi nods, sheepishly. He knew that we’d be moving before I did.

It’s another betrayal. Not by Santi—not really. I’m sure Antonio read him the riot act. Duarte and Mia, too.

There are no flowers blooming at this time of year, and the vines have already been cut back. But the first thing I notice when we pull in are the high guard towers ringing the property, like at our—like at Antonio’s house. They weren’t here when we came during the harvest. We weren’t here long, but I would have noticed them.

But they didn’t pop up overnight, either.Antonio knew long before yesterday that he was kicking us out.

How could I have not picked up on anything? How?

“Look,” Valentina cries, pointing to a duck pond. “I remember feeding the ducks with you and my mom. Do you remember, Lala?”

“I do.” Like it was yesterday. “You loved to toddle right up to the edge, and Isabel was always so afraid one day you were going to fall in.” I’m so sorry that I haven’t shielded Valentina better, Isabel. You were a better mother to her than I can ever hope to be. To me, too.

When the car stops in front of the house, I draw a breath and gaze out the window. In addition to everything else, I’m going to have to contend with all the memories buried inside.

One hour at a time, Daniela. That’s all that’s required to get you and Valentina through the next few days. You’ve dealt with far worse.

The front door opens, and a woman comes out to greet us.

“It’s Cristiano’s mom!” Valentina cries, bouncing out of the car. “She’s so nice.”

Alma? Alma works at Antonio’s apartment in Huntsman Lodge. Why is she here?

“Alma, this is a nice surprise,” I say, standing behind Valentina, who is embracing her.

“Can I go inside?” Valentina asks.

Santi is already inside, and Mia is with Valentina. “Sure.”

Alma smiles softly. “This house is beautiful, but it needs a little life.”

“Did Cristiano ask you to come?”

She shakes her head. “Antonio.” She sighs. “He wanted me to help here, until you’re able to hire someone to run the house. I hope you don’t mind. This is your house.”

I take her hand. “I’m so happy you’re here.” And I am. “But it’s so far to go back and forth every day. Would you like to stay with us, at least during the week?”

“My room is already set up.”

I chuckle.

Alma squeezes my fingers. “It’s not my business, but I’ve known Antonio since he was in diapers,” she waves her arm in the air, “and I have some thoughts about all this.”

“That gives you a leg up on me, because I’m having trouble putting the pieces together. Although in my heart, I think this is tied to Lydia’s death.”

She tips her head from side to side. “Yes and no. You make him a better man. He knows this right down to the marrow. I was talking to Lydia last night.”

Wait.“You were talking to Lydia, Antonio’s mother? Last night?”

She smiles. “I was doing all the talking, but she was with me. I felt her presence.”

I feel my mother’s presence sometimes, too.

“Antonio’s power was challenged,” Alma explains, “and not in a small way. He needs time, my love. He needs your patience while he regroups. And he needs to be sure that his fortress is so strong that no one will touch you. That’s what this is about. Not his mother, who he loved, but you, who he can’t live without.”

I’d like to believe it. But my heart is already in tatters, and I can’t afford to tell myself any more lies.