Chapter 25: Consuelo en Amigos

Once in her room Catalina closed and locked the door, then rushed into the bathroom. She wanted to throw up or heave. Instead all she could do was lean over the beautiful sink, hair in her face, crying snotty bubbles until her head ached. It was a match for her heart: how could she have been so awful, especially to Enrique?

She'd dared to dream, once or twice, that he liked her, pretended his winks and smiles meant more than teasing. But even if that had been true, even if there had been the smallest bit of interest, it was never to be now. How could he forgive her, how could he even stand to talk to her again, when she had as much as accused his father of a crime to his face?

And Elena! That brought fresh tears to her already exhausted eyes, and Catalina fell onto the floor in a heap, hugging herself. He would tell Elena, he was such a good brother, he would feel he had to protect her from such a monster. After all that girl had shared, revealing her secret fears and thoughts, to treat her that way! It might be worse to see the betrayal in Elena's eyes or return to mere guarded politeness in their conversation. No, it was worse, infinitely worse, than some imagined relationship with a man so far out of her reach it was laughable to even hope for. Elena was her good friend, and Catalina had treated her horribly.

It was watching all that television, she realized. Mamá tried to warn her, back home, when she and Tía Lola began enjoying watching so much together. But in Fortuna it was easier to see them as just stories; nothing exciting or dangerous happened there. In Mar del Plata it became harder to tell the difference between fact and fiction, especially with all the hours she and Isabel spent watching programs and speculating over what would happen next. Everything happening to her had seemed yet another episode in the unfolding drama, and then to come to a ranch with a mystery seemingly attached to it....

But there was no real mystery, she could see that now. No one, even Sr. Tilve, had tried to hide the truth or deceive her. Facts were provided any time she asked. Enrique even warned her against such imaginings when they first got to know each other. Yet here Catalina had gone and run into trouble regardless.

Maybe Sr. Tilve wasn't a pleasant man; he certainly exposed a sharp temper on occasion, not at all like the men she had grown up with. But beyond this flaw, what else could she accuse him of doing? He might be overly sensitive about his family but that was understandable. Obviously, however much Enrique might not get along with the man, he still loved and respected his father. Of course he would, how could he not, being so good himself? She should realized how absurd it was to believe that a woman like Sra. Tilve could have been killed or kidnapped without someone suspecting it and accomplishing more than Catalina could ever do. How arrogant she had been!

She had never understood the depths to which her wandering mind could sink. No matter how fun telenovelas could be, it was wrong to act like she was in one, when the consequences were far more serious than could be resolved in a single episode. People on TV tended to be good or bad, lovely or ugly, lovers or enemies. That was not real life, she knew, but somehow she'd let herself forget. Sr. Tilve might be complicated, but that did not mean she had the right to think so bad of him. Why, he had the same right to think ill of her, and could not yet know how very sorry she was. Even, she thought, hiccuping and struggling to calm herself, Elena and Enrique might have their faults.

But Papá always said everyone was capable of doing the right thing. It would be very hard to do the right thing now, yet Catalina must make the attempt. She would need to explain to Elena how sorry she was. Perhaps she should offer to leave, although she hated to do so with all the work so unfinished. But the important thing was to make things right with her friend.

First, though, she had to clean up, drying her face and brushing her hair out, even changing into a fresh shirt since her other one was horribly tear-stained and crumpled. She didn't try to dress up fancy or wear any of the lovely things Tía Lola picked out. That felt too much like showing off. She would just be plain Catalina, and remember better who she was in the future.

With a deep breath, she left the room and walked down to Elena's, tapping on the door quietly, thinking she might as well start there as go searching around the house for her. There was no response, and a quick glance in revealed that the room was empty. Catalina's heart would have sunk at this fresh barrier, but it was already so low she barely noticed the disappointment. She forced herself to check the sunroom, frightened by who she might discover camped out with his laptop, but no one was there either. She stopped at a few more rooms, some of the studios in which she and Elena had recently enjoyed time, and was relieved when the third door revealed her friend with a sketchbook and set of colored pencils open on the desk beside her. "¡Che!" she called, looking up at her with a large smile. "I was about to go find you, Papá will be back soon, and I convinced him it would be better to eat outside again. Maybe we could have a pizza? Or do you want something else?"

"It doesn't matter, whatever you like," Catalina said quietly, standing in the doorway, not sure if she should come in or not.

"Is something wrong?" Elena asked, putting her book down. "I figured you were taking a nap or something, you're not feeling bad are you?"

"I'm not sick, no, gracias." It was so awkward to figure out how to start: why hadn't Enrique spoken to his sister at once? But she would not think about that, she had to say something now or she'd lose her nerve. "I had to think about some things, and now I've come to — to apologize."

"For what?" Elena asked, smiling playfully. "Falling asleep? That's fine, you've been working very hard. I hadn't quite realized all you were doing until Enrique told me just now. I should be saying sorry, for keeping you up so late when you were busy."

"Enrique said I was busy?" Catalina asked, distracted by this strange admission.

Elena nodded, and picked up one of her pencils, flipping it around her fingers with ease. "I didn’t know the clinic was in such bad shape, did you really have to clean out the sink? That's so gross!"

"It wasn't too bad," Catalina said, still pondering this turn in the conversation. So Enrique had spoken to Elena, but not to reveal her wickedness. Why?

"Well, of course you would say that, you're so nice, but I wouldn't have been able to do it!" Elena laughed. "I hate stuff like that, when it's junky in the kitchen or something, I mean, stuff people have put near their mouths and things! What if they had a disease?"

"I was wearing gloves," Catalina started to say, then stopped before she got too far off topic. "And anyway, it doesn't matter, I still need to apologize, after all you've been so kind to me, and now...." How could she possibly explain why she'd behaved the way she had, when she didn't even understand it herself? It was like an impossibly bad dream she had woken from, crazy and stupid, the kind to make sure her younger sisters never found out about.

Elena wheeled over and took her hand, concern visible in her face. "You want to go home, right? Because you miss everyone?"

She almost said yes: that would be the easy way out, and she'd never have to explain anything to anyone. Except Mamá would want to know why she'd given up the internship, and Papá would need to arrange to get her picked up, and what one earth would she tell the Aguirres? "No, not really, I mean yes I miss them, but I've really enjoyed being here with all of you."

Relief spread over Elena's features, and she actually clapped her hands. "Oh, good! I mean, sorry, that was rude, but I really do hope you stay for a while, it's been so fun having someone here to do things with besides Papá and Enrique. I hope he's not being too difficult: sometimes my brother doesn't know when to stop teasing."

"Oh no, he's been perfect!" Catalina exclaimed, distressed even more to see Elena's grin turn mischievous.

"Perfect, huh? I'm sure. Have you told him that?"

"No, of course not, we hardly talk at the clinic, he has to go out and see patients." She was rambling, she knew, confused and nervous, and every second it grew harder and harder to remember that she had to say something.

"Well don't worry, he can't make you work over the weekend, I won't let him."

Catalina was about to try again, steeling her courage to be as honest as possible, when they both heard the slam of the front door and a shout. "That's Papá," Elena said with a grimace, and set her pencil down. "I guess his golf game didn't improve, so he might be in a bad mood. You don't have to come but I'd better talk to him. He might have forgot his promise."

It felt like a proper penance to accompany Elena into the living room, so Catalina did, forcing herself to breathe calmly. Sr. Tilve was very brusque at first, but eventually he spoke to her with his usual politeness, asking if she'd enjoyed her day off. She could barely answer before he began telling her about their plans to eat al fresco. "I understand you've been working very hard, so perhaps some grilling by the pool?"

"Gracias Papá," Elena answered with a subdued smile. Catalina could have fallen to her knees right then and there to offer gratitude and apologies, but only managed a quiet repetition of Elena’s words.

"Come on, let's change, maybe we can go for a swim while it's cooking," Elena said with more excitement once her father went to speak to someone in the kitchen.

There was no way to introduce the subject now, not with her friend so very happy. So Catalina allowed herself to be guided back to their bedrooms and let Elena help her pick out a loose beach dress to wear over her swimsuit. She tied her hair back to wear under her sunhat, and in spite of herself, felt her spirits lightening.

This short reprieve threatened to vanish when she and Elena went out on the patio and found Enrique waiting for them. He had changed into shorts and a polo, and was leaning back in a lounge chair, one of his sandals counting time against the pavement and his eyes masked by dark sunglasses.

"Ah, señoritas, what took you so long?" he asked jovially, not a hint of a frown in his voice or his looks. "Papá said I must hurry to meet you, and yet here I've been sitting, waiting. I suppose Elena had to change her mind a few times on what to wear?"

"Just once!" she responded, coming beside him to slap playfully at his arm. "And don't you dare talk, Señor Workaholic. Come on, where's your phone, I want to see it!" When Enrique took it out of his pocket, she grabbed the device and slung it in the pouch on the back of her chair. "There: no more calls today, you're off duty!"

Enrique smiled and raised his sun glasses up, revealing his sparkling hazel eyes. "I suppose that settles that. Oh well." He shrugged elaborately, then flashed a grin at Catalina, who had kept back from the two happy siblings. "That's a very pretty cover-up, is it new?"

"Yes," she admitted softly, self-conscious and flattered at the same time, surprised at his gracious tone.

"I thought so, you wore something different back at the beach house. Did Señora Aguirre recommend it? The color works well with your hair."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Elena repeated, laughing. "But it's not a fashion show just for you, we're going swimming."

"Sounds like a great idea," he said, standing up and walking with them over to the pool.

He didn't get in, only sat on the edge and let his feet dangle in the water while they splashed around. It was quite warm out, and the pool was the perfect temperature, not too hot or cold. When Sr. Tilve joined them outside, she was worried at first that the pleasant atmosphere would evaporate, but Enrique didn't move away or stop talking to them, even when his father sat nearby and kept interrupting with lots of strange insinuations or detours about his golf game. They got out of the pool once the food was ready, toweling off but not bothering about the mess too much. Enrique was very charming, and sat right beside Catalina, so that she couldn't suppose he was just making nice for his sister. He actually spoke just to her, asking if she'd heard from her family, and getting her to share anecdotes about her home with warm encouragement.

Sr. Tilve went back in after the meal to watch a race scheduled for that evening. "But I trust you'll be taken care of," he said, bowing over her hand, and smirking at his son as he left.

"I'm stuffed!" Elena announced, sipping at her drink with relish. "I couldn't get back in the pool if I tried."

"What a shame." Enrique shook his head, tossing a napkin down on his plate. "I suppose we'll have to sit here and watch our friend enjoy herself, paying for our gluttony."

"I don't have to get back in," she said at once, even though she'd cast several wistful glances back at the water. She got so few opportunities to swim and it had felt so good!

"No, no, you should if you want to, don't mind us." Elena gestured to the pool’s edge. "Enrique's just being ridiculous."

Catalina felt she should defend him, as he was being so amazingly kind to her, but her tongue tied up again. The sun was hazy, nearing the horizon, and the view was quite beautiful. It was a scene completely out of place with any foul scheme, even her own, and she almost retreated back to the pool alone.

"Actually," she said, struggling to form the words. "Elena, I need to tell you, I wasn't lying down earlier. I went upstairs to the attic."

"Oh. Why, did you need something?"

She couldn't look at Enrique, so Catalina focused on Elena instead. "After we talked, I wanted to see what was up there, of your mother's. I thought...." She trailed off again, uncertain, trying to figure out what to say.

"She thought there were ghosts," Enrique said after a beat, quietly.

Elena frowned in mock severity, crossing her arms as she stared at her brother. "Oh really? I wonder who could have told her that?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, eyes wide with innocence. "I might have mentioned something. As her supervisor, I needed to warn her about any dangers she might face on the job."

"No, that wasn't it at all!" Catalina tried to interrupt, but Elena spoke over her.

"How could you! No wonder Catalina's been so nervous today, did he run behind and scare you? I thought he only did that to his sister." She stressed that word with particular emphasis.

Enrique played with his sunglasses, not looking upset at all, even turning a lazy smile toward Catalina. "I may have startled her, I'm afraid. But I had to be away from her all day. Who could resist?"

"Well, if that's the way you're going to behave!" Elena bit her lip, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. She attempted to throw her napkin across the table but it only landed in the middle between them. "You're closer, Catalina, come on, show him who's boss."

"Maybe we should just take a walk?" she suggested tentatively.

"What a lovely idea, and so polite, perhaps you will be a good influence on my sister." Enrique said, rising and pushing his chair in gracefully, as if choreographed. "The mark of a true lady is her sweetness of temper, after all. And we both know Señorita Catalina is so sweet, why, she has not even commented on the lack of desert."

The evening wore on just the same, the three of them laughing and talking together as they made their way along the footpath. Catalina was amazed at how easily she had been forgiven, without her actually having to say or do anything herself. When Elena grew quiet once, pensively staring in the distance at her mother's studio, Enrique teased her, saying she must be far too tired to even move her arms. Before long they were in a race back to the house. Catalina won even though she didn't think she had gone that fast, and Enrique was obviously holding back. Elena shrieked and hugged her in congratulations, then shrank back with a sour face.

"Oh, no, we're so grimy! Come on, I need another shower."

"I just need to get my hat," Catalina said, heading back to the patio table as Elena went inside.

Enrique didn’t follow his sister and instead strolled near the pool, his long shadow in the fading light broken up in the water, hands in his pockets, whistling.

"What is that tune?" she asked, curious, her hat in hand.

"I don’t know. It’s like the rhythms I count: they’re not any one song in particular, just snatches I think of." He played around with another long whistle, snapping his fingers, then opened his palm wide as if letting it go. "I can’t catch it when I try: hence why I could never be an artist. Too much work, too little to show for it."

"But it’s still very nice," she said, coming closer. "I can’t even whistle at all."

He chuckled. "It’s not as easy as people think. I couldn’t until I was out of school."

She gaped in surprise. "No!"

"Yes, truly. I tried, but I could only do it when I wasn’t thinking about it, like in surprise or something. Mostly it was just spit." He shook his head, his hair falling out of place for once, his sunglasses barely keeping it out of his eyes, pushed up on his head. "Learning can be very messy."

His voice was hushed but clearly audible so close to the water, almost echoing back to them. Catalina shivered despite not really feeling cold, and tied her wrap tighter more to give herself something to do. "Gracias," she murmured, looking out over the water, not sure if she should say anything, but needing to do so anyway.

At first he didn’t acknowledge her words beyond a shrug. They just stood for a moment, neither looking at each other. He reached a toe down and flicked it in the water, causing ripples to form. "It’s good she was able to talk about the accident with you; we avoid the subject too much."

"But I shouldn’t have — I still need to apologize —"

"For what?" He turned toward her, eyes shaded by the sun at his back, but not dull like in the attic. They were intent and full of life. "Being curious? Asking questions?"

"For thinking such awful things." There, she had said it, and it was far easier to do so since he already knew.

"A crime we are all guilty of from time to time. If you’re so unused to it, that just proves once again how very good you must be."

"So, you don’t think I should say anything to Elena?" she asked him, wanting guidance, sure he would know the correct answer.

"It is very good in dancing to always follow your partner’s lead, but not always so good when the music stops." Enrique started to tap his foot then caught himself, shuffling instead, surprisingly awkward rather than his usual agility. "I would say you should judge for yourself, whether to bring it up with her or not. She’s not made of glass, and doesn’t actually need my protection, even if I may forget that sometimes." He quirked a brow. "But don’t feel you must take the entire world’s sins as your personal responsibility: exaggeration is just as bad for martyrdom as it is for misunderstandings."

She considered his words as the last of the sun’s rays dipped low behind them. The patio lights were on, a faint glow nearby, with mosquitoes swarming around them hungrily. He made a good point. If she had rushed into misjudgment once, she shouldn’t do so again, and hurt Elena needlessly. But she still needed to find some way to make amends.

They went inside soon afterward, and the air conditioning hit her with such force she nearly gasped. Catalina didn't take long to get in the shower, enjoying the warm water against her skin, feeling clean and refreshed as she prepared for bed. It had been a far better evening than she expected or deserved. But Enrique was right: there was no reason to chase trouble continually after the fact, as if she could make up for what she did if she felt bad enough. No, she would pray about it, like Mamá always said to, and then find the right time and place to talk to Elena. Maybe help her with something, like the sewing, or just spend time with her. That was certainly the right thing to do.

At least she had the consolation that Enrique didn't hate her. They were still friends.