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“I loved these books. Are you enjoying this?” she asked.
He sat on the coffee table facing her. “Your father died this afternoon. How can you sit here and read as though nothing had happened?”
Maggie drew in a deep breath and released it in a soft sigh. Filled with an awful mixture of guilt and sorrow, she gave the only excuse she could. “I wasn’t raised here in Spain where people cry and yell about everything. The Scandinavians in Minnesota are much more reserved. Which reminds me, I should call my mother.”
He took a bite from her apple, then got up and went into the kitchen. She searched through her purse for her phone. She checked her watch to make certain it would be daytime in Edina. She didn’t pause to practice how to give her sad news; she just punched in the number.
“Mom?”
“Hello, sweetheart. Is school out?”
Rafael leaned against the sink, watching her. “It will be on Friday, but I left early to come to Barcelona to see Miguel.”
“Really? Well, what do you think of him?”
“That’s too long a story to begin now, but I wanted you to know he’d been ill and died this afternoon.”
“He died?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t take any photos with him. I should have some to send to you. He was as handsome as when you’d known him and just as charming.”
Her mother was silent a long moment. “Then I’m glad you met him.”
“Yes, so am I. I’ll talk to you again in a day or two. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you more.”
“Is Dad there?” She hunted for the right words while her mother called him.
“Maggie! How are you?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am I didn’t appreciate you more while I was growing up. You were such a good father to me, and I never thanked you.”
“That’s very sweet, but you needn’t thank me for loving you. What did you tell your mother? She’s sitting here crying.”
“My father died.”
“Oh, I understand, then. I better go.”
“Good-bye, Dad.”
Maggie ended the call and looked over at Rafael. “My mother’s crying, which has to be awkward for my stepfather.”
“So she’s not as stoic as you thought. What if I’d died?”
“Stop it! I won’t go there.” She folded her arms across her chest and wished she’d gone to a hotel where she could crawl under the bed and scream until she grew hoarse.
“Because it would make you too sad?” He came back into the living room and again sat on the coffee table.
Unshed tears burned her eyes. “Yes. What is it you want me to say?”
He flashed a hint of a smile. “That you love me.”
The teasing light in his eyes eased her suspicions as to his motives, but this wasn’t the time for tender exchanges. “I’ve known you only a week.”
“A week and one day,” he corrected. “It’s enough time for me. But here in Spain, we yell and cry and fall in love without counting the days.”
She scooped the apple off the table, and he leaned in to take another bite. “It was so easy for Adam and Eve,” she murmured. “There was no one else around.”
