18.
AURORA VALEN?A
Dante returned from S?o Paulo earlier than expected.
I knew because Elisa woke at six fifteen in the morning, ran to the window, and announced:
“Daddy Dante’s car is there.”
Still half asleep, I sat up in bed.
“What car?”
“The black one.”
“There isn’t a black car on our street.”
“There is.”
Tomás woke at the sound of our conversation.
“Is it mine?”
“No,” I answered.
“Then I don’t want it.”
Cecília pulled the blanket over her head.
“It’s dark.”
“Because it’s still early.”
I got up and went to the window.
The car was parked in front of the café.
Dante was not inside it.
Perhaps he had arrived during the night and left the vehicle there so he would not wake anyone.
Or perhaps I was inventing explanations for a man who no longer needed me to defend him.
“He came back,” Elisa said with satisfaction.
“It seems so.”
“He said he would.”
The statement was not a demand.
It was an observation.
That affected me more than it should have.
Dante had spent one night in S?o Paulo.
He had told the children he would sleep once away from them.
He had called before they entered school, at the end of the afternoon, and again before they went to bed.
During the final call, Cecília had asked four times whether he was in his bad house.
Dante had explained that he was sleeping in an apartment in S?o Paulo.
She had concluded he owned two bad houses.
He accepted that.
Now he was back.
At the time he said he would be.
Perhaps earlier.
“Let’s brush your teeth,” I said.
Elisa did not move away from the window.
“Is he coming for breakfast?”
“We didn’t arrange that.”
“Call him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it is six in the morning.”
“He’s awake.”
“How do you know?”
“His car is.”
“Cars don’t sleep.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Tomás began laughing.
Cecília emerged from beneath the blanket.
“Daddy is here?”
“Not standing in the street,” I replied.
“Is he coming?”
“Later.”
I was not certain.
Dante had said he would collect the children from school at noon.
He had not mentioned breakfast.
Even so, at seven ten, someone knocked on the back door.
Mrs. Lurdes appeared before I reached it.
“Your man is an early riser.”
“He is not my man.”
“The children’s man, then.”
“Don’t call him that either.”
“The children’s father.”
“There are three of them.”
“Aurora, for the love of God.”
Dante stood outside holding a bag of bread and a thermos.
He wore dark trousers and a white shirt. His face looked tired, but he was clean-shaven and perfectly put together.
“Am I too early?” he asked.
“Very.”
“I knew I would be.”
“Then why did you come?”
Elisa shouted from the kitchen:
“Daddy Dante!”
All three appeared immediately afterward.
Tomás wore only one sock.
Cecília carried her blue cloth.
Elisa had toothpaste on her chin.
Dante crouched.
All three collided with him at once.
Elisa wrapped her arms around his neck.
Tomás threw himself against his chest.
Cecília stopped nearby, waiting for space.
Dante opened one arm for her without calling her over.
She stepped into it.
I watched the four of them.
It was the first time the triplets greeted him as someone they had been waiting for.
Not as a visitor.
As someone returning.
“You took too long,” Elisa complained.
“I slept once.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I warned you.”
Tomás touched his face.
“You don’t have beard.”
“I shaved.”
“Why?”
“Because you said it scratched.”
“But I said no.”
Dante went still.
“You did.”
“You did it wrong.”
“I can let it grow again.”
“Not today.”
“All right.”
Cecília held his shirt.
“Was your house bad?”
“Very.”
“Had car?”
“No.”
“Then very bad.”
Dante smiled.
“Exactly.”
He stood.
“I brought bread for the adults. I did not buy anything for the children.”
I looked at the bag.
“They eat bread.”
“I asked Mrs. Lurdes yesterday what you usually serve at breakfast. She said you already had food for them.”
Mrs. Lurdes pretended to inspect a fingernail.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“Prepared,” she corrected.
Dante came inside.
Breakfast was as noisy as always.
Tomás refused the egg because it was “looking” at him.
Elisa wanted to know why Dante needed to work in S?o Paulo.
Cecília recounted every time she had slept, including two naps that were not part of the count.
“You came back early,” I said as I poured coffee.
Dante looked at me.
“The meeting ended last night.”
“You traveled during the night?”
“I flew to Belo Horizonte. The driver brought me from there.”
“Did you sleep?”
“On the plane.”
“That isn’t sleeping.”
“That is what you said about your five-minute intervals.”
Mrs. Lurdes laughed.
“He learned to answer back.”
“He’s learning too much,” I said.
Dante drank his coffee.
“I have another meeting at ten.”
“Here?”
“At the house.”
“Then you shouldn’t be here.”
“I wanted to see them before school.”
“You’re going to see them at noon.”
“I know.”
“You don’t need to appear at every possible hour.”
The sentence came out harsher than I intended.
His face did not change.
“All right.”
Elisa looked at me.
“You mad?”
“No.”
“Looks like.”
“We’re talking.”
“Loud?” Tomás asked.
“No.”
Dante set his cup on the table.
“I should have asked before coming.”
His lack of defensiveness made me feel worse.
“You should have.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“You don’t need to turn everything into a rule.”
“How do I know the difference?”
The question was sincere.
I sighed.
“You can send a message.”
“At six in the morning?”
“No.”
“Then I wait until a reasonable hour.”
“Yes.”
“Eight?”
“Seven thirty.”
“All right.”
Elisa raised her hand.
“I wake at six.”
“I know,” I said.
“He can come at six.”
“You don’t decide.”
“But it’s my house too.”
“Exactly why you don’t decide everything.”
She pouted.
Dante looked at his watch.
“I need to go.”
The children protested.
“You just got here,” Tomás said.
“I’ll see you at school.”
“School now?”
“After breakfast.”
Cecília held his hand.
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
The response came without hesitation.
Dante kissed the top of Elisa’s head.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
I had never established a rule about kisses.
Perhaps he simply still asked permission for every gesture of affection.
I nodded.
He kissed Tomás.
Cecília offered her forehead before he called her.
Dante closed his eyes when his lips touched her skin.
When he straightened, his eyes found mine.
“I’ll be back at noon.”
“All right.”
He left.
The children remained in the doorway until the car disappeared.
“He came back,” Cecília said.
“He did.”
“Like he said.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
It was small.
But it was there.
Later, after taking them to school, I found a message from a client.
The restoration of a panel inside a chapel forty kilometers from Santa Brígida needed to be inspected that day. A leak had appeared near the frame, and the priest feared damage to the painting.
I had postponed the visit twice.
I could not postpone it again.
I called Mrs. Lurdes.
“I can collect the children,” she answered. “But my knee is worse.”
“You don’t need to. I’ll be back before noon.”
“Forty kilometers on a mountain road?”
“I’ll drive quickly.”
“Don’t drive quickly.”
“It was just an expression.”
I checked the time.
I had three hours.
It would be enough.
I sent Dante a message.
I’m going to inspect a chapel in S?o Bartolomeu. I should be back before school pickup. I’ll let you know if I’m delayed.
He answered almost immediately.
I can collect them.
I haven’t authorized that yet.
If you are delayed.
Mrs. Lurdes is authorized.
Several seconds passed.
Her knee is hurting.
I looked toward the house next door.
Another betrayal.
You talk to her too much.
She talks to me. That is different.
I almost smiled.
I’ll be back in time.
All right. Drive carefully.
I did not answer.
I did not need his recommendations.
Even so, I slowed down when the road began climbing.
The chapel stood at the top of a hill surrounded by eucalyptus trees. The telephone signal disappeared almost completely during the final stretch.
The problem was worse than the priest had described.
Water had seeped down behind the panel and compromised the wooden base.
Part of the piece would need to be removed before the next rain.
I photographed everything.
Took measurements.
Explained the risks.
When I finished, it was eleven twenty.
“I need to leave,” I said.
The priest attempted to offer me lunch.
I refused.
I returned to the car.
The engine would not start.
I tried again.
Nothing.
My stomach dropped.
I got out and opened the hood, although I did not understand enough to identify the problem.
The priest approached.
“The battery?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mr. Geraldo’s son understands cars.”
“How long will it take him to get here?”
“He lives past the bridge.”
I looked at my telephone.
No signal.
“Is there a landline?”
“In the sacristy.”
I ran.
The line was dead.
The previous week’s rain had damaged the cables.
“I need to collect my children in forty minutes.”
“I can take you.”
“Do you have a car?”
“A tractor.”
I closed my eyes.
I would not make it.
I climbed to the highest point on the property again, holding the telephone above my head.
One bar appeared.
Then vanished.
I attempted to call Mrs. Lurdes.
The call failed.
I tried the school.
Nothing.
Then I selected Dante.
The call dropped twice.
On the third attempt, I heard his voice.
“Aurora?”
“My car broke down.”
“Where are you?”
“S?o Bartolomeu. At the chapel.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. I need you to collect the children.”
The silence on the other end lasted less than a second.
“I’ll get them.”
“The school still needs my authorization.”
“Call Marta.”
“The signal is failing.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“You can’t handle it without me.”
“Then send the school a short message. I’m already listed as an emergency contact.”
“This isn’t an emergency.”
“You’re stranded forty kilometers away.”
“Don’t frighten the children.”
“I won’t.”
“Cecília may think I disappeared.”
“I’ll tell her your car had a problem and you are coming back.”
“Don’t promise a time.”
“I won’t.”
“And…”
The call dropped.
I looked at the screen.
No signal.
My heart beat quickly.
Not because I was stranded.
Because of the children.
Because I was handing Dante a responsibility for which I still did not feel prepared.
I returned to the place where one bar appeared and sent a message to the school.
I authorize Dante Ferraz to collect Elisa, Cecília, and Tomás today. I’m having car trouble.
The message remained pending.
Then one checkmark appeared.
I did not know whether it had arrived.
Dante sent:
I’m on my way.
Two words.
No promise.
No attempt to reassure me with certainties he did not possess.
Mr. Geraldo’s son arrived twenty minutes later.
It was the belt.
He could arrange a car to take me back to town, but it would take time.
While I waited, I called repeatedly.
No signal.
For the first time since the triplets were born, someone else would take responsibility for all three without me nearby.
Not Mrs. Lurdes.
Not a teacher.
Dante.
The man who had abandoned them before they were born.
The man who now knew which cup Tomás used, where Cecília hid, and that Elisa put plastic beads in her mouth.
I should have felt only fear.
But there was something else.
A small trust.
Unwanted.
Built during the previous days without my noticing.
Dante would show up.
I believed that.
And that certainty frightened me almost as much as the possibility that I might be wrong.