Chapter 3
Victoria awoke after darkness had fallen. She looked about the room in a panic for a few minutes before realizing, at last, where she was.
Diego's room.
Her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room slowly, and in a few minutes, she could see quite clearly the simple, but elegant, furnishings around her. The dark woods of the wardrobe and the tables blended in with the dark shadows, but the rich cloth of the drapes and coverings told, even in near darkness, of the wealth that had furnished this room.
The pillow was still damp beneath her hand. She had cried long and hard as Consuela had fussed over her after Don Alejandro had left the room. Sleep had claimed her finally through the sheer exhaustion of simply trying to breathe.
She got up out of bed and padded across in her bare feet to the wardrobe. She wore a long nightgown that had belonged to Elena de la Vega and it rustled slightly as she moved. Being careful to not make a sound and awaken the rest of the household, she opened the wardrobe doors. There, neatly hanging in carefully measured intervals, were Diego's jackets, shirts and pants. Running her hands amid the folds of the expensive, tailored clothing, she inhaled the scent of Diego that clung lightly to the garments he had worn.
There were blues, browns, and whites in the closet. Nothing very elaborate and every item understated and classic. That was Diego. The thought occurred to her then that he had spent a good deal of effort to be …overlooked. And that was exactly what she had done. She had overlooked him.
Turning away from the thought and the wardrobe, she approached the bureau. A small wooden box lay on top of it, exactly in the center. Her mind took in that fact with surprise at the exactness of it. Just like the clothes in the closet. She looked quickly about the room.
Everything was precisely placed. Somehow the thought was jarring to her mind. It didn't fit with Diego. Diego was not a fastidious person. He scarcely gave a thought to how he looked most of the time, how he —"
"Victoria." The voice was like a whisper carried by the wind, barely more than that, and she whirled around towards the sound quickly.
But no one was there. Only silence.
She went quickly to the door of the room, opened it and stepped into the hallway. No one was there. She shut the door, went back inside and crossed to the window to look out into the moonlit nightscape. Still, no one was there.
Chills swept up her spine and she shivered in the night air. Had she imagined someone saying her name?
No, not someone — Zorro. She had heard Zorro's voice. Her breathing had sped up and she found she was clutching tightly the silk of the nightdress at her throat.
Forcing her own hands to relax and her breathing to calm, she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. Imagination could run wild at night. She knew that. She had awakened from a sound sleep and in a strange bedroom and there was even the possibility Don Alejandro had put something in the milk she'd had before bed. It was no wonder she was imagining she had heard a voice.
She reached for the water glass on the bedside table and her hand brushed the letter off the stand and onto the floor. The bright white rectangle of paper at her feet glowed brightly as it reflected the moonlight and the bold writing on the surface captured her attention.
The word "death" leapt up off the paper and danced in front of her eyes.
Calmly, she leaned down, picked up the envelope, and placed it carefully on the nightstand with the writing facedown. She swallowed hard, struggling to control her emotions. The glass in her hand was empty and she closed her eyes and blocked all thoughts that tried to connect any significance to that emptiness.
"That's easily remedied," she whispered to no one in the room. "I can just go to the kitchen and get some more water."
"Water!"
Victoria stood and spun around, looking for the person who had spoken. There was no one there.
"I heard that!" she whispered harshly to herself. "I know I did!" Still, nothing but a dimly lit, lonely room could be seen. Stilling her own trembling hands, she reached for the tinderbox on the nightstand and shakily lit the candle there. Pulling the matching robe over her nightdress, and without even looking around the room once more, she went quickly through the door and into the hallway.
"Elena!" Don Alejandro clutched at his chest in surprise. For one brief moment, he had thought his dear departed wife was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Then he released a long sigh as sanity took hold of him once more. "Victoria! I'm sorry. You startled me. I thought for a minute that—"
"Oh, Don Alejandro, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were here. I didn't think…" She realized the sight she must have presented to him in the darkened room in her borrowed clothes.
"It is a strange night tonight, isn't it?" He gestured for her to take a seat at the long table that dominated one end of the huge kitchen. "Are you hungry as well? I am. Neither of us ate much this evening. Now, let's see what Maria's larder holds that will make a nice midnight snack for us both? Heh?"
She could tell he was forcing the cheerfulness he was displaying, but playing along was much better than admitting to what she had just imagined.
"Yes, a snack would be nice. I just couldn't sleep tonight." She took a seat at the table and was able to smile at the sight of the older caballero trying to find his way about a kitchen. "Uh, Don Alejandro, did you say anything out loud just before I came in here?"
"No, dear, I tried to be as quiet as I could. Now, would you rather have eggs or some nice flan? At least, I think I could manage eggs…"
"Oh, the flan would be nice," she said, knowing the flan was all prepared and would be less trouble.
"Ahh… flan, it is then." He went about preparing a dish for both of them and poured some milk to go along with it. Victoria sat quietly all the while, just waiting and calming her frayed nerves, hoping to present much more of a serene exterior than she really felt.
"Here we are, Victoria. I know it's good because I had some for lunch." He sat down across from her, wondering briefly at the appropriateness of it all. It was just as well that Maria was sound asleep. She'd never approve of him eating in the kitchen like this, much less entertaining a guest, and in his nightclothes too!
Their eyes met and both smiled.
"Is Maria …" Victoria pointed toward the door at the far end of the kitchen.
"Yes. You know, it might be best if we moved all this to the dining room. I should not like to wake her."
"Then let's do it." She stood up and reached for the dishes with a well-practiced ease and balanced them on her arm and hand and then took up the napkins and spoons with the other. Don Alejandro carried the glasses of milk and they both padded in their bare feet down the hallway and into the dining room.
It was darker in this room, for there was no oven with glowing coals to light up the space. Don Alejandro had some of the candles of the candelabrum lit within minutes and they provided a limited glow about the room that failed to reach into the far corners. They sat in chairs next to each other so their conversation could be kept quiet, even though they were more removed from the rest of the household now.
"Much better, isn't it?"
"Not quite as cozy as the kitchen though," Victoria replied.
"No, no. But I always feel as if the kitchen belongs to Maria."
"But it's your house!" Victoria objected.
He chuckled lightly but the laugh never reached his eyes. Then he asked in a very serious tone, "Did you read the letter, Victoria?"
She paused with the glass half way to her lips. "No, I couldn't bear to. I just couldn't." She shook her head. "It would be like admitting he's not coming back."
"Victoria, it's been three months. The chances are—"
"He's not dead!" She whispered the words that she had been saying over and over in her mind. "He's not dead. He's not."
"Why can you not believe it?"
"Do you?" It was an accusation.
Don Alejandro looked down at his hands. "Yes, my dear. I think I do. But then, I've seen so much more death than you have in your short life. Maybe it's easier for me to accept such a possibility."
Victoria reached over and placed her hand on his to comfort him. "Victoria, you need to read the letter."
"Don Alejandro,—"
"Dear, I don't know exactly what he would have said in yours. Your relationship was … well, I'm not entirely sure now what your relationship was …"
"Diego was my best friend. You…he… had to know that." Her eyes glistened in the candlelight for the tears were close at hand. "He was —" She stopped. It was the first time she had referred to Diego in the past tense and the significance screamed at her.
"He was more than that, I think. Why else would you be so upset?" He stood up, letting her hand fall away from his. "I'll be back. Wait here."
"Don Alejandro, where…" Her words were lost on the empty room. She saw the flames of the candles flicker from the movement he'd made in leaving her. The dark edges of the room seemed to encroach upon her minute by minute and she half feared she'd again hear the strange whispers like she had before in Diego's room.
"Oh, Diego!" She let the tears fall and her head fell forward on her arms on the table.
"There, there, my child." Don Alejandro had come back. She looked up at him through tousled hair and swimming tears and saw he held the unopened letter from her, no – from Diego's nightstand.
"You need to read this. If he told you the same thing that he told me, I think it would be best if you read it while someone else who could share it with you was there. And I am the only one that can be that person." He placed the letter in her hand and closed her fingers around it.
"But I don't think I want to …" Violent sobs shook her small frame and she struggled for breath. "I don't …think I can…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand and tried to collect her thoughts and then her words came tumbling out as muddled as her thoughts. "Oh, why couldn't I have seen Diego for what he was to me! You know how I dismissed him, overlooked him. I all but ignored him…took him for granted in every way I could have. When I think of the times I should have taken time out of my day just to talk to him, ask him his opinion. Don Alejandro, he was so intelligent! Did you know that he was so intelligent?" She looked up at the man almost expecting this to be a new thought to him.
"I know, dear, I know. More intelligent than we ever dreamed of too, it seems. Victoria, read the letter," he insisted once more.
She wiped again at her eyes and focused on the envelope, so stark, so white even in the darkened room. "All right, I will. But only because you insist." She slid a finger underneath the seal and pulled the page from the envelope. "Not because I think he's dead though," she shot a warning glance at him, "because I just can't believe…" She let her own words die away as her eyes began to see the words, Diego's words, written there.
Dear Victoria,
If you are reading this letter, it is because something has parted me from you forever. It is strange to write this as I am very much alive as I sit here in the cave. Yes, cave. You see, now I can tell you the one great secret of my life, for now it means so little.
I am Zorro.
The letter fluttered out of her hands and onto the floor as she looked up at Don Alejandro in disbelief.
"He's Zorro!" She choked out the words.
"Yes, Zorro." He nodded and the two people looked at each other searchingly. Victoria hadn't realized how much all of this had aged the man. He looked ten years older than he had three months ago.
"But…but…" she protested at the very idea, even as her thoughts came and went with scenes of Diego and Zorro and the two men melted together in her mind. "No, it is just not…." But she knew, deep down, that it was possible. It was very possible and it explained so much. So very much…
"Victoria?" Don Alejandro had watched the emotions flit across her face as she went from denial to acceptance to wonder and back to disbelief.
"NO! Oh, Madre de Dios! I've lost them both!" And she looked at Don Alejandro with a look of utmost horror etched on her face. It just couldn't be true!
She got up and swayed on her feet. Don Alejandro put a hand out to steady her. But it was unneeded as she picked up the folds of the skirt of her nightdress and turned to run from the room, seeking out the dark sanctuary of Diego's room.
Don Alejandro sighed deeply and leaned down to pick up the fallen letter. He slowly smoothed out the paper and reinserted it back in its envelope carefully. He knew she could not have read it all and had probably stopped at the revelation of his son's confession. Knowing also that there would be more declarations in the letter as there had been in his, he rose slowly so he could take the letter to Victoria so she could read the rest later.
He walked slowly down the hallway toward the room, Diego's room. His shoulders stooped a little further as he thought about never being able to talk to his son again, never being able to apologize for so much that weighed so heavily on his soul now. As he neared the doorway, he heard the sobbing and sighed yet again.
She was lying face down across the bed, still in her robe and he went to her to console her.
"Victoria, oh, Victoria," he said as he patted her back in sympathy. "We'll both get through this. It will just take time." He continued in that vein for some minutes and it seemed that she was trying to control herself, trying to control the crying.
When she finally raised her head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, all she saw was his sad, resigned and forced smile.
"How …can …you …stand this?" she asked, the words punctuated with sobs.
"I don't …I don't quite know, my dear. There's an unreality about all this to me yet. It's like a bad dream. I just don't know."
"But this is Diego! It's not like you…" she couldn't find the words she needed to ask him all she wanted. What exactly did she want of him? Hysterical crying like she herself was doing?
Her breaths were coming in gasps around the sobs she was trying desperately to control. This was doing no good. Even as the tears began falling again, she wanted them to stop so she could think. There was something important trying to gain hold in her mind. Something important was tugging at her emotions and her thoughts.
"Wait!" She turned and sat full upright on the bed, surprising Don Alejandro with the sudden move. "Wait! We need to think about this. Do you believe the letters?" She grabbed at his sleeve with both hands. "Do you believe it?"
"You mean do I believe his claim to be Zorro? Yes." He drew out the word on a long breath. "I read my letter this evening many times. Yes, I believe it. Diego would never make such a claim and it not be true." His voice became hoarse as he continued, "I can see it now. All the excuses that didn't make sense, all the pretense and … and all the times I berated him, made fun of him…oh, I have a lot to answer for, my dear. That's the hardest thing for me. I can't even apologize to him for it all." And with that, Don Alejandro finally broke down and cried for his son.
Their roles had exchanged, and Victoria found her strength and comforted Don Alejandro. She let the man cry unashamedly, but all the while, her thoughts were churning. Diego was Zorro! Zorro was Diego!
Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thoughts coalesced into one.
"Don Alejandro! Don Alejandro! Diego is Zorro!" She said the name as if it was magical. "Zorro!" Her face had lit up in excitement. "Don't you see what that means?" She had grabbed Don Alejandro by the lapels of his robe and was looking at him imploringly.
"Yes, my dear, I know. But I'm not sure if you should say that so loudly…" He turned toward the open doorway, all at once aware that this was a secret that had been carefully kept. Was it one that could be shared openly now, just because Diego was dead?
"Don Alejandro, Diego could never survive whatever happened out on that ship. That's what we've been thinking. Diego could not have survived. But Zorro! Zorro could have! Diego knows so much, but it's Zorro that does so much!" She licked her lips at the thought. Then she looked Don Alejandro straight in the eyes and asked, "Do you believe ZORRO could survive a shipwreck?"
"What?" Her intensity was compelling and he let his own thoughts race along in the direction of hers. "Yes, Zorro could…" For the first time in months, Don Alejandro broke into a smile that spread to his eyes. "Yes! I believe Zorro could survive…" He looked around the room as he thought about the possibilities that Victoria had suggested and his eyes fell on the familiar objects and furnishings of the room. Diego's room. "No…wait… Victoria, let us not get our hopes up again. I've been through all this in the past few months. It doesn't help. It's grasping at straws"
"Don Alejandro! Bite your tongue! Now that you know, you should have faith in Diego. Have faith that he can come back to us. He is not dead. I knew it before and I know it for sure now. This only makes me even surer of it!"
She looked around at the same room and furnishings that had collapsed the hope in Don Alejandro and let it reinforce hers. "Look at this room. Everything in its place. Look at this!" She pointed to the wooden box that contained cufflinks and other pieces of jewelry that Diego hardly ever wore. "It's placed exactly, precisely, in the center. You couldn't measure this and be more precise. Look at these clothes!" She opened the wardrobe. "Everything is a measured distance from the next item. Oh, I knew Diego was one who likes order in his life, but I never knew until I saw this that he likes control." She looked at Don Alejandro pointedly. "Control. That's what Zorro does. He controls situations. He controls the outcomes. He plans. He prepares. And then he always wins!" She said it triumphantly.
"But, Victoria, we aren't talking of a situation that a man can control. It was a storm at sea. Even Zorro cannot control the weather. We can't fault him for going up against nature and losing. No, I want to join you in this belief, but it's just not a practical way of looking at this. It was a bad storm at sea. The ship went down and all but two, maybe three, men went down with the ship. I'm afraid, my dear, that even Zorro could not fight a raging sea like those men spoke of when they were found. No, let's be sensible. We need to get on with our lives."
"No!"
"Yes, Victoria." Don Alejandro crossed slowly to the door. "Zorro or not, a man is only a man and he can only do so much against things like storms at sea. Forget this. Read the rest of your letter. There should be some comfort there for you. At least Diego thought ahead enough to do this much for us. We should be grateful for these small things. Goodnight, my dear. Try to sleep now. Things always look better in the sunlight."
Victoria watched him go and went to close the door behind him. Her mood would not descend to match his. She looked about the room again, and again, she could see all the small details that told her Diego was indeed the masked man she loved. And that man was fully capable of going up against any storm at sea and coming back to her.
"Victoria." She heard the whisper once more, but this time it didn't upset her. It was Diego telling her he was alive. She just had to find him.
