Chapter Seven

Remy awoke with a gasp on a hard dirt floor. Someone outside was calling her name, but her dusty throat could barely manage a “Hello?” from inside the cottage. Her head throbbed and her tongue felt swollen and sticky in her mouth. Squinting against the bright light permeating dirty windows, she tried to get a grip on her surroundings.

There was no table, no food on kitchen counters, no brightly woven rugs on the floor. There was no Lino, or Bieito, or their father. The air wasn’t filled with the smoky scent of burning wood and fish and wine. The only thing in the cottage was Remy, shivering on the cold ground, still her clothes from the day before, only with a hangover from hell.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello?” she called, sitting up slowly.

“Remy?” The door pushed open and Anita walked in.

“Remy, what the hell?”

Self-consciously, Remy stood up and brushed the dirt off her clothes. Her hand reached up to smooth her hair, only to discover it was a tangled rat’s nest.

“Have you been drinking?” Anita asked.

“Just a little,” Remy lied.

Anita shook her head. “Look, I know it’s been a terrible time, but you can’t just go on a bender! Not with Jack at the hospital. He’s been asking for you. I can’t believe you would just disappear on him. And me. I’ve been calling you all day. You’ve been MIA for two days, since you freaking walked out and left me with Jack and the doctors. Thanks for that, by the way—”

Oh shit, Jack! A rush of memories bombarded Remy and cleared her foggy head. “Is he okay?”

Anita let out a huff. “You’d know that if you bothered to pick up your phone! Do you know how long it took me to find this place? Nobody would freaking tell me where it was! Then I couldn’t leave Jack all by himself, so it took forever until I could get over here—”

Remy cut Anita off mid-rant. “What do you mean two days? I left the hospital yesterday morning.”

“No, you didn’t. Today is the sixth. What the hell happened to you?”

It can’t be the sixth, Remy thought. She had come back to the village yesterday morning, found Sebastian there, then saw Bieito, and had dinner with him and his family. “I didn’t lose a day,” she whispered.

“Damn right you did.”

Her best friend would have understood if Remy wanted to get away for the night. Hell, she would have understood if Remy didn’t want to answer her phone for a few hours. But the only way that Anita would be this irritated with Remy was if what she claimed was true; Remy had been gone for two days. She had abandoned her ex-husband and best friend at the hospital without so much as a heads up.

Anita was still ranting. “So not only was I trying to keep it together for Jack—who, by the way, probably won’t suffer from long-term memory loss, if you care—I had to wonder if my best friend had been abducted or murdered or whatever and then try to track you down in the middle of nowhere!”

“I’m so sorry, Anita,” Remy said. Emotion usually surged forth with a heartfelt apology, but the words sounded robotic to Remy’s ears. “I—I don’t know what happened to me. Honestly. I should never have put you in this position.”

Anita sighed. “I came here to help you, and I understand why you wanted to escape for a while, but can you please not do it again?” Anita gestured to Remy’s rumpled appearance. “Time to get it together, girl.”

“I will. I promise I will.”

“Good. That starts with visiting Jack at the hospital. But first, you need to clean up.” Remy nodded meekly and allowed herself to be tugged from the cottage. “Where exactly do you shower around here?”

Without a word, Remy pointed over to the well, and the bucket sitting on top of the cover. Anita rolled her eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“It isn’t so bad…”

“Once you aren’t so disgusting, you and I are going to have a sit down, come-to-Jesus chat about everything. I know you said that this place was a fixer-upper, but now that I see it, I just have to ask, what on earth possessed you to buy this heap?”

“It’s coming along.” Remy defended her village. “You just can’t see my vision.”

“You are living like a hobo up in the mountains! When are you going to have an actual house?”

“I’m moving into the cottage, as soon as I fix it up. It’s my favorite.”

“Yeah? And what about the rest of this? What are you going to do with all these extra buildings and so much space? It is like one giant code violation. How are you getting any of your painting done?”

Remy didn’t want to tell her, almost as if by saying it out loud she was setting herself up for failure, but she needed Anita to understand. “I’m turning it into an art school.”

“You think people are going to want to come stay here?”

“I want to turn it into an intensive program. For children like me whose parents have no idea what to do with them.”

Anita’s eyes widened. “Do you have any idea what a place like that would cost to run?”

“Sort of,” Remy confessed.

“And are parents paying for their kids to attend your ‘school’?”

“Well, I was thinking it could be an outreach program. With scholarship funds for the kids who deserve to come but can’t afford it.”

“Okay, I doubted your sanity before—you disappeared for two days—but now I know you’re crazy.”

“What’s wrong with my idea?” Remy demanded.

Anita considered her words carefully before speaking. “I just don’t think you’re in the best place right now to take something like this on. Especially when it involves kids…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, how is your next collection coming? Have you started? You need to be honest with me. I’m your agent and pretty much the only person in your court right now.”

“I told you, this place is inspiring me—”

“You aren’t even painting right now, Remy! How are you going to teach when you can’t even do?”

That very thought had been haunting Remy, but she liked living in the land of denial. “I’ll get back to it, I know it.”

“And meanwhile, what am I supposed to do?” Anita demanded. “You aren’t selling anything new, which means neither you or I are making any money. How long until you run out of cash? Are you even going to make a dent in the repairs with the money you have access to?”

Remy’s fingers clutched her temples. “Stop! Just stop! Why did you come here to attack me?”

“I’m not attacking you, Remy. I just want you to be realistic and see this for what it is. Your little project almost killed Jack. It’s a time and money suck, and it is preventing you from working on your art. You’re never going to get this place up and running, much less as a scholarship program so you can be ‘pretend mom’ to a bunch of needy kids. This isn’t the life you’re supposed to be leading. Why are you so determined to fuck everything up?”

“Fuck everything up?” Remy’s anger surged. “I thought you were happy for me. That you understood why I needed to get away and start over. You’re my best friend, and you’re supposed to be supportive—”

“Well, I guess I stopped being supportive when I spent all day yesterday taking care of your ex-husband in a foreign country while you were lost doing God-knows-what.” Anita’s voice softened as she changed tactics and continued. “Seeing you this morning, girl, I’m worried. Not gonna lie. I really don’t think you’re in the best place right now to be here alone, physically or mentally.”

Remy opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t think of an effective retort. What leg did she have to stand on, really? She hadn’t even known what day it was when she woke up this morning. It had been a month and she had yet to paint anything. The entire village was one big liability, as evidenced by Jack’s injuries. Was Anita right to question everything? Did it take someone with an outsider’s perspective to see what was really happening here? I’m in too deep, Remy decided. Too deep to see the truth, but also too deep to back out now. “I just know that I’m supposed to be here, Anita.”

“Then you aren’t living in the real world.”

“Maybe not,” Remy conceded. “And maybe you’re right, about all of it. But I won’t know for sure until I’ve tried. I need more time.”

“I want you to come back to the States with me and Jack. I can’t leave you here knowing that you’re like…this. So lost.”

“Are the doctors going to let Jack travel home soon?” Remy felt relief at that for two different reasons—one, because Jack was okay, and two, because Anita and Jack would leave soon, and she could be alone in her village again.

“In a few days, maybe a week, depending on how he does on the follow up tests. He says he wants his leg surgeries done in the U.S. You would know all of this if you showed up and talked to him. He’s been asking for you. I’ve had to dodge so many of his questions. He deserves better than how you’ve treated him, Remy.”

Really? Anita wants to start in on this now? “I already feel guilty enough that I walked out yesterday. I mean, two days ago. I’ll go see him today.”

“I don’t just mean the accident, Remy. I mean the whole thing. You should have seen him back home. He’s been a wreck. I know you won’t even talk about the divorce with me, but you need to give him some answers.”

Remy bristled at being ordered around more. “It’s complicated.”

“I just hate to see him hurting so much.”

He’s hurting so much? What about me? I am too! Remy wanted to scream. He wouldn’t even be here and hurt if you hadn’t opened your big mouth and told him where I was! But now was not the time to open that can of worms, especially because Anita looked done dealing with Remy’s shit.

“Clean yourself up,” Anita said. “I’ll be in the car. You know, the one I rented to drive all over the place looking for you.”

Message received. Remy was in no position to argue with her friend anymore. She changed into some clean clothes after washing off at the well and started to head up to the driveway. Unable to help herself, she turned around to give the cottage one last, confused look. Before she left, she had to know if anything had been changed, if there was truly any evidence of Bieito and his family living there.

Remy entered the cottage again, fully expecting to find at least a shred of proof. Last time she’d talked to Bieito, the door on the main house turned red. He would have left me a sign.

There was nothing. The cottage was still as empty as it had been this morning when Remy woke up.

“Seriously?” she said out loud. No hints of her evening and no clues to understand why. “Fine.” She slammed the cottage door shut and walked through the square. As always, the red door taunted her. My books! she remembered. They were still stacked on the front porch of the main house from when she had talked with Sebastian.

“Hurry up Remy!” she heard Anita call.

Considering all the damage that had already been done to the books, Remy couldn’t very well leave them out in the open again. There looked like more rain on the horizon, maybe even a summer storm. She stacked up her treasures and walked them to the car.

“What are those?”

“Reading material. For when I’m stuck at the hospital and Jack is asleep.”

Anita cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips at Remy’s choice of words but didn’t press further. In fact, the two friends hardly exchanged a word on the half an hour drive to Coruña.

When Anita pulled into the hospital parking lot and killed the engine, she seemed to be waiting for Remy to make the first move. When Remy remained in her seat, Anita sighed and turned to her.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning. But you have to understand. I’m worried about the choices you are making lately. I know you need my help with Jack, but you have to show that you’re trying, too. Otherwise it is just too hard.”

Remy nodded. “I will. I promise. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t around.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Anita said. “I don’t know if I’m helping, or helping you fall apart. You might be better off if I wasn’t here…”

Desperation struck Remy. “No, please! I need you here. Jack needs you. I’ll do better.”

“Well, that starts with you getting out of the car.”

“Oh, right.”

****

Jack was awake when the women walked into his room, and more alert than Remy had anticipated. He managed to give them a wry smile, but it was Anita to whom he spoke first. “So, you managed to find her, I see.”

He didn’t sound confused or concussed to Remy, until Anita continued the conversation. “And what’s her name?”

There was a long pause as Jack struggled to come up with the answer. “She’s my wife. My ex-wife.”

“But what’s her name, Jack?” Anita gently prompted.

Oh my God, Remy thought. Answer her! You know my name!

“Remy!” Remy blurted out.

Anita spun around to her. “You’re supposed to let him answer. Details and memories might be slow and fuzzy for a little while, but he needs to practice recalling them. He will get better every day, but you can’t just answer things for him.”

Remy might have been in the wrong, but Jack looked relieved to have an answer, and rested back onto his pillows with a sigh. “Remy,” he said. “Where did you go?”

“I, uh, had to go home for a while. I’m sorry I took so long, Jack. I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better, though.”

“I think it’s the drugs,” he said, and gave her a wink. It reminded Remy so much of when they were married that it hit her like a punch in the gut. The guilt from avoiding him, and the guilt that overwhelmed her when she got too close to him were fighting it out in her consciousness. It was too hard to know which was the right choice. Staying, and staying away, both felt wrong.

But you’re here now, so suck it up, she told herself.

“There was something I wanted to ask you,” he said, motioning for Remy to come closer. “I was wondering if you would—”

Remy interrupted his question, sensing that it was leading down a road she wasn’t prepared to deal with yet. “Do you remember what happened at the village, Jack? With the accident?”

Jack’s face twisted into a grimace, as if the memory caused him physical pain. “I remember that I wanted to help you. To prove…something…important. Then I was inside a house. An old house. I thought it was empty, but I heard noises farther back. Like people talking, or fighting. So I followed it. Then I heard a loud noise, like a crack. I felt something heavy hit me.”

Remy’s heart started to pound. “You heard people talking in my village? What did they say?”

“Be careful not to push him, Remy,” Anita warned.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“You couldn’t understand them?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No,” Jack said, closing his eyes. “I don’t remember. The next thing I remember was waking up here. My body hurts.”

Anita held Jack’s hand. “You need to rest. Get better. Otherwise you won’t be allowed to travel home.”

“But—” Remy protested, and Anita cut her off with a meaningful glare. Jack heard voices? In the main house? That didn’t make sense. No one else should have been there. No one else, including Jack. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

What was going on with her village? If Jack had experienced some weird stuff too, then maybe it wasn’t all in Remy’s head. Her mind started to spin with possible explanations, but each one sounded more far-fetched than the last. There really was no way to explain what had been happening to her, but Remy knew one thing for sure—the answers lay within the property itself.

Everything led back to the village. She hadn’t experienced anything out of the ordinary anywhere else in Spain. The instances of weird occurrences were when she was alone among the buildings.

Remy felt a burst of hopeful energy shake the last of her hangover away. She felt more alert than she had in hours, filled with new determination to find a real explanation. Of course, there was always the chance she was completely wrong, taking the word of a severely concussed and injured man as the only additional evidence to her own experiences.

“I’m tired, Remy,” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember what you need me to remember.”

“Oh Jack, it’s okay. Rest for a few more days, and then you’ll be on a plane home before you know it. You’ll be up walking again in no time.”

“And you’ll come with me? You won’t leave me alone?”

Remy didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want to coddle him but didn’t know how to let him down gently. She was almost one hundred percent sure now that she wasn’t going to be leaving with him. She settled for dodging the point. “You won’t be alone.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, because Anita would technically be with him.

Anita, however, seemed to visibly relax at her words, no doubt misinterpreting them as Jack did. She reached over to give Remy a half-hug with one arm, her other hand still grasping Jack’s. “You’re making the right decision,” she whispered to Remy. “Jack needs you.”

Is it technically a lie? I still have a week to break it to them gently that I’m not going, Remy reassured herself. There was no point in getting everyone worked up about it now. Maybe if she got a grip on everything in the next few days—her painting, her career, the renovation—the rest of her life would fall into place. That won’t happen, though, until I stop seeing things that aren’t there and disappearing for days a time. But if I can figure out why it’s happening, then I can fix it.

Unable to sit still, Remy jumped up and began pacing the room. Jack’s eyes tracked her, but he didn’t ask any more questions. She wanted to go research her village right now and get answers, and the hospital walls felt like they were closing in on her again. Jack was being taken care of, and there was nothing she could really do here anyway. All she could do was sit and stare at him, which didn’t feel very productive.

“Remy, don’t you have some books out in the car that you brought to read to Jack?” Anita prompted.

“They’re in Spanish,” Remy said. Anita just gave her a bewildered stare but dropped the subject. Remy was unable to think of anything else to talk about, especially because she couldn’t pester Jack about the accident, so she paced in silence until Anita grew exasperated.

“Remy, will you go pick us up some lunch, please? I’m sure Jack could use a change from the hospital food, and you’re keeping him from resting right now.”

“She’s not,” Jack mumbled. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. Remy’s energy could not be contained in that little room, and even the patient felt her stimulating effect.

“Okay,” Remy agreed, and held out her hand.

“What do you need? Money?” Anita asked, looking offended.

“No, your car keys.”

Anita fished them out of her purse. “Come right back, okay?”

“I will,” Remy said, with every intent to fulfill her promise.

Once Remy left the hospital, though, all thoughts of food flew out the window. The need to know about her village consumed her. There didn’t seem to be any real answers in the village itself, just more riddles. Remy decided she would have to change tactics. I’ll drive and take Maggie the books.

For whatever reason, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time. Later, when Anita made her opinion known over the phone while Remy was in Madrid, it would seem like a less brilliant plan. Remy ended up using her last chance with Anita without a second thought, and the scary part was, she didn’t even feel that bad about it.

They are trying to convince me to abandon my home, she rationalized. Remy wasn’t going to give up that easily, not until she knew for sure what was happening to her. Like adopting a stray dog from the shelter, Remy couldn’t just abandon her village at the first sign of trouble. The place itself might be a little more complicated than she originally thought, and Remy needed to be equipped to deal with it.

Driving south, Remy remembered seeing this countryside for the first time with Maggie. Jet-lagged, confused, and trusting a stranger to bring her home. If she had known then what a headache the village would bring, would she have done everything the same? Yes. Even more so now, because now Remy had a puzzle to solve. Once I figure it out, it will all fall into place and things won’t be so hard anymore. The balance will be restored. First, she would find out what the village wanted, and then there would be no more obstacles for her art school.

Mostly, Remy needed to find the true explanation for her mental breaks. In her experience, artists were not the most stable of the general populace. Over the years, Remy had lost friends to suicide, depression, and drugs. She was determined not to go over that edge, no matter how frustrated she was with her art, or how disappointed she was in herself for causing pain to others. Even through her darkest days, Remy had been able to hold onto her sense of self. The thought that that part of her was disappearing terrified her.

Taking responsibility for her mental health was the most important step in making sure she didn’t spiral. And that’s what she was doing now by driving to Madrid—taking responsibility, for her village, for what happened to Jack, and for her own well-being.

****

The countryside flew by, and soon the city enveloped Remy. After so long in isolation among her village, with only side trips into Ortigueira and Coruña, Remy had forgotten what a big city was like, how it pulsed with its own unique energy. It flowed around the people, shaping their lives and intertwining them into one collective experience, but at the same time separated by individual perceptions. Everyone was leaving their mark on the city by living, seeing, and breathing in a slightly different way.

Now Remy added to it, bringing her own form of crazy to Madrid. But among such a dense population, her problems diffused and seemed infinitely smaller. She wove Anita’s car in and out of narrow streets, deciding to drive until she either reached a dead end or found somewhere she recognized. That plaza has to be around here somewhere. It turned out that the dead end was her first option, and she parked.

Thinking ahead for once, Remy snapped a photo of the street she left the car on. If she brought it back in one piece, maybe Anita wouldn’t list grand theft auto onto her many sins from the past few days.

Remy hailed the next taxi that came by, handing the driver Maggie’s business card with her office address. “Take me here, por favor,” she said, juggling the stack of books she held in her arms.

“Okay,” the driver said, surprisingly in English. He gave her a smile, and motioned for her to get in. “I help you with the books?” he asked, eager to practice his new language skills.

“No, thank you,” Remy said. The driver tried twice more to engage her in conversation on the drive to the plaza, but Remy’s monotone answers soon discouraged him. Her thoughts were preoccupied with how to explain the situation to Maggie. She had an ex-husband problem, a—possibly ex-—best friend problem, a new man problem, and a village problem. There were too many places to begin her story, and she couldn’t decide which was most important. Should she try to tell her the whole truth, exactly how she had experienced it? Or should she just get Maggie to translate the books for her and leave the rest out? Addressing the village first would be the most helpful, but Remy was dying to talk to someone about Jack and Bieito. How do I explain Bieito without sounding like a nutjob?

Remy shouldn’t have worried, because the moment she walked into the realtor’s office and saw Maggie, she collapsed into her arms, and the story released in a flood of tears. The arms around her were not Maggie’s, but Nana’s. They held Remy with an iron grip, anchoring her to reality, and allowed Remy to stick to the facts. Just as she had run to her Nana to confess her sins on that first fateful night, she poured out the events of the last three days to a bewildered Englishwoman, who, to her credit, took it all in stride.

Maggie let Remy ramble through her tale, waiting until the end to ask questions and trying to understand exactly what the artist was telling her.

“Your ex-husband came looking for you? And he got hurt at the village?”

Remy sniffed, trying to get her tears under control while they soaked into the back of Maggie’s shirt. “Yeah,” she said, the hint of a southern twang creeping into her cracked voice.

“But he’s okay. And your friend Anita is there with him.”

“Uh-huh.”

Maggie gently untangled Remy’s hands from around her neck and guided her to a chair. “That must have been very scary. But, child, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t ever think that. It was an accident.”

“But if he hadn’t come, then he wouldn’t be hurt!”

Maggie looked at her sternly. “He is an adult who made his own decision. Put it from your mind for now; there’s no point in worrying about it when you can’t change it. He will be good as new, and he will heal in more ways than one without you being there.”

Remy hiccupped, already feeling less guilty now that she had been absolved by the older and wiser woman. Sometimes, you just need someone else to forgive you when you can’t forgive yourself.

“Now, you couldn’t have come all the way down here just for this, not that I’m not overjoyed to see you. Are you unhappy in your new home, or afraid, after what happened?”

“I—I needed your advice about something. I may have met someone.” Remy blushed.

“A significant someone?”

“Maybe. Sort of. I don’t know! It’s just, when I’m with him, I lose myself. And I’m not sure if I’m losing myself in a good way.”

“What do you mean? Is he a bad person?”

“No! Bieito is a wonderful person. That’s the problem. When I’m with him, it is like nothing else matters. I lose track of time and place, and I find myself not caring one bit.”

“It sounds like you are just in the honeymoon stage of young love,” Maggie said. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what it is like to feel this way. And now you are feeling guilty about having feelings for another man while Jack is hurt.”

Remy didn’t know how to fully explain it to Maggie and shrugged hopelessly. “I’m not even sure what I feel for Bieito right now, honestly. I think I’m interested, it’s just that something feels wrong. Off-balance. I don’t trust myself when I’m with him. He makes me so happy, but what if I lose everything else that matters to me in the process?”

“How long have you known this Bieito?”

“That’s the thing. I’ve only ever been with him twice. I met him at the beach, and then again at my…his family’s cottage. I need to know more about him, but when I’m with him, all of my questions and doubts fade away and before I know it, he’s gone again, and I feel empty.”

Maggie’s eyes were bright as she considered Remy’s despondent gaze. “He sounds like a special person, Remy, for you to feel this deeply so quickly. Take caution, though, for I, too, fell for a man such as that, and he broke my heart. It comes along once in a lifetime. All you can do is cut off all ties with him now and save yourself, or grab on for the ride, and hope you hold onto enough of yourself to rebuild from the wreckage at the end.”

Remy shook her head. “I am already such a wreck. I know I should just walk away, but…” Remy couldn’t very well explain that somehow Bieito and his family were residing on her property, but only part of the time. She took a deep breath. “I thought Jack was my forever. He should have been my forever. But walking away and starting over was easier than I thought. But this…this would be different.” I am already more entangled with Bieito than I thought.

Maggie nodded in understanding while Remy gathered steam. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” Remy said, voice thick with emotion. “The village was supposed to be mine, a place for me to find myself. Now it’s causing more complications, stirring up things between me, my past, and my future, and throwing in two men who couldn’t be more different just for the fun of it. I hate not being in control. That leads to bad things.”

Thankfully, Maggie ignored the last part of Remy’s comment, and didn’t ask for clarification on the “bad things” she was talking about. “You can’t exist in a bubble. The village is just that—a village. It is the people inside who matter.”

Remy let out a harsh laugh. “It was supposed to be my milagro de Santiago. My miracle.”

“Just give yourself more time. Jack’s accident was unfortunate, yes, and you are understandably cautious with Bieito, but have more faith in yourself. The universe is unfolding as it should.”

“I just wish I knew why.”

“What would be the fun in that?” Maggie asked. “I, for one, am so proud of you. I was actually planning on making a visit up to Ortigueira in the next few weeks to see what you’ve done with the place.”

“I haven’t made a lot of progress, I’m afraid,” Remy confessed. “I had hoped to have more done by now, but I really don’t know what I’m doing. It is mostly trial and error so far. I jump from project to project, when I need to just focus my energies on one thing in particular and see it through to the end.” She hesitated. “Plus, I want to be as true to the integrity of the village as I can be. You know, preserving its true character. I want to do it right, but I just don’t know enough about the history of the place to be authentic.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you very much on the authenticity. You’d be better off asking Sebastian for that, or talking to some locals. But I understand wanting to get it right.”

“Actually, I think you can help me with something. How are your translation skills?” Remy gestured to the books she’d thrown onto Maggie’s desk when she had embraced the older woman. They had been through quite the adventure—from the library, to the village, to the hospital, and finally to Madrid. Now, Remy was hopeful that their secrets could be unlocked and help her make sense of her life in more ways than one, starting with construction.

“My Spanish should probably be better than it is, considering I’ve lived here for more than enough time, but I’m willing to take a stab at it.”

“Can we start with the history book?”

“If I’m going to do this, we’re going to get comfortable. Come on, I’ll close up my shop and we can head to my flat. You look like you could use a siesta anyway.”

****

At Maggie’s insistence, Remy took a nap at the apartment. By handing over the books to Maggie and relinquishing responsibility, Remy was finally able to rest. When she woke up four hours later, both confused and very hungry, Maggie was finishing up the obscure little history book about the Kingdom of Galicia.

“How do you feel?” Maggie asked, closing the worn cover.

“I think I could have slept all the way through until tomorrow,” Remy confessed. “Are the books useful?”

“It was difficult to find anything referencing your village. It was just too small to be of any real significance. I did, however, learn some interesting facts about the area. And there might be a small mention of your village in the part about the Martyrs of Carral, but it was hard to tell. I’m afraid I can’t help very much except to give you a general summary, though I don’t know if it will help with your restoration project.”

“Well, I have to start somewhere. What I was doing wasn’t working, so you might as well tell me,” Remy decided. “Even a little bit might inspire me.”

Maggie gathered her thoughts for a moment, deciding where to start. “You’ve seen how proud Galicians are of their heritage first-hand, haven’t you?” Remy nodded, and Maggie continued. “This is because up until eighteen thirty-three, Galicia was not part of Spain and was its own kingdom, dating all the way back to the Middle Ages.

“In eighteen forty-six, a colonel by the name of Miguel Solís y Cuentos rebelled against the new Spanish rule. Though the uprising spread to surrounding cities, the rebels were squashed in only twenty-four days by a vastly superior force from the Spanish Royal Council. The colonel was executed by a firing squad, and the eleven other soldiers were put to death in the Forest of Rin, their bodies dumped into an unmarked tomb.

“Miguel Solís y Cuentos had many sympathizers in Coruña, which is why the general feared executing the rebels within the town. That didn’t stop the people from turning Miguel and his eleven soldiers into the twelve Martyrs of Carral, though. They are remembered as the first wave of Galician nationalism and regionalism.”

“Wow, I had no idea. I mean, I knew that Galicia used to be called the Kingdom of Galicia, but I never really thought about what that meant for all the people here to have their identity absorbed by Spanish rule. No wonder they like to be known as Galician rather than Spanish. What did you find out about the rebels?” Remy asked.

“That’s the part that connects to your village. There’s a list of names of the soldiers that were executed, and one of them lists Ortigueira as his home. So, someone living in your village may have been a part of the Galician uprising!”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “That seems like a pretty far stretch. It sounds like a lot of these details are fuzzy at best, and probably aren’t all that accurate. Was there anything else of historical significance I can incorporate with the renovation? No descriptions of what the village used to look like?”

“I’m afraid not, dear. This was the best I could do. Like I said, your village is very small; it doesn’t even have a name other than its extension to Ortigueira.”

Remy sighed. “Thanks for trying. The rebellion was kind of cool, I guess. Too bad it was only three weeks long and didn’t have much of an impact. No wonder I hadn’t heard about it before. Were you able to translate the architecture book at least?”

“There were a few good chapters about historical homes. Here, come sit by me and we can go through them together.” Maggie scooted over and Remy sat down on the couch next to her. “Now, with these old buildings, you definitely need to start from the bottom and move up…”

Remy and Maggie lost track of time as they came up with designs and floor plans for the buildings. With rough sketches, Remy added rooms and windows to the buildings she knew by heart now, having spent weeks living among them. When Remy confided that she wanted to turn the larger houses into dormitories for her school, Maggie was enthusiastic.

Though she was nervous at first to pick up her pen, Maggie’s chattering kept Remy distracted enough for her to forget her mental blocks. The outlines came effortlessly, flowing onto the paper almost as easily as her paintings used to.

It’s getting better, Remy thought, relieved. She pulled forth the distorted memory of her drunken run through the village, and of her night in the cottage with Bieito’s family. Authenticity. That’s what she needed to focus on to get into her flow state, and then the best ideas would come.

During the hours spent immersed in future plans for her art school, Remy forgot about all the complications surrounding the village. What she saw on paper were her dreams turning into reality, and she was determined not to let anything stand in her way. Anita could try to freak out Remy with skepticism about logistics, funds, and permits, but she would not succeed in forcing Remy to move backward in life.

She realized she had been obsessing over the wrong things all along—the mystery of Bieito, the drama of Jack, the accident, and, most of all, paralyzing indecision about which direction to go with the village. It was time to get serious about it all, put her plans into motion, and get back to the real reason she bought the village in the first place.

As she made up a very grown-up plan for her future and the people it would affect, Remy decided to be an adult and call Anita first, before Anita inevitably tracked her down and reamed her out. She already felt more self-assured than she had during these last few confusing and chaotic days. “Thanks for helping me get my head on straight,” Remy told Maggie while turning on her phone. “I need to have an important conversation right now.”

“I’ll step out and bring us back some carryout for dinner. Best of luck with Anita.” Maggie was halfway out the door when she turned around. “Remember, Remy, you came here to start over. Your past has not only followed you here, but made a mess of your present as well. Don’t let it define your future.”

While Maggie’s words burned a new confidence within Remy’s chest, she dialed Anita. To her surprise, the phone rang and rang and eventually went to voice mail. She had fully expected her best friend to jump all over her at the first ring. Prepared for an interrogation interspersed with outrage and demands, Remy didn’t know how to leave a message at the polite request of Anita Lopez, artist agent and specialized publicist who promised to call back as soon as she was available. Remy took a deep breath, and then hung up.

Staring at her phone screen, Remy debated whether or not to call back right away and try to explain over voicemail, or if she should wait for Anita to see she had a missed call. Remy wondered which was worse, sucking it up now or waiting in agony over the next few hours for Anita to call back.

The result, however, was neither. The blow came in the form of a text, cold and impersonal, about as far from emotionally removed from the situation as Anita could be.

—Whatever your explanation is, Remy, save it. I can no longer listen to your excuses. Return the rental car when you’re done with it. Jack and I don’t want to see you again while we’re here. You can also consider this the end of our professional relationship as well. I cannot associate with clients whose moral character I question. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, and you realize that it wasn’t worth all of this.—

Remy read the message three times until the words finally sank in. So that’s it then. Almost two decades of friendship and this was the final straw? She had been expecting Anita to be pissed, of course, but she had never expected that Anita would fire her as a client. Like most close friends, they had weathered their share of fights over the years, but one thing was always certain—they were better as a team.

Remy was Anita’s number one client, the one who had propelled both of them out of obscurity. To have one woman without the other was unthinkable. Anita lived and breathed her job, just as Remy lived and breathed to paint. Their careers were so intertwined that their “divorce” would be more complicated than Remy’s split from Jack.

But here they were, actually splitting up because of Jack, just not in the way one would expect a husband to come between two best friends. My constant avoidance and running away caused all of this. If she hadn’t called Anita out of desperation, they would probably still be working together and Remy would have some way to make an income. What am I going to do now?

As the blunt words stared up at her from a blindingly bright screen, Maggie’s advice overrode the searing image. Don’t let your past define your future. Remy could either fight Anita’s words and refuse to accept the end of their friendship and partnership, of which Remy was sure Anita would eventually cave in, or she could just let it go. The end.

This time, she could have an actual fresh start, without having to worry about reporting back to Anita and hearing her overblown opinions all the time. No more cajoling to return to New York, no more avoiding Jack’s mopey gaze, no more hospital obligations…Did it make her a terrible person to be relieved?

An enormous weight felt like it had been removed from Remy’s shoulders. She was no longer beholden to Anita and didn’t have to answer to her any longer. Any painting she decided to do would be on her own schedule. Remy’s personal business would be her own. Nobody would be nosing around looking for the next big story and leaking it “for her own good” to boost her career. Granted, Remy wasn’t even sure she would be able to have a career anymore, but that was beside the point.

When Maggie returned, she asked, “Everything squared away with your friend?”

Remy looked up from the sketches she had been flipping through, imagining her completed renovation. “Oh yes,” she said, with a huge smile. “I’ll probably go broke soon.”

“There’s a certain freedom in that,” Maggie agreed.