Domitian’s eyebrows rose. “Then how did you end up in contact with her?”
“My mother,” Sarita said simply.
“How?” he asked. “Did she insist you write her?”
“No.” She frowned at the suggestion, and explained, “Grandmother didn’t know that Father was throwing out her letters. She must have suspected when she never got a reply, but she kept writing anyway and was still sending weekly letters when he and my mother married. Mom said he never mentioned the letters to her while they were courting, and when the first one arrived after their wedding, she was the only one home to receive it.”
“She said she didn’t think much of it until she gave it to Dad and he just tore it up and threw it in the garbage, and then left the room. She said he was grumpy the rest of the evening, which was unusual for him, and then was fine after that until the next letter about a week later, and the next. Mother said four letters came in four weeks that he just tore up and threw out, and each was followed by a night where he was angry and miserable to live with. By that fourth letter she’d had enough. She waited until he had slammed from the room as usual, retrieved the letter, and hid it away.
“After he left for work the next morning, she fetched the letter. Then she sat down at the table, taped it back together, and read it. She was shocked when she realized it was from his mother. There had only ever been my grandfather in my father’s life since she’d known him and Father had always refused to talk about his mother, so Mom had assumed Grandmother was dead and talking about her was just too painful for him.”
Sarita fell silent for a minute and picked up her can again to pluck another piece of fruit out of it. After chewing and swallowing, she shook her head and said, “I don’t know what was in that first letter, but my mother decided to write her back herself. Her first note was just to let my grandmother know who she was and that Dad didn’t read her letters, but just ripped them up and threw them out.”
Sarita smiled faintly. “Mom said she was just hoping that once the woman knew she was wasting her time writing, she’d stop sending letters and upsetting Dad. But a week later another letter arrived, this time addressed to her.”
“Whatever was in that letter apparently touched my mom,” Sarita said solemnly. “She answered it and every week another letter came addressed to her, and every week my mother answered. She told Grandmother about herself, my father, their life together, and then about me when I was born. She said Dad never asked if he’d received his weekly letter, and she never explained why he wasn’t getting them anymore. It became the only secret she ever kept from him.”
“When did you find out about the letters?” Domitian asked when she fell silent.
“I was about eleven,” Sarita said with a small reminiscent smile that fascinated Domitian. It suggested a softer side to her she seemed determined to keep hidden most of the time.
“I was snooping and came across a box stuffed full of letters,” Sarita explained. “Mother had kept every one in case my father ever had a change of heart and wanted contact with his mother. He could read the letters. Instead, I found and read a bunch of them before she caught me. Mother explained how she had come to correspond with Grandmother and made me swear not to tell my father. It became our secret then.”
“And you started to write her too,” he suggested, but Sarita shook her head.
“No.” She peered down into her can of fruit, and swallowed, before saying gruffly, “That didn’t happen until my mother died when I was thirteen. When the first letter arrived from Grandmother after that, I wrote her to explain that mother was dead and could not answer her letters anymore. The next letter was addressed to me. We’ve been writing ever since.”
“And your father never knew?” Domitian asked.
“Are you kidding?” she asked with dry amusement. “That man knew everything. He pretended not to know though.”
“What makes you think that? Perhaps he did not know.”
Sarita shook her head. “There were many times when he got to the mail before Mom or I could. He must have seen the letters. He would have recognized the handwriting, but he never said anything.”
“Hmm,” Domitian murmured, but asked, “Did your mother ever take you to meet her?”
“No.” Sarita shook her head. “Grandmother never left the island or invited us to it.”
“Until now,” he said.
Sarita frowned now, her lips pursing as she shook her head again. “Actually, she didn’t invite me this time either. Dr. Dressler did.”
Domitian stilled.
“Dressler called me last weekend,” she explained. “He introduced himself as Grandmother’s employer, said she’d taken a tumble on the stairs and hurt herself. He said he was concerned. She was older and injuries like hers could lead to complications in the elderly. He felt that a visit from me might help perk her up and ensure her recovery. He asked me to come to the island to surprise her.” Sighing, she added, “I had two weeks of vacation coming up. I asked for it off and was on a flight two days later.”
“So you got to the island . . . three days ago?” he guessed.
“Four,” she corrected. “He called Saturday. I flew out Monday, and then wasted three days kicking up my heels before Dressler knocked me out and brought me here. Today would be the fourth day since I flew here to Venezuela. Unless I was unconscious more than just overnight as I assumed when I woke up here, this is Friday.”
Domitian nodded. It had been Thursday when he’d gone to meet the helicopter that he’d thought was to take him to the island. She was probably right that it was Friday. Unless, as she’d said, he too had been unconscious for more than just a night. Pushing that worry away, he asked, “Did you think it odd that it was Dr. Dressler who invited you and not your grandmother?”
“Yeah.” Sarita nodded and then shook her head and said, “But no. I thought she’d taken a bad spill and was weak and sick. I thought it was good of him to call me,” she added bitterly.
They were both silent for a minute and then she said thoughtfully, “You know, my grandmother rarely mentioned Dr. Dressler in her letters, but when she did it seemed obvious she didn’t care for him at all and didn’t consider him an “honorable man” as she put it. I should have realized there was something up when he called. Barring that, I should have realized at the airport, or when I got to the island.”
“Why at the airport?” Domitian asked with curiosity.
“Because when I landed here I didn’t even go through customs,” Sarita told him grimly. “We landed on the tarmac. They rolled up one of those portable stair thingies for us to disembark, and when I got to the bottom of the stairs, this big beefy guy in a suit stepped in front of me. He asked if I was Sarita Reyes. I said yes I was and, while everyone else continued into the airport and to customs, he just took my arm and steered me to this jeep. My luggage was already waiting there,” she added, and when Domitian’s eyebrows rose, she explained, “My seat was on the back of the plane. I was one of the last to disembark. Everyone’s luggage was out and on this big metal shelf on wheels on the tarmac when I came out. Well, except my luggage, which, as I said, was already in the jeep.”
When he nodded, she continued. “Anyway, the minute the big beefy guy had me in the jeep, it took off and drove farther down the tarmac to where a helicopter was waiting. Big Beefy Guy loaded me and my luggage in, plopped himself down beside me, and we took off and flew to the island. I didn’t go through customs or immigration or anything,” she said and then shook her head. “Jeez, I knew crime and corruption were bad here, but seriously, skipping customs and immigration? Who does that?”
Domitian merely shook his head and didn’t bother mentioning that immortals did that on a regular basis. It wasn’t germane to the conversation. Besides, Dressler was not immortal, although he had several at his disposal. Immortals he’d kidnapped. Perhaps the man had coerced one of them to handle things at the airport, he thought. If not, it must have cost him a lot of money to ensure Sarita’s arrival in Venezuela wasn’t recorded. That didn’t suggest that his plans for her included her leaving, he thought with concern.