MTLNOVEL Chapter 48: 251
***
When Inés came to next, she found herself nestled in the familiar comfort of her bed. The window right next to the terrace was cracked open, inviting a salty breeze into the room, along with the distant cries of seagulls-the same morning that had always greeted her in Calztela. The last thing she remembered was drifting to sleep in the study, cradled in Cárcel's embrace.
Her drowsy eyes lingered on the curtains as they swayed in the breeze, then moved to the empty space beside her, noting the bed had been made perfectly. For a moment, she contemplated if Cárcel had simply risen early or if he had never slept by her side in the first place. The latter seemed more probable.
She glanced down at herself, realizing that her body was clean and dry. It was most likely Cárcel's doing. However, the discovery did little to improve her mood. The satisfaction and wholeness that she had felt the night before were already fading away, dissipating like morning mist.
Sitting up on the bed, she quietly contemplated various possibilities. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in the study, or perhaps he had spent the night elsewhere away from the residence. After a contemplative pause, she reached out to ring the bedside bell.
A maid entered promptly after a soft knock, her voice bright with surprise. "Good morning, Madam! I did not expect you to awaken so early."
Inés acknowledged her with a nod and asked, "Where is Cárcel?"
"He left about half an hour ago," came the quick response.
"So... he was in the residence earlier this morning?"
"Yes, Madam."
Inés's eyes flicked to the clock to see that it was a little past six o'clock. "Did he leave for an early morning training?"
"He mentioned nothing of the sort, Madam."
Her answer sent Inés into quiet reflection once more. Cárcel had always waited for her to awaken in the morning and joined her for breakfast before leaving the residence. He only ever broke this routine when duty called him to an early morning training.
"Madam?" the maid prompted gently, noticing Inés's distracted gaze.
Inés shook her head slightly, dispelling the lingering thoughts. "Thank you. You may leave."
"Is there anything else you need, Madam?"
"Nothing at all. You may return to your duties in the kitchen. I believe you were in the midst of your breakfast."
"Thank you, Madam." The maid bowed and silently exited the room.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Inés found her gaze drawn back to the untouched side of the bed, still devoid of warmth. Suddenly, she was reminded of the morning in Mendoza, when she had awakened to find a letter resting on the pillow beside her.
The words of his letter remained etched in her mind: "If we were in Calztela, I would be waiting for you to awaken around this hour, to wish you a good morning. How wonderful would it be if my voice was always the first thing you heard upon opening your eyes... It brings me so much joy to wait by your side as you slumber, waiting for you to swim back to consciousness. It does not matter how long it will take, for I know it will all be worth it when you open your eyes and look at me... when I hear your beautiful voice..."
Where was her "good morning" now? A wave of annoyance washed over her. Unbelievable... She had even given him a tea meant to lull him into sleep!
The realization that he had never even spent the night by her side vexed her more than his absence when she woke up. How could he leave his wife alone in their bed and find rest elsewhere? She scowled, conveniently disregarding how she had once insisted that it was only natural for a married couple of their station to have separate rooms.
Her thoughts spiraled as she considered the possibilities. Although the study housed a long daybed and a chaise suitable for her occasional naps, neither was big enough to accommodate a man of Cárcel's stature comfortably.
She chewed on her lower lip as she threw a robe over her nightgown. Her footsteps led her straight to the study.
It greeted her with its usual orderliness, but her attention was immediately drawn to the blanket that was neatly folded atop the daybed. She glared at it for a moment, then noticed Cárcel's Bible lying open on the nearby table. With a sigh, she sank onto the daybed where Cárcel had presumably spent the night and picked up the holy text.
Her fingertips traced the words, searching for the familiar saying of an old prophet until she found the passage that Cárcel had been reading the night before.
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens," she murmured as she followed the lines with her eyes.
"A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." (Ecc 3:2~3:8)
Her gaze continued to travel down the page.
"I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him. That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past." (Ecc 3:14, 3:15)
A strange feeling swept over her. She had once pored over this very passage, seeking an answer to the torment she could not escape. She had believed, then, that her endless cycle of life and death was a divine punishment for taking her own life-a curse to remember and suffer through every lifetime for defying the natural flow of existence.
She recalled the fragments of the uncanny vision of Cárcel that she had seen the night before in the study. That conversation had taken place in another season, another time, from a life that she could not fully remember. It had been the only lifetime in which she had not ended her own.
Her voice was soft as she murmured the passage aloud, "That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been..." The words resonated with an air of melancholy within the quiet confines of the study.
She struggled to conjure the image of Arondra's kindly face she had seen, weathered by age, during her last moments. She wondered how many years it would take for the faithful housekeeper to acquire those same wrinkles and silver strands, and what kind of illness had inflicted such suffering upon her own body. Above all, she ached to know where Cárcel had been as she lay on her deathbed, wallowing in regrets. Had he already passed on, or had he been in some faraway land? Had he perhaps...harbor resentment so deep that he refused to stay by her side in her final moments?
No, she reassured herself. He would never abandon his dying wife out of grudge. Yet, she could not help but think of 'his absence from their bed earlier that morning, and the suffocating loneliness that she had felt as she drew her last breath. The regret that had settled within her was profound, untainted by any resentment towards him. It was a remorse born of repeated wrongs.
After a moment, she realized that her gaze had frozen in the middle of the page. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she continued to read through the passage.
"God shall judge the righteous and the wicked: for there is a time there for every purpose and for every work. I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they might see that they themselves are beasts. For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity." (Ecc 3:17~3:19)
With a weary sigh, Inés wondered why Cárcel had chosen this particular page to read-one that spoke of life's perpetual trials and the mysterious repetitions of fate, suggesting that the loss of a human life held no greater significance than that of any other creature in the eyes of the Lord.
***
Upon entering the residence, Cárcel took off his peaked cap and handed it to Raúl. His gaze swept the entrance hall and immediately found Inés, standing poised beyond the front doors. His face lit up with a wide smile as he strode toward her.
She reached for the pocket watch tucked in his uniform, glancing at the time with a raised brow. "You're late," she remarked as she ran her fingertips over the crisp, precise folds of his shirt.
"My apologies, Inés. I was obliged to accompany the admiral as he inspected the fleet. I would have returned much earlier if he had not lingered for so long," he explained, leaning down to place a light kiss on her temple.
Relief washed over her-this was the familiar evening they had shared before her departure from Calztela. As he straightened, she leaned forward and kissed his chin.
With a playful glint in his eye, Cárcel bit the tip of her nose. "What a delight to find you waiting for me upon my return," he whispered.
"I have been here for quite some time, watching and waiting for you to arrive," she admitted with a gentle smile.
Cárcel stared at her with a dazed look on his face, a blush coloring his earlobes. His lips curved upward in an endearing smile that held a tender shyness.
Inés was amused by his sudden bashfulness, especially when he routinely said things that made her blush to the roots of her hair. It was so uncharacteristic of the man who had once been reputed to be a libertine. A soft smile played on her lips. The anger that had simmered within her earlier in the day had long since cooled down, replaced by a calm understanding. She quickly forgave him as she convinced herself that he must have had some urgent duty to attend to this morning.
She imagined how he would react if he ever discovered that she had spent days in the study, her gaze fixed on the path, waiting for his return. He would surely swoon from sheer joy. But she decided to keep that to herself since she had no wish to see him collapse from the intensity of his emotions.
His voice drew her from her train of thoughts. "Have you dined yet, Inés?"
"Yes. Have you?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"Well, Yolanda has saved your meal. I shall have Arondra bring it upstairs so you can eat."
Even as they spoke, Cárcel meticulously wiped his fingers with the wet cloth that Raúl had handed him.
Only once he was done did he reach out to cradle her face and kiss her.
In that moment, the solitude of the previous night-the empty bed, the absence of his warmth, the loneliness of waking without him-faded into insignificance. It was like nothing had changed between them after the intimate moment they had shared, and that was enough to bring her a deep contentment.