The fact that his wife had developed serious emotional problems did not cause Humberto Valdez Duarte to love her less, he often thought, but rather the opposite. Sometimes-like now-he felt a tenderness for her that was surpris-ing in its intensity... a desire to wrap her, figuratively and literally, in his arms and to continue to protect her from all unpleasantness.
They had known each other all of their lives, and had married at twenty-one, on Humberto's graduation from the University of Buenos Aires. While everyone agreed that the marriage was a good one, uniting two of Argentina's most prominent families, there were some raised eyebrows at the time-even some whispers-about their tender ages. People of their social position usually married no younger than twenty-five, and often later. Unless, of course, there was a reason.
The whispers died thirteen months after their marriage when Beatrice gave birth to their first-and as it turned out, only-child, Jorge Alejandro.
The first indication of emotional problems came when Beatrice's postpartum depression required the attention of a psychiatrist.
Now that he thought about it, there had been indications of emotional diffi-culty all along, most often manifested in Beatrice's detachment from reality- her unwillingness to accept the existence of anything unpleasant-coupled with a growing religious fervor. She began to go to mass daily about the time Jorge started school, and developed an unusually close relationship with her confes-sor, Padre (later Monsignor) Patrick Kelly.
Humberto often wondered what she had to confess. When he went, infre-quently, to confession, there was generally some act or thought for which he re-ally needed absolution. Try as he could, however, he could think of nothing Beatrice might want to confess more sinful than possible unkind thoughts about one of her friends, Jorge's teachers, or her brother, Jorge Guillermo Frade. The latter seemed most likely. Having un-Christian thoughts about her brother was very understandable.
During the six months since Jorge Alejandro had been killed, he had con-fessed the same thing many times.
Jorge Alejandro idolized his uncle from the time he could walk. Children are prone to adore indulgent uncles, especially when the uncles are dashing cavalry officers and superb horsemen, and who delight in making available to nephews the toys-fast cars, highly spirited horses, firearms, airplanes-their parents would just as soon they not have so early in life, or ever.
But neither he nor Beatrice could bring themselves to deny Beatrice's brother the company of his nephew. After Jorge Guillermo Frade lost his wife- and for all practical purposes, their son-he never remarried. And it was clear that he really loved Jorge Alejandro... saw him as a substitute for the son he had lost.
In his third year at St. George's School, Jorge Alejandro firmly announced that he had no intention of becoming a banker-with the clear implication that in his view banking was a profession about as masculine as hairdressing and in-terior decorating. He announced that instead he intended to follow his uncle to the Military Academy and become an officer-after all, he carried the blood of Pueyrred¢n in his veins. There was nothing Humberto, who was Managing Di-rector (In Argentina, as in Europe, the term is equivalent to "President" or "Chief Executive Officer.") of the Anglo-Argentine Bank, could do about it except hope that Jorge Alejandro would find the discipline at Campo de Mayo too much to take.
That hope did not materialize. Like his uncle, Jorge Alejandro was ap-pointed Cadet Coronel during his last year at Campo de Mayo. And like his un-cle-by then el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, commanding the Husares de Pueyrred¢n Cavalry Regiment-he was commissioned into the cavalry. Almost certainly because of his uncle's influence, he was "routinely" assigned to the Husares.
All that was well and good, but what el Coronel also did was arrange for Capitan Duarte to be posted to the German Army as an observer. For this Hum-berto vowed he would never forgive him-now, of course, he was sorry about that.
Logic told Humberto that el Coronel would rather die himself than see any harm come to Jorge Alejandro, but the facts were that el Coronel arranged for Jorge Alejandro to go to Germany as an observer, and that he was killed at Stal-ingrad. The godless Communists shot down an observation aircraft that he was flying, against regulations for a neutral observer.
Beatrice's nervous problems grew worse, naturally, when Jorge went to Eu-rope. And when word of his death reached them, it pushed her over the edge. And so, one of the apartments in their house was turned into what was really a psychiatric facility. It was complete to a hospital bed with restraints, and nurses on duty and doctors on call around the clock. After a time, she came out of it- with Monsignor Kelly reminding her that suicide is a mortal sin, and the doc-tors keeping her in a chemically induced state of tranquility.
Meanwhile, in what Humberto regarded as a cold and calculated public re-lations gesture, and Beatrice as an act of great Christian charity and compas-sion, the Germans returned Jorge's remains from Stalingrad, escorted by a highly decorated Luftwaffe pilot from a very good German family.
Jorge's remains and Major Hans-Peter von Wachtstein of the Luftwaffe ar-rived in Buenos Aires at almost the same time as another highly decorated avi-ator. The second dashing young hero was an American Marine. In what Humberto regarded as a cold and calculated diplomatic move, the Americans sent him to Argentina primarily because he was Jorge Guillermo Frade's long-estranged-from infancy-son. It was common gossip-at least before Cletus arrived-that el Coronel was probably going to be the next President of the Ar-gentine Republic, and the norteamericanos were certainly aware of this.
Though Cletus Howell Frade was, of course, his and Beatrice's nephew, Humberto confessed to Padre Welner, a Jesuit-not to Monsignor Kelly, who had already heard too much of his private affairs through Beatrice-that he had selfish and un-Christian thoughts about him, and was afraid he hated him, for no reason except that Cletus was alive and Jorge Alejandro was dead.
Jorge Alejandro was buried in the family tomb in Recoleta Cemetery with much ceremony-including an escort by the Husares de Pueyrred¢n and the pinning of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross to the flag covering his casket. In her chemically induced tranquility, Beatrice seemed more interested in the postinterment reception at the house than in the burial of their only child.
The same night, the Germans tried to murder Cletus Frade. The official story was that Cletus came across burglars, but there was no question in Humberto's mind that the same Germans who solemnly honored Jorge Alejandro at the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar in Recoleta Cemetery cold-bloodedly ordered the assassination of his cousin on the same day.
Beatrice accepted the burglar story without question. And later, when her brother died at the hands of "bandits," she was even further removed from reality. She was absolutely incapable of believing that the charming German Ambassador, Graf von Lutzenberger, or the even more charming Baron Gradny-Sawz, his first secretary, were capable of displaying bad manners, much less ordering the assassination of her brother.
In fact, she made a point of personally inviting both of them to the postin-terment reception they were holding.
Under the circumstances, Beatrice's dissociation from reality was probably a good thing. Humberto did not want to see her again as she was when word of Jorge Alejandro's death had reached them. It broke his heart.
And there were practical considerations, too. Gradny-Sawz was delighted that Beatrice made von Wachtstein a welcome guest in their home. (The young German airman had remained in Buenos Aires as the Assistant Military Attach‚ for Air at the German Embassy.) Gradny-Sawz considered himself an aristo-crat. Thus he saw this relationship between the aristocratic young officer and the prominent Duarte family-and consequently the Anglo-Argentine Bank- as both natural and of potential use to Germany. At the same time, he didn't have the faintest idea that the real relationship between von Wachtstein and the Anglo-Argentine Bank had absolutely nothing to do with furthering the inter-ests of the Nazis, but the reverse.
When Humberto pushed open the door to the reception, Cletus Frade was sitting on a couch beside Claudia Carzino-Cormano, who was holding his hand. When Cletus saw his uncle, he stood up.
Humberto went to him. Although Cletus had made it quite clear that norteamericanos regarded any gesture between men more intimate than a hand-shake as damned odd-even between uncle and nephew-he embraced him, kissed both of his cheeks, and then embraced him again.
"Cletus, I am so very sorry."
"Thank you."
"God has seen fit to take my son, and your father," Humberto said. "May they rest in peace. And God, I like to think, has given us each other. I will now regard you as my son, and ask that you think of me as your father."
Oh, shit. He means that. That's bullshit, pure and simple. So why do I feel like crying?
Clete found himself embracing his uncle.