Chapter Text
Camila tried to hide her smile from him, but Don Alejandro noticed. He returned her smile and pulled his hands away from the vase he’d been repositioning. He’d been a bundle of nerves since receiving the message that Diego’s ship arrived safely.
His son was coming home.
He turned a critical eye to his surroundings, noting the gleaming of the freshly polished furniture and the smell of lemon and vinegar wafting through the air from newly cleaned windows. The servants had the house in perfect order, of course. They always did, but they had taken special care to make sure that Diego came home to a welcoming hacienda. No amount of meddling by Alejandro would make it any better.
He sighed and looked out the window again. Diego’s carriage was still not on the horizon.
What would Diego think of the Los Angeles he was returning to today? He knew his son had not been part of the politics of the area before he left. Alejandro made certain of that fact himself. He wanted his son to concentrate on his studies and the ranchero. Now, no one, not even Diego, could ignore the politics. To do so could lead to disaster.
Perhaps he shouldn’t even come home. Alejandro sighed. Every piece of his heart protested against that idea, but he knew it would be safer. Diego could stay in the center of that scientific revolution of his, but in a moment of weakness, Alejandro sent the letter asking his old friend if he believed Diego was ready to come home.
Diego sent the reply himself, letting him know that he would return as soon as his current semester finished. Alejandro’s heart had lifted, knowing that perhaps his son could now take some of the burden on to his shoulders. Just before he sent his last letter to Sir Edmund, Alejandro faced one of the darkest times in his life.
He watched a friend die with a rope on his neck for a crime Alejandro knew he was innocent of committing. But Ramone had rushed his show trial, and Pedro paid the price. His wife had been sobbing in the guest room as Alejandro wrote that letter.
Now his son was coming home to face some of that same danger.
He saw Felipe leaning forward over the wall, straining to see some sign of Diego. The boy had been bouncing on his toes all morning, barely able to eat his breakfast. He spent the last two hours out in the sun anxiously watching for his old friend to come home. Felipe had been a more faithful correspondent to his son than even he had been.
He’d missed Diego. While he anxiously read every letter, he found it difficult to reply. Usually, words came so easily to him, but he hated to let his son know how much he was missed. Diego deserved a few years to himself, being responsible for only himself, before he returned to take his place in society. He didn’t need to worry about a lonely old man back home.
As much as he tried to hide it, Diego must’ve known. He made a point to keep his letters fun, filled with details, but Alejandro noticed that a good portion was omitted. Sir Edmund, for one. Diego never talked about him, and the fact he didn’t spoke volumes to Alejandro.
His boy found a mentor in the other man and hadn’t wanted to hurt his father by admitting as much. While thankful that Diego found his old friend to be someone he could look up to in Spain, he’d been pleased that Diego’s letters weren’t filled with “Sir Edmund did this” and “Sir Edmund said this”.
It had been hard enough reading about Diego’s growing relationship with Felicidad’s father. His father-in-law is a great man, and Alejandro was pleased that Diego had a chance to know his grandfather. But he admitted to a little jealousy that someone else was filling his role at such an important juncture of his son’s life.
Sir Edmund had, of course, kept him updated. He bragged about Diego applying himself to learning the blade. He even said that the young man was one of his best students! Alejandro knew his son though. Diego would make a valiant effort, but his strength was his brain more than his body.
He frowned as he remembered sitting outside Pedro’s cell that horribly long night waiting for a wretched dawn. Pedro, who had been Alejandro’s foreman for years, mentioned Diego, along with his own sons, helped turn all the hairs on his head white. Alejandro enquired what he meant, and Pedro had chewed on his lip before answering. “After Doña Elena got so sick, Don Diego always wanted to protect you from worrying.”
The conversation somehow changed to memories of Elena—only Alejandro referred to her as Felicidad—and Alejandro never had the chance to find out what Pedro meant. Diego wasn’t the kind of boy that pushed boundaries. He was kind and polite, and he always listened to his parents. He knew that Elena’s illness had been a burden to such a young boy, but Diego never complained in all the years as they stood watching her getting weaker. And he never did anything that would turn his father’s hair white.
He was more likely to be lost in a book than he was to get lost in mischief.
Hearing a small scraping sound, he turned and caught Camila rearranging the vase he tried to move earlier. She smiled, obviously embarrassed about being caught. He simply returned her smile. The servants were as excited by Diego’s homecoming as he was. They wanted the hacienda just as perfect.
Alejandro returned his attention to scene outside the window. Felipe lifted up on his toes and leaned so far forward that Alejandro worried for a moment that he was going to go over the wall face first. He pulled back, bounced on his toes twice before pivoting and racing towards the house.
Chuckling, Alejandro clapped his hands together and turned to leave the room. Felipe slid to a stop in front of him, panting slightly from the speed he’d just exerted. He continued to bounce on his toes as he motioned that Diego’s carriage was arriving.
Alejandro placed his hands on Felipe’s shoulders, making the younger man stop moving. “Breathe, Felipe. I know you’re excited to see Diego. I am, too.” Alejandro took a deep breath and struggled to control his own excitement. His son was home! “Let me take a look at you.”
Felipe turned his head towards the door, but remained still, letting Alejandro inspect him. Alejandro’s memory might not be what it once was, but he was certain the boy in front of him had been much smaller when Diego left. Had it really been so long ago? Felipe had gone through a growth spurt in the last few weeks, and Alejandro could see the start of a young man in the way he stood. His shoulders were starting to broaden, and the baby fat of yesterday was a memory.
Chocolate eyes pleaded with him. “Yes, Felipe, let’s go welcome that son of mine home.”
Turning together, they walked out into the bright sun. Diego’s carriage rattled as it pulled in front of the garden. His son didn’t wait for it to stop before jumping out, but he did take the time to thank the carriage driver. How like that son of his. Always so polite and well-behaved.
Blinking back tears that he blamed on the bright sun, Alejandro drew his son into a tight hug and wished he could hold him like he did when Diego was a child. But his son was an adult now. Felipe wasn’t the only one who had grown over the years. Diego was no longer almost a man; he was a man, with a man’s height and muscles. “Well, they put some meat on you, I see.”
“And filled my head with ideas as well,” his son replied. Had his voice been that deep when he left? Alejandro smiled, glad to know that Spain hadn’t changed Diego too much. As it had been before he left, Diego worried more about his mind than his body. The yearning he felt to hear all about those ideas surprised Alejandro. He really had missed his son.
“Who’s this?” Diego said, pointing to Felipe. The twinkle in his son’s eyes told Alejandro that the boy hadn’t changed that much since Diego left. It suddenly seemed like it was only yesterday that they had teamed up to tease Felipe. They quickly fell into the old routine, which ended with Diego holding Felipe close—when had that boy grown so tall?
“Any change?” Diego asked that question in every single letter home. Alejandro knew he kept praying for a miracle, but miracles were few and far between in Los Angeles.
Alejandro yearned to offer a different reply this time. “Boy still can’t hear a thing, Diego.”
Ramone chose that moment to prance his soldiers in front of the hacienda. The sound of horse hoofs beating into the ground almost drowned out Diego’s “What’s all this?”
There had been a time in the not-so-distant past when the sign of soldiers riding in front of the hacienda had been a warning of danger brewing. Diego raised his voice. “What’s all this about?”
Alejandro’s heart sank. He wanted to curse the alcalde for ruining one of the few pleasant moments he’d had in months. “That’s why I sent for you,” he had to admit.
They entered the hacienda with a heavier atmosphere than Alejandro wanted, but Diego quickly regained his equilibrium, blissfully unaware of the horrors Ramone had done to his homeland and its people. He draped his cloak over the piano bench and tinkled with the keys. He declared it good to be home.
Alejandro smiled, remembering a young boy coming home after a summer spent with his aunt and uncle. That Diego had raced from room to room as if to remind himself what his home looked like or perhaps to be certain that everything was where it was supposed to be. He thought a part of Diego today wanted to behave in the same manner.
“It’s good to have you home,” he admitted, wishing he could grab him and swing him up in the air like he did that long ago day.
Diego asked several questions about Victoria, and Alejandro admitted that she had become quite a businesswoman since inheriting the tavern. Then, he turned the conversation to what had been burdening him for months. “The caballeros are looking forward to seeing you in the pueblo. We are going to need all the men we can get.”
Revolution. Such a nasty word. It burned Alejandro’s tongue, but he couldn’t see a future without it anymore as long as Ramone remained alcalde.
Reluctantly, Alejandro picked up his homecoming gift for Diego. He ordered it months ago, thinking it would be a fitting graduation gift for his son. Now instead of being an item of pleasure, Alejandro knew his gift was of necessity. Diego might even need that gift to stay alive.
He handed it to Diego with a heavy heart.
Diego blinked when he uncovered a sword and sheath. “A man must be able to take care of himself,” Alejandro explained.
“The pueblo is secure. Those soldiers outside seemed rather well trained,” his son said.
Soldiers. Alejandro’s heart beat in fury at hearing that word to describe those jackals. Military men were supposed to be men of honor, men who were willing to die for love of country. These animals were about power and money. “They don’t protect our people; they exploit them.”
Flashes of a young Diego played through his mind. He’d always been lost in a book. And in spite of Sir Edmund’s praise, he knew his son wasn’t a physical man. “You can handle that?”
Diego whisks the sword out its sheath with an ease that Alejandro admired. “It’s rather light.”
“It’s a beginner’s weight.” Alejandro was reminded of the time Diego tried to climb a tree in the back pasture. Pedro had been the one to carry the bruised boy into the hacienda. Diego had been gasping, still trying to regain his breath. Elena, exhausted and drained from the beginnings of an illness of which she had then been unaware, started to sob. Diego jumped from Pedro’s arms and began to comfort his mother.
“Just don’t hurt yourself with it, that’s all,” he said. Diego always hated to be injured or ill, and his parents had always hated to see it. Perhaps a sword hadn’t been the best choice of gift.
Diego looked mildly uncomfortable, and Alejandro remembered his failure to mention Sir Edmund in a single letter. “I know,” he said, putting his hand on Diego’s shoulder. He quickly squeezed it, offering reassurances. “You didn’t have time to complete your studies with Sir Edmund. Well, we’ll just have to do the best we can.”
He took few steps away, leaving Diego with his gift. “Why don’t you wash up? Felipe will bring you a cool drink in your room while your luggage is unpacked. Then, we can go to the tavern.”
He turned to see Diego smiling at the small sword. Yes, his bookish son had never cared much for the rough play that most boys partake in. He grinned and again welcomes his son back home.
The burden that had been weighing him down for so long did feel a little lighter. Maybe it was just the idea of having someone by his side while he fought the alcalde for justice, but something told him that having Diego home was going to change everything.