The Fountains of Silence(36)

Daniel nods.

Martin Matheson rises from the chair. He stands, looking at his son’s photos affixed to the wall. Please. Just one compliment, thinks Daniel.

Instead, his father starts to laugh. He points to the photo of Nick Van Dorn’s scabbed knuckles. “Pretty undiplomatic for a diplomat’s son. That kid’s a handful, huh?”

Daniel shrugs.

His father clears his throat. “What do you make of Ben, the newspaper man?” asks his dad.

“I like him. Seems like a smart guy. Intense about his job.”

“Most journalists are. They want their story and will do anything to get it. It’s a vicious business. Remember that.” His father makes his way to the door.

The word business reminds him of the telegram. “Say, Dad. There’s something I want to discuss.”

His father stops. “I know.”

“You do?”

He nods, face full of apology. “Dan, I’m sorry.”

His father’s sincerity smooths his annoyance.

“I was waiting for you to tell me,” says his father. “I understand hiding it from your mother. She loves Laura Beth. She’ll be so hurt.”

Laura Beth? His dad thinks he wants to talk about Laura Beth?

“Dad—”

“I know all about it. Someone told your uncle. Laura Beth, she’s just confused. Graduation was overwhelming. You two make a fine couple and she’s from an excellent family. Don’t fret, I’m certain—quite certain—she’ll change her mind.”

A fine couple? They had nothing in common. They only dated a few months, during which she also kissed other guys. Does he know that Laura Beth felt his mom was “too ethnic” and therefore their families weren’t a suitable match?

“It’s okay, Dad, there were problems.”

“Every relationship has problems. Speaking of . . .” His father pauses, as if carefully gathering words. “Daniel, your mother and I have had a bit of a tough time lately. Give her a little extra room if you can. It’s important to her that you’re happy here in Madrid.”

The request takes Daniel by surprise. A tough time? What does that mean? His mind returns to the telegram. He wants to ask questions but something about his father’s expression tells him not to. His dad’s tone, it’s kinder than usual, intentionally easing up on him.

“Okay,” says Daniel.

“Thanks, partner. We’ll leave for the embassy in fifteen minutes.” He exits the room.

Daniel stares at the door. His father can be headstrong and, sure, their father-son dynamic has been tense for the past few years. But things have never been strained between his parents.

What did he mean by a tough time?





38



The American embassy is built of blocky white sandstone. Its posture conveys a mix of durability and refinement. A large red, white, and blue flag, along with its forty-eight stars, salutes above the entry.

“Welcome to the embassy, Daniel. So glad you could join us.”

Nick’s father, Shep Van Dorn, greets them in a formal receiving line at the entrance. Van Dorn shakes his hand and looks to Daniel’s mother.

“Good evening, María. My, you look gorgeous. Are you sure you’re not in the fashion show tonight?”

Ever polished and professional, Shephard Van Dorn is cut from different fabric than his son. Nick stands amidst a group of pretty young women in the corner, and when he sees Daniel, he whistles loudly. The girls laugh at his inappropriate gesture. Nick’s father does not.

“Well, how about that,” laughs Nick. “Cowboy traded his boots for a suit. Lookin’ good, Dan.” Nick’s enthusiasm, fueled by wine, entertains the group through introductions.

“I’ve arranged to bend the rules. They’re going to play some Elvis in the hotel club tonight. You should join us,” says Nick.

Like bikinis, Elvis and his gyrating hips are considered indecent in Spain.

Daniel nods absently and looks around the room. He longs for his camera to capture the tight feel of the event. Although it’s a diplomatic affair with attendees from many different countries, the atmosphere feels distinctly American to Daniel, as if he could be at an event in Dallas.

The young women, wearing crisp taffeta dresses and white gloves, are debutante daughters of American diplomats, moguls, and military officers. They attend colleges like Wellesley and Bryn Mawr. Their dresses are different colors, but Daniel fears their destinies are probably similar. They will make advantageous marriages and be listed within the coveted Social Register in their city of residence. But is that what they really want?

Daniel looks at his mother. He’s grateful that she’s different, that she maintains Spanish customs at home, even though he knows it makes things difficult for her among the Dallas society crowd.

“Your mother, is she descendant from nobility in Spain?” the society writer from the Dallas Morning News asked during his job at the paper.

Attachment to a sovereign title significantly boosts your intrigue in society circles. Some Dallas residents hire genealogists hoping to unearth a long-dead baron in the family who might grant them admission to the right club.

Women in Dallas follow society news like a trader follows stocks. Laura Beth spoke ad nauseam of the forthcoming debutante ball for Henry Ford’s granddaughter. Daniel knows his association with Laura Beth’s family brought a sense of society connection to his mother. It brought him a sense of fatigue, as does the embassy fashion event.