After the War: A Novella of the Golden City Read Online Free PDF Page A

the kind of man who wouldn’t do what was right. He felt guilty that Old Alejandro hadn’t married her properly. Was he doing this only because he was expected to do so?
    If he could have any woman in Portugal, though, he wanted Serafina. “I’m sure.”
    Her shoulders relaxed, as if she’d been holding herself tight.
    Alejandro took her hands in his. “Now, we have to get ready for the train, but once we’re underway, we can talk, all right?”
    She gave him a glittering smile that set his heart at ease.
    
    Alejandro kept his arms wrapped tightly about a sleeping Serafina as the train rattled through the mountains. The compartment’s bed wasn’t large, merely the bench pulled out and made up with blankets and sheets, but they would manage. The train shifted as they came around a wide curve, sending him rolling against Serafina’s side.
    They must be near Coimbra now. Even if he didn’t remember Coimbra, he could read a map. Supposedly he’d attended the university there.
    It didn’t matter that everyone thought he was Alejandro Ferreira. He felt like an imposter. Would that ever go away? Or would he have to regain his memory to believe in this identity?
    Serafina clearly believed. As did Joaquim and Inspector Gaspar and Marcos Davila.
    He wanted to trust their judgment.
    Serafina sighed and her arms twined around him. “Why are you awake?”
    “Do you not worry that I’m an imposter?”
    “I know you’re not,” she answered. “I don’t need you to remember me to remember you myself.”
    Yes, this was a different experience for her. “Before,” he asked, “what would we talk about?”
    Her fingers touched his chest. “We only had three days. We didn’t talk a great deal.”
    He had the impression now that they’d spent those three days in bed. “What did we plan to do? Live with my family forever?”
    “We didn’t discuss it.” Her fingers wandered, informing him that she was the one who didn’t like to talk.
    He caught her errant hand. “We will have to talk about it someday.”
    “Can it not be tomorrow, then?” she asked. “I don’t want to worry about little things.”
    Little things? Like where they would live? I am clearly the practical one in this relationship.
    
    Sunday, 20 June 1920, The Golden City
    The train station at São Bento he remembered. Not a real memory, but Alejandro had seen photographs of the intricate azulejos on the station’s walls, tile murals depicting scenes from the country’s history. He would have liked to stay and look at each one, but he could tell Joaquim wanted to get home, so they made their way out of the train station and called one of the cabs that waited there. It wasn’t far to the house, Joaquim explained, but he would rather not walk, as the streets were steep. Alejandro suspected his brother had gotten less sleep on the train than he had, although not for the same reason, certainly.
    And their destination was close, just a short drive down the main street before the station that connected the palace on its hilltop to the Douro River. This would be the Street of Flowers. The cab let them down in front of a dark stone house, one that looked like it belonged in the countryside, not the city. Joaquim opened up the wrought iron gate and proceeded through a small garden to the house. Carrying Serafina’s two bags, Alejandro followed.
    Nothing familiar .
    Once they were all inside the long entryway hall and the door closed behind them, Alejandro spotted a petite woman hurrying down the stairs from the second floor to join them. Her hair was brown, and her eyes were dark and large. This was Marina, Joaquim’s wife and the woman who’d raised him. She came running down the hall, threw her arms about her husband, and kissed his cheeks. Her clothes showed the same excellent taste as Joaquim’s, a simple dress in dark blue. Even though she didn’t need to work, she served on the board of the business firm her father ran.
    She released her