Chapter 24 : Esmeralda

"What's the problem, Lara?" Leonardo's presence loomed in the lobby as Lara made her way towards him. Her desperation was palpable as she pleaded with him to reconsider her stay in Esmeralda's room. Angela could see the fear etched on Lara's face, contrasting sharply with Leonardo's cold and impassive demeanor. Lara's voice quivered as she implored, "Leonardo, please, I don't want to stay in Esmeralda's room. Let me be with you all the time; allow me to stay in your room."
Angela and Mrs. Gale stood frozen, their breaths held in anticipation of Leonardo's response. The tension in the air was thick, and Angela sensed that something significant was about to unfold with the opening of the pink room. Lara's hysterical reaction hinted at underlying conflicts between her and Esmeralda, but even Angela was taken aback by Leonardo's final decision.
"Can you switch rooms with Lara, Angela?" Leonardo declared, his voice devoid of emotion. "Perhaps you would fit in the pink room."
Angela looked at Leonardo, feeling a wave of hesitation, but the words wouldn't escape her lips. Instead, she muttered, "No problem. It doesn't matter where you put me."
"Then move your belongings to the pink room," Leonardo commanded.
"Yes, sir," Angela responded obediently, making her way back to her room to gather her things. As she reached the door, she stole a glance back at the pink room, her eyes wandering around in disbelief. She couldn't fathom that she would now be occupying that very space.
"I'll clean the room while you gather your belongings," Mrs. Gale suggested, breaking the silence.
Leonardo proceeded to his room in silence, paying no heed to Lara's complaints as she followed him. The door closed, shutting them away from the outside world.
Angela turned to Mrs. Gale, her brow furrowing with curiosity. "What happened here? Why did Miss Lara react that way? Is she afraid of Esmeralda?"
"I told you to forget about the girl's name," Mrs. Gale responded abruptly, swiftly opening a window. "You can keep this window open to let some fresh air in from the orchard." She continued dusting the window glass, avoiding Angela's probing questions. "I think you should take Mrs. Chavez's suitcases into your room," she added, redirecting the conversation.
As Angela pondered the mysteries surrounding the pink room and Esmeralda, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than anyone was willing to reveal. With a sense of apprehension, she nodded at Mrs. Gale's suggestion and went to retrieve Lara's suitcases, her mind still filled with unanswered questions.
Angela inhaled deeply, the weight of the suitcases causing a strain on her as she silently lugged them into her room. She carefully placed her belongings into her bag, leaving Lara's suitcases undisturbed by the window. Returning to the pink room, Angela noticed that Mrs. Gale was no longer there. Disregarding the cupboards, she refrained from touching any of Esmeralda's possessions, as instructed by Mrs. Gale.
Cracking open another closed window, Angela's heart skipped a beat as she took in the view below. Leonardo's studio lay within her sight, and from that angle, she could even make out the forbidden veranda. However, a chill ran down Angela's spine as she contemplated Lara's unease with staying in the room. What had transpired here? And why had the name Esmeralda been forgotten?
Her attention returned to the studio as she heard Lara's voice from behind. "Put my clothes in the cupboard and bring me a cup of coffee," Lara commanded, standing rigidly at the doorway, apprehensive about stepping foot into the pink room. She added with a grim tone, "Remember, Angela, you should leave after my wedding. Understood?"
Angela chose not to argue and complied with Lara's request. She went to the kitchen and returned with a steaming cup of coffee, placing it on the small table next to the bed. After neatly stowing away all of Lara's clothes in the cupboard, she stepped outside and leaned against the wall of the corridor. Thoughts swirled in her mind about the future conflicts and clashes that would inevitably arise with Miss Chavez's presence.
Letting out a sigh, Angela was about to head back to the kitchen when Leonardo's door creaked open, and he emerged, sniffing the air. "Angela, guide me to the pink room."
A faint smile crept onto Angela's lips. "Well, it seems your sense of smell is improving," she remarked, sighing softly. "Alright, take a step to your right, then walk about seven paces forward to reach the door of the pink room."
"Take my hand and lead the way," he insisted. "I prefer a brisk pace."
Angela moved closer to take Leonardo's hand, and together they entered the pink room. "We have arrived in the pink room," she announced.
"I am aware," Leonardo muttered.
Releasing her grip on his hand, Angela chose to remain silent, awaiting his next instruction. However, Leonardo stood still near the bed, motionless.
Leonardo's measured steps brought him closer to the open window, aided by the support of his silver cane. A somber expression adorned his face, weighted with remorse. Angela's gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes filled with anticipation, yearning for Leonardo to unravel the enigma that was Esmeralda.
"Is my abstract painting still adorning the wall by the foot of the bed?" Leonardo inquired, his voice carrying a fragile vulnerability.
"Yes, it remains there, though it could benefit from a gentle dusting," Angela replied softly, her voice filled with empathy.
"I painted that for Esmeralda," Leonardo revealed, his voice tinged with a hint of longing.
Intrigued by the mention of a mysterious name, Angela couldn't resist but ask, "Who is Esmeralda?" Her curiosity overflowed, urging Leonardo to share the depths of their story.
"Esmeralda was the only daughter of my father's closest friend," Leonardo sighed, his voice laced with melancholy. "When her parents tragically perished in a car accident, my father took her under his wing, adopting her into our family."
Leonardo's sigh carried the weight of the past, memories echoing within his words. "She was merely five years old when she first crossed the threshold into this very room, while I was seven," he reminisced, his voice embracing a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.
"Our love bloomed at a tender age," Leonardo's voice faltered, revealing his most vulnerable side. "I promised to marry her once we completed our college education."
Angela's heart ached as she absorbed the heart-wrenching tale, her desire to uncover the remainder of their narrative intensifying. "What transpired after that?" she implored her voice barely a whisper.
"But when my mother discovered the depths of our intimacy, she vehemently opposed it and divulged the truth to my father," Leonardo's expression tightened, a blend of anger and pain etched upon his face. "I faced severe repercussions, accused of being a child abuser. We were on the brink of being torn apart, contemplating sending Esmeralda away to live with my aunt. However, I made a solemn vow to never cross that forbidden boundary with Esmeralda, to forever regard her as my sister. And then Lara entered my life."
Angela couldn't hold back her tears, her heart breaking for Esmeralda as she listened to Leonardo's account of their shared anguish. Until the moment when Leonardo confessed that he and Lara became enamored with each other during their college years, causing him to forget Esmeralda and her unwavering love.
"One night, while celebrating my eighteenth birthday, Lara and I sought refuge in the studio... and as we succumbed to forbidden desires, we heard Esmeralda's anguished cry," Leonardo's voice quivered, tears pooling in his eyes. "Esmeralda had stumbled upon us, exposed and vulnerable in the studio. And when morning arrived, she was gone.”
"We searched every room in the house, but couldn't find her. Later that afternoon, Mrs. Gale screamed in terror, running towards us from the swing, crying," Leonardo's voice quivered, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "She had discovered Esmeralda's lifeless body beneath the veranda at the back of my studio. She took her own life because of me."
Angela's mind drifted to the image of the lady in white she had glimpsed wandering through the orchard. The thought crossed her mind that it could be Esmeralda's ghost, but she refrained from mentioning it to Leonardo. Believing in ghosts felt too difficult, too inconceivable.
"It was all my fault. I drove her to such despair," Leonardo apologized, his voice filled with remorse.
Suddenly, Lara barged into the scene, her gaze fixed on Angela. Angela, not wanting to engage in a fight, remained silent. It was Leonardo who spoke up.
"I confided in Angela about Esmeralda," Leonardo stated flatly to Lara.
"No!" Lara exclaimed. "Leonardo, we agreed to bury the past, to never speak her name in this house again."
Leonardo's anger flared. "Not speaking Esmeralda's name doesn't absolve me of the guilt I carry for her death, Lara."
Mrs. Vera appeared on the scene, questioning the commotion. Lara turned to her, voicing her complaint. "Mrs. Vera, Leonardo mentioned Esmeralda's name to Angela, which I'm sure is painful for you."
"We need to talk about her, Lara. She took her own life because of me," Leonardo insisted, determined to face the consequences of his actions.
"Stop it, Leonardo!" Mrs. Vera interjected. "If opening Esmeralda's room will only reopen old wounds, then perhaps it should remain locked once more."
"I will stay in this room, Mrs. Vera," Angela declared firmly. "Perhaps someone should take responsibility for cleaning this room before rats and termites find their way in."
All eyes turned to Angela, and Leonardo supported her decision. "Lara is now using Angela's room, Mom, and it would be fair to provide Angela with a comfortable room close to mine," Leonardo redirected the conversation. "Angela, take me to my room."
"Let me assist you, Leonardo," Lara offered.

"No, Angela should work to supplement her salary," Leonardo insisted sternly. "Very well, Angela, let's go. You need to change the bed cover."
With a mixture of resolve and trepidation, Angela followed Leonardo, ready to face the challenges that awaited her in his room. The weight of the past and the specter of Esmeralda's tragic end lingered in the air, demanding to be acknowledged and reconciled with.