Chapter 3: Looking for Another Family

By Kelly.

I was leaving college when my cell phone rang.

I said goodbye to my classmates and answered it; it was from the law firm that represented my father. I thought it was very strange that they’d call me at that hour—they usually called in the morning.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kelly.”

“Go ahead.”

I said as I walked toward my beautiful car—it was a gift from my father for my 22nd birthday.

I can’t say he skimped on the gift, because he’d get me a new car model every two years.

I was getting settled in my car and about to use the hands-free feature to start it.

-“Miss Kelly, are you alone? Where are you?”

I was about to tell him it didn’t matter, but I decided to answer politely.

“I’m leaving college.”

“I wanted to let you know that your father was in an accident.”

I didn’t know why, but a terrible chill ran through me.

I turned off the car’s engine.

“What do you mean, he had an accident?”

-“I’m so sorry… the helicopter carrying the two gentlemen crashed and caught fire; both of them died, as did the pilot.”

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head.

My hands were shaking more than my knees, and luckily I was sitting down—otherwise I would have fallen over.

I never in my life thought I’d receive news like this.

-Miss Kelly...

-I heard.

-“They’ll both be laid to rest together; that’s what Mr. Rodolfo Orellana Coutol decided.”

I knew that Rodolfo was the son of Ethan, my father’s business partner. I was just a girl when I left the countryside, but I remember Ethan well; I barely remember Rodolfo. I saw him at my mother’s wake, along with his father. They were very close friends with my father, and they had a lot of affection and respect for one another.

A thousand images flashed through my mind, and above all, they lingered on my mother’s wake...

“Kelly, would you like me to send a helicopter to pick you up?”

The lawyer’s voice and his question snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Are you telling me that my father died because the helicopter crashed, and you want me to get on one? Are you kidding me?”

“No, miss, it wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

“Then don’t. Send me the location of the wake, and don’t bury him until I get there.”

“I’ll pass that along to Mr. Rodolfo.”

“I don’t care if you tell him or not—that’s my order, and I’m the one who decides what happens to my father’s body.”

Click. I was furious with this Rodolfo guy, who apparently thought he owned the universe. I’d only just been told about my father’s death, and he’d already made all the arrangements. Who does he think he is?

Typical country macho—no class, sexist, and self-centered.

He wasn’t the only one. When my mother got sick, my father sent us to Sacramento, saying she’d have a better chance of surviving there, but it was a lie—she died anyway, and I stayed with my aunt forever—well, not forever.

But I was never able to go back to the countryside again.

I have the fondest memories of my early childhood, though they’re a bit hazy. I was 8 years old when my mother passed away and I went to live with my aunt. It’s true that my father came to see me often, but I missed my mother—and him, too. Up until then, we’d been a happy family.

Much happier than Ethan and Helena. I barely remember Helena; I didn’t like her—she seemed mean to me. Well, back then I didn’t have many adjectives to describe her.

She’d never actually done anything to me—that was also true.

The person I have almost no memories of from my childhood is Rodolfo; I think they sent him away to study somewhere else—actually, I’m just guessing that; I don’t know for sure.

I just remember that I was dying to go back to the countryside, and my father—in his eagerness to indulge me—would take me to Disney during the vacations and shower me with gifts. And when I got a little older, he and his sister—my aunt—took me all over the world, even though all I wanted was to be in the countryside.

I attended high school at a boarding school in France.

The years went by, and it seemed as if I’d been banished from the countryside.

As soon as I finished high school and after a nearly two-month trip around the world with my boarding school friends, I returned to my country.

My aunt was in poor health at the time, and since I was her only niece and she was single, I stayed to live with her and take care of her.

In the meantime, I enrolled in veterinary school.

As a veterinarian, there would be no more excuses for not returning to the countryside.

By this point, my father and I had grown quite distant.

I felt that he didn’t want me to return to the countryside.

When we saw each other, we argued a lot—I never told him how I really felt, and I ended up acting like a late-blooming teenager.

Out of pride, I never wanted to tell him that I missed the countryside—more than that, that I longed for it terribly.

I always thought my father had another family and didn’t want to tell me—that led me to treat him badly, and he never knew why.

Finally, my aunt passed away; my father came right away, accompanied by Ethan, who was astonished because he found a woman there—the last time he’d seen me, I’d been a little girl.

They stayed with me for a few days and then returned to their rural life, although they also had businesses outside the countryside; but my father always kept me on the sidelines—I consider him very sexist.

By then, my bank account was huge; every month he deposited a massive sum of money into it—far more than I ever spent.

During my vacations, I’d buy endless collections of clothes that I hardly ever wore.

I don’t go to fancy parties—I go out dancing with my friends.

Although the college was private and there were people from high socioeconomic backgrounds, we were young, and we dressed differently, but my father insisted, every year, on buying me clothes that I don’t think I’ll ever wear in my life.

I just want to go back to the countryside—I don’t want parties, or clothes, or anything—and that was the one thing my father wouldn’t give me.

I made it home as best I could.

I called my friend Olivia and told her that my father had passed away; she asked if I wanted her to come with me.

Actually, I’d rather go alone—I didn’t know what I was going to find, or how I was going to react.

“No, thanks, I’d rather go alone.”

“It’s too much for you; I’ll go with you.”

“Really, I’d rather go alone. Thanks, friend.”

I felt a certain anger—in the end, my father never saw me graduate as a veterinarian; he never told me to come back to the countryside. I think I was banished forever.

I took a shower, crying uncontrollably the whole time; I don’t know if my face was wetter from the shower water or from my tears.

I tried to relax; I had to drive all night, and I didn’t know what time I’d arrive. They still hadn’t sent me the address for the wake. Is that idiot Rodolfo organizing it—the one who’s decided everything up until now?

At the very least, he should have called me.

No, it’s obvious that the little gentleman can’t even bring himself to dial a phone number.

I put on black jeans and a sweater of the same color; I was going to wear sneakers, but it seemed inappropriate, so I chose a pair of very comfortable boots—I bought them in Italy, and even though they had high heels, you couldn’t feel the height of the heel, and they were perfect for driving. I packed three changes of clothes, and sure enough, I didn’t need the sneakers after all— so I put them in the trunk of my red sports car.

I was used to driving and loved the speed, and above all, I trusted my beautiful car—with the onboard computer, it required no effort at all.

I tried to think about anything to keep from falling apart.

As the night wore on and anxiety took hold of me, I pressed harder on the gas pedal; I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle the situation—going back to the countryside meant so much to me.

Especially given the circumstances—my father never actually asked me to, but it was the only thing I wanted: to go back to the countryside with him.

I focused my studies on returning to the countryside so I could stay there and earn everyone’s respect, because I understand that people in the countryside tend to be more sexist than those in the city.

It’s clear I’m not wrong, because that jerk Rodolfo didn’t consult me about anything.

On the way, I stopped several times, just to have coffee and stay awake, although I was so angry and so furious with that jerk that my adrenaline was skyrocketing.

I arrived around ten in the morning.

When I walked into the wake, I felt all eyes on me, but no one approached me.

Maybe they didn’t know that Matthew Miller had a daughter, although I don’t think it was that hard to figure out who I was.

I swear I scanned the crowd to see if there was a woman crying over him or any other children my father might have had...

That’s when I noticed a man who stood out from the rest; he had that air of a gentleman, as if to say, “Move aside—I’m the master of the universe.”

It wasn't hard to figure out that he was that idiot Rodolfo Orellana Coutol—the moron even had a double last name.

I hated him.