As they headed to the real estate office to pick up the keys to what would be their home during their vacation, Rafael heard the real estate agent directing a family toward a route that, according to him, was easy to do with children. How wrong that man was, and Cristina would suffer the consequences of that error.
Both waited outside, though Rafael had insisted she wait for him sitting in any restaurant or bar, contemplating the Sierra Nevada mountains—now snowless, with an ocher and green hue. That year, not a single snow patch remained; although in April it still held snow, summer had arrived forcefully, wanting to assert its supremacy over the other seasons… and boy, had it succeeded! All of Spain was suffering from heatwaves unseen in decades. To tell the truth, in Córdoba it was always that hot in summer, no matter what the news reported. That particular summer was proving especially long; it was common to hit 46 or 47 degrees during the day, and even the nights offered no respite—any breeze that blew was hot and uninviting. They couldn’t leave that summer due to limited staff availability, so Sub-inspector Cristina and Inspector Rafael would take their vacations when winter arrived. That August bank holiday served as a relief from the scorching and suffocating Cordovan heat.
Cristina looked at the empty or sparsely inhabited buildings on the sloping street where they waited. Opposite was a small garden with several lush green pines, the ground littered with cones bitten by squirrels and fallen needles that formed a large ocher carpet. Looking further beyond the trees, mountains rose on the horizon, displaying their majesty. Rafael saw nothing; he was simply listening intently to the instructions being given to the other family, so he could later research online and create a route for his watch.
She approached to hug him, happy to be alone, without pretense, relaxing from so much stressful work. Rafael reciprocated by puting his arm around her waist; nonetheless, his thoughts were elsewhere. Cristina took his face in both hands.
“You have to learn to disconnect and relax.”
He smiled and kissed her softly. He wasn’t one to show his feelings in public; she knew it and appreciated the gesture. She knew he was trying.
“I will. A promise is a promise,” Rafael said, smiling.
“I pray we don’t have to pull out our badges for anything; I mean it. Work follows us wherever we go,” Cristina replied in a low voice, though what she really wanted was to shout it from the rooftops.
Rafael’s last vacation in London had also been eventful and turned into work—albeit with expenses paid. Both missed out on their vacations then: she in Córdoba handling a case, and he in London collaborating on a joint investigation between both countries into a series of homicides.
The family the agent was attending swarmed out of the office, the children playing and shouting as if there were no tomorrow. It bothered Rafael immensely when children were so rowdy, and Cristina always gave the same answer—“they’re children”—but that response didn’t satisfy him.
The agent reached out to shake hands with Cristina and Rafael. He was a small man with a prominent belly, lively eyes, and the gift of gab typical of sales representatives. He looked at the couple and quickly realized that besides love, there was a complicity between them—there was electricity, a special connection. She was a modern woman with class and a sharp gaze; he, however, was introverted, very polite, self-assured, and seemed to possess social skills. The agent had the feeling there was much more behind that facade, which unsettled him slightly. What kind of client could this guy be? Be that as it may, he had been paid generously and had received a tip in advance. After explaining where the house was and the general rules, he gave them the key.
Rafael read the document where it was written and underlined that they were obliged to take out the trash themselves before vacating, and that cleaning was also their responsibility. He looked intently at the man with a smiling gaze before addressing him in a calm and polite tone.
“I’ve given you a large tip because, quite frankly, we want to rest and do nothing. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.”
“I understand; however, those are the rules,” the agent confirmed, nervous and uncomfortable.
Cristina looked at both; she didn’t understand Rafael’s behavior. She took the written rules and read them quickly.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take out the trash. It’s no trouble.”
She didn’t know about the large tip Rafael had given beforehand; he wanted total rest, no responsibilities, just enjoyment. So, he spoke up again.
“I believe I’ve given you a very generous tip to make an exception to the rule. We want daily cleaning and to forget about everything entirely.”
“Without meaning to be rude, you should have gone to a hotel then,” the agent pointed out.
“You’re right. Give me my money back. I’m going to book a room in the five-star hotel I saw just around the corner.”
The man turned pale and stood petrified.
Cristina feared the scene Rafael was making, though she realized it must have been a very large tip for him to act this way. Sometimes his more “classy” side, which he usually hid for work, came out.
“Well, don’t get upset. We’ll make an exception. But how will we know when the cleaning crew can come in?”
“We’ll give an hour’s notice; I believe that’s enough estimated time to get to the house. Does that sound alright?” he asked out of courtesy, taking for granted that he would accept.
He had no choice but to accept, even if it didn’t seem like enough time to notify his cleaning staff. That client had paid twice the value of the vacation—that was the trick. The house was tucked away from the Prado Llano station and hard to rent, so he had to agree.
“That seems fine. Just keep in mind it will take more than an hour to clean, given the size of the house.”
“That’s logical.”
Rafael reached out his hand to seal the deal. Cristina was nothing more than a mere spectator, feeling out of place and embarrassed by the uncomfortable situation. She also reached out to shake hands; the agent squeezed her hand while wrapping his other hand around hers, making a “sandwich” of her hand, which made her uncomfortable.
They left and headed to one of the restaurants next to the mountain lookout. They sat on blue fabric armchairs with gray and blue cushions, built from wooden pallets. There was a low table in front of them with a retro-style candle lantern and a small pot of lavender flowers. The umbrella provided some shade; it wasn’t hot, yet the sun at that altitude burned the skin.
They sat there, and Cristina leaned slightly on Rafael’s shoulder while contemplating those marvelous views where the mountains met the sky, playfully tickling each other. The waiter approached to take their order; they ordered and continued viewing the landscape, along with the screams of children jumping on the trampoline of the bar next door. Cristina had the feeling of reminiscing about vacations when she was little; she didn’t know if it was the sense of well-being, the noise of the children, the aroma of the environment, or the calm and happiness one has when small and without worries.
“Why did you act like that at the real estate office?”
“I wanted you to rest completely, without worries, without a watch.”
“Without a watch? Come on, we both know you’re extremely mystical and that implies schedules.”
Rafael kissed Cristina’s forehead. “The only schedules we’ll have will be for our hikes, so the night or the cold doesn’t catch us.”
That charmed her; she was totally in love with him.
“I prefer the night catches us in bed. Together,” she replied with a sensual and playful voice.
“Always.”
They merged into a kiss—not as passionate as Cristina would have liked, but more so than what Rafael would usually give.
They were in the car, and Cristina looked ecstatically at the landscape through the window. Finally, they reached the house. It was a large house, primarily made of wood. A large porch with swing seats welcomed them; two large white wrought-iron lanterns sat on each side of the small staircase leading to the porch, with wooden planters full of beautiful white and pink petunias hanging from them, overflowing like a cascade over the railing. A rug with “Sweet Home” written on it encouraged them to enter.
Rafael smiled. “If you don’t mind…” He spread his arms to indicate he couldn’t open the door, smiling inside.
Cristina was holding the coats and looking at the garden of that beautiful, fairytale-like house when she was interrupted by Rafael handing her the key to open the door.
“Sorry, I hadn’t realized you’re carrying the bags and can’t open it.”
Rafael had sent a message beforehand so that on the center table of that large foyer, there would be a large bouquet of red roses in a cut-glass vase. His tight negotiation had almost spoiled the surprise he had prepared for her.
She opened the door, and there it was—that beautiful bouquet with an evocative fragrance waiting for them. Cristina dropped the keys on the table, caressed the petals softly, and wrapping one flower, brought her face close to be intoxicated by the scent. She spun around to kiss him—one of those kisses that leaves you breathless and asks for more than a simple hug. Rafael dropped the bags, picked her up in his arms, and they climbed the wide front stairs to the master bedroom, where the fireplace was already lit. On the desk sat a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice bucket, with two glasses ready to use.
Practically the entire morning had passed, and they needed to go eat. He looked at Cristina sleeping peacefully; a lock of hair covered part of her face. She was lucky to always sleep so well. Rafael put on his underwear and socks to avoid walking on the wooden floor and went to inspect the house. Everything was in perfect order. There was only one entrance; it had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a pool at the back with a sliding cover for when it was cold and heated water. The kitchen featured a central island and a table for eight—too large for his taste.
He began to feel cold. He opened the suitcase still in the entrance, propped it on the leather sofa in the living room, and took out some clothes. He dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, waiting for Cristi to wake up. He looked at his watch; he had promised no schedules, but if he let her keep sleeping, the restaurants would close their kitchens and they wouldn’t be able to eat. He decided to go back up and put an end to her peaceful slumber.
She opened her eyes and saw Rafael’s face. She looked around; too much light was coming in. It was then she realized it must be late. At that instant, her stomach rumbled, warning her she was hungry and that love doesn’t feed. Cristi smiled, touching her belly.
“You didn’t wake me. What time is it?”
“The perfect time to eat.” Rafael looked at his watch before continuing, “You have half an hour to get ready.”
“I only need fifteen minutes.”
They went to Prado Llano station to eat; everything had been delicious. Rafael had prepared the hydration pack with a thermal blanket, isotonic drinks, water for both, emergency spray, gummies with carbs and caffeine, tissues, wipes, jackets for the cold, an emergency kit, hiking poles, and the planned route for the day programmed into his watch. They parked the car and started the route. It was more complicated than it seemed to Cristina, with a 400-meter elevation gain, many loose stones, and the wind shifting from a crosswind to a headwind as they progressed, sounding like it was howling as it whistled through every small gap in their clothes. She focused on where she stepped; Rafael led the way, marking the path. Cristina slipped repeatedly because of the wind, even with the poles.
The hike was taking longer than calculated. Rafael decided that if they couldn’t advance any further, this was the exact moment they should turn back, as night was going to fall on them; the sun would soon start to hide and show its last rays. Of course, he had headlamps; he wasn’t afraid for himself, but for Cristi.
“How are you doing? Let me know when you need to drink.”
“Good, I’m doing good. A bit dizzy, but good.”
Dizzy—that’s dehydration and lack of oxygen, Rafael thought, but what he said was, “Drink some and have a gummy.”
Cristina obeyed; she looked like a zombie. It was hard for her to think and walk.
“We’re going back,” Rafa settled.
“No. No way. I can handle this and more.”
“Listen to me, in the mountains you have to use your head and leave pride behind.”
Cristina didn’t feel like listening when he got all scholarly; then again, she didn’t feel like arguing either. However, she could continue; she wasn’t a woman who gave up at the first hurdle. He might have mountain experience, but she knew how to fight through adversity.
“We’re going to keep going; I’m fine. I’m moving slower than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing it,” she said, breathlessly and very angrily.
Rafa looked at the route again.
“See that building? It’s the mountain refuge. It looks close, but don’t let your eyes deceive you—it’s still three kilometers away.”
“That’s nothing.”
Rafael thought that three kilometers at the altitude they were at, with that wind, could feel like seven on any other terrain. He took out a jacket and gave it to Cristi to put on, then extracted gloves from his pockets and urged her to wear them.
“Now I’m really ready.”
They continued advancing. From time to time, Rafael turned around to see how she was walking. Cristi looked at the ground to see where she placed her feet. She lifted her head for a moment to observe that sublime mountain landscape; two sheep were lost in the middle of nowhere, the sound of cicadas could be heard, though for a while they seemed to be singing their symphony more softly under the heat of the stones. Suddenly, her left foot slipped. She tried to regain her balance but failed to dig her poles into the stones and fell sideways, like a book when you remove the one next to it. She fell with a thud on her side and tailbone. The impact hurt; it took her a moment to react, and by then Rafael was already at her side.
“Are you okay?” He began feeling her arms and legs down to her ankles.
“Ouch!!”
She never complained; he knew that was a bad sign.
“It hurts a lot.”
“How much is ‘a lot’? Do you think it’s broken?”
“Wait,” she said while breathing and trying to move her foot and toes inside the hiking boots. “It’s not broken. It’s the ankle.”
Cristi went to take off her boot when Rafael stopped her.
“If you take it off, it’ll swell up and you won’t be able to put it back on.”
“You’re right. It’s an instinct to try to calm the pain. Well, what do we do now?”
Rafael looked at the path; upwards he couldn’t continue, and downwards he would have to hold back the body’s incline with only one leg. On the other hand, they were closer to the refuge than to the car.
“If you can continue, I’ll be your support. If not, we have to call emergencies to send a helicopter.”
“Well, this time it’s me ruining the vacation and not work,” she said in a sorry tone with an ironic smile.
“Listen to me, you’ll never ruin anything in my life. It’s just a change of plans. Do you think you can go on or should we call emergencies? Don’t try to be a hero.”
“It’s a sprain; it’s not serious.”
“It depends on the environment. In the city, it’s not serious; in the mountains, it is.” He looked at what was left to reach the refuge, studied the possibilities, and thought it was the most appropriate choice.
“What do you think?” Cristina asked grudgingly.
He knew it was hard for her to give in.
“Based on where we are, I think the most appropriate thing is to continue to the refuge. However, I don’t know the level of pain you’re in.” He looked at her ankle and then into her eyes, which were about to overflow with a tear—and it wasn’t from pain, it was from suppressed rage at ruining the vacation.
“Let’s go,” she growled, trying to get up on her own.
Rafael helped her and walked by her side, leading when necessary.
That stretch was becoming unbearable for her; her quads were tightening, and her traps began to ache up to the back of her neck. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t hurt, including her hands from gripping the poles. Perhaps her face was the only thing that didn’t feel pain, except for the lashing of the wind against it.
They kept stopping to drink water and isotonic drink. Rafael adjusted her jacket’s hood, pulled up her neck gaiter to her nose, and took off her sunglasses, which were making it harder to see properly instead of helping.
“We’re almost there, come on. Just a hundred meters left.”
Cristina couldn’t take it anymore; she was at the limit of her strength, and Rafael knew it, although he hid his concern.
Finally, they arrived. They turned the knob and entered. Truly a refuge against the grandeur and solitude of the mountain. The floor was clay, the walls white. The living room was just inside to the left; opposite the entrance, two steps led to the bathroom, and another two steps to the left of the bathroom door led to the bedroom where there were several beds—something uncommon, as in refuges beds are usually a concrete framework for placing sleeping bags, but here there were beds with mattresses.
They went into the living room and sat on the couch, which was very well-maintained.
“Alright, it’s time.”
Rafael looked at her and began to unlace her boots, which were tighter than usual due to the swelling. Cristina was sitting with both hands resting on the couch; she didn’t want to relax just yet.
“When I tell you, breathe in through your nose and then let it out slowly through your mouth.”
Cristi gave a small nod.
Rafael had already unlaced the boots. While loosening the footwear, he widened it a bit more to be able to gently remove her swollen foot. He began to instruct her…
“Breathe in through your nose now.”
He held the ankle and gripped the back of the hiking shoe to pull it out.
“Let the air out slowly… through your mouth.”
He started to extract the shoe, and Cristina kept exhaling while enduring the pain.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch!”
“It’s very swollen. Tomorrow we’ll call for someone to pick us up, or I’ll call right now.” Rafael looked outside; it was pouring.
“One more adventure; let’s stay here,” Cristina said, smiling.
“I’ll be right back.”
Cristi followed him with her eyes to see him move toward the door and come back in with apparently nothing.
“Where did you go?”
“To see the stars.”
“What, without me?!” Cristi exclaimed, trying to smile. Her face was pale from the pain and exhaustion.
Rafael opened the backpack and took out the thermal blankets, two sandwiches, and looked at the remaining water. He hardly drank, so with a little he would be fine; besides, there was a hose outside. He took out a small first aid kit she had given him with bandages, tape, scissors, and band-aids.
He went out again to fetch the handkerchief he had left earlier. It was soaked in ice-cold water, nearly frozen. He took the sandwich out of its bag, put the handkerchief inside it, and placed it around Cristina’s ankle and foot. Meanwhile, she watched him, amazed by his ability to react to adversity.
Rafael sat beside her, resting her feet on his legs. They both covered themselves with the thermal blanket. He shared the sandwiches and took out a paracetamol and an anti-inflammatory for her to take. He removed the bag with the soaked cloth and very carefully bandaged her ankle. At that moment, Cristina was glad Rafael was so proactive and methodical.
“I love you!” Cristina said.
“I love you too, my dear.”
…
“You’re not going to tell me I’m being cheesy or anything! That’s scaring me.”
“I’ve run out of rebuttals.”
“You’re tired. I’m sorry, I didn’t plan this well.”
“You know what? God is the strategist, and we are mere pawns in the game. We play believing we’re making decisions, when in reality we only choose from the options we’re given.”
They spent the night there together, Rafael watching over her, on guard. Although it was much better than the shifts he had to pull at work—they weren’t comparable at all.
Dawn broke, and it continued to rain. Cristina’s ankle was still swollen, though no more than the night before. Rafael called the real estate agent, who arranged a taxi for them. Cristina refused to call emergency services; she was ashamed because of “such a stupidity,” in her own words.
They finally reached the vacation home after a doctor had seen her ankle. It was a third-degree sprain, with swelling and bruising, but nothing broken.
Cristina decided to continue her vacation there with Rafael; nothing in the world was going to take away those small August holidays. What she didn’t know was that he called his boss and extended the vacation by a full month.
Rafael hired a cook in addition to the cleaning service, on the condition that they would clean while they were there. Their vacation consisted of restaurants and dinners at home; the house’s covered pool provided more than one moment of happiness.
She continued sleeping peacefully at night despite the physical pain, because emotionally she was fulfilled.