Here is Mercedes talking to Fernand from the first chapter.
Fernand responsibly walked me home. The sun was dipping into the ocean, a red sphere that colored the sky orange and the clouds gray. He seemed to be thinking seriously, so I did nothing to disturb his thoughts. Instead, I stopped, picked up a smooth stone, and skipped it across the shallows of the store. He stopped with me, his hands in his pockets, tall and enigmatic. I was proud of him. Maybe I didn’t need to marry, but maybe he did. Underneath the surface of calm he tried to project I could sense the rolling of many emotions. It was natural, because I felt those same things, although most likely not in the same way. I knew he didn’t want to live the life his mother and father did. I wanted to live exactly that life. I was restless because I wasn’t willing to settle for love, and I wasn’t willing to give up my independence. I didn’t want to become just someone’s wife and mother, the way so many women in the Catalans came to think of themselves. He didn’t want to be just another Catalan. He wanted to be apart from us.
I don’t mean this in a way that would denote Fernand’s ambition as pride or haughtiness. He could sense that he was naturally meant for something else than this. He longed for it. When we were children, he told me often of his dreams. He wanted to prove himself, to show the world what he was capable of, to show his talents. I took a guess. “You’re thinking of making yourself available to the army, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. He looked at me deeply, but I knew that unlike me he wasn’t seeing . “My only pause is well, you know.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “we have to do what feels right in our hearts, not what we think other people want us to do.” I knew my aunt would murder me for this advice, certainly. She would never know that I had given it, because I had no plan to tell her. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell your parents what I just said to you.”
“I won’t. I knew you would understand. You know, I just want to build a better life, to have some prospects.”
“You underestimate your prospects,” I said. “I have always thought so. You run a successful business, you have a kind and generous nature, and you have a good head on your shoulders.”
He walked on. “We are poor,” he said. “Because you are content with so little, I’m not sure you recognize that fact.”
Certainly, Fernand must think me naïve indeed! “None of us are poorer than I!” I protested. “However, I don’t think so much it’s a matter of money. I think it’s a matter of happiness.”
“I’m not happy being poor,” he said. “You are an idealist.”
“I may be,” I said. “I think I could be equally happy poor or rich. I doubt I will have the opportunity to be happy rich.” We stopped outside my home. “If you must leave home, do it because you are adventurous and must see the world. That’s the best reason.”
“I would come back,” he said. “I have every reason to come back.”
“Of course you do,” I said. “Your mother’s cooking, if nothing else.” I unlocked my door and opened it to slip inside.
“And you,” he said. “I couldn’t do without you.”
“It’s true,” I said. “You might lose your conscience.” I kissed his cheek lightly. “Good night Fernand.” Closing the door behind me I leaned on it. We were going to lose him. I only hoped that he would live through his battles.
