I heard a light knocking on the door, and one of the young novices informed me that I had a visitor who was waiting for me in the lounge downstairs. I thanked her, assuming that it was either Jessie or Benson, both of whom would be upset that I hadn’t attended the funeral. But when was it? Was it yesterday or the day before? Could it have been a week ago? I put a comb through my hair and tried my best to remember. I didn’t want them to worry about me. And suddenly I felt a gust of something hopeful blow through me. “I’m going to leave this world soon,” I thought. “I don’t need to worry about going anywhere or beginning again. The weakness that has overcome me is much more than grief.” And this thought filled me with peace as I made my way downstairs.
When I entered the lounge, I was shocked to see an elegantly dressed woman with ethereal blue eyes and auburn hair rise from her chair.
“Ms. Lillian,” I muttered, unable to disguise my shock.
She walked toward me as her eyes swept me from head to toe. “What’s happened to you, Ana?”
“I’m tired, that’s all,” I replied, noticing that her own lovely face appeared drawn and that her lipstick had been applied with a shaky hand. She walked back to the sofa by the window and sat down. I waited for a moment and then sat in the chair across from her. I felt a flutter in my heart, and it was difficult to catch my breath.
“I’m told that you’ll be going to New Mexico soon,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankle.
“Yes, in a few days, I’ll be going with Sister Josepha to her school.”
“You must relish the thought of getting away,” she said, with a courteous nod. “I would love to do the same if I could. I truly envy you.”
I watched her as she fingered the latch on her purse, her fingers trembling all the while. The dimples around her mouth and the strain in her eyes let me know that she was trying very hard not to weep.
“Why have you come here, Ms. Lillian?” I asked.
She glanced up at me and then away again. She set her purse aside and folded her hands on her lap. “I’ve come to ask for your help,” she said. “Not for me, for Teddy.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked as the flutter in my heart grew stronger.
“He’s been very upset since his father’s funeral. I understand that it’s perfectly normal for a son to be upset at a time like this, but there’s something else. Darwin spoke to him after the funeral. I have no idea what he said, but ever since then Teddy’s been behaving very strangely and he won’t tell me what they spoke about.”
“Have you asked Mr. Darwin?”
Ms. Lillian waved her hand in a disparaging gesture. “Oh, you know Darwin, he’s off on one of his escapades and God only knows how long he’ll be gone and when we’ll see him again. I guess it depends on how quickly he goes through the money Adam left him.”
“He’ll be back,” I muttered.
Lillian leaned forward in her chair. “But in the meantime, Teddy won’t come out of his room and he won’t talk to anyone. Not me or Jessie or anyone.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, Ms. Lillian, but I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
“I want you to talk to him, Ana.”
I felt my hands slip one against the other and I became aware of a ringing in my ears, and I was shaking my head as the ringing grew louder.
“He’ll talk with you, I know he will…”
“You’re wrong. I’m the last person in the world Teddy would talk to right now. If I went there, it would only make things worse.”
Lillian began to wring her hands, and her chest seemed to cave in on itself as she struggled for the words to go on. “You don’t understand, I’m losing him, Ana. I’m losing my precious Teddy. And I’ve come here to ask—no, to beg you—to come to the house with me now.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she rustled through her purse for a tissue and blew her nose hard. “I realize that I have no right to ask this of you after all that’s happened, but I know that if he hears your voice on the other side of that door, he’ll answer. You’ve always been the one he loves the most.” She held her hands out to me. “Please, Ana. I beg you to forgive me for all of my stupidities and come with me now before something terrible happens.”
I felt pressure gathering inside of me as though a churning storm had landed in the very center of my chest, and my hands began to quiver with rage. “I forgive you, Ms. Lillian, but I can’t come with you,” I said.
“Please,” Lillian pleaded. “I know my son, and I know he’ll—”
“You don’t know him!” I sprang up from the chair and walked away from her. “You’ve never known him!”
“But I still love him,” she said, hanging her head.
“Then you’ll find a way to talk with him yourself.”
“I’ve been trying, but I don’t know how!” Lillian wailed. “I don’t know how, Ana. That’s why I’m here.” She wept into her tissue for some time.
I walked toward the door. My head was throbbing, and I could feel the pressure gathering behind my eyes. Another migraine was coming on, and I could tell it would be worse than any other. For the first time in my life I couldn’t set my grief and my pain aside to attend to somebody else’s. That part of me had died with Adam, and try as I might to bring it back, to empathize with Lillian and her struggles with Teddy, I couldn’t find the heart and the will to do it.
“I’m trying,” Lillian whimpered again. “I’m trying so hard.”
“You’ve never really tried,” I said. “You’ve always given in to your weakness and you walked away from your family when they needed you most. If you really love Teddy, you’ll find a way to reach him now.”
“But Ana…he’s not in his right mind.”
“And I’m not his mother, Ms. Lillian, you are!” I said loudly, almost yelling.
Lillian stared at me with gaping, wounded eyes.
“You’re his mother,” I repeated softly. “And he needs you, not me.”
I left her hunched over and weeping in the lounge. And when I closed the door behind me, the throbbing pain in my head prompted me to rush upstairs to my room and remain in the darkness until Sister Josepha returned.
I opened my eyes sometime later to see Sister Josepha standing over my bed, but she wasn’t alone. To my surprise, Benson and Dr. Farrell were standing next to her. Benson’s jowls were quivering and Dr. Farrell was somber, a manila folder tucked under his arm.
“Under the circumstances, I thought it was best that these gentlemen see you here,” she said in a hushed voice “But please, let’s keep our voices down. Men are not allowed in this section of the convent and if you’re discovered, Mother Superior will be quite irritated with me.”
Dr. Farrell sat in the chair next to my bed and considered me with those fateful eyes I knew so well. “Ana, I have some news I should probably give you in private.”
Sister Josepha gasped faintly upon hearing this, and I understood that leaving a man and a woman alone together in the dormitory rooms was unthinkable. “I don’t mind if Sister Josepha and Benson stay, Dr. Farrell. In fact, I prefer it.”
“Very well,” he said with a beleaguered sigh. He opened the manila envelope and adjusted his glasses. “If you recall, I asked the nurse to draw your blood a few days ago.” He looked up, his eyes overflowing with regret. “I must admit that with everything that’s happened I didn’t look at the results until just this morning, and when I did, I was quite shocked. I…I’m sorry, Ana, I should’ve reviewed them immediately and called you. I want you to know that I don’t make a practice of this.”
“For God’s sake, Peter,” Benson said, his face puffing up. “You’re scaring us half to death.”
“I’m sorry, that certainly isn’t my intention.”
I sat up in bed feeling calmer and clearer than I had in days. “Dr. Farrell, I know what you’re going to tell me. I’ve suspected for quite some time.”
“Yes,” he replied, nervously fingering the folder on his lap. “I thought you would.”
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I looked to Sister Josepha and Benson, who were watching me with grave concern. I could see in their eyes that now they understood what I’d known all along. “I have a cancer growing inside of me,” I said. “I didn’t want to say anything so that Adam wouldn’t worry, but I’m so glad you’re both here with me now.”
Benson sat down at the foot of my bed and put his head in his hands while Sister Josepha reached for her rosary.
Dr. Farrell stared at me for some time, blinking ceaselessly behind his spectacles. “I must inform you that it’s not a cancer that’s growing inside of you, Ana—it’s a baby.”
“A what?” Benson said, looking up with a start.
Peter closed the file. “A baby,” he repeated. “According to these results, Ana is just entering her second trimester.”
“Sweet Mother of God,” Sister Josepha cried, and her rosary slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.
“Are you sure?” Benson asked.
“Blood tests are very accurate,” Peter replied. “I’m as certain of Ana’s pregnancy as I am about your elevated cholesterol.”
Sister Josepha came to the bedside and shook me gently. “Ana, are you all right?” When I didn’t reply she turned to Dr. Farrell. “I think she’s in shock, Doctor.”
Dr. Farrell placed his fingers on my wrist to check my pulse. Once satisfied, he asked gently, “Ana, didn’t you notice that you’d stopped menstruating?”
“I…I was so busy looking after Adam, I didn’t pay much attention, and then, since I thought I was sick, I…” I refocused my eyes onto Dr. Farrell’s face. “How could this happen?” I asked, and all three faces staring at me blushed in unison.
As we talked about this remarkable revelation and what it meant and what I should do next, my black watery grave began to churn and tiny light-filled bubbles swirled all around me, tickling my nose, exploding in tiny bursts about my ears and rousing me from my slumber. And then slowly, ever so slowly, my body began to rise from the bottom of my grave and my arms reached for the surface as I submitted to the force of this new life growing within me.
“Life will be better than what you’ve known so far, little one. I promise you that.”
Benson returned the next day, but this time I felt well enough to meet with him in the reception area downstairs. He noticed the difference in me and remarked upon it.
“This may sound rather clichéd, but you’re positively glowing,” he said. “I can hardly believe that I’m looking at the same woman.”
“Dr. Farrell said that if I don’t start eating and taking better care of myself I’ll lose the baby, and I’m not going to let that happen.” I grasped his hand. “Oh, Benson, the deep sadness I felt just yesterday has been completely filled with the greatest joy I’ve ever known. And something tells me that Adam knew…in his heart he knew all along.”
Benson nervously fingered the latch of his briefcase. “And if I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d be tempted to believe that you planned this all along.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“The papers Adam signed, they specifically stated that the house was to go to his children, and if you continue taking care of yourself, in six months there will be another Trellis child…another heir to the estate.”
I sat back in my chair, shocked by his words. “I don’t care about the estate. I’m going with Sister Josepha to New Mexico. She tells me that it’s a wonderful school and a lovely place to raise a child.”
Benson leaned forward and squeezed my hand. “I’m sure that if Sister Josepha says it’s wonderful, it is, but in a few months you’ll be a mother. Just think about what that means, Ana. You have to consider your baby’s future, and don’t you think that Teddy and Jessie should be told that soon they’ll have a new brother or sister?”
“I suppose so,” I muttered. “But I don’t know how they’ll react to the news, and this may sound selfish, but I don’t want anything to disturb my happiness right now. If my baby is going to get stronger, he or she needs to know and feel that their mother is happy.”
Benson released my hand and sighed. “You may not want to hear this, but I took the liberty of calling the house yesterday just to get a read on how things are going over there. I spoke with Jessie and she told me that Teddy’s very depressed. He’s locked himself in his room, hardly eats, and refuses to talk with anyone, but she thinks he may be willing to talk with you.”
My mouth felt dry and I took a sip of water. “Yes, I heard, but you know as well as I do that if I go over there right now, it would only make matters worse.”
Benson shrugged. “That’s what I told her. Maybe she’s just looking for a pretext to get you back home.”
“That isn’t my home anymore. Sister Josepha and I will be leaving in a few days. I’ve been putting off joining her for twenty years, and I don’t intend to make her wait any longer.”
Benson smiled tenderly. “I know how she feels,” he said.
Twenty
I AWOKE TO THE sound of howling in the middle of the night. It ripped through my heart and stole down the length of my spine, taking me back to a place I’d been trying to forget all my life. “Oh, Mama, tell me what to do now,” I whimpered. “What do I do? Where do I go?”
I waited for an answer, but there was only silence and a heaviness in my womb I hadn’t felt before. I lay for a long while in the stillness with my palms pressed to my abdomen. “I’m afraid, little one,” I muttered. “And you should know before you come into this world that when your mother is afraid, she has a tendency to hide until the danger has passed. Maybe you should choose somebody more courageous to be your mother.”
The next morning I left the convent before Sister Josepha brought me my breakfast. The taxi dropped me off at the outskirts of the cemetery, and I inquired at the office to locate Adam’s grave. I expected to find his name engraved on a flat slab of stone imbedded in the lawn like all the others, but I was directed to an impressive mausoleum that looked like a small house, with an ornate gate blocking its entrance. Over the gate the family name, Trellis, was carved. It was locked and a single candle burned in the farthest corner of the small dark space. By the faint wavering light I was just able to make out the names of the various family members who were Adam’s parents and grandparents, and then I saw it: carved on the crypt nearest to me was the name Adam Montgomery Trellis. I stared at it with my face pressed against the gate’s bars for a long while. Although it had barely been a week since I’d held him in my arms, it seemed like a lifetime ago, and many times I wondered if I’d ever really known him and if we’d ever truly loved each other. But now with this life growing inside me, there was no doubt.
“I hope you can forgive me, my love,” I whispered. “Now that you know what I did, I hope you understand that I did it because I love you and because I couldn’t bear the thought that you’d leave this earth without seeing your son one last time.”
The flame of the candle wavered in response. “We’re going to have a baby, you and me. I hope and pray that you’re as happy about it as I am and I want you to know that I’m going to tell our child all about you and how much I loved you and how you made me believe in the goodness that can exist between a man and a woman.”
A mild breeze blew through the trees, nearly extinguishing the flame, but then it sparked and burned steadily again. “I’ve decided that I’m going to go with Sister Josepha to her school in New Mexico. I know you wanted me to stay in your beautiful house, but that isn’t possible anymore, and this is what I must do.”
And a new voice answered me. It was pure and innocent, unfettered by the pain of this life, yet wise beyond my understanding. “There is no need to be afraid anymore,” it said. “Together we will face the world and together we will find our strength.”
Packing the few belongings I planned to take with me to New Mexico took very little time, and when I tried to assist Sister Josepha with her packing, she refused to let me help, insisting that I res
t in the garden for the remainder of the afternoon instead. In a few hours a car would be arriving to take us to the airport, and even though she tried very hard to appear impartial, I knew she was worried that I would change my mind about going. The previous day I overheard her talking with one of the other sisters: “I’ve put this matter in God’s hands for the past twenty years. If it’s his will that she come with me, then so be it.”
“You seem very happy that God’s will is finally in keeping with yours,” the younger sister observed.
Sister Josepha chuckled with delight. “If truth be told, I don’t believe I’ve ever been happier in all my life.”
I chose a seat near the fountain and found myself gazing at the winding bougainvillea that grew along the arbor, while contemplating possible names for my baby. There was no doubt that if my baby were a boy, I would name him after his father, but if I had a girl I had no idea what to name her. I smiled as I considered this happy dilemma. I planned to tell Jessie about my pregnancy in a few weeks, when I was certain that all was proceeding normally. Perhaps then she and Sister Josepha would help me decide on the best name, and Benson could help us too once he was in a better mood and not feeling so sour about my decision to leave. He was due to show up any moment to bid me farewell, and I had no doubt that he wouldn’t pass up one last opportunity to try and persuade me to stay.
This too made me smile. Just the day before, he’d come by looking very solemn. He was perspiring profusely and drank two full glasses of lemonade before he was able to speak about anything except how much he disliked it when the days got so warm. He mopped his forehead with his handkerchief while glancing at me and smiling nervously. “I have a proposition for you,” he said, “and I want you to think about it before you give me an answer.”
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