by VC Andrews
“Okay. He’s cloistered in my bedroom, away from the servants and any other inquisitive eyes.”
I followed her into the house. One of the maids glanced our way but hurried off quickly.
Fani smiled. “They don’t like me. I’m always asking them to do something else,” she said. “It keeps them out of my hair.”
We went up the stairway to the wing of the hacienda that was practically all hers. Her bedroom, like mine at the Bovio hacienda, had a sitting room with an entertainment center. When we stepped into the suite, I saw Edward sitting and watching television. The moment he saw us, he stood up and smiled at me.
“Hi, Delia. How are you?”
I said nothing. He looked as handsome as ever, even with his eye patch. My eyes were filling so quickly with tears I was afraid I would just stand there and bawl like a baby. He laughed and came quickly to hug me. I held on to him a moment longer than he held on to me. Fani was standing to the side with a wide grin smeared over her lips.
“Are you sure you’re gay, Edward?” she teased.
“If I weren’t, you’d be the first to tell everyone,” he replied, and she laughed.
“I’ll leave you two to renew old bonds. I have a maid to terrorize below working on our lunch. Enjoy yourselves,” she said. “I’ll be back in a half hour, unless you need more time.”
“No, that’s fine,” Edward said.
She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
“You look well, Delia. Pregnancy makes you blossom.”
“That’s what Señor Bovio has been telling me. I don’t feel like a blossom. I feel like a stuffed tamale.”
He laughed and led me to the sitting room, where we sat on one of the sofas.
“You know, I tried to see you a while ago, and that caused a small hurricane at my house.”
“Yes. I saw you and tried to get to you before you drove away.”
“We would have been talking to each other through bars, I’m afraid. When I got home, my mother had called a friend of hers at the district attorney’s office. They sent over an assistant district attorney to reveal to me that our international incident, such as they call it, has not been officially closed.”
“Mi dios.”
“Yes, I was surprised but not sure if my mother was just calling in some favor and getting him to tell me that. I wasn’t about to challenge her, however. I let her whip me with her threats and then returned to college.”
“I’m sorry, Edward.”
“It’s not your fault.” He paused. “I’ve been feeling guilty about deserting you ever since we returned from Mexico and I overheard Sophia confess to getting us in trouble. I haven’t spoken to her since, not that it bothers her too much.”
“It was never my intention to cause such turmoil in your family. I am sorry I didn’t tell you my secret about Ignacio, but I was afraid to burden you with it.”
“I know. I never imagined that you didn’t trust Jesse and me.”
“Fani has told me about you and Jesse no longer being together.”
“I don’t blame him. I’ve been impossible to live with these past months. No fun.”
“Something else that’s my fault,” I said.
“You can’t blame yourself for how other people behave. We all make our own choices and bear responsibility for ourselves. Now, tell me about life at the Bovio estate,” he said, sitting back.
I began slowly, describing my reasons for moving in and telling him about all of the attention and all of the gifts Señor Bovio had lavished on me.
“I’m glad of that,” he said. “I do feel sorry for him. It’s a nice thing you’re doing.”
“Sí,” I said.
Edward was always able to read me well. He stopped smiling. “What’s wrong?”
I began to describe Mrs. Newell, but as I did, I realized that anyone who didn’t live under her supervision might easily interpret it all as simply good and prudent care.
“Well,” he said when I was finished, “at least you don’t have much longer to go.”
“A little less than eight weeks,” I said.
“And then what?”
“I’m not sure, Edward.” I told him about Señor Bovio’s offer, including the car, the money, the nanny.
“That would be hard to turn down,” he said. “I think nursing is a good career, and I know you’d be very good at it, Delia. After having been to your little Mexican village and seeing what you’d return to, I would hesitate before advising you to return. It’s charming in its way, but it doesn’t offer you a tenth of the opportunities you have here, and I don’t just mean educationally. You’re very young. There’ll be someone else in your life, I’m sure.”
I told him about Señor Bovio’s offer and efforts to help Ignacio.
“I see. It sounds like he’s doing everything he can to make you happy and keep his grandson in his life. But you have to start being a little selfish, Delia. Choose what you want for yourself and your baby first.”
“I will,” I said.
He smiled. “I won’t hold my breath waiting for you to do that.”
“No. I mean it. I’ll try,” I said. “Now, let’s stop talking about me. Tell me about yourself and your college and if you have made some new friends.”
He described his classes, his teachers, and his plans to go to law school. He said everything that had happened with me had caused him to take more interest in international law, and that was where he wanted to be eventually. He didn’t sound as if he had much of a social life, but he talked about college functions and living in Los Angeles.
Fani came back, knocking softly on her door before entering.
“How are we doing?” she asked.
“Good,” I said quickly.
“Let’s go out on the rear patio. It’s beautiful, and I have a great lunch organized for us. Unless you need more time to be alone, that is.”
“No, that’s fine,” Edward said.
We rose and followed her down the stairway to the French doors that opened onto the rear patio. It was a beautiful day, and the table she had set up for us was decorated with fresh flowers. There was an opened bottle of white wine and an opened bottle of red wine.
“Little Mama isn’t supposed to drink. Did she tell you about Nurse Diablo?”
Edward laughed. “She’s not wrong, Fani.”
“Oh, a little bit can’t hurt. Let her enjoy her freedom for a while,” she said.
“You were always the little instigator,” Edward told her. “Maybe you’re Miss Diablo.”
I knew he meant it as a criticism, but she loved that. I sat and did sip a little wine before we were served our fruit cups to start. Edward and she talked about the college, discussing the campus, the events, and some of the teachers they both knew. I felt as if I had disappeared.
“Oh, but we’re boring Delia to death,” Fani said.
I protested, but she said they would talk only about me and my future.
She had designed a wonderful lunch for us. There was a variety of choices, almost all of which Mrs. Newell would have me reject, but I did feel defiant for the moment and deliberately ate what I shouldn’t. Later, I realized that I would probably pay in the form of heartburn. I had to go to the bathroom twice, which Fani thought was amusing, and then, after a rather rich, decadent chocolate cake dessert, we tried to take a walk, but I found my bladder complaining again and had to rush off to the nearest bathroom.
Edward decided it was time for him to start back to Los Angeles. He claimed he had promised some friends that he would go out with them that evening, but just as he could easily read me, I could easily read him and knew he wasn’t telling the truth. He would probably return to a lonely room.
When I got back from the bathroom, Fani stayed in the house while I walked him out to his car to say good-bye.
“This is my cell-phone number,” I said, handing him a slip of paper with the number on it.
“Good. I’ll call you before I come back to t
he desert. Give me your phone,” he said. I handed it to him. “I’ll punch in my cell number for you. Call me whenever you want.” He handed my phone back to me. “Don’t look so worried, Delia. It’s all right. We’ll both be fine.”
He hugged me and got into his car.
“I’ll tell Jesse you said hello. We still talk occasionally, and he has asked me about you,” he added.
“Good. Drive carefully, Edward.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a better driver with one eye than most drivers are with two.”
He waved, started his car, and drove down the drive. I watched until he disappeared below the knoll.
Fani was sipping wine at the table when I returned.
“Well? Was it a good visit?”
“Yes, Fani. Thank you so much for arranging it.”
“You want to hang out longer or…”
“No, I get tired.”
She nodded at my stomach. “So, it’s a boy in there?”
“That’s what the doctor said.”
“Considering all that Ray’s done for you and is doing, you should definitely name him Adan Jr.”
“That’s pretty definite.”
“Good. He deserves some happiness.” She stood up.
“I do my best,” I said, rising.
“Well, let me take you back,” she said, and we went out to her car.
She was quieter on the way back. I wondered if she was thinking about Adan, as I was.
“I think I’ll head back to college tonight, too,” she told me as we approached the Bovio gate.
“Haven’t you met anyone you like at college?” I asked. She didn’t talk much about the boys there, and she obviously didn’t have a date this weekend.
“Not yet. There’s this young English associate professor I’m eyeing.”
“Isn’t that forbidden?”
She smiled. “Only for him.”
The guard opened the gate for us. He glared at Fani, remembering the way she had jetted out earlier. She smiled at him, and we started up the driveway. Halfway up, I saw mi tía Isabela’s car. Señor Bovio’s car was there as well.
“Mi tía is here.”
“Lucky you,” Fani said. “Say hello to Nurse Diablo for me,” she added when we stopped. “Here,” she said, offering me a stick of gum. “Just in case she smells your breath and picks up on the inch of wine you drank.”
I took it and folded it into my mouth, still staring at mi tía Isabela’s car.
“Mi tía Isabela hasn’t been here since the day I arrived,” I muttered.
“Maybe she’s come to her senses and has decided to be your aunt again. My cousin Ray isn’t someone a woman her age should ignore, no matter how much money she has. He can pull lots of strings.”
“He hasn’t yet pulled the one that would release Ignacio.”
“I’m sure he will when he can. Take it easy, Mama Delia. I’ll call you next time I’m home,” she promised.
“Sí. Gracias, Fani.”
She leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. I opened the door and got out. The moment I closed it, she shot off. I smiled to myself, imagining her whipping past the guard at the gate again. Then I went into the hacienda.
It was so quiet that my footsteps echoed over the tile as I walked through the entryway. I paused, because Tía Isabela was sitting on the chair that faced the front, just the way she often sat in her own hacienda. Señor Bovio, sipping a glass of red wine, sat on her right. He turned to look my way.
“Hola, Tía Isabela,” I said, deciding to be civil. “Como es—”
“Don’t even begin your performance,” she said.
“What?”
“I know you just had a secret meeting with Edward, and you’ll both be sorry.”
7
Lockdown
Señor Bovio, although obviously quite angry himself, leaped to his feet immediately and became a wall between Tía Isabela and me.
“Wait!” he cried at her, holding up his hand. “Mrs. Newell,” he called.
She came quickly down the corridor.
“Take Delia up to her room, please, and see that she is comfortable.”
“Comfortable,” Tía Isabela practically spat at me. “You’re worried about her comfort?” She pointed at me when I started to step away. “Don’t think you two pulled anything over on me. Edward will pay for this deception. He’s not as independent as he thinks. He’s in for some big surprises.”
“Isabela, you promised to let me handle this,” Señor Bovio said.
She swallowed back her torrent of threats and curses and looked away. “Then handle it,” she told him with a backhand gesture in my direction.
“Mrs. Newell, please,” he told my nurse.
She actually took my arm to turn me toward the stairway. Stunned, I began to walk and then stopped when I fully realized what had happened. I turned back to them.
“What did you do, have me followed?”
“No,” Señor Bovio said. “No one follows you.”
“Then…what did you do, Tía Isabela, hire a private detective to follow your own son? Or was Sophia responsible for this as well? What has she been doing, hiding in the bushes, waiting to pounce?”
“Sophia had nothing to do with it,” mi tía Isabela said, still not looking directly at me. “She hasn’t had anything to do with her brother since you deceived this family and he was sent back to school. You’re poison to this family.”
“I’m poison? You broke your parents’ hearts. How low can you sink before you stink, Tía Isabela?” I said.
“Delia!” Señor Bovio shouted. Then he calmed. “Please, go upstairs,” he said before I could continue. “We must talk when everyone is calmer. It’s not good for you now. Go on, por favor.”
I pulled my arm from Mrs. Newell’s hand. “I’ll walk myself, thank you.”
I went up the stairway, feeling as if my baby had been cringing inside me. Mrs. Newell followed a few feet behind me and saw to it that I changed and went to bed.
“You need a nap,” she said. “I can see it in your face. I can just imagine what your blood pressure is. If you don’t do what I say, you could bring on a miscarriage.”
The word spun me around to face her. Anger smothered any fear.
“Is that what happened to you? You miscarried because you were emotionally upset?”
Her face became so bloodred that she nearly glowed.
“We do not have now and never have had anything in common,” she replied in sharply pronounced consonants and vowels. “Concern yourself only with yourself.”
I didn’t respond. I turned away and closed my eyes. Mrs. Newell wasn’t really what concerned me at the moment, anyway. Instead, I wondered what sort of new trouble Tía Isabela would make for Edward. If it truly wasn’t Sophia who had told her about us, how did she find out? Why couldn’t she just leave us alone? Why was this so important to her?
Mrs. Newell left, closing the door. Suddenly, the stillness was overwhelming. It was like the quiet that often followed a devastating storm, as if nature were holding her breath. I listened hard for a moment, expecting Tía Isabela’s footsteps in the hallway, perhaps, or Señor Bovio’s, but I heard nothing. The tension had worn me out, and I finally did fall asleep. I slept for hours. When I awoke, it was dark outside. There was just a table lamp lit in my suite, but the bedroom door was now open. At first, I didn’t realize she was sitting there, but when I turned slightly to my left, her silhouette so surprised me it made me gasp.
“Good, you’re awake,” Mrs. Newell said. “I’ll get you some dinner.”
I simply stared at her. How long had she been sitting there waiting for me to awaken? What had she been doing, counting every breath I took? Had Señor Bovio insisted that she hover over me like this? Was he really worried that I might miscarry? It made me think about all she had said. Perhaps I really had been brought to some brink and had been in some danger.
She rose, turned on more lights, and left. I sat up and ran my fingers th
rough my hair. I still felt groggy and dazed, so I rose and went to the bathroom to wash my face. Ten minutes later, Teresa arrived with my dinner.
“Do you want it on the bed table?” she asked.
“No, I’ll sit where I usually sit, thank you,” I told her.
I was happy I hadn’t suffered any heartburn from my elaborate lunch. Actually, I was surprised at my appetite after all that had happened, but I was so hungry, in fact, that I was very unsatisfied. The moment Mrs. Newell appeared, I let her know it.
“The portions are too small.”
“I explained about the pressure on your abdomen and why the portions have to be smaller.”
“Yes, but I should have them more frequently, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.” She blinked a smile. “This is a common complaint of pregnant women, and this is about when most pregnant women go bad. Later, after they give birth, they have a harder time losing the weight, and many, if not most, don’t. It ruins their lives. They start hating themselves for being so fat, and they believe their husbands aren’t attracted to them anymore. They get themselves depressed, and they eat more, not less, and get even fatter. It feeds on itself, and all of it could have been prevented with some self-control. Consider me your self-control.”
“I’ve gained only fifteen pounds. You said that I was doing well.”
“And we’re keeping it that way. However, I want you to start drinking this at night after your dinner.” She handed me a covered cup. She took off the cover when I didn’t move fast enough to do it.
“What is it?”
“Supplements I have designed for this stage of a pregnancy.”
“But I thought you said I wouldn’t need any if I followed your nutritional design.”
“Exactly. This is not something you buy in a drugstore. It’s part of my program.”
“Does Dr. Denardo know about it?”
“Of course he does. We’ve worked together with many patients.”
I shrugged and drank the tasteless liquid and put the empty cup on the tray just as Señor Bovio appeared in the doorway. He looked at Mrs. Newell, sending her silent commands. She took my tray and marched out, giving him a slight nod, which, to me, looked like permission for him to come into the bedroom. He did so and sat as if he had aged twenty years in a few hours.
