It was clear that he still didn’t believe me or didn’t want to believe me. He turned and walked out to sign the discharge papers. My nurse came in to help me dress, and then, when the time came, she got me into the wheelchair and took me down. No one suggested that I go up to my baby to say good-bye. It was as if the entire hospital staff had heard the stories about me. I could feel it in the air, see it in their faces. Stevens was waiting at the hospital entrance to the parking lot. He had brought Señor Bovio’s limousine as close as he could to the entrance and then met me and my nurse. She helped me to the automobile and wished me luck, but she also looked as if she couldn’t wait to get away.
“Comfortable, Miss?” Stevens asked.
Comfortable? When would I ever be comfortable again?
“Yes,” I said. There was no point in complaining to Stevens.
I looked out at the hospital and up at the windows of the floor where I knew the NICU was, where Adan Jr. lay connected to all sorts of machinery. He knows I’m leaving, I thought. He feels it. I sat back and closed my eyes, dozing all the way to the estate. When we arrived, Mrs. Newell stepped out of the front entrance and waited. She made no effort to help me out of the car or up the steps. Stevens held my arm instead.
“You’re downstairs now,” she told me. “Toward the rear,” she added, nodding at Stevens. I could see he looked surprised.
I was in no mood to say anything or even care. I had never been in that section of the hacienda, but I knew it was where Teresa stayed. She came down the stairs when she saw me enter and immediately asked how I was.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“How frightening it must have been.”
“I’m sure you have something better to do than stand here and keep her from lying down, Teresa,” Mrs. Newell said. Teresa nodded and quickly walked off toward the laundry room. “I’ll take her from here, Stevens,” Mrs. Newell told him.
“Right,” he said, let go of my arm, and left.
She held me at the elbow and firmly guided me down the corridor and around to the rear of the house. When we reached an opened door, she paused.
“This is it,” she said. “All of your things are already hung up or in the dresser.”
I entered the small bedroom. I would share a bathroom with Teresa, who was two doors down in another bedroom. The window in my bedroom looked out at the rear of the estate. At least I could see clearly to the stables, where I thought I saw Amigo grazing in the corral. Then I looked around my new room.
It wasn’t a dirty or dingy room, nothing like the help’s quarters at mi tía Isabela’s estate. It was clean and simple, with two dressers, a double bed, a rocking chair with a standing lamp, a small chandelier at the center of the ceiling, and plain light-blue curtains on the two windows. There was a Spanish tile floor with a small oval dark-brown area rug by the bed. On the nightstand by the bed were a pitcher of water, my medications neatly lined up beside it, and a glass.
“Normally, you would be in the hospital at least another day or so,” Mrs. Newell said when I sat on the bed. “So, except for your going to the bathroom, I’d like you to remain in bed or not go any farther than that rocking chair. I expect you will listen to me this time when I tell you what to do and what not to do,” she added, smirking. “I’ll have Teresa bring you the magazines and books still up in Señora Bovio’s suite. Make sure you go to the bathroom, however, when you need to go. I don’t do bedpans.”
She went to my pills.
“You’ll take one of these now. I have your schedule and will see to it that you follow it correctly, so pay attention.” She handed me the pill and poured me a glass of water.
I took it and swallowed and drank. She put the glass down and started out, but then she stopped at the doorway.
“I’m sure you can get yourself undressed and into bed. Your nightgown is in the top dresser drawer.” She stared at me a moment. “Have you experienced any leaking from your nipples?”
“No.”
“You might.”
“Shouldn’t we use my milk? Adan Jr. could—”
“Of course not. Who knows what remains in your body?”
“Remains? But—”
“Do not concern yourself with what the baby will be fed and not fed. It’s all well taken care of. Concern yourself with yourself.” She blinked her usual smile and then said, “In a way, you’re lucky this happened to you. I would have been long gone after you so blatantly disobeyed my orders and not here to help you recuperate.”
I said nothing, but I thought that if being happy had anything to do with recuperation, I would never recuperate. She waited a moment and then left. Leaving the hospital, the trip home, and confronting all of this had exhausted me. That, with the effect of the pain pills, quickly put me to sleep. When I woke up, there was some lunch on a tray on the small table and a pile of magazines and books on the dresser. I laughed at the food I was now being given. There was a large cheese and ham sandwich, a Coke, potato salad, and a rather large piece of chocolate cake. Apparently gone was any attention to my so-called nutritional diet. Whether I gained too much weight was no longer Mrs. Newell’s worry.
I was hungry and did eat most of it. Then, like some prisoner in solitary confinement, I began to walk in a circle around my small room. I knew that exercise was important, and I was determined to get as strong as I could as quickly as I could. Teresa was surprised to see me shuffling along when she came to get my tray.
“Hi,” I said, happy to see a friendly face.
“Mrs. Newell sent me for your tray, but she said that after today, you have to go to the kitchen yourself for your meals.”
“Good. At least she’s letting me walk that far,” I said. “I’m not afraid of making my own food and caring for myself, Teresa. I didn’t have someone else doing that for me until I was treated like a member of my aunt’s family and not one of her servants.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles, dear. I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Don’t put yourself in any jeopardy for me, Teresa. I’ve managed to cause harm to enough people as it is,” I said.
“I’m sure you don’t cause anyone harm, Miss.”
She smiled, took the tray, and left. It amused me to know that part of my hard existence now was to be caring for myself. Did Señor Bovio and his favorite private-duty nurse really believe I had become that spoiled?
Back to walking, I thought, and circled the room until I had to go to the bathroom. Having so much time to myself permitted me to think more and more about what had happened. Why was Fani so two-faced? When I had first met her, she seemed quite independent and unconcerned about anyone’s opinion of her. And what about all that business with her own parents? Why did she confide in me if she would betray me like this? These questions and my disappointment in her buzzed like angry bees in my brain.
Although I was still weak and even groggy from my pills, I decided to go out to the phone in the kitchen and try to call her.
The hacienda was very quiet. It was that time in midday when everyone could take a rest. I shuffled along and entered the kitchen. There was no one there, but a chicken was in a pot defrosting for the evening’s meal. I didn’t imagine it was for me. Of course, Mrs. Newell and Señor Bovio would have to be fed, I thought. I tried Fani’s home number first, thinking she might still have not returned to college. To my surprise, she picked up on the second ring.
“It’s me,” I said. “I’m back in the Bovio hacienda.”
“Good for you. I was just putting my stuff together. I’m driving back to Los Angeles; otherwise, I’d stop by.”
“I don’t want you to stop by, Fani.”
“Huh?”
“Why did you make up that lie about me? Why did you say I might have taken drugs at your home?”
She was quiet for a long moment. I thought she was deciding whether or not to hang up on me. “Who told you that?” she asked.
“Señor Bovio.”
“I didn’t say that ex
actly,” she said. “All I said when he asked me was that I couldn’t swear one way or another about you.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know if you had done something with Edward when you and he were alone. I couldn’t swear to your not doing it, could I? I knew he was doing some drugs at college.”
“You never told me that.”
“I told you he was depressed about Jesse and everything.”
“But…”
“My cousin said the lab report on you showed some traces of X, so I just assumed that was where or how you might have gotten it. I told him I didn’t search you before I brought you home. Besides, I didn’t care if you did take it or not. I’m not going to say I haven’t,” she added, laughing.
“But he thinks that was the same as your telling him I did.”
“I can’t control what he thinks, Delia, especially after the doctor told him about your lab report. You don’t have to put on this act for me. I told you that I don’t care. It doesn’t affect my feelings about you one way or the other. In fact, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t tried it, and I told you about your cousin Sophia being tossed out of college.”
“That’s Sophia. It’s not me. And she wasn’t pregnant at the time.”
“I wouldn’t say yes or no to that, either. I bet she’s had an abortion or…two.”
“I never took any drugs, Fani.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Your cousin is just trying to get me to leave my baby and go,” I said.
“Delia, face it. Where would he be better off? Struggling in some Mexican cow town with you or as a Bovio living with Ray? He’ll be treated like a little prince. Don’t you want that? And besides, you want to get back out there in the playing field and find yourself a decent man, if there is such a thing. I have an idea for you,” she said excitedly. “Try to go to a nursing school in Los Angeles, and you and I will be able to hang out together. It will be like old times again.”
“You don’t have children and then just desert them as if they were nothing more than some out-of-fashion dress, Fani.”
“Really? You have a lot to learn about modern parents. In sociology class last week, the professor said there are now upward of fifty thousand new foster children a year here. If you want to think like that, you might be better off returning to Mexico. Families still mean something there.”
“You’re just bitter about your own family.”
“Whatever. Look, Delia, you can do what you want. All I can do is give you some advice. If I were you, I’d grab what I could get from Ray and move on. It’s going to end up being that way anyhow. You’ll just skip all the turmoil and nastiness. You’ve been through enough of it, haven’t you? Smarten up before it’s too late. Ray’s not going to want a public fight, either. Negotiate hard. There’s a big payoff waiting for you, I’m sure.”
“I cannot sell away my own baby, Fani!”
“So, don’t think of it as selling him. Think of it as renting him to Ray for about twenty years or so. Didn’t you tell me you felt you owed him something and that was what got you into this situation in the first place? It was truly as if you were giving him a gift. Delia’s gift. Well, just continue thinking that way.”
“I can’t,” I said, crying now.
“Rest on it for a while,” she said. “Look, I’ve got to get my pretty little buns on the highway before the traffic gets too thick. I’ll call you during the week. Maybe I’ll come down again next weekend. I’ll see what’s doing on campus. There is this guy in my psych class who’s been drooling over me. He’s pretty good-looking, and he plays a mean guitar. I heard he was writing a song for me. Maybe he’ll serenade me under my window tonight.”
I was sobbing now but doing it quietly.
“Delia?”
“Good-bye, Fani,” I said, and hung up.
I made my way back to my room and sat by the window, sucking back my tears. Mi tía Isabela’s words when she had first visited me at the Bovio estate haunted me, especially when she had said: “No matter what Señor Bovio tells you, no matter how rich and expensive the gifts he lavishes on you are, make no mistake about it. He still believes his son is dead because of you. He thinks you bewitched him. If Adan hadn’t come back for you, he would never have been on that boat that day, and if you hadn’t lost control of the steering, he might not have suffered such a terrible accident. In the days following Adan’s death, Señor Bovio muttered all these things to me repeatedly. And don’t think his priest talked him out of them. There’s no forgiveness in him. He has a bloodline that goes back to the Aztecs. He lives for vengeance. I know him through and through, Delia. You are in for a terrible time. Go home before you suffer some horrible fate.”
Was this the horrible fate she had accurately predicted for me?
Mrs. Newell interrupted my thoughts. “It’s time for your medication,” she said.
“Is this the antibiotic?”
“Of course.”
“It makes me tired, Mrs. Newell.”
“It can, but you’re not going dancing tonight,” she replied, and opened the pill bottle to spill out a pill.
“Shouldn’t I take it after I eat dinner? I have to prepare my own dinner.”
She stood there glaring at me. “You don’t learn quickly, do you? You’re either very stubborn or very stupid. I haven’t decided. Maybe you’re both. If I thought you should take the pill after dinner, I would have you take it after dinner, wouldn’t I?”
She held it out.
I plucked it from her palm and put it in my mouth, or at least that was what she thought. I drank some water, and she nodded.
“You can go prepare what you want to eat anytime you wish,” she said. “You may even eat in the dining room if you want. Señor Bovio will not be home tonight. He’ll be up at the hospital.”
She flicked a smile and left.
I took the pill and put it back into the bottle. I would take it after I ate. It couldn’t possibly make such a difference. She was just showing me how much authority she held over me, I thought. Let her believe what she wants, I told myself, until I’m strong enough to throw it back in her face.
As time went by, ironically, what Señor Bovio and Mrs. Newell thought would serve as punishment served more to speed my recovery. My walking to and from the kitchen, my preparations of food, food that Teresa secretly enjoyed as well, and my work keeping my room clean all made me stronger faster.
When the week was up and I was told to get ready to go see Dr. Denardo, I was able to walk with straighter posture and a firmer gait. Stevens looked pleased to see me so much better and said so. Mrs. Newell did not go with me to Dr. Denardo’s office. I was glad about that. I wanted to get there more to hear what he had to say about Adan Jr. than what he had to say about me. I hoped he would be willing to talk about him.
Naturally, he gave Mrs. Newell most of the credit for my good progress.
“You’re healing well,” he said. “I don’t see any complications arising.”
“And my baby?”
“He’s gained weight,” he said. “At the rate he’s going, he might not be there as long as we first thought.”
“Can you ask Señor Bovio to let me go visit him? Please,” I pleaded. “The nurse told me premature babies like to have their mothers there.”
“I’ll speak to him,” he promised.
“Gracias, Dr. Denardo.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing and listening to Millicent. She’ll get you up and around as quickly as possible.”
To get me out of the house, I thought. She’s not helping me for me but for Señor Bovio.
Fani did not come home the following weekend as she had said she might. In fact, she never even bothered to call to tell me one way or another, or if she had called, I was never given the message. I tried desperately to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t think about the terrible situation in which I now found myself. I read, took my walks, and waited hopefully to hear Señor Bovio say I could go see Adan
Jr., but he avoided me, never having his dinner when I had mine and never coming around to talk to me. Twice I went looking for him in his office, and twice Mrs. Newell intercepted me to tell me he wasn’t home. He was away on business.
Finally, nearly ten days later, he did come to see me. I had just had my breakfast and was straightening up my room, arranging my clothes, and dreaming of the day I would walk out of the hacienda with Adan Jr. in my arms. Suddenly, I felt someone looking at me and turned to see Señor Bovio in the doorway. The mere sight of him filled me with renewed hope. Perhaps there was some shred of forgiveness and mercy in him after all. Maybe he had been convinced of how important a mother could be to an infant, especially one who had Adan Jr.’s special needs. I saw that he was carrying a briefcase and imagined he had stopped by on his way out to work.
“Hola, Señor Bovio,” I said. I immediately sat at the small table, and he entered.
“I understand you’re doing well with your recuperation,” he began.
“Sí, Señor Bovio. How is the baby?”
“Adan is doing well. Dr. Denardo assures me he will be fine.”
I smiled and waited.
He reached into the briefcase and produced a business envelope.
“I would like to keep this as simple as possible, and I have asked my attorney to write it up so it would be that way,” he said. “I’m leaving it here for you to read and to sign.”
“What is it, señor?”
Instead of replying, he continued to dig into his briefcase to produce another envelope.
“In this second envelope is a list of all that I am pledging to do for you. You will note that where there is money involved, there is actually a bank account and an investment account. This,” he said, pulling a set of keys from his sport jacket’s right pocket, “is one of the sets of keys for your new car. It will be delivered here as soon as Mrs. Newell or Dr. Denardo tells me you are well enough to drive.”
I said nothing, nor did I reach for anything.
He went into his briefcase again and brought out a folder.
“I have asked my friends in the education department to recommend the best nursing schools, and they are all here, with an application for each one. I can assure you that all you have to do is fill out the application for the one you wish to attend, and that will be that. Some have housing for their students, but some do not. In the cases where they do not, should you choose one, I have access to apartment rental agents who will locate a good one for you.