Delia's Gift

  She didn’t look as if she wanted to respond.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “It’s the way it was when Señora Bovio was pregnant with Adan. She had personally tailored maternity clothing and shoes and a nutritionist, too, only…”

  “Yes?”

  “She expected no less,” Teresa said. “I’m sure she would have expected no less for you. I guess Señor Bovio still hears her commands,” she added, and then nearly bit down on her own lip. She surprised herself more than she surprised me.

  “Still hears? What commands, Teresa?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know what I’m saying. Sorry, Miss,” she said, and continued down the hallway.

  Still hears commands? What a strange thing for her to have said, I thought.

  In the midst of all of this opulence, luxury, and privilege, some dark cloud hovered, clinging to the ceiling and the corners of the walls around me.

  The sounds of Tía Isabela’s heels clacking on the tile floor echoed in my mind.

  It left me trembling again, defeating the warm sun that had lifted my spirits.

  3

  A Bargain

  “Dr. Denardo has arrived,” Mrs. Newell announced after overseeing the delivery of my dinner. It came so quickly I was unable to tell her and Teresa that I would insist on having dinner in the dining room rather than in my suite. I began to wonder if Señor Bovio was simply avoiding ever having to sit at a dinner table with me. Perhaps Tía Isabela was right. He did still blame me for Adan’s death and, aside from dealing with my pregnancy, wanted nothing more to do with me.

  “Oh,” I said, looking toward the doorway and pushing my dinner tray aside.

  “No, no. He is in the office with Mr. Bovio and will be up shortly. Don’t rush your food,” she added. “I’m sure they’ll be a while. They both know you have just been given your meal. I have given the doctor my preliminary report.”

  Earlier, she had checked my pulse and blood pressure and then weighed me.

  “Fine. I don’t expect it will take me all that long to eat this, anyway,” I said, nodding at the tray. The portions were very small.

  “Everything is weighed so that the proper amount is given to you. As I explained before, it’s too easy for a pregnant woman to gain weight rapidly,” she said, “and I don’t intend to let that happen on my watch, thank you.”

  “I don’t want that to happen, either, Mrs. Newell.”

  “Good,” she said, and left.

  I ate because I was hungry, but again, none of it was particularly tasty. When Teresa came for the tray and dishes, a thought occurred to me.

  “Do you know if Señora Bovio often ate in this suite, Teresa?”

  “When she was pregnant and began to show, she rarely left the suite. She even gave birth to Adan in the house, which was quite a surprise, I must admit.”

  “In the house?”

  “Yes, Miss. My mother was born in her mother’s house,” she added, smiling.

  “Sí, so was mine. So was I, in fact, but…”

  “Many women are turning to midwives and more natural birthing, I hear,” she added, and left.

  With all of the special concern and care Señor Bovio was taking with me, I doubted he would want to take the risk of having me give birth in the hacienda, but I couldn’t imagine why he had permitted his wife to give birth to Adan in the house or why she would want to do that when she had so much professional care available to her.

  When Dr. Denardo finally appeared, Señor Bovio was with him, actually carrying the doctor’s satchel. Mrs. Newell was right behind them.

  Dr. Denardo was a tall, dark-complexioned, good-looking man, with a well-trimmed coal-black goatee. He wore a light-brown suit and had an open collar and no tie. I imagined him to be in his mid-to-late fifties, although I couldn’t see a single gray strand of hair. There was simply something weathered and wise in his gray eyes and his no-nonsense demeanor. He looked at me so intently that I felt he was actually taking medical measurements, evaluating my overall health immediately.

  “This is Dr. Denardo,” Señor Bovio said. “He will be taking good care of you and our baby.”

  Dr. Denardo glanced at him when he said “our baby” but quickly turned back to me and smiled. “How are you feeling, Delia?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “No morning sickness anymore?”

  “No, señor.”

  He tilted his head and nodded. “Good. Did you keep close awareness of when your period was supposed to start?”

  “I knew about when, señor.”

  “So, about when?” he asked, sitting in the chair Señor Bovio had moved over for him beside me.

  “Eleven weeks ago.”

  He made a quick mental calculation. “Normally, we estimate the date of delivery by adding nine months plus seven days to the first day of the last menstrual period. We call it Naegele’s Rule,” he added, mostly for Señor Bovio’s benefit. “So, we’ll figure another seven and a half months. We’ll get a much more accurate estimate as we go along, of course. Tonight, I would like to take some blood and urine, and we’ll do an internal pelvic examination to check the size of your uterus. I will do a Pap smear as well. You know what that is?”

  “Sí, señor, but why aren’t we doing all this in your office?” I asked.

  He glanced at Señor Bovio and smiled at me again.

  “It’s all simple enough, safe enough to do here. No need to drag you out.”

  “I wouldn’t be dragged, señor.”

  “Well, let’s see how it goes. I’m here already. We might as well go forward and not try to fit you into my busy office schedule. You’ve become one of my patients almost overnight, so we couldn’t get you onto the schedule. Last I looked, I was booked up for the next three weeks, in fact. I have two more deliveries to do this week alone and another three next week. And I do have a pretty good nurse here with me,” he added, nodding at Mrs. Newell, who looked as though she expected nothing less than such a compliment. “Okay?” he followed, a little tension in his voice.

  “This is a special favor Dr. Denardo is doing for us, Delia,” Señor Bovio said. “You should be grateful.” He fixed his eyes like daggers on me.

  “It’s all right, Ray,” Dr. Denardo said. “Let’s not get our little patient more nervous than she already is. Thank you for bringing my bag and introducing us,” he added, clearly indicating that Señor Bovio should now leave. “I’ll be down shortly to speak with you.”

  Señor Bovio looked quite disappointed but nodded. “Of course,” he said, and left. He didn’t close the door.

  Dr. Denardo nodded at it, and Mrs. Newell hurried to close it.

  “Okay,” he said, returning to me, “let’s hear about you. Tell me whatever you can about your medical history, any illnesses you’ve had.” He opened his bag and began to take out what he needed for the examination. “I understand you grew up in a rural area in Mexico and have been here a little less than three years, correct?”

  “Sí.”

  “Any hospitalization, medical problems, while you were here?”

  “She was recently in a mental clinic,” Mrs. Newell volunteered.

  “Yes, I know about that, Millicent. For now, let me have Delia answer,” he told her. She snapped her shoulders back instantly, pursing her lips and nodding. He looked at me again. “I mean, any diseases, operations, things of that sort?”

  “No, señor, but I have had routine physical examinations for school.”

  “Remember the doctor’s name?”

  “Corning. It was a woman.”

  “Oh, yes, Sheila. I’ll get your records from her. Make a note of that, will you, Millicent?”

  “Yes, Dr. Denardo,” Mrs. Newell said. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

  “Thank you. Now, then, shall we begin?”

  He had me lie down on my bed. I knew that a midwife and mi abuela Anabela had delivered me in our casa. At school back in Mexico, we were given some inoculations,
but there was never the kind of extensive physical I had here when I was enrolled in school. Of course, I had been examined at the hospital after the boating accident and at the clinic, but both cases were in a medical setting. To be asked to disrobe and do the things Dr. Denardo and Mrs. Newell asked me to do here in the bedroom made me quite nervous. He noticed that and remarked about my pulse and blood pressure. He tried to reassure me to keep me from worrying or being concerned. He repeated that everything he was doing was standard procedure. Even though I wasn’t fond of her, I had to admit to myself that Mrs. Newell was efficient, anticipating things before he asked for them.

  “Everything looks fine,” he told me afterward, “and I think your estimate is very accurate. We’ll get the results of our blood tests and all quickly.”

  “You know Señor Bovio will be calling every day,” Mrs. Newell said.

  “Yes,” Dr. Denardo said. “That’s all right.” He smiled at me. “It’s good to have a worrywart looking after you sometimes.”

  He then described some of the physical changes I should anticipate. He was very methodical when he spoke and repeated things often to be sure I understood. I had the sense that Señor Bovio might have described me to him the way he had described me to Mrs. Newell—a simple, rural Mexican girl, not very sophisticated about her own body, much less medical matters.

  “I think it’s very good that Señor Bovio has hired Mrs. Newell to plan out your meals,” Dr. Denardo continued, nodding at her. She gave him one of her blink smiles. “She happens to have an excellent reputation.”

  I glanced at her and saw how she was soaking up his endorsement.

  “In fact, if you follow the diet she prescribes, you really won’t need additional vitamins and supplements.”

  “I told her that myself,” Mrs. Newell said.

  He began to pack his bag, and I quickly dressed.

  “I’ll visit you regularly,” he said, “but I want you to inform Mrs. Newell immediately if you experience any bleeding, abdominal pain, or swelling in your hands or feet. Mrs. Newell will check for these things, but if anything alarms you about yourself, don’t hesitate to tell her to tell me. I find women are the best caretakers of their own bodies in the end,” he added, smiling.

  “Will you always come here? I’ll never go to your office?”

  “We’ll have you at the office to do an ultrasound, perhaps in a month or so, and to do some testing for potential abnormalities, but from what you’ve told me, I don’t anticipate anything.”

  He looked around the suite.

  “You’re in a beautiful place, and with Mrs. Newell on duty, you will get the best care. Señor Bovio will make sure of that.”

  “You have been friends with Señor Bovio long?”

  “Quite a few years, yes,” he said. “Of course, like everyone, I was quite upset about his son’s unfortunate accident. You’re doing a wonderful thing by giving him a chance to be a grandfather, Delia. I know what all of this means for a young woman your age.”

  “I am doing it for all of us, Dr. Denardo, especially my baby.”

  “I understand,” he said. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  “You didn’t deliver Adan, did you, Dr. Denardo?”

  He smiled, glanced at Mrs. Newell, who looked bored, and turned back to me. “Why do you ask that, Delia?”

  “I have been told Señora Bovio gave birth in the hacienda.”

  He nodded. “Yes, actually, right in this room.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “She was a beautiful young actress hounded by the paparazzi,” he said. “She chose to do so for her own privacy, I suspect.”

  He and Mrs. Newell started out. I realized he hadn’t really answered about whether he had performed the delivery. I started to call to him, but something stopped me. I couldn’t say what it was. I only knew I didn’t really want to learn much more.

  Not long afterward, Señor Bovio came up to tell me how pleased he was with the doctor’s report.

  “He said you are an excellent patient and in remarkably good health. If we just do everything right, follow his and Mrs. Newell’s instructions, we’ll be fine. Are you pleased? You have everything you want and need here, right? It’s all good, sí?”

  “I’d like to get out more, señor. I need not take all of my meals up here, for example.”

  “No, but for the first week or so, I think it’s best the servants don’t pester you with their nosy looks and questions. I won’t always be around to make sure of that. I’ll always be sure there is proper security, however.”

  “You need not worry about uninvited visitors, señor,” I told him, thinking he was mainly worried about Sophia and her friends barging in on me.

  “I know, but it would please me to be certain. Indulge an old worrywart,” he added, smiling. “I understand the doctor called me that.”

  “Sí.”

  “I’m happy for you, Delia, for both you and the wonderful baby you’re carrying.”

  “Gracias.”

  He started to turn away.

  “Señor.”

  “Yes?”

  “When you came to the clinic, you mentioned that I would have access to a car.”

  “Oh, yes. Where would you like to go?”

  “I’d like to know I can go wherever I want whenever I want,” I said.

  “Certainly, of course…sí. My driver is at your disposal. It’s easier. Just let me know when you want him available, and—”

  “Tomorrow,” I said sharply. “After my breakfast.”

  “Tomorrow?” He looked frightened for a moment and then smiled. “Fine. Sure. I’ll have the car out front at ten A.M.”

  “Gracias.”

  “Will you be going far, long?”

  “Not far, señor.”

  He nodded when he clearly saw that I did not want to tell him much more.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I want you to be happy, comfortable. Do you need some money, perhaps for some shopping?”

  “No, señor. Gracias.”

  I did have his curiosity captured now, but he sensed he had questioned me enough.

  He went to his wife’s closet. “Have you found other things to wear?”

  Before I could respond, he went in and came out with a blouse and a skirt.

  “This would fit you, I’m sure, and you would look very nice in it wherever you go tomorrow.”

  I smiled at his interest in what I would wear. “Sí, señor. Gracias.”

  “Don’t forget, by tomorrow night, you’ll have some new maternity clothing and perhaps new shoes. Well,” he said, looking as if he didn’t want ever to leave, “call down if you need anything more tonight.”

  “Gracias, señor.”

  He looked around the suite again and nodded. “You will be very comfortable here. My wife used to call it her little piece of heaven on earth.” He started out and stopped. “Oh, there is a wall safe in the closet. The combination is two-six-zero-eight. You will find beautiful jewelry, necklaces, watches, earrings. You might even be able to wear some of her rings. Use whatever you wish. It does no one any good to be shut up in there.”

  “Gracias.”

  “Sí.” He stared at me and then nodded at the suite. “It’s good to have someone beautiful in here again,” he said. “A woman becomes radiant during her pregnancy. My wife never believed it, but it was true for her as it will be for you, Delia.”

  With that, he left, closing the door softly.

  I went to the safe to look and was shocked to see how much jewelry was in it. All of the pieces looked very expensive. I was happy he trusted me with it, but wearing some of it would make me very nervous, and where would I wear any of it, anyway? I didn’t anticipate being invited to any parties or dinners, unless Señor Bovio had some planned. I wondered about that. Would he introduce me to his friends? If so, how would he refer to me? It was awkward for both of us. I couldn’t imagine him doing so. This could be a very long pregnancy and a very lonely one, too. br />
  It already had been a very long and, in many ways, tiring day. Except for the short time I had sat at the pool, I was continually on a bed of pins and needles. I was not used to being the center of so much attention. I couldn’t make a move without someone watching me. Even now, I imagined eyes in the walls, as if the hacienda itself were alive and studying me. It was part of the reason I wanted to get away for a while, why I had asked about a car. I had been hoping to be on my own, but I could see now that Señor Bovio didn’t trust me enough yet. He probably was afraid I would do what I had been tempted to do from the moment I had arrived, sneak away and return to Mexico. It was still something I toyed with in the back of my mind.

  I began to go through the dresser drawers to look for a nightgown. I found two drawers full of them, primarily in red, some sheer, a few meant for cooler nights. There were matching slippers, as well, for almost every nightgown and robe. In one drawer, I found a box of old photographs and sat on the floor going through them. There were many people in the pictures whom I didn’t know, but there were many of Adan at all ages. I noticed that in only a very few of them was he standing beside his mother. With her schedule as a movie actress, I imagined it must have been very lonely for him.

  Finally tired enough to feel confident that I would sleep, I crawled into the oversized bed. The hacienda was very quiet and far enough from any street or road to be beyond the sounds of traffic. When I put out the lights, the glow of a half-moon came through the light curtains. I had not closed the drapes. Because even these curtains had a crimson tint, the moonlight that seeped in and over the bed and the room was the color of light-red rose petals.

  I said my prayers.

  I closed my eyes and thought about the baby forming inside me. Parts of Adan and parts of me were exploring and testing each other, finding ways to join with those that had already begun creating our child. Adan was still in me, still a part of me. Maybe it was his spirit that was in this bedroom suite and not his mother’s, after all; maybe that was what Señor Bovio had felt.

  Thinking about him and the accident on the boat, I wondered if, even for a split second, Adan had blamed me. Whether it was my own imagination at work or not, I sensed anger in this room with me. If I hadn’t turned, slipped on the ladder, lost control of the boat at that moment, he wouldn’t have been so badly injured. If he didn’t blame me, and Señor Bovio had decided it was more important for him to forgive me and care only about my giving him a healthy grandchild, then perhaps his mother’s spirit was here and did blame me. Perhaps rather than keep me safe, she would be the vengeful one.