by Ewing, A. B.
Lauralyn sailed across the room and Raphael actually found himself bracing for another hit, but instead his mother just looked up at him through sad eyes and said, “I don’t know what has happened to you, but I wish you would stop this part of self-destruction you are on.”
“Mamá, I’m fine!”
“No you are not, Raphael. You are not fine. You came to me a couple months back looking like you lost your puppy. You told me about the woman you were in love with but you were too stubborn to get her. So I did what any mother would do for a son she loves. I brought her to you. I took that girl from a happy home and brought her to you, and now look at what you are doing?” She shook the papers to emphasize her point. “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Dahlia? This will destroy her.”
“Mom, Dahlia is stronger than you think. She knows I will never be unfaithful.”
“Does she, Raphael? I know you are still grieving for your baby, but you were completely out of line to blame Dahlia for that. It was not her fault.”
“If she had listened to me…”
Lauralyn stopped him with a palm in the air. “You can stop right there because that nonsense isn’t going to fly with me.” Raphael moved to the small dining room table and lowered his large frame.
“Rafe, just for a second put yourself in Dahlia’s shoes. What if it were you on the other side of that road? What if it was her coming out of a hotel with another man? What if she was caressing his face or he was kissing her cheek? What would you have done?” He hated when his mother took that tone. That was when she was being the voice of reason and more often than not she was right.
Staring at a coffee stain on the tablecloth he waited for her to finish. “The Raphael I know, the one I raised would have walked right up to that man and beat the hell out of him.” She was so right. Dahlia was his wife and he didn’t want any other man touching her.
“That girl has been through so much in the past couple of months, Rafe. She lost her mother, then her aunt. She fell in love with a man she thought only saw her as a one night stand and left her pregnant. She left everything she knows and loves to be with you and now she’s lost her baby. To have you blame her for that instead of having your support while she grieved is cruel, Rafe. Wicked and cruel! How could you say you love her and put her through that? And if that wasn’t enough, you flaunt an affair in her face.” Her words were having the effect he was sure she desired. Guilt began to bubble inside him but being as stubborn as he was he fought it.
“There is no affair, Mamá!” He defended himself. “I am not sleeping with Jasmine. I was drunk and I kissed her. Yes, I was wrong, but that’s all it was.”
“You know when you’ll realize what a mess you are making of your life? When that girl packs what little she has and goes home. It’s going to be too late, Rafe because all the excuses in the world wouldn’t help you then.” Slamming the paper against his chest Lauralyn shook her head in disappointment at her son, before she calmly turned around and left him to stew.
****
Dahlia wasn’t sure how long she sat on the settee staring at the paper. She wasn’t even sure how much tears she had cried. The only thing she was sure about is that her marriage was over. There was no way she could possibly compete with the model that had herself wrapped around Raphael. Almost as tall as him, the leggy blond was dressed as one would expect Raphael’s lover to be. Short, body hugging red dress, obviously expensive by the look of it was completed by matching red pumps. What else would one expect in a model?
She didn’t think was possible to hurt more than she had been hurting these past months since her baby died, but this was too much. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go back home. Natasha already had her hands full with her baby due in a couple of months, she had nothing across here, and her husband didn’t want her.
The headache that she had been walking around with for the past few weeks was getting worse now. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to stop the tears from falling because it only made her head hurt more, but she couldn’t help it. Sob after sob racked her tiny frame driving her into a huge dark hole of depression. How could things have gotten so bad so fast? Three months ago she was a happy bride and expectant mother. She had a husband who adored her and showed it in every way, but she had messed it all up. Her husband didn’t love her anymore, she had killed their child, and now he was having an affair. She was only getting what she deserved.
God, her head hurt so bad! Getting up from the settee, Dahlia made her way to the bedroom on shaky legs. Heading for the closet she retrieved all the bags with the baby clothes she had stuck in there and emptied them across the bed. Her body shook with the heart wrenching sounds of pain that escaped her sore throat. Going into the bathroom she rummaged through the medicine cabinet. When she found what she was looking for she went back into the bedroom.
Picking up the newspaper from the nightstand where she had rested it, she looked at it one more time before tossing it on the bed. Uncapping the bottle of painkillers she emptied some and tossed them down her throat. How many? She didn’t know she just wanted to stop hurting. Placing the unopened bottle on the nightstand, she finally lowered her small frame unto the bed amongst all her dead baby’s clothes and sighed when her head hit the pillow.
Behind closed lids, images flashed one after the other. She saw Raphael with Sarafina and her baby. She saw Raphael angry shouting at her, telling her it was her fault their son was dead. Another image of Raphael kissing Jasmine rose up. Dahlia groaned out loud as her headache intensified. Reaching for the painkillers she tossed back a few more but still the pain persisted and the images continued. Hoping just a few more pills would help she reached for the bottle once again. She needed to get rid of the damn headache.
She was right to drink all the painkillers! Slowly the pain subsided and the images began to fade. Instead, she could see Raphael holding their son, smiling at her. He looked so happy. She walked towards him reaching for the hand he held out to her. This was bliss. All she had to do was let go and she did. Dahlia let herself go and allowed the peace to engulf her.
****
Lauralyn had succeeded in what she set out to do. Raphael was still sitting at the table an hour after his mother left, guilt gnawing away at him. How could he have treated Dahlia as abominably as he did in the past three months? It wasn’t him alone that had lost a baby. His wife would be hurting just as much as him or even more. She was the one that carried that baby for more than six months. His mother was right! If he had found Dahlia in such a position he would have lost it. He would have killed any man that dared to touch his wife in that way, innocent or not. Why didn’t he at least try to understand how she must have felt? To compound the situation, he had been cruel enough to blame her for their son’s death. What kind of monster was he?
To think what his wife must be going through now. ¡Dios! Had she seen the picture of him and Jasmine in the papers? He hoped to God not because he didn’t know what she would do. The idea of Dahlia packing up and leaving him was too much to think of.
Pushing himself up from where he was, he hurried to his room. Showering in record time, he dressed hastily determined to get home before Dahlia saw today’s news. There was a lot to be made up for before he and Dahlia could find any measure of happiness again, but he would do whatever it took. First, he would apologize—beg her if he had to. Then, he would convince her that their son dying was an accident. And lastly, he would spend the rest of his life loving her as she deserved to be loved.
The streets of New York were busy as it always was in the early hours of the morning, making his drive longer than usual. The first thing he noticed when he entered the apartment was the silence. It triggered a fear deep down inside him. Had she seen the newspaper already? Did she leave?
Sprinting across the carpeted floor he went directly to the bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her. She looked so tiny in the huge bed. His heart tightened a little when he noticed that she was ly
ing amongst the baby clothes. He was such a bastard. Too busy being angry and hurt he hadn’t spared one moment to try and understand what she must be going through. The pain she must have suffered these past months. He hadn’t even been there to grieve with her. Instead, he had laid the blame solely on her shoulders, when in reality no one was to blame. But he was to blame for the pain she was suffering now.
Cautiously he moved across the room. Standing above her he winced when he saw the dark circles under her eyes. She had lost a lot of weight since he had last seen her a week ago. She looked so beautiful laying there, a smile adorning her face. Whatever she was dreaming was making her happy. Settling himself next to her he raised his hand to caress her cheek, but froze when he felt how cold her skin was. The heat was running! There was no reason for her skin to be this cold.
It was then he noticed the half emptied pill bottle in her hand. Snatching it up he tried to decipher what she had taken and how much. Terrified at what began to run through his mind when he realized how much of the painkillers were missing, he felt for the small pulse on her neck. There wasn’t any. Despair shot through him like lightning bolts. Gathering her up he shook her; however, there was no response.
“Dahlia, Dahlia!” Raphael’s lungs constricted when her head rolled back.
“¡Dios, no! Amor, Amor, open your eyes por favor. Open your eyes.” When there was no response he released her limp body back on the bed. Grabbing up the bed side phone he dialed 911. It was only when the person on the other line answered did Raphael realized that he was crying.
****
Chapter 14
The dreary hospital waiting room felt small and claustrophobic even though it stretched a good distance along. He was sitting here for the second time in three months and much like the last time his heart was throbbing at an irregular rhythm. Rafe sat on the hard chair; legs spread elbows on his knees. His head rested in the palm of his hand cutting out the light around him.
He wasn’t prepared. If that doctor came through those double doors and told him his wife was dead, he honestly believed that he would have a nervous breakdown. Despite the fact that he had been behaving like a complete and utter fool for the past couple of months, living life without Dahlia was not an option. She was the other half of him.
Rafe watched as his father paced the room, occasionally stopping to run his hand through his thick black hair. He would then shake his head and continue on. Lauralyn sat next to her son, her arms around his hung shoulders, offering him silent comfort. Although Rafe knew that he was to be fully blamed for the current situation he was in, his parents had not once made him feel that way. Here they were—supporting him even though he didn’t deserve it.
The things he had put his wife through were unforgivable. Dahlia was a fragile person, yet he had still pushed her: yelling at her, blaming her for their baby’s death, and then kissing Jasmine Jordan. That had been her obvious breaking point. Seeing him like that with Jasmine.
When the paramedics had loaded her unto the waiting stretcher it was only then that he had seen the news print on the bed. She had been looking at that before she took those pills.The knowledge that he could be so cruel to the woman he loved, that she would have to resort to suicide was pure anguish. How could he let things reach this point?
Rafe looked up when the waiting room door opened. Flying up from his seat he looked the doctor in his eyes, praying that whatever she was going to say would be good. Lauralyn clasped her small palm around her son’s triceps squeezing firmly. Alejandro Cavos took his place at his son’s other side—ready to deliver whatever support he would need.
When the doctor’s serious face broke into a comforting smile Rafe released a quick breath. “Your wife is a very lucky woman, Mr. Cavos. If you had brought her in ten minutes later it would have be too late. I do not see why she should not be able to make a quick recovery.” Alejandro caught the weight of his son as he sagged against him.
Doctor Brewster continued, “I would, however, advise that she get as much rest as possible. Mentally, she is still fragile from the ordeal she suffered a few months ago. I honestly don’t believe she is suicidal, but I would like to keep her for a couple of days just for safety measure.”
“Yes, we understand.” Lauralyn assured the other woman. “And Doctor Brewster?” She stopped the woman as she was getting ready to exit the room. “Thank you…” Palm resting against her throat, Lauralyn expressed her gratitude to this woman who had just saved her daughter-in-law’s life. The doctor didn’t answer. Instead she gently squeezed Lauralyn’s hand and offered a sympathetic nod.
Rafe didn’t like how he was feeling. His head felt heavy, yet he felt light headed. He felt anger, pain, grief but he didn’t know what do to with it. Spinning away from his parents he pressed his forehead against the wall. When the first sob racked his large frame it was a sound of intense suffering that erupted from down low in his soul. Another one followed as Rafe release a deep breath, his entire body shaking with immense emotional pain. Then they came one after the other, each one more excruciating than the other. Lauralyn Cavos’ heart crushed when it dawned on her what was going on. Her son was finally grieving.
Finding her way to him she wrapped herself around her son, offering him the love only a mother could give to her child in pain. Rafe swung around, engulfing his mother with his large arms grateful for the warmth of her body. “¡Dios, Mamá ! ¿Cómo le pude hacer eso a ella? ¿Cómo pude tratarla de esa manera? Ahora Dios me esta castigando.¿Verdad?”
This was a habit of Rafe’s ever since he was a little boy. When he got over emotional he would revert to Spanish. How many times had his friends complained about it? They often did because they could understand what he was saying.
“No, my son! This is not your fault! God is not punishing you.”
“Sí, Mamá. Yes he is, and I deserve it. Look what I have to done to Dahlia. I hurt her until she tried to kill herself. What kind of man does that to the woman he loves?” Rafe pushed away from his mother’s embrace finding a seat once again. Tears still flowed down his cheek, but the sobs had subsided.
It was Alejandro that took the seat at his side. “My son, do not look at this as a punishment. Your wife is alive. Be thankful for that. You now have an opportunity to make this right.” Strong, firm hands gripped his shoulder.
Looking at the face that looked so much like his but older, Rafe asked the one question that he was fearful to ask, “What if she cannot forgive me?”
“My boy, that is where the Cavos’ pride has to be put aside. You will do what is necessary, no? You beg if you have to, but you convince her of what you feel here.” Alejandro patted his son’s chest.
Lauralyn lowered her frame to the seat on the other side, covering Alejandro’s hand that rested on Rafe’s back. “Rafe, no one can promise you that the battle ahead will be easy, but if you love Dahlia as you say you do, you will have to fight. You may have failed her in the past, but you need to prove to her that whatever challenges may come in the future you will stand by her side. That is something no one can help you with.”
Alejandro left mother and son holding each other while he went to find out if Dahlia could have visitors. Yes, she could but only one. Rafe embraced his parents as he bid them farewell. Then he went to see his wife.
Other than the beeping of the monitor she was hooked up to, the room was silent. Rafe made his way quietly to the bed, looking down at his wife. In sleep she was more beautiful than she was awake. With her features relaxed, her true magnificence was evident. Hair in a loose plait rested on the pillow, her face void of make-up, lips slightly parted she looked at peace. This creature of essence was his wife.
Kicking off his shoes, Raphael climbed into the small hospital bed next to his woman. Avoiding the tube connected to her arm, he gathered her close to him enveloping her small frame. Her head rested on his chest as he buried his nose in her curls, inhaling deeply, loving her more with each passing moment. Dahlia was his wife, his love, his life
, his future. He would find a way to make this right, to make her happy again, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
Kissing the top of her head he whispered, “Te amo, mi princesa,” before his breathing steadied to match those of hers.
****
It felt so wonderful to be held in his arms again. To feel him wrapped around her, to smell that masculine scent she knew so well, to hear the steady thud of his heart below her ear. This was how it was always supposed to be. Dahlia came awake five minutes ago to find herself lying against a firm body. There was no mystery as to who the man in her bed was. Her body knew only one other body this well, Raphael’s.
This was so different from the last time she woke up in a hospital bed. The last time her husband was nowhere around. But here he was now, holding her so close almost as if he was afraid to let her go. Maybe she was greedy to appreciate these few minutes before he woke up. Maybe she was selfish to want to stay like this forever. She didn’t care. Her memories would be all she had when she was gone.
Reluctantly she began easing herself away from him but her husband was always a light sleeper. He stirred the moment her head left his chest. She froze when his pools of grey opened to meet her brown ones. She didn’t know what to think as their gazes connected.
“Amor, you are awake. Thank God.” He whispered pulling her against him again. How long had it been since he called her that? Not since she lost the baby.
Pushing away from him more firmly she inched as far away from him as possible on the small bed. Feeling her discomfort, Rafe edged off the bed, finding his shoes and putting them on. Setting his eyes on her he tried to decipher what she was thinking.
“What are you doing here, Raphael?” The question eased past her dry lips.
“I do not understand. What you mean, Amor? I am your husband. This is where I should be.”