by VC Andrews
“Is it far to the city of Palm Springs?”
“Maybe two miles,” he replied. “It was one of Adan’s favorite rides, especially in the cool evenings. I went with him a few times. There’s a riding academy not far from the canyon, and they have some trails along it as well.”
I looked in the direction he had indicated. Perhaps Adan and I would have taken that ride, I thought.
I watched Gerry Sommer water and feed the horses. He talked about Adan and the time he would spend caring for Amigo, exercising him, and brushing him down.
“Adan and Amigo were as connected as I’ve ever seen a horse and its owner,” he told me. “That horse has been in mourning ever since. You’re the first thing that’s brought some life back into him, Delia. Come around as much as you want.”
I promised I would.
The following morning, after my breakfast, I tried again to see Adan Jr., and again, as if she were waiting for me to do just that, Mrs. Newell appeared to turn me away.
“Didn’t you understand what I told you yesterday? Are you really this stupid?”
“I was hoping…please, Mrs. Newell,” I begged. I thought that begging might satisfy her enough to grant me some time with my own baby.
“I told you. When I believe it’s safe for him to have visitors, I will permit it, but not until then,” she said, and went into Adan’s room, locking the door behind her.
I stood there debating whether or not this was the time to challenge her, to pound on the door and scream. I had no doubt, however, that Señor Bovio would support her and do just what she threatened and throw me out.
Later that afternoon, Señor Bovio came to my room with the revised document. I read it and nodded.
“Would this mean I can visit him now?” I asked.
“Of course not. That’s a medical decision, not a legal decision,” he replied. “Are you signing it?”
“It’s still a very big decision, señor,” I said. It was my only bargaining point. “Would you be kind enough to let me sleep on it a day or so more?”
“Why? It won’t change anything,” he said. I didn’t reply, and he relented. “Okay. Two days, and that’s it,” he told me. “I mean it, Delia. I won’t be played like some fool. After that, I’m taking back all that I have offered you. I’ll go forward with the court action, and you will find yourself all alone out there. I imagine you might have to return to Mexico. I don’t mean to sound as if I’m threatening you, but you have to be made to understand what will be. The choice is in your own hands now, but as I said, the clock is ticking.”
He left, closing the door behind him.
I sat with the paper in my hands, his words lingering in the air. Even though I had no intention to obey such a legal document and all this money lay in waiting for me, it was still difficult to sign it. I came from a line of people who never gave away their children despite how close to starvation they might be. There was nothing stronger or more meaningful than family. It had destroyed my grandfather’s spirit when Tía Isabela turned on him, and he had disowned her. Abuela Anabela never failed to remind me of it and to express her hope that somehow my going to live with her would eventually bring her back to her family, even though they were long gone. That return would keep them from the third death.
Whether she owed him a favor or she was still looking for some way to get revenge on me, Tía Isabela showed up at the Bovio hacienda the next afternoon. I had just returned from my last visit with Dr. Denardo, who had given me a clean bill of health and told me to resume normal activities.
“I understand you’re thinking about going to nursing school. It’s a good career, and we need nurses,” he said. “You have a nice opportunity. I would seize it,” he added, clearly implying that I should do as Señor Bovio wanted.
I was sitting quietly in my room, thinking about all of this, when Tía Isabela suddenly appeared in the doorway. She wore a blouse and skirt that looked almost too plain for her. Her hair was tied back but not as severely as I had seen it done, and she wasn’t as heavily made up. She actually looked tired, even a little old. It surprised me as much as anything else to see that she had left her house and was being seen in public like this.
“When I first came here,” she began, “my husband had a housekeeper who believed that God rained children down on us as punishment for original sin. She actually believed it, and I suppose when she saw the way Sophia behaved, even as an infant, she was convinced it was true.”
She came into the room and looked around.
“Quite a come-down from Señora Bovio’s luxurious suite,” she said.
“I was never that comfortable up there, anyway,” I said.
“I imagine not. It was probably like sleeping with a ghost, but I warned you.”
She plopped into a chair and for a long moment looked too tired to speak.
“You know that Sophia was thrown out of school and Edward has run off from college?”
“I heard. Fani Cordova told me.”
“Fani,” she said. “It doesn’t surprise me to hear that. She probably enjoys spreading bad news, especially where it concerns me. I never liked that girl, and she knew it.” For a moment, she ran her gaze over me like someone looking for concealed weapons. “Well, despite all you have done—”
“I did nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s not true.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, does it? I understand Ray has made you quite an offer. You’ll be as rich as Señor Lopez. Wouldn’t your parents be surprised?”
“He’s buying my son.”
“Buying your son,” she repeated. “It’s his grandson, isn’t it?”
“I’m his mother. Maybe you don’t know it, Tía Isabela, but a mother is more important.”
“Please, spare me the canned lectures about parenthood. My husband used to go on and on about it. Think, Delia. What could you offer your son now?”
“Family,” I said. “Love.”
“Right. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this. You see what raising children brings you. Sophia is still trying to drive a stake through my heart, and now Edward has run off, wasting all that I’ve done for him and all of his opportunities. If I died tomorrow, my children would barely blink.”
“I would never have such a relationship with my child. I would never permit him to be as self-centered as Sophia or drive him away as you have done with Edward.”
“No? You don’t think he’ll grow up self-centered, the way Señor Bovio would spoil him, despite you?”
“I won’t let that happen. I’ll take him away from here first.”
“Please, Delia. Get real, already. He’ll never permit it, and you’ll end up in a bad place. He’s too powerful for you.”
I looked away. Her words were like nails pounded into a coffin. Just like death, the truth about what she was saying couldn’t be denied.
“He’s described to me in detail what he’s offering you. I think he’s nuts, myself, but I can’t believe you’re actually procrastinating about it, risking that he’ll take back his offer and have you thrown out.”
I couldn’t stand hearing it, especially from her.
“Why have you come here, Tía Isabela? You don’t really care about what happens to me, do you?”
She sighed. “Ray pleaded with me to come talk sense into you. He sounded as if he was on the verge of losing his patience.”
“He’s losing his patience? My baby is upstairs, locked in a room. I am not permitted to see him.”
She shook her head as if it wasn’t a big thing.
“It’s my baby!” I cried.
She closed and opened her eyes. “You had better think hard about all he is offering you and not make this last big mistake. I came for you as much as for him. It’s the last thing I will do for you, Delia.”
She stood up.
“Get out with something while you still can. That’s what I would do.”
“Maybe that’s why I shouldn’t,” I said.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
She shook her head. “You know what, Delia? I hope you don’t take Ray’s offer. I hope he does me a favor and gets rid of you, has you deported or something.”
She turned and walked out, her footsteps echoing off along with her, the threats lingering in the air like the odor of something dead.
Not long afterward, Teresa came to my room carrying a dress. She told me Señor Bovio had asked her to invite me to have dinner with him that evening. He had called her from one of his commercial properties and asked her to bring me this dress of his wife’s to wear. It was one I had not seen. It looked like one of the ones that hung with the tags still on them in the closet, never worn.
“He said to tell you he has a nice surprise for you,” she said. “Dinner will be at seven tonight, Miss.”
“A surprise?”
“That’s all I know, Miss. Oh. He said you should be sure to bring the signed document with you.”
“I see. Thank you, Teresa.”
She smiled. “I hope there’s truly good news for you, Delia.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I was on pins and needles waiting for this dinner and this surprise. Did it mean Ignacio would be freed? Whatever the surprise, it was clear he expected me to give him what he wanted first. I read and reread the revised statement. It simply said that I had visitation privileges, but I had to call and arrange for the visits first. If there was any doubt in my mind before, it was clear now that Señor Bovio expected me to be out of his hacienda very soon.
I put on the dress. It had a very pretty off-the-shoulder white bodice and a red ankle-length skirt. It fit well. I didn’t have the right shoes for it and laughed at myself for even caring. However, I brushed and pinned my hair. I imagined that he didn’t want me to look like the poor lost soul I was. I didn’t mind. If I looked good and held on to some of my dignity and pride, perhaps he would be more forthcoming. I was determined to bring up Adan’s name and see if that would get me anywhere with him, too.
He was already at the table in the dining room when I arrived at seven. He looked quite dapper, more like the Señor Bovio I remembered. It was almost as if all of the terrible things that had happened since were just bad dreams. At any moment, Adan himself would come in behind me, and we would sit at the beautiful table and talk about wonderful things.
“You look very nice,” Señor Bovio said. “I knew that dress would fit you now.”
“Gracias, señor.”
I sat, and Señor Bovio offered me some red wine. When I hesitated, he smiled.
“You don’t have the same food and drink restrictions now, Delia. Enjoy.”
I nodded, and he poured me a glass.
“I can see, by the way, that Mrs. Newell did a very good job of keeping your weight down. Despite what you’ve been through, you have nearly regained your beautiful figure.”
“Perhaps she should work more with people who are obese,” I said, and he laughed.
“No, no, she is a top maternity nurse. But no more about her.”
He sat back and waited for Teresa to serve us our salads and leave. Then he lifted his fork and smiled.
“Tomorrow, Stevens will be outside at ten A.M. to take you to see someone I know you have been waiting a long time to see.”
He kept his smile, waiting for my response. My thoughts ran wild for a moment.
“Ignacio? He is out of prison?”
“No, not out of prison yet, but I have arranged for you to see him.”
I started to shake my head.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“He wants to see me?”
“He doesn’t know what he wants or doesn’t want right now. He’s in prison, and it’s not a country-club prison, believe me.”
“But—”
“I thought it would please you, Delia,” he said. “Don’t you want to see him?”
“Yes, of course, but…was he told that he had to see me?”
Señor Bovio lost his smile. “Do you want to see him or not?”
“Yes, señor, very much.”
“Then I wouldn’t ask so many questions. These things are not as easy to arrange as you might imagine. It will lead to his release faster if the people who are in a position to arrange it believe he can be a successful man out in public again. He has, I understand, not been an ideal prisoner and has not been interested in seeing anyone, even members of his own family. You could do him some good.”
“Sí,” I said, still feeling ambivalent and confused. There was something going on here that I didn’t quite understand.
“Dress simply, and don’t bring a purse. It’s easier if they have less to search.”
“Search?”
“They won’t let you into the visitors’ area without being sure you’re not bringing in weapons, drugs. You could be strip-searched, Delia. This is a maximum-security prison.”
“Sí,” I said, now growing frightened.
“I don’t know exactly why, myself, but I was told to tell you not to wear a wire bra. Maybe women hide things in them. You have a sports bra, I know. Wear that.”
“Sí,” I said.
“You signed the paper?” he asked, eating and nodding at the envelope.
“Sí, señor,” I said.
“Good. We’re having prime rib for dinner.” He leaned toward me. “Mrs. Newell would never permit you to have it when you were pregnant. Too fatty, but it’s very tasty. And wait until you see our dessert.”
He put his fork down and reached for the envelope. I watched him open it and look at the paper. Then he smiled at me.
“You have done a wise thing,” he said, “both for yourself and for Adan.”
I said nothing. Teresa served us our meal, and Señor Bovio asked me about my choice of nursing schools and then began to talk about Adan Jr. as if he were already old enough to consider college himself.
“Too many young people think only about the social scene and not enough about their education. They choose to go to this school or that, not because of the school’s success in studies but because of football or basketball or whatever. If a parent or a guardian is to do a good job with a young man, he should guide him to make the right choices for the right reasons.”
I just sat listening and eating. After a while, he grew quiet himself and just ate and looked off as if he were sitting by himself. In fact, when Teresa came to clear off the dishes, he looked around as if he had just realized I was there with him and we had just eaten.
I heard a door slam, and we both listened to the footsteps descending the stairs. Moments later, Mrs. Newell appeared in the dining-room doorway.
“How is he?” Señor Bovio asked.
“He’s doing fine, Mr. Bovio.” She looked at him, and he nodded at the envelope. Then she turned to me. “In two hours, you can come upstairs for five minutes,” she said. “First, I’d like you to wash your hands, and I want you to put on the robe I have for this purpose. If you are doused heavily in perfume, I’d like you to wash it off.”
“No, no, I’m not,” I said. “Why am I limited to only five minutes?”
“You can appreciate what I went through with her these past months,” she told Señor Bovio instead of responding. “It was constantly like this, questioning every order I gave, making me work harder.”
“I don’t mean to make you work harder, Mrs. Newell. I—”
“Considering what you have done to this child,” she said coldly, “and how difficult you have made it for him to survive, I would think you would be grateful for even two minutes.”
I started to speak but stopped myself. If I said anything more, I might not be able to see Adan Jr. at all. Señor Bovio hadn’t raised a syllable in my defense. He looked away, in fact.
Mrs. Newell didn’t say another word. She went into the kitchen to get her own dinner. I looked at Señor Bovio, hoping to hear him promise m
e more.
Instead, he said, “I’ll go in with you.”
I wondered if he thought I might scoop up Adan Jr. and run out of the house, but then he smiled and added, “When we brought Adan home, Señora Bovio and I sat at his side for hours and hours, marveling at his tiny features, his every move. It meant more for us to be there together. After all, we made him together. Aaah,” he exclaimed when Teresa came out with a rich chocolate cake. “The dessert I promised. Nothing is too rich for you now, Delia.” He smiled gleefully.
I thought to myself that when el diablo smiled, he surely smiled the same way.
Two hours later, he was waiting at the door for me. I was so nervous that I was trembling. He knocked softly, and we heard the door unlocked. Mrs. Newell looked at us and stepped aside, directing me first into the bathroom, where she had special soap she wanted me to use and the robe she wanted me to wear. I did everything just as she directed, terrified that I’d make some small error and she would send me away before I saw Adan.
Finally, I was able to approach the crib and look at my baby. To me, he looked absolutely perfect, his face fuller. I didn’t see myself in him as much as I did Adan. For a while, all I could do was stare in wonder. Then, slowly, almost like someone bringing her fingers close to a candle’s flame, I reached down to touch his little hand. His eyes fluttered open, and I would swear forever that he looked up at me and smiled.
Then and there, I vowed I would not leave him behind. Señor Bovio could have me sign a thousand documents, give me tons of money, and lavish the most expensive gifts on me, but none of it, nothing, would keep me from my baby.
Suddenly, I felt Señor Bovio step up beside me, his body touching mine.
“Adan,” he whispered, “has come back to us.”
My heart fluttered. I looked up at him, and in his eyes, I saw the madness of love Adam surely had for Eve, the same love that would enable him to defy God’s commandment and deport him and Eve forever from Paradise. Like a dark, heavy shadow, Señor Bovio loomed over me and my baby.
“It’s time,” Mrs. Newell declared.
“But surely it hasn’t been five minutes,” I protested.
“Surely it has,” she said, stepping closer.