by Diana Palmer
“I will see the nurse on my way out. I must get more clothes for Matthew.”
She felt drained. “I’d forgotten. My apartment. There are clothes in the tall chest of drawers for him.”
“The key?” he asked.
“In my purse.” She didn’t really want Diego in her apartment. There were no visible traces of anything, but he might find something she’d overlooked. But what choice did she have? Matthew had to be her first consideration.
He brought it to her, took the key she extended, then replaced the pitiful vinyl purse in her locker. The sight of her clothing was equally depressing. She had nothing. His dark eyes closed. It hurt to see her so destitute when she was entitled to his own wealth. Diego knew that Melissa’s father had gone bankrupt just before his death.
The apartment she shared with Matthew was as dismal as the clothing he’d seen in her locker at the hospital. The landlady had eyed him with suspicion and curiosity until he’d produced his checkbook and asked how much his wife owed her. That had shaken the woman considerably, and there had been no more questions or snide remarks from her.
Diego searched through the apartment until he found a small vinyl bag, which he packed with enough clothing to get Matthew through the next few days. But he knew already that he was going to have to do some shopping. The child’s few things looked as if they’d been obtained at rummage sales. Probably they had, he thought bitterly, because Melissa had so little. His fault. Even that was his fault.
He looked in another chest of drawers for more gowns and underthings for Melissa, and stopped as he lifted a gown and found a small photograph tucked there. He took it out carefully. It was one that Melissa had taken of him years before. He’d been astride one of his stallions, wearing a panama hat and dark trousers with a white shirt unbuttoned over his bronzed chest with its faint feathering of black hair. He’d been smiling at her as he’d leaned over the neck of the horse to stroke its waving mane. On the back of it was written: Diego, Near Atitl´n. There was no date, but the photo was worn and wrinkled, as if she’d carried it with her for a long time. And he remembered to the day when she’d taken it—the day before they’d taken refuge in the Mayan ruins.
He slowly put it back under the gown and found something else. A small book in which were tucked flowers and bits of paper and a thin silver bookmark. He recognized some of the mementos. The flowers he’d given her from time to time or picked for her when they’d walked across the fields together. The bits of paper were from things he’d scribbled for her, Spanish words that she’d been trying to master. The bookmark was one he’d given her for her eighteenth birthday. He frowned. Why should she have kept them all these years?
He put them back, folded the gown gently over them and left the drawer as he’d found it, forcing himself not to consider the implications of those revealing mementos. After all, she might have kept them to remind her more of his cruelty than of any feeling she had had for him.
He went shopping the next morning. He knew Melissa’s size, but he’d had to call Mrs. Grady to ask for Matthew’s. It disturbed him to buy clothes for another man’s child, but he found himself in the toy department afterward. Before he could talk himself out of it he’d filled a bag with playthings for the child, chiding himself mentally for doing something so ridiculous.
But Matthew’s face when he put the packages on the sofa in Mrs. Grady’s apartment was a revelation. Diego smiled helplessly at the child’s unbridled delight as he took out building blocks and electronic games and a small remote-controlled robot.
“He’s had so little, poor thing,” Mrs. Grady sighed, smiling as she watched the boy go feverishly from one toy to another, finally settling down with a small computerized teddy bear that talked. “Not Melly’s fault, of course. Money was tight. But it’s nice to see him with a few new things.”
“Sí.” Diego watched the little boy and felt a sudden icy blast of regret for the child he’d caused Melissa to lose. He remembered with painful clarity what he’d said to her the night she’d run out into the rain and pitched down the steps in the wet darkness. Dios, would he never forget? He turned away. “I must go. Melissa needed some new gowns. I am taking them to the hospital for her.”
“How is she?”
“Much better, gracias. The doctor says I may take her home in a few more days.” He looked down at the heavyset woman. “Matthew will be going with us to Chicago. I know he will miss you, and Melissa and I are grateful for the care you have taken of him.”
“It was my pleasure,” she assured him.
“Thank you for my toys, mister,” Matthew said, suddenly underfoot. His big dark eyes were happy. He lifted his arms to Diego to be picked up; he was used to easy affection from the adults around him. But the tall man went rigid and looked unapproachable. Matthew stepped back, the happiness in his eyes fading to wary uncertainty. He shifted and ran back to his toys without trying again.
Diego hated the emotions sifting through his pride, the strongest of which was self-contempt. How could he treat a child so coldly—it wasn’t Matthew’s fault, after all. But years of conditioning had made it impossible for him to bend. He turned to the door, avoiding Mrs. Grady’s disapproving glance, made his goodbyes and left quickly.
Back at the hospital, while Diego went to get himself a cup of coffee, Melissa had a nurse help her into one of the three pastel gowns Diego had brought. She was delighted with the pink one. It had a low bodice and plenty of lace, and she thought how happy it would have made her years ago to have Diego buy her anything. But he’d done this out of pity, she knew, not out of love.
She thanked him when he came back. “You shouldn’t have spent so much…” She faltered, because she knew the gowns were silk, not a cheap fabric.
He only shrugged. “You will be wearing gowns for a time,” he said, as if that explained his generous impulse. He sat down in the armchair in the corner with a foam cup of coffee, which he proceeded to sip. “I bought a few things for your son,” he added reluctantly. He crossed his long legs. “And a toy or so.” He caught the look in her eyes. “He went from one to the other like a bee in search of the best nectar,” he mused with stiff amusement.
Melissa almost cried. She’d wanted to give the child so many things, but there hadn’t been any money for luxuries.
“Thank you for doing that for him,” Melissa said quietly. “I didn’t expect that you’d do anything for him under the circumstances, much less buy him expensive toys.” Her eyes fell from his cold gaze. “I haven’t been able to give him very much. There’s never been any money for toys.”
She was propped up in bed now, and her hair had been washed. It was a pale blond, curling softly toward her face, onto her flushed cheeks. She was lovely, he thought, watching her. There was a new maturity about her, and the curves he remembered were much more womanly now. His eyes dropped to the low bodice of the new gown he’d bought her, and they narrowed on the visible swell of her pink breasts.
She colored more and started to pull up the sheet, but his lean, dark hand prevented her.
“There is no need for that, Melissa,” he said quietly. “You certainly do not expect me to make suggestive remarks to you under the circumstances?”
She shifted. “No. Of course not.” She sighed. “I didn’t expect you to buy me new gowns,” she said, hoping to divert him. She didn’t like the way it affected her when he looked at her that way. “Couldn’t you find mine?” And as she asked the question, she remembered suddenly and with anguish what she’d hidden under those gowns. Had he seen—
He turned away so that she couldn’t see his expression. “One glance in the drawer was enough to convince me that they were unsuitable, without disturbing them,” he said with practiced carelessness. “Do you not like the new ones?”
“They’re very nice,” she said inadequately. Silk, when she could barely afford cotton. Of course she liked them, but why had he been so extravagant?
“Has it been like this since you came to Am
erica?” he asked, glancing at her. “Have you been so hard-pressed for money?”
She didn’t like the question. She stared at her folded hands. “Money isn’t everything,” she said.
“The lack of it can be,” he replied. He straightened, his eyes narrow and thoughtful. “The child’s father—could he not help you financially?”
She gritted her teeth. This was going to be intolerable. She lifted her cold gaze to his. “No, he couldn’t be bothered,” she said tersely. “And you needn’t look so self-righteous and accusing, Diego. I don’t believe for a minute that you’ve spent the last five years without a woman.”
He didn’t answer her. His expression was distant, impassive. “Has Matthew seen his father?” he persisted.
She didn’t answer him. She didn’t dare. “I realize that you must resent Matthew, but I do hope you don’t intend taking out your grievances on him,” she said.
He glared at her. “As if I could treat a child so.”
“I was little more than a child,” she reminded him. “You and your venomous family had no qualms about treating me in just such a way.”
“Yes,” he admitted, as graciously as he could. He put his hands in his pockets and studied her. “My grandmother very nearly had a breakdown when you vanished. She told me then how you had been treated. It was something of a shock. I had not considered that she might feel justified in taking her vengeance out on you. I should have realized how she’d react, but I was feeling trapped and not too fond of you when I left the Casa de Luz.”
Before Melissa could respond to his unexpected confession, the door opened and a nurse’s aide came in with a dinner tray. She smiled at Diego and put a tray in front of Melissa. Oh, well, Melissa thought as she was propped up and her food containers were opened for her, she could argue with him later. He didn’t seem inclined to leave her anytime soon.
“You eat so little,” he remarked when she only picked at her food.
She glanced at him. He sat gracefully in an upholstered armchair beside the window, his long legs crossed. He looked very Latin like that, and as immaculate as ever. She had to drag her eyes away before her expression told him how attractive she still found him.
“I’m not very hungry.”
“Could you not eat a thick steak smothered in mushrooms and onions, chiquita?” he murmured, his black eyes twinkling gently for the first time since she’d opened her eyes and seen him in her room. “And fried potatoes and thick bread?”
“Stop,” she groaned.
He smiled. “As I thought, it is the food that does not appeal. When you are released I will see to it that you have proper meals.”
“I have a job,” she began.
“Which you cannot do until you are completely well again,” he reminded her. “I will speak to your employer.”
She sighed. “It won’t help. They can’t afford to hold the position open for six weeks.”
“Is there someone who can replace you?”
She thought of her young, eager assistant. “Oh, yes.”
“Then there should be no problem.”
She glared at him over the last sip of milk. “I won’t let you take me over,” she said. “I’m grateful for your help, but I want no part of marriage ever again.”
“I want it no more than you do, Melissa,” he said carelessly, with forced indifference. “But for the time being, neither of us has any choice. As for divorce—” he shrugged “—that is not possible. But perhaps a separation or some other arrangement can be made when you are well. Naturally I will provide for you and the child.”
“You will like hell,” she said, shocking him not only with her unfamiliar language but with the very adult and formidable anger in her gray eyes. “This isn’t Guatemala. In America women have equal rights with men. We aren’t property, and I’m perfectly capable of providing for Matthew and myself.”
His dark eyebrows lifted. “Indeed?” he asked lightly. “And this is why I found you living in abject poverty with a child who wears secondhand clothing and had not one new toy in his possession?”
She wanted to climb out of bed and hit him over the head with her tray. Her eyes told him so. “I won’t live with you.”
He shrugged. “Then what will you do, niña?” he asked.
She thought about that for a minute and fought back tears of helpless rage. She lay back on the pillows with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know,” she said honestly.
“It will only be a temporary arrangement,” he reminded her. “Just until you are well again. You might like Chicago,” he added. “There is a lake and a beach, and many things for a small boy to explore.”
She made a face. “Matt and I will catch pneumonia and die if we have to spend a winter there,” she said shortly. “Neither of us has ever been out of southern Arizona in the past f—” she corrected herself quickly “—three years.”
He didn’t notice the slip. He was studying her slender body under the sheets. She thought that he’d spent the past five years womanizing. Little did she know that the memory of her had destroyed any transient desire he might have felt for any other woman. Even now his dreams were filled with her, obsessed with her. So much love in Melissa, but he’d managed to kill it all. Once, he’d been sure she wanted to love him, but now he couldn’t really blame her for her reticence. And his own feelings had been in turmoil ever since he’d learned about the child.
“It is spring,” he murmured. “By winter, much could happen.”
“I won’t live in Guatemala, Diego,” she repeated. “And not with your grandmother and sister under any circumstances.”
He ran a restless hand through his hair. “My grandmother lives in Barbados with her sister,” he said. “She still grieves for the great-grandchild she might have had if not for our intolerable coldness to you. My sister is married and lives in Mexico City.”
“Did they know you were coming here?” she asked casually, though she didn’t feel casual about it. The señora had been cruel, and so, despite her reluctance to side with her grandmother, had Juana.
“I telephoned them both last night. They wish you well. Perhaps one day there may be the opportunity for them to ask your pardon for the treatment you received.”
“Juana tried to be kind,” she said. She traced a thread on the sheet. “Your grandmother did not. I suppose I can understand how she felt, but it didn’t make it any easier for me to stay there.”
“And you blame me for leaving you at her mercy, ¿Es verdad?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she replied, looking up. “You never allowed me to explain. You automatically convicted me on circumstantial evidence and set out to make me pay for what you thought I did. And I paid,” she added icily. “I paid in ways I won’t even tell you.”
“But you had your revenge, did you not?” he returned with an equally cold laugh. “You took a lover and had his child.”
She forced a smile to her pale lips. “You’re so good at getting at the truth, Diego,” she said mildly. “I’m in awe of your ability to read minds.”
“A pity I had no such ability when you left the hospital without even being discharged and vanished,” he replied. “There was a military coup the same day you left, and there were several deaths.”
As he spoke she saw the flash of emotion in his black eyes. She hadn’t noticed before how haunted he looked. There was a deep, dark coldness about him, and there were new lines in his lean face. He looked his age for once, and the old lazy indifference she remembered seemed gone forever. This remote, polite man was nothing like the man she’d known in Guatemala. He’d changed drastically.
Then what he had said began to penetrate her tired mind. She frowned. “Several deaths?” she asked suddenly.
He laughed bitterly. “During the time the coup was accomplished there were a few isolated fatalities, and one of the bodies could not be identified.” His eyes went cold at the memory. “It was a young girl with blond hair.”
“You thought i
t was me?” she exclaimed.
He took a slow, deep breath. It was a minute before he could answer her. “Yes, I thought…it was you.”
Chapter Six
Diego’s quiet confirmation took Melissa’s breath away. She knew about the coup, of course. It was impossible not to know. But at the time her only thought had been of escape. She hadn’t considered that depriving Diego of knowledge of her whereabouts might lead to the supposition that she was dead. She’d only been concerned about hiding her pregnancy from him.
“I find it very hard to believe you were concerned.”
“Concerned!” He turned around, and the look in his black eyes was the old one she remembered from her teens, the one that could make even the meanest of his men back away. His eyes were like black steel in his hard face. “Shall I tell you what that young woman looked like, niña?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can imagine how she looked,” she said. “But you’ll never make me believe it mattered to you. I expect you were more angry than relieved to discover that it wasn’t me. How did you discover it?” she added.
“Your father told me,” he said, moving restlessly to the window. “By that time you had successfully made it into the United States, and all my contacts were unable to track you down.”
She wanted to ask a lot more questions, but this wasn’t the time. She had other concerns. The main one was how she was going to manage living with him until she was fully recovered. And more importantly, how she was going to protect Matthew from him.
“I don’t want to go with you, Diego,” she said honestly. “I will, because I’ve no other choice. But you needn’t expect me to worship the ground you walk on the way I used to. I’ve stopped dreaming in the past five years.”
“And I have barely begun,” he replied, his voice deep and soft. His gaze went over her slowly. “Perhaps it is as well that we meet again like this. Now you are old enough to deal with the man and not the illusion.” He got to his feet with the easy grace Melissa remembered from the past. “I will return later. I must check on Matthew.”