Deep Deception 2

by McKinney, Tina Brooks

  “I can respect that. But she’s still in a coma. The hospital said they would call if her situation changed.” Verónica stopped talking and cocked her head.

  I heard my grandchild crying somewhere in the house. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and I followed her gaze and smiled.

  “I’ll be right back.” She rushed up the stairs before I could say anything. I found out about the baby when I went to the hospital but I didn’t let her know I was there.

  Verónica came down the stairs carrying a small baby wrapped in a blue blanket. She might have forgotten all about me as she went about caring for her child. I could hear her moving about the kitchen. I assumed she was fixing the baby’s bottle. She was gone for a long time but she finally rejoined me.

  “Sorry about that, your grandson is very demanding.” She was beaming with pride, but she also looked nervous.

  I, on the other hand, was trying to act surprised, but my emotions were raw. “How old is he?” It seemed like the appropriate question to ask.

  “Four weeks, he was such a tiny baby he had to stay in the hospital until he got his weight up and he’s gained four pounds since we’ve been home,” she answered proudly.

  Four weeks? I shook my head as anger fused through my body. My wife had damn near a year to tell me Verónica was pregnant and she hadn’t said a mumbling word. My brother had to have known as well, and that was the hardest pill to swallow because he knew how much I had cried over my sons. He knew how hard it was for me to let my surviving son leave Colombia.

  “Huh? Did you say something?” She didn’t even look up. Her eyes were bonded with her baby.

  “I questioned why your mother didn’t tell me before now.”

  She looked at me, then quickly looked away, but not before I saw the distrust in her eyes. “Padre, we weren’t sure how you’d react.”

  I jumped up off the sofa and started pacing the living room. “And you thought I’d react better learning this way?”

  “Keep your voice down. I’m trying to get Li’l Moses to go back to sleep so we can finish our conversation,” she warned.

  I was walking a thin line. I wanted to forge a relationship with my daughter, but I was so angry I just wanted to punch something. “So, if all of this hadn’t happened, I probably would’ve never known about your child, right? Is that what you are telling me?” I could not believe what was happening. Just thinking my family would go to such lengths to keep a secret hurt me to my heart, but I couldn’t throw stones. Her mother and I had done the exact same thing so I couldn’t really be mad.

  I pushed my anger aside. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CARLOS MENDOZA

  The front door was swung open, then I heard a deep voice, but the speaker’s face was hidden from me.

  “Honey, I’m home,” the voice called out.

  I was anxious to meet the man my daughter married. I heard a loud crash upstairs and the pounding of feet coming down the stairs.

  “Verónica, is everything okay?” I came out of the living room and walked right into Moses.

  His briefcase was on the counter and he was going through the mail. At first I thought he was following me, but I ruled out that thought because he was too comfortable. He was going through the mail like he had a vested interest. Then I remembered what Verónica had called the baby.

  Moses looked up from the mail, surprise written all over his face. “Carlos, I ... Shit.”

  My mind refused to connect the dots, even though the pieces were right in front of my face. “What ... Why?” I was too stunned to get mad yet. I was still trying to get over the changes in my family that I didn’t immediately understand what I was seeing.

  Verónica rushed down the stairs so fast, I feared she would fall. “Padre, uh ...” Verónica’s eyes flashed from me to Moses as tears shined brightly in her eyes.

  “Careful,” I shouted. But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. Looking back at Moses the pieces finally fit together. Moses and my daughter. I scowled at Moses. I was angry, but I was going to deal with that motherfucker later.

  Moses stood next to my daughter, and even if I wanted to deny what was right in front of me, I couldn’t. The question was how was it all going to play out.

  “Who the fuck is this man and, more important, why does he have a key to your house?” With feigned ignorance, I measured my words carefully. I didn’t want to intimidate Moses into exposing our previous conversation.

  “Keep your voice down,” Verónica admonished. Raw emotions flashed across Verónica’s face, and I could tell she was upset but determined to defend her position. “Padre, wow, this is such bad timing. Can we all please go into the living room?”

  “Fine.” I immediately regretted consulting with Moses, and I wanted to punch him in the face for keeping the truth from me. He had every opportunity to tell me that he was involved with my daughter the moment he realized who I was.

  Moses shifted from foot to foot as if he was uncertain as to whether or not he was going to follow us into the living room, but he came anyway and sat next to Verónica.

  “Padre, I told you I was married. This is Moses ... my husband.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shouted. Outraged, I leaped up off the sofa. Visions of them having sex made my blood boil. How the fuck could Moses not tell me that? Why him? This motherfucker has some explaining to do.

  “No, I’m her husband,” Moses confirmed.

  They grabbed hands and I had to physically force myself to unclench my fists. I didn’t know what upset me the most, the fact that she was married with a child or that she married a black man. And, more important, this particular black man. There were so many thoughts running through my head, I couldn’t speak for a moment.

  Verónica said, “Padre, I know you’re upset. I wanted to explain why we kept it a secret but Moses got home before I—”

  “Mr. Mendoza, despite the circumstances, it’s good to finally meet you.”

  Surprised, my head swung up. I felt like I was in a very bad television show and I was expected to perform brain surgery. After some prompting from Verónica, Moses stood up and held out his hand but I didn’t want to take it.

  I was unable to move. Even though I preferred to keep my business relationship with Moses a secret, I wasn’t sure I could stomach having him as a son-in-law. Verónica had to know my views on mixed relations and I felt like Moses was being deceitful so I didn’t trust him. My source of pain was that he looked me in the eye and didn’t say shit about even knowing my daughter, let alone being married to her.

  “Padre, say something please.” Tears streamed from her eyes.

  I didn’t mean to hurt her but I was hurting too. “How long have you two been married?” The words were forced between lips that didn’t want to open, but I was curious.

  “We got married shortly after the baby was born and Victória got shot,” Moses stated with a hint of attitude in his voice.

  I raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Padre. I used to work for Moses and we fell in love.”

  Was this supposed to make me feel better? I didn’t even know she had a job outside of the home. I stood up to leave because I needed to be alone to think. “It’s late, we should talk about this at another time. Would you show me where I will be staying?” I walked over and grabbed my suitcase, anxious to be by myself. I saw Verónica move out of the corner of my eye, but Moses stopped her from showing me the way to the guestroom.

  “Does this change what we discussed?” Moses asked when we were out of Verónica’s earshot.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. You’ve certainly given me something to think about.”

  Our eyes locked, but neither of us said anything else.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  VERÓNICA RAMSEY

  “Honey, the baby is crying.” Moses, my husband, nudged me in the back and rolled over.

  I was beyond tired and a tad bit irritated wit
h him because he didn’t get up himself and give me a break. “Aw, come on. Can’t you get him? I just got in bed.”

  “Verónica, you know I have to go to work in the morning.”

  I threw back the covers and searched in the dark for my slippers as LM’s wails got louder. I felt insulted. I knew he had to work, but staying home taking care of a newborn was work too, and Moses was going to have to recognize it. “Taking care of our child is also a job, and it doesn’t end at five o’clock.” I stuffed my feet in my slippers. “I’m coming, boo,” I mumbled, fighting through the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. I didn’t want resentment to build inside of me, so I knew I would have to tell Moses how I felt.

  To be honest, I was surprised by the way Moses was acting, since he was so supportive in the beginning. I didn’t know if it was the postpartum depression or the loss of my brother and first husband that was making me feel this way. I felt like Moses was taking me for granted.

  “Mommy’s coming, sweetie.” I peeked in the nursery to assure myself LM was crying from hunger. His little arms and legs were flailing around as his whimpers became roars.

  I wanted to keep the baby in our bedroom with us until he got a little older, but Moses felt it would lead to LM sleeping in our bed instead of his own. I totally disagreed with Moses, but not enough to pick a fight about it. If there was one thing that I’d learned from my previous marriage, it was to choose my battles.

  I retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and placed it in the microwave for twenty seconds to knock the chill off. Part of me was glad LM was making so much noise because that meant Moses wouldn’t be able to get a lick of sleep until I returned with the bottle.

  “Verónica, are you getting a bottle?” Moses called down the stairs.

  I wanted to say something really stupid to him but I held my lips together, choking back the sarcasm. Instead, I ignored him and his stupid-ass question.

  I put LM back in his crib and headed back to our room. I was still a little heated about being the one who had to get up all the time to tend to the baby, but I wasn’t as angry as I’d been half an hour earlier. How could I be mad when I saw the way my son’s eyes danced when he saw me? Like most men, he was only focused on one thing—my boobs. He fought me tooth and nail when I stopped giving him the boob and traded it for a bottle. I couldn’t take the constant tugging on my nipple so I opted to pump my breast instead. “He got it honest.” I chuckled, but my good mood soured almost immediately.

  Mike, my first husband and LM’s real dad, was killed a few days before he was born. My Uncle Monte ordered Mike’s murder when he found out that I was pregnant. If Monte had his way, LM and I would be dead. A cold chill traveled down my back. I hurried up and got into the bed. Part of me wanted to snuggle against my husband, but the other part of me was still upset with him. Moses patted me on the leg as I burrowed into the sheet.

  “Everything all right?”

  He was snoring seconds after he asked without waiting for a response.

  I moved away from his touch, but I doubted if he even noticed. I allowed my thoughts to wonder if things would have been different if Mike were alive. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him. I wanted more fire and passion, and it was probably my desire for more that got him killed. I started crying, something I found myself doing at least five times a day, and I was unable to stop. Perhaps I would have felt differently if I had had a chance to mourn Mike’s death before I married Moses, but it was too late to change any of that now. I knew I was suffering from postpartum depression but who had time for that with all the other things going on?

  I felt like the only person in my life who hadn’t lied to me was my son. As I drifted off to sleep a tiny voice resonated in my mind. “Trust no one,” the voice said. It wasn’t the voice that sent off warning bells in my head, it was the words themselves that caused a galactic blast to flow through my veins. The voice was androgynous, neither male nor female, but it still sounded vaguely familiar. I struggled to keep my eyes open so I could ponder on the identity of the voice, but I fought a losing battle. I was just too tired to think anymore.

  CHAPTER NINE

  VERÓNICA RAMSEY

  I secured LM in the middle of my bed and tickled him. “Hey, sweetie, things are going to be okay. Momma is just going through a rough time.”

  He smiled at me. The only thing that I didn’t regret over the last six weeks was the birth of my son. He was the love of my life, and I vowed to do everything in my power to protect him—unlike how my parents had protected us. Even after everything went down, I wanted to believe that they loved us in their own way. But it wasn’t enough.

  LM was changing before my eyes. Initially, he looked like my first husband, Mike, but over the last month he started to look more like me. And, surprisingly enough, he was starting to look like my current husband, Moses. I pulled my baby closer to me. I didn’t have much left in the world I’d die for. However, I was getting pretty tired of Moses’ lackadaisical attitude toward us. He went through what I could only describe as phases: one minute he loved us and the next he acted as if he hated us.

  I was bothered by the fact that my husband showed little to no interest in my son and seemed to be obsessed with finding the money and bonds Tilo had stolen from my family. I couldn’t care less about the money, but Moses was determined to find Tilo and expose her. He was convinced that she was still alive, but I wasn’t so sure because God doesn’t like ugly and what she did to my family was straight-up ugly. Plus, investigators said that based on the amount of blood found in her car it meant she was more than likely dead. I thought she got what was coming to her, but I couldn’t convince Moses of this. It just wasn’t that important to me, and it was causing a rift in our relationship. If he showed one-tenth of the energy he spent on finding Tilo on us, I was certain we would have a great marriage. Getting him to shift his focus was the hard part.

  “Are you awake?” My father came into my bedroom and I cringed.

  My father knew nothing of boundaries. My bedroom door was closed so he should have knocked before he entered. I could have been doing anything before he barged in.

  “I’m awake, but the next time you see my door closed, please knock. I may have been getting undressed.”

  His skin turned crimson red. I wasn’t trying to embarrass him, but I was no longer a child living in his home. The situation was reversed, and he had to learn to respect it.

  “I’m sorry. I have much to learn.” Padre hung his head.

  I felt ashamed for lashing out at him when it was really Moses whom I was mad at. I could only imagine how different our country was from his. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, Padre, but if I didn’t correct you, you might walk in on something you don’t want to see.”

  He gave me a blank look like he had no clue what I could be referring to.

  “Padre, I’m married now.”

  He turned red but I knew he finally understood.

  “I may have ridden the short bus, but there is nothing wrong with what’s up here.” He pointed to the top of his head.

  I almost choked. Did my father just make a joke? My father kept a straight face; it only made me want to laugh even more. I held it as long as I could until we burst out laughing.

  He said, “It’s good you laugh. It’s not good to have so much tension in your life.”

  No truer words were ever spoken. Things were so hectic at the house. I was dealing with a new husband and a father who had been absent most of my adult life. I’d spent several months with an evil imposter who claimed to be my father and I almost died as a result. Now, my real father was back in the picture, and I was having a difficult time learning to trust again. “Come on in, Padre.” I patted the bed to let him know it was okay to join me. We didn’t have any other seating in the master bedroom. The furnishings in Moses’ house were sparse, and I hadn’t had the time or the energy to change this house to a home.

  “How’s my grandbaby?”

&nb
sp; “This little fella makes sure I’m up every two hours.”

  “Do you want me to take him so you can get some rest?”

  I could tell by the moisture gathering in his eyes that he really wanted to tend to his grandson, but he still had some explaining to do about the past before I could let him hold the future. “No, that’s okay. With my luck, by the time I fall asleep you would be bringing him back with his greedy ass. I’m good. I’m about to get up anyway. I want to go to the hospital to visit Victória.”

  “I spoke to the doctors today and she is doing good. They called to say she is finally awake.”

  I jumped up, practically flipping LM off the bed in the process. “Are you serious? That’s great news. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” My voice rose, and I was mad at my father all over again.

  He stood up off the bed. “That is what I came up here to tell you.”

  I immediately felt stupid for jumping to conclusions. “I’m sorry, Padre, for barking at you. I’ve been so worried about Victória, I was beginning to believe she would never wake up.” I had thought this many times, but this was the first time I’d said it out loud. I turned LM on his stomach so I could get dressed. I wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

  “Padre, can you give me a moment so I can get dressed?”

  “Of course.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.

  I threw back the covers and slipped my gown over my head. I wanted to shower but I also needed to get to the hospital. I picked up the phone to call Ramón and stopped cold. I still couldn’t believe he was gone.

  I walked over to the closet to try to find something to wear, but nothing in the closet would fit my petite frame. I’d lost all my pregnancy weight but because I hadn’t really been out of the house since coming home from the hospital, I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking my regular clothes.

  “Shit.” I put my nightgown back on and went to the top of the steps and called to my father.