After lunch, she napped. She’d eaten all the food on the tray, and even though there hadn’t been much of it, it had taken a long time to go through it.
When the nurse came to change the IV bag once more, she promised it would be the last one.
“I need to call my ride to let him know I’ll be going home soon.” Catarina hoped Afonso would answer the phone.
The nurse pushed the old-fashioned phone closer to Catarina. “I forgot to tell you. A man called when you were sleeping.”
Catarina stilled. “A man?”
“Afonso Cortez? Do you know him?”
“Yes, he’s the one giving me the ride. What did he say?”
“He just asked about you and how you were doing.” She picked up the half-filled water pitcher. “I’ll bring you some fresh water.”
Catarina turned the words in her mind. Afonso Cortez had called asking about her. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand why he cared. He was a contradiction: a man who’d been in prison for committing a crime, and a man who rushed her to the hospital and called to find out how she was doing.
Maybe Filipe was right and she’d judged Afonso too harshly.
After another short nap, she called Afonso and asked him to bring some of her loungewear clothes to change into. When he showed up, at the exact time he’d said he’d be there, he carried a shopping bag.
He set it down at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t feel right about going through your wardrobe. I hope this will do.” He looked down, then away to the window before looking back at her. “I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” He turned and left quickly.
Was that a blush creeping up his neck? She didn’t know him, but it looked like Afonso Cortez was blushing.
She opened the bag and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in white tissue paper. When she drew the layers back, silky pink fabric sat inside. Catarina picked it up and held a beautiful satin kimono-style robe in front of her. It had a row of magnolias all around the hem and on the cuffs of the long sleeves and enough length to reach past mid-calf. It was appropriate for her to wear on the way home and it would serve well as a cover-up. But it was something so unexpected.
So thoughtful of Afonso, who hadn’t wanted to riffle through her drawers in the wardrobe.
The nurse came to unhook the IV from her and disconnect the rest of the equipment. “The doctor already signed your discharge papers.” She read the instructions to Catarina and had her sign at the bottom. “An orderly will come with the wheelchair shortly.”
“Do I really need to leave in a wheelchair?”
The nurse gave her a stern look. “That is not open for discussion.”
She helped Catarina to the edge of the bed and put the plastic bag with her possessions—the mismatched pajamas she’d arrived in—within her reach. The nurse pulled the curtain around Catarina’s bed and left.
Catarina sat there and gave herself a few minutes to adjust. It had been a hard week, and there was a lot for her to take in, a lot to think about. Especially about Afonso. She changed from the hospital gown into her pajamas, being careful not to stand too long and risk a fall.
Then she reached for the kimono and slipped it on. It slid smoothly against her skin. She pulled at the lapels and cinched it tightly to hide what she wore underneath. She sorely needed a shower, and there was nothing she could do about her limp hair, but wearing the kimono made her feel less self-conscious of the state she was in.
When the orderly wheeled her to the front of the hospital, Afonso stood by the truck, the passenger door wide open. Afonso gently took the plastic bag from her and placed it in the back seat. Then he reached for her elbow and helped her to the front.
He walked around and buckled himself behind the wheel. After looking ahead for a moment, he turned to her. “Let me know if we need to stop along the way.”
Catarina held his gaze. “I think I’ll be okay.”
He nodded and turned the ignition on.
The ride home was quiet and long. Somehow she fell asleep, and Afonso nudged her awake when they arrived. Catarina managed to climb the stairs to the first floor and take a quick shower, using the built-in seat to steady herself. She changed into clean pajamas and dried her hair. The pink satin kimono was draped at the foot of the bed where she’d left it, and she slipped it back on.
Catarina stilled when she approached her bed. It had been made, the sheets changed. Dona Madalena and Senhor Francisco wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, as they’d repeatedly told Afonso and Catarina before they left.
Afonso had done it. He’d changed the sheets, washed them, and made the bed.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. When would this man stop surprising her?
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Afonso entered the bedroom carrying a tray. “Do you have your medication with you?” He set the tray on the nearby chair.
“They’re in the bag. I’ll get them.” She didn’t want him to see the sample box of prenatal vitamins.
On the tray, a small pitcher of water, a glass, and a cloth napkin crowded one side. A soup plate with vegetable soup and a piece of toast took the rest of the space.
Catarina looked up at Afonso and hitched an eyebrow, but he seemed to anticipate her question.
“You shouldn’t take your pills on an empty stomach.” He gestured at the plate. “It’s just a simple vegetable soup. Fresh. I made it this morning.”
“You made soup from scratch?”
He shrugged. “I called the nurse to see what you could eat, and she suggested simple meals to build your strength.” He took a step back and slipped his hands in his pockets, then drew them out. “I’ll come back later for the tray.”
Catarina looked between him and the tray once more. “Why are you doing this for me?”
He frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She could think of a few reasons.
Just as he reached the door, she called after him. “Thank you.”
Afonso’s expression softened. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for everything,” Catarina added.
A simple thanks wasn’t enough.
Catarina woke up the next morning to the droning sound of the lawn mower on the south side of the house.
Since Afonso’s arrival, the grounds had never looked so well. He’d cleared the deadwood and weeds in the rose garden but still hadn’t pruned the rose bushes. There was so much to do just around the house, she couldn’t even imagine all the work the property required. Filipe had tried to take her on a tour when she first arrived but she hadn’t been interested, what with Juan-Carlos’ funeral still so fresh in her mind. The financial mess that resulted from his death had been just as hard to deal with.
From the window, she could see Afonso on a riding lawn mower, finishing up the last row. He pulled on a lever to stop the blades and drove the mower to the gravel path, then turned it off. Once off the seat, he walked in front of the area as if checking the preciseness of each row he’d just mowed. He was meticulous and took his job seriously. Catarina couldn’t help noticing the way his blue tank top showed off his well-defined upper arms and shoulders. What was his job before being in prison? Or had he worked out while serving his sentence?
She pushed the thought away. It was none of her business how Afonso had occupied his time inside, or how good he looked in that shirt.
When he turned to hop back on the mower, he saw Catarina at the window and waved at her. She raised her hand.
A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Just a minute,” she replied as she hastily pulled on the pink kimono before opening the door.
Afonso stood barefoot in the hallway, and her eyes went to his feet, trying to distract herself from how much better that stupid blue shirt looked on him from up close.
“I didn’t want to track dirt and grass clippings through the house.” His eyes strayed to her collarbone, and
he quickly brought them back up. “I saw you’re up. What would you like for breakfast?”
Catarina’s jaw slacked for a moment before she caught herself. “Are you offering to make breakfast for me?”
“Just until you’re feeling better.”
“You didn’t have to interrupt your work and come inside to make me breakfast. I’ll be okay.”
“Well, I’m already here, and I had to refill my water bottle anyway. What would you like?”
“I—I really hadn’t thought about it yet.” She’d been too busy ogling him from the window.
“Scrambled eggs? Oatmeal? Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m not very hungry. I mean, I know I have to eat, but maybe I’ll grab a piece of toast after I take a shower.”
“You need something with more nutrition than a slice of bread. I’ll bring you a tray.”
Before she had the chance to protest, Afonso was halfway down the staircase.
Catarina closed the door. Had she just discussed breakfast with Afonso Cortez at her bedroom door?
After her shower, she found a pair of black yoga pants at the bottom of the wardrobe and a striped button shirt that could use a touch of ironing. She actually needed to spend some time in the laundry room today. No laundry maids in this house.
She rolled up the sleeves and untucked the shirt. Her hands smoothed down the front and stopped on her belly. For the time being, it was still flat, but soon she’d start showing and she’d need to buy maternity clothes.
Maybe if she hurried she could still catch Afonso before he brought the tray up from the kitchen.
When she opened the door, the breakfast tray sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the hallway in front of her room.
It was a simple breakfast, but he’d definitely put some thought into it—a scrambled egg with a side of fresh cheese, a small bowl of oatmeal with a sliced banana, sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon. For drinking, a tall glass of orange juice and a glass of milk.
Catarina carried the tray inside and set it on the bed, then dragged the chair in. She transferred the tray to the chair and sat at the edge of the bed.
There was a note on the tray, and she read it while eating the egg.
Hope you like eggs and oatmeal. If not, let me know what you prefer next time.
Next time, she’d make her own breakfast.
This is my cell number. Text me when you’re ready for lunch. His number followed. She still had the paper with his number that he’d given her at the hospital. Maybe he thought she didn’t have it anymore.
The eggs were perfect, especially with the fresh cheese. She’d never tried the combination before, but she liked it. She usually preferred blueberries on oatmeal—a habit learned from Juan-Carlos—but the brown sugar with cinnamon and banana went really well. In the end, she ate more than she thought she would.
Had Afonso worked as a chef? How did he know to cook so well?
Thankfully, she’d remembered to take the anti-nausea pill and was able to keep down the breakfast.
Afterward, she picked up her phone and typed a text to Afonso.
Thanks for breakfast.
He replied almost immediately. You’re welcome. Hope it was okay.
It was great. But I don’t expect you to cook for me. That’s not what Filipe hired you for. You won’t need to come in to make lunch.
I’ll be coming in to make lunch for myself. You’re welcome to join me. See you then.
Catarina stared at the screen. Was he always like this?
She took the tray to the kitchen and washed the dishes. That was the least she could do.
The laundry room stood on the other side of the kitchen, opposite the butler’s pantry. She found everything she’d need to wash, dry, and iron—even a dryer and a steaming machine—and returned to the bedroom for her dirty clothes. On the floor, the lined notebook and pencil peeked from under the bed, and she placed them on top of the basket.
For all the updates Filipe had done to the house, a laundry room on the ground floor was not enough. Not wanting to climb the staircase again while the first load washed, Catarina walked around the ground floor until she found a sofa in the old library and plopped down on it. Why hadn’t Filipe furnished the house yet? The library was almost as far from the laundry room as it was from her bedroom, but at least she didn’t have to negotiate the grand staircase.
The pencil was hard and the paper too cheap, but she drew a perspective of the library with the bookcase full of old books, the fireplace lit, and a shaggy dog sleeping in front of it. She cocked her head. The angles were off. When was the last time she’d sketched? She couldn’t even remember.
When she stood to place the second load in the dryer, the door to the courtyard opened and closed and a set of quick steps sounded across the tiled floor. Catarina walked to the kitchen, where she found Afonso at the sink.
He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and frowned at her. “You’re down here.”
Catarina pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “I had to do some laundry.”
“Are you feeling strong enough for that?”
“As long as I’m careful going up and down the stairs.”
He pulled out a pot from the lower cupboard. “I’ll have lunch ready soon. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“I’ll stay, if you don’t mind. I still have a load in the dryer.”
He popped into the pantry for a moment and came out with a large onion in his hand. “I was surprised to find a dryer in the laundry room, but I must admit it’s very convenient.”
While the whole country still dried clothes on the line, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Juan-Carlos had dryers in all the houses and apartments, even though he left the laundry to be done by the maids.
For the next few minutes, Afonso entered and exited the pantry as he gathered ingredients for whatever he had planned to make for lunch.
She had so many questions. The man intrigued her, more than anyone had in a long time. As she watched him capably navigating the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder who he really was, what he did.
Afonso gave the pan a stir and glanced at Catarina. “If you want to know anything about me, just ask, Catarina. I’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t lie, and I don’t keep secrets.”
Was it so obvious that she had questions, or was he a mind reader?
He reached out a hand to the spice rack and unscrewed the cap from a small bottle. Then he brought it to his nose and took a whiff. An eyebrow went up, and his expression brightened with satisfaction as he poured some of the spice in his palm and added it to the dish.
She watched him quietly for a moment. Lies came easy to her, and secrets were a way of life. “Do you hold every one by the same standards?”
“Not anymore. I learned my lesson the hard way.”
He held her gaze, and Catarina found herself unable to look away. The expression in his brown eyes was assured and unmistakable. When was the last time she’d seen such openess in a man? Her dad and brothers, for sure, and the rest of the Romano men. But it had been a while since she’d been around them, or any of the family. The regret gnawed at her. She had so much to make up for. Deceit had been a normal way of life for so long that she barely remembered what honesty looked like in a man.
Did he truly not mind her curiosity?
*
Afonso regarded Catarina seated to his right at the corner of the bar.
She had questions.
He’d served a simple meal of boiled potatoes and broiled fish on a bed of sautéed onions, accompanied with a salad, something that had been quick to prepare but still provided good nutrition. She’d barely eaten anything, claiming she was still full from the large breakfast. He didn’t know what she looked like in full health, but her face was still pale, making him wonder how recovered she was from whatever had made her so sick over the weekend.
What was Catarina’s story? Why was she staying at Sunset Manor? The ques
tions kept coming back to him.
As curious as he was about her, Afonso wouldn’t let it show. Her eyes were too guarded, as if she feared someone getting too close and finding too much.
After discussing the merits of broiled fish over fried, he set the fork down. “I’m sure my broiling techniques are fascinating, but I can tell you have questions that are not related to how I cook fish.”
His comment brought a pale smile to her lips. She took a bite and then rested the utensils on the edge of the plate. Even with his permission, she still hesitated.
“I meant what I said. You can ask me anything,” he repeated.
At last, she raised her eyes to him. “What happened?”
Afonso pushed his plate away and sat back. “You mean, what happened to land me in jail?”
A light blush tinted her cheeks, and she nodded, tucking away her hair behind her ear.
“I was too naïve.” An understatement. “I chose to believe the words of a woman who hadn’t given me any reason to.” He let out a long breath. “I guess I fancied myself in love with her and developed some warped sense of loyalty. When I found out what she intended to do, I kept quiet and didn’t warn anyone of her plans, didn’t do anything to stop her. Her actions caused damage and put the lives of one hundred and seventy people in danger.” To this day, the gross lapse of judgment he suffered during that last cruise aboard the Princess Catarina still made him angry. He’d fallen so fast for Anabela Rialto’s words. “She ditched me at the first chance, and luckily I came to my senses and turned myself in within two days.”
“And you were tried?”
“Tried and sentenced to nine months, but I got out in five for good behavior.” The longest five months of his life.
“And what happened to this woman?”
“Still at large. They haven’t been able to find her.” She deserved to be put away for what she’d done, but it wasn’t up to him anymore. He was done with Anabela in his life.
“If I hadn’t kept the secrets I knew, I could have prevented the whole thing.” Lies never brought anything good. “When I got out, Captain Romano gave me this chance, and I took it.”
Catarina straightened in her seat. “Captain Romano? One of my cousins?”
Love Me At Sunset (Destined for Love: Mansions) Page 4