Love Me At Sunset (Destined for Love: Mansions)

by Lucinda Whitney

  Sometimes she didn’t act like the grieving widow he’d first expected. From the little Catarina had told him, her dead husband had not been a nice person, and even less nice as a husband. Could she be moving on? Did Afonso have any chance of winning her heart?

  If he did, it was too soon to make any confessions. As well as this evening was going, she was likely to raise her walls if he did anything foolish and premature. His contract wouldn’t be done until the last week of October. He still had some time.

  “It’s been two months since I arrived at Sunset Manor,” he said as they watched the city lights turn brighter when the night grew darker.

  Catarina leaned away to look up at him. “Two months?” She sighed. “It feels like we’ve known each other longer than that,” she added after a pause.

  “It does, doesn’t it?”

  “When’s your last day?”

  “In exactly thirteen weeks from today.”

  Two months had passed too quickly, and three would go almost as fast. But now that he had Catarina in his life, how could he even think of moving on without her?

  A breeze ruffled the trees in the courtyard, and Catarina tightened her hold around his back. Afonso reciprocated, pressing his arm around her shoulder.

  “What are you going to do when you leave?”

  Her tone was uncertain as if she feared his reply.

  It was his turn to let out a sigh. “I don’t know yet.” After a moment, he relaxed his hold on her and turned to see her better. “Catarina, I don’t mind changing whatever plans I make in the future. Not for something better. Or for someone. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  She sucked in a breath. “I—I think I could be falling in love with you, Afonso. I’m sorry I can’t say more. Can you be patient with me, please?”

  He nodded, keeping the eye contact with her. He could wait. If there was one thing he’d learned in jail was how to be patient.

  When her hands splayed on his chest, Afonso brought his to her face. He brushed a kiss on her lips and she opened her mouth to him.

  Maybe she was beginning to fall in love, but he was already there, and the words he wanted to say could wait until she was ready to hear them.

  For now, Afonso poured all his feelings into that one kiss.

  In the days following his dinner with Catarina in Castelo Branco, Afonso couldn’t stand being far apart from her. He found tasks that kept him around the house, and he even came in for lunch every day, but eventually he returned to his large projects around the property.

  Catarina had her own work, finishing the sketches of the manor and planning the rest of the decorating. They still had their evenings together, first by the swing, then in the music room with him playing and her listening. On the weekend, she continued her quest for accent and art pieces now that the large furniture for the ground floor had all been purchased.

  Sometimes, when he walked her to her bedroom door at the end of the day, Catarina would go on her tiptoes to brush a kiss on his cheek. She’d flatten her hands on his chest, not giving him a chance to bring her closer to him.

  The way he felt about her, maybe it was a good thing.

  For now.

  Today, Afonso had worked on the perimeter by the southwest wall that ran along the country road. No shade all day.

  One more week until the middle of the month. August had started out as hot as the end of July, but the extended forecast promised cooler temperatures and some rain. The respite would be welcome.

  On the way back from the east field, Afonso saw the Silvas returning to the caretaker house. He slowed down the ATV and held a hand up to return their greeting.

  After a quick shower, he went looking for Catarina. He’d packed a lunch to save time coming to the house, but he’d missed seeing her.

  As he made his way through the manor house, a scream rent the air from the outside. Afonso stilled, and his body went cold, hairs raised at the back of his neck. He ran to the front door and yanked it open. Past the rose garden, by the largest linden tree, Catarina was on her hands and knees on the grassy knoll by the swing.

  “Catarina!”

  She tried to get up and fell.

  When Afonso got to her, she lifted her head. She was crying, and breathing hard and he went down on his knees next to her.

  “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Her hair tumbled forward, covering her face, and he held it back.

  “The swing broke,” she said between pants.

  “What?” Afonso lifted his head to the swing. Sure enough, the rope on the right side was broken, and the seat hung down, unsupported.

  “I was sitting on it—then it broke from under me.”

  Afonso supported her arms and slowly lifted her from the ground until she sat with her legs spread out in front of her, covered by the length of a dress with a torn hem. Her hands were scraped with red scratches, and she placed them, palms up, on her lap, wincing.

  “I’m sorry—” She hiccuped on a sob. “I’m sorry I broke the swing.”

  Afonso rubbed her back gently. “I don’t care about the swing. I can fix it later.” He scooted forward and took the broken rope in his hand.

  But it wasn’t broken—it had been cut through three-fourths of the way.

  Someone had cut it on purpose.

  Blind hot rage coursed through him, and his eyes clouded.

  Anabela. She must have done it.

  Catarina grimaced and sucked in a breath. “I need to go to the hospital.”

  He returned to her side. “What’s wrong? What do you need?” How much pain was she in?

  “Go get the truck and take me to the hospital.” She inhaled twice, and her face scrunched up in pain. “Please.”

  Instead of going around the house to the backyard, Afonso cut to the main door and ran indoors until he emerged on the other side. Luckily, the garage door was up. He jumped in the truck and brought it to the north, parking as close to Catarina as he dared, not caring about the trampled grass. He lifted her in his arms and placed her in the front seat.

  As he came around and sat behind the wheel, he remembered he’d yet to buckle Catarina, but she’d done it already. “You should have waited for my help. Your hands must be killing you.”

  She shook her head but didn’t reply.

  He lifted the brake and shifted into gear. How fast could he safely drive? He flipped on the emergency lights.

  Catarina hunched forward, eyes closed, cradling her belly.

  His worry increased. How had she fallen? And where was she hurt? She looked to be more in pain than a simple fall warranted. He reached his hand over and squeezed her forearm.

  Catarina remained silent, her eyes shut tightly, her cheeks stained with tears.

  When her hands went around her middle more tightly, the dress stretched to the sides, revealing an unequivocal rounded belly.

  She was pregnant.

  The truck swerved for a moment as if to echo his shock. Afonso gripped the wheel and glanced at the road, then back to Catarina once more, uncertain he’d really seen what he thought he had.

  She clutched her middle, definitely rounded, but not nearly enough to be anywhere close to full-term. It must have—she must have conceived just before her husband died.

  Afonso pushed the disturbing thought from his mind.

  He was an idiot.

  The signs had all been there, from the very first moment they met: the throwing up, the nausea, her lack of appetite, the dehydration that had warranted a hospital stay, all the times she’d passed on drinking alcohol, the way she’d been gaining a little weight in the past few weeks, and especially the times she pulled away from him and didn’t let him get too close. Not like after their first kiss in the upstairs hallway.

  Hugging her close would have exposed her secret. How could he have been so blind to it?

  “You’re pregnant,” he said slowly. His hands tightened on the wheel again.

  Catarina was crying now, her upper body trem
bling in silent sobs. He reached in the glove compartment and pulled out a wad of napkins. She took it and hid behind the scrunched paper, nodding.

  “That’s why you’ve been going to Castelo Branco once a month.”

  Another nod followed by a hiccup. “I wanted to tell you.” Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

  “We can talk about this later,” he said quickly. “Let’s just get you to the hospital.”

  How he didn’t get pulled over for speeding, he didn’t know. And he didn’t know what to say to her. Was there anything that would have made a difference?

  Afonso parked askew, partially blocking the emergency entrance. He exited the truck, came around to the passenger side, and carried Catarina in his arms. She clung to him and buried her face in his chest, and the trusting gesture twisted his heart. He didn’t have the time to think about what it meant.

  When the automatic doors parted, Afonso went straight to the admissions door. “We need help!”

  A male nurse pulled a gurney closer to them. “What happened?”

  Afonso lay Catarina on it. “She’s pregnant and she fell on her belly.”

  A female nurse came over and leaned toward Catarina. “What’s your name, honey?”

  Afonso followed them as they pushed the gurney to the row of sick bays. “Her name is Catarina.”

  “Can you talk, Catarina?” The nurse tugged on the stethoscope around her neck.

  “Yes,” Catarina replied feebly.

  “Who’s your doctor, Catarina?”

  “Dr. Paula,” Catarina replied in the same tone.

  An older nurse with a clipboard approached Afonso. “How many weeks gestation?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Are you the husband?”

  “We’re not married.”

  “Almost seven months,” Catarina said slowly, not meeting his eyes.

  The doctor entered the sick bay, and the nurse pulled on the curtains until she stopped in front of Afonso. “Are you in or out?”

  “I need to call her family.”

  She closed the curtains the rest of the way and gestured toward the waiting room. “Don’t go too far. We still have questions for you.”

  Questions he didn’t know how to answer.

  “Sir, is that truck yours?” The admissions secretary came from around her desk and gestured out the main doors.

  He’d forgotten about the truck. “I’ll move it right now.”

  The keys still dangled from the ignition, and he blew out a breath of relief. That was the last thing he needed, someone to steal the truck and leave them stranded in Castelo Branco.

  Afonso drove to the farthest corner of the parking lot and parked under a tree. He swung the door open and drew his phone out of his pocket.

  Catarina was pregnant, and it was about time her family knew, whether she liked it or not.

  *

  Catarina woke with a start and clutched the blankets. The room was semidark, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. She was at the hospital.

  The memory came to her. She’d fallen off the swing and Afonso had found her on the ground. By the time they arrived at the district hospital, she’d been hysterical. They must have given her something to calm down. When she moved her arms, the weight of a blood pressure cuff around her left upper arm tugged back, and an IV was connected to the other arm. A wide band with a fetal monitor wound around her middle, and the dry staccato of her baby’s heartbeat sounded softly from the machine nearby.

  She let out a long sigh and relaxed immediately. The baby was okay.

  Her hands and knees had been tended to, bound in dressings and medical tape. Someone must have helped her into a gown, but she had only a vague memory of a nurse talking gently to her.

  “How are you feeling?” Afonso sat on a chair partially hidden by the curtain.

  When she turned to him, he scooted the chair closer to the headboard.

  “You’re here,” she said, her voice strangely breathless.

  “Of course I’m here.” He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You had me worried for a while.”

  She grimaced. “I kind of freaked out, didn’t I?”

  “Maybe a little, but it’s understandable.” He tipped his chin toward the monitor. “The little guy seems to be doing okay.”

  “Little guy?” She frowned. Did Afonso know something she didn’t?

  “Or little girl, I guess. Don’t you know the gender of the baby?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to know. It’ll be a surprise.” She wouldn’t be able to decorate a nursery, so knowing the gender hadn’t been a priority. Besides, without someone with whom to share the news, what was the point? “Did I miss the doctor?”

  “She said to come get her when you woke up.” He let go of her hand and stood, but Catarina grabbed his arm.

  “Afonso, please wait.” He sat down but didn’t take her hand. “I didn’t think you were going to stay.”

  “You keep saying that. Did I give the impression that I was leaving?”

  He was wonderful, always so patient and wonderful. “I’ve been keeping so many things from you and this one—”she lay a hand on her belly—“is pretty big. I’m sorry I didn’t—”

  The door opened, and a young doctor came in. “You’re awake.” A nurse with a portable sonogram machine followed the doctor. “And you look like you’re feeling better.”

  “I’m a lot calmer.”

  “Your anxiety was a little high when you came in, so we gave you something to calm you down, and you fell asleep.” She pushed the machine closer to the bed. “I know you were worried about the baby, so how about we take a peek?”

  Catarina’s heart jumped in her chest. “Right now?”

  The doctor pressed the pedal to lower the front of the bed. “We can go if you don’t want the ultrasound.”

  “I do,” Catarina replied immediately.

  Afonso stood. “I should go. I’ll come—”

  “No need to be nervous, Dad. You can stay and see your baby.”

  Afonso shook his head. “Oh, I’m not—”

  Catarina grabbed his hand and squeezed tight. She wanted him to stay. She didn’t want the doctor to think she was alone.

  Afonso looked at Catarina, and she pressed harder, willing him to understand with a look what she couldn’t voice aloud.

  He squeezed back. “I’m not nervous.” He dragged the chair to the head of the bed with his free hand and settled close to Catarina, holding her other hand.

  The young doctor smiled and turned on the machine. “That’s the spirit.”

  The nurse placed a folded sheet over Catarina’s belly and then pulled up the gown until her skin was exposed. Catarina glanced at Afonso, who kept his eyes on the screen. If he was uncomfortable, he didn’t show signs of it.

  “Such a small belly you have,” the doctor said. “Did you say you’re seven months?”

  “Not quite yet,” Catarina replied. “I’ll be twenty-seven weeks tomorrow. Dr. Paula says I’ve been consistently measuring small.”

  As the doctor slid the small wand on Catarina’s belly, the images showed up on the screen, lighter and darker parts forming pictures of her unborn baby.

  “That’s your baby’s head.” The doctor moved the wand to a different position. “And there’s the profile. Look at that little nose.”

  Tears welled up in Catarina’s eyes. It had been a while since the last ultrasound, and the baby had grown noticeably.

  “That’s your nose,” Afonso said, a smile softening his features.

  Catarina laughed. He was right. The baby had her nose.

  The doctor passed the wand, explaining what they saw as she showed the baby on the screen. Catarina marveled at the clarity of what she saw: her unborn baby moving, flexing the little fingers, opening his or her mouth. The emotion swelled in her heart at how much she loved the baby already.

  “Do you know the gender of the baby?” The doctor moved the
wand.

  “No,” she replied.

  “Do you want to know?” The doctor asked.

  “No,” Catarina and Afonso said at the same time. His answer surprised her and she looked over at him. He shrugged.

  The nurse smiled. “Good. You two agree.”

  “It’s always awkward when the parents don’t agree and one of them wants to know the gender and the other doesn’t,” the doctor said.

  Afonso winked at Catarina, a playful smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “We agree.”

  He was covering for her, playing the game with such natural ease. She almost convinced herself she wasn’t alone in this. Her heart squeezed, as if welcoming the lie.

  A few minutes later, the doctor hit a button, and the machine printed a long strip of paper. “There you go, your baby’s pictures.” She stood and handed the long piece to Afonso. “Everything looks great with your baby, guys. No need to worry.” She patted Catarina’s foot under the covers. “Rest up, Catarina. We’ll come check on you later.”

  The nurse pushed the machine out of the room, and the doctor followed.

  Afonso sat there, holding her fingers in one hand, the other hand holding the sonogram prints. She couldn’t gauge his mood. Was he mad at her for asking him to pretend to be the father?

  “That was…” he finally said.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you—”

  “That was incredible, Catarina.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You are incredible, you know that?”

  She inhaled quickly, surprise mingled with relief. “You’re not mad?”

  “Should I be worried you always expect the worst reactions from me?” He rose from the chair and bent to brush a kiss on her forehead. When he straightened, the wistful expression in his eyes made her breath hitch for a moment. “I’m not mad,” he said softly.

  Relief flooded through her, and she swallowed.

  “Did he know?” Afonso asked. “Did Juan-Carlos know about the baby?”

  Catarina shook her head. “I found out after he died.” The words tumbled from her. “We were married for almost seven years, and he never wanted a baby. At first, I was too young and in love and I didn’t mind waiting. But, as the years went by, this longing grew here.” Her hands touched the spot over her heart. “I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want any children.”