A Greater Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “You could be a grandfather,” Daniel offered. “My mother’s the only grandparent they’ll have.” He frowned, remembering Ana Paula’s gypsy parents. His statement was not quite true. What if Ana Paula’s parents wanted to be involved in the children’s lives? What if they fought him for custody? Forcing the thought away, he added, “They could use a grandfather.”

  “I’d like that,” said Senhor Fitas. “If your mother doesn’t mind sharing them. How does she feel about her new grandchildren?”

  Daniel smiled. “She doesn’t know about the children yet. She’ll find out tomorrow when she comes to visit. It’s sort of a Christmas present. She’ll never forgive me, of course, for not giving her time to buy them presents, but I didn’t know until today how things would work out. After the shock wears off, she’s going to be happy. She’s wanted to be a grandmother for a long time.”

  In the apartment, Daniel helped Cristina lay out the meal. Cristina and the children had lemon tea, Daniel and Senhor Fitas a stronger blend. Rolls, ham, cheese, and two different kinds of cookies made up the remainder of their meal.

  “You’ll have to come back sometime to try Cristina’s bacalhau à brás,” Daniel said. “It’s the best around.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “How about for the New Year? We never got around to having our annual Christmas party. We’ll have to have one for New Year’s instead.”

  “I have some bacalhau already made.” Cristina said. “Plenty, in fact. Take some now and again at the party. Or, why don’t you stay and eat with us tonight? That is, if you have time.”

  “We’re gonna decorate the tree!” Sara put in through a mouthful of cookie.

  Senhor Fitas held up his hand. “Thank you. I’ve made plans with some friends for tonight, but I’d be happy to come for your New Year’s party.”

  After Senhor Fitas left, Cristina showed the children how to wash the dishes while Daniel went to unearth the tree decorations in the closet. A short time later, Cristina came into the sitting room where they had placed the tree.

  “I guess we’ll have to move the TV in here,” he told her. “We can buy another bed and turn the TV room into Miguel’s bedroom. He’ll need a place of his own. It’ll be crowded in here, though. Maybe it’s time for us to move.”

  “There was a message on the answering machine,” she said in a distracted manner that told him she had not heard a single word he’d said.

  “Who was it?” He opened a box of transparent glass balls.

  “António.”

  Daniel set the balls down. “What’d he want? Do I have to call him?”

  “He said he had information about the children’s grandparents. Ana Paula’s parents.”

  Daniel froze. “I told him to give us time.”

  Cristina’s face darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to look?”

  “I—I thought you’d know we’d have to.” He sat on the couch, feeling suddenly weary. “Where are the children?”

  “In their room wrapping presents. But tell me, Daniel. What’s it going to do to them if their grandparents want them? After all we’ve been through! We may never see them again!”

  “We’re not going to let that happen! We’ll fight. In one way or another we’ll be a part of their lives.”

  “I want to be their mother,” she said, her voice agonized. “I want us to be a family.”

  “So do I!”

  She sat beside him and grabbed his hand. “Then use your influence to make it happen! Please.”

  “I want nothing more than to do that, and I’m going to try. Except . . . about the grandparents. How would Miguel and Sara feel, knowing they had real family—”

  “We’re their family now.”

  “I know that, but we can’t tell them stories of their mother growing up, we can’t give them their family history.”

  “We also wouldn’t teach them separatism and bigotry. Isn’t that what killed Ana Paula? For heaven’s sake, they abandoned their own daughter!”

  “You’re right. But people change. I did. Maybe they regret what they did.” He paused, letting the thought sink in. “Do you want me to hide the children from their own grandparents? I will, if that’s what you feel is right. But you have to believe it. Do you?”

  Cristina held his gaze for a moment more, then let her eyes drop in defeat. “Do you think they even know Ana Paula is dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I guess we have to find out how they feel. Maybe, if worse comes to worse, they’ll let us visit.”

  Daniel’s heart rebelled at the idea; in his mind Miguel and Sara were already his children. He sighed. “This isn’t the end of the world, Cristina, though it kind of feels like it. I’ve learned a lot, and I’m ready to have a family. Whether or not we’re allowed to adopt Miguel and Sara, we’ll stay a part of their lives, and we can have our own baby.”

  “Oh!” Cristina gasped and covered her face.

  “What is it? What did I say?”

  She began to sob.

  “Tell me!” He took her hands away from her face, but she shook her head and looked scared.

  Daniel’s thoughts raced. Is she already pregnant? Is this why she left me in the first place because she was afraid I wouldn’t accept our child? Or did it happen this past week since their reunion? But surely if that was the case, she couldn’t know so soon. It must have been before. He looked at her stomach to see if he could tell the difference. Anticipation surged in his chest.

  “You can tell me anything,” he assured her with confidence. “I love you, and I will always love you. Nothing you can say will change my feelings.”

  “I won’t hold you to that,” she said miserably.

  He squeezed her hands. “Whatever it is, we can work it out together. Don’t you know that?”

  “We never have before.”

  Her answer stunned Daniel, but he forced himself to be calm. She was right. He hadn’t been much of a husband—more of a dictator, perhaps, but he was trying so hard to change. Couldn’t she see that?

  Another idea came. What if the baby wasn’t his? Daniel felt bile in his throat. Cristina took her hands away, and he let her. “You’ll have to trust me,” he managed to say, wondering if she really could.

  “I don’t think I can have children.”

  Daniel’s head reeled. He must have missed something. “What?”

  “I may not be able to have children—ever.”

  “How do you know?”

  She refused to meet his gaze but stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. “I stopped taking my pills. More than a year ago. I thought that once our baby was here, you would change your mind. But I never got pregnant.”

  “I don’t care if you can’t have children. We can adopt. Aren’t I willing to do so with Miguel and Sara?” At least now he knew why she looked so murderous each time she thought the children might be taken away.

  “You don’t understand.” She still stared at her lap. “I thought it might be you who couldn’t have children. That’s why I left.”

  Daniel took a few minutes to digest the information, then understanding cut into his heart with a burst of white hot anger. “You left because you thought I couldn’t father a child?” He put a finger under Cristina’s chin and forced her to look at him.

  “I thought there was still time to find someone else who could have children,” she admitted, her voice agonized. She closed her eyes, and tears squeezed out of the corners. “Only I’ve been to the doctor since, and the problem’s with me. There might be some hope with the new drugs, but—” More tears followed the trail down her face, and Daniel felt his anger soften.

  His hand dropped to his side as he stood to pace the floor. With all the Christmas decorations, there wasn’t enough space to let out his tension. He strode to the long window next to the table and threw it open, taking huge gulps of the cold outside air. Below he saw the rows of red rooftops farther down in the valley.

  Cri
stina came to stand beside him. “I didn’t want to leave, but I wanted my own baby so much. When I couldn’t get pregnant, I believed I’d never feel complete again as long as I stayed.”

  He didn’t know how to respond. Leaving him because he didn’t want children was one thing, but leaving him because he couldn’t have children was something quite different. One was his conscious choice, the other something he couldn’t change.

  “I was wrong,” she added in a whisper. “I need you, too. Can you forgive me?”

  He couldn’t answer. He loved Cristina more than he could put into words, but this hurt more than he imagined it would considering the couldn’t and the wouldn’t really resulted in the same thing.

  “You said you would love—”

  “You lied to me. I may not have been a nice person all the time, but I never lied to you. You always knew where I stood.”

  “I realized I was wrong about a week after I left,” Cristina said. “I missed you so much, but I didn’t know how to tell you. Or to stop what I’d put into motion.”

  That made him feel better. He risked a quick glance at her. The love in her eyes seemed real.

  Miguel and Sara chose that moment to enter the room. “We’re all done with Daniel’s presents,” Sara said. She skipped blithely to the tree and set her load of packages underneath.

  Miguel didn’t follow her. “Somethin’ wrong?” He stared at them anxiously.

  What would you do if someone betrayed you? Daniel wanted to ask. Would you be able to forgive?

  He felt stupid even as the thought came. Of course. Miguel had forgiven. He’d forgiven Daniel. In nearly losing these precious children, he’d found himself.

  I’m such a hypocrite, Daniel thought. One moment he’d hoped she was pregnant, and the next he was angry at her deception. If he’d worked more on their marriage and on her wants and needs as much as his own, Cristina probably wouldn’t have felt the need to deceive him at all.

  Miguel had given Daniel another chance; Daniel could only do the same for Cristina. It would take time and work to make his marriage the best it could be, but he knew without a doubt that the effort would be worth it.

  Daniel put a casual arm around Cristina and pulled her close, simultaneously shutting the window. “Nothing’s wrong,” he told Miguel. He shifted his gaze to his wife and his voice didn’t waver at all as he said, “I was just telling Cristina how much I loved her and that together we would work everything out.”

  Tears came to Cristina’s eyes, but she blinked hurriedly. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  Warmth began to heal the bruised part of Daniel’s heart. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s trim this tree, and then I’m going into call an old friend.” His jaw tightened. “Better yet, I’ll go visit him. But we were going to see the display, weren’t we?”

  Cristina glanced at Miguel’s thin face. “I think maybe we’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m worried about the children going into the night air. Sara, will you be disappointed if we visited the display tomorrow after Daniel’s mother gets here?”

  “That’s okay.” Sara’s gold-flecked eyes darted to the presents under the tree. “I don’t want Miguel to get sick again.”

  “Or you, either,” Daniel said.

  Sara took his hand. “When you come back, I’m gonna eat and go to sleep fast so I can see if Father Christmas really comes. He never did before.”

  “Probably didn’t have your address,” Daniel answered, giving her hand a squeeze. “But don’t worry, he always comes here. Now who wants to put on the star?”

  * * * * *

  When Daniel left António’s office after six, it was already dark outside. He hummed a tune under his breath. The bridge over the River Tejo was crammed with cars, and Daniel drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, impatient at the delay. He glanced at the people in the cars next to him. A man nodded cordially at him, then continued his conversation with his female companion in the front seat. A child in the back seat waved and held up a large package wrapped in green Christmas paper. She laughed and hugged it to her heart with abandoned delight. Daniel smiled and waved back. The traffic moved on and he lost sight of the family, but the people in the other cars appeared every bit as content.

  Despite his desire to get home, Daniel found himself driving to the park with the nativity display. “I’m the one who didn’t want to go, and I’m the only one who shows up,” he said with a chuckle. But he didn’t fight the urge. Perhaps there was something he was supposed to see, even if he stayed but a moment.

  With nightfall, the air had become bitterly cold, and Daniel was glad the children had stayed at home. He buttoned his long coat, wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, and strode into the park.

  Two men worked to set up a pulpit in the large open gazebo for the night’s speeches. Others arranged crude benches on the pathways, on the normally forbidden grass, and in the sand amidst the play equipment. A crowd began to gather for the best seats. Daniel bowed his head before the manger. Thank you, he thought. Thank you for this second chance.

  “Ah, Senhor Andrade,” a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

  Daniel looked up. “Dr. Pacheco, it’s good to see you.”

  “How are the children? Miguel seemed almost a new boy when Cristina brought him in yesterday.”

  “He’s doing great. We took him out on our boat today, just for a little while. We made him stay mostly in the cabin. It has a stove.”

  The doctor chuckled. “You don’t have to make excuses to me. I know how boys are to keep in bed. I have four of my own, you know.”

  Daniel probably had known, but the fact had slipped his mind.

  “I know I said it before, but it’s a good thing you’re doing for those children.”

  Daniel opened his mouth to say that he owed their father, but he knew that wasn’t the reason he wanted to take care of Miguel and Sara. It was because he loved them.

  “Cristina told me you want to adopt them,” the doctor continued. “I see a lot of children who aren’t that lucky.” He gave a short laugh. “What am I saying? You know the routine as well as I do, in your position and all. But anyway, since this experience, I’ve decided to volunteer one night a week at a free clinic.” He slapped Daniel on his back. “There are still so many kids out there who need help. One person can’t do it all, but together we can begin to make a difference.”

  Daniel nodded and said something in response, but he hardly noticed when Dr. Pacheco moved off.

  Since the undefined moment when he began to love the children, Daniel had felt a change in his heart, a kind of unconditional love. Now that feeling multiplied until he wondered if there was room in his heart to hold it. His soul was suffused with the desire to help all the children who weren’t as fortunate as Miguel and Sara. He stared at the Baby Jesus, almost afraid to move and shatter the sensation. “Is this how You felt when you wanted to help us? When You gave Your life? I never understood that before. But now maybe I do, perhaps a little. There’s just so much . . . so much love.” He cast a glance heavenward. “Finally, I will use my position for something good, for something I can believe in.”

  He turned to leave, but one of the men who had originally petitioned for the display walked toward him from the direction of the pulpit, the same young man Daniel had seen on the night he received the divorce papers.

  “Senhor Andrade, hello. Will you be coming tonight after all?”

  Daniel shook his extended hand. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have my wife and two sick children I need to get home to.” The words spread a delicious warmth through his body, shutting out the piercing cold.

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear it. Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “I think the worst is over. Maybe next year we’ll all come. That is, if you’re having it again.”

  The young man laughed. “Isn’t that up to you?”

  Daniel smiled. “Then we’ll see you next year.”

  He turned back
to his car and home. Cristina and the children—his family—were waiting.

  Cristina met him in the entryway. Daniel could hear the television and knew the children were occupied. “Well?” she asked hurriedly. “What did António say? No, don’t tell me yet.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Whatever it is, I know you tried.”

  “I should have called him and saved myself the trip.”

  “What do you mean?” Cristina studied his face and an eager smile came to her lips. “It’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “For us, it is. António did some discreet checking and found that Ana Paula’s parents are dead. By natural causes, apparently. They had ten other children, all younger than Ana Paula. Five are married and they each have a bunch of children and are struggling to make ends meet. António talked to the brother just younger than Ana Paula and felt him out before telling him about Miguel and Sara. From the looks of it, none of her siblings will dispute the adoption. But they aren’t as rigid as their parents were, even if they aren’t willing to take on two extra mouths. In fact, since their parents’ deaths, they’ve talked about finding their older sister. Now that’s impossible, but they would like to meet the children and have them get to know their cousins and some of the gypsy culture.”

  Cristina’s tears welled up and over. “I could live with that.”

  “So can I.”

  “Shall we go tell them?” Cristina reached for his hand, but hit the book he held instead. “What’s this? Another present to go under the tree?”

  “No, it’s a Bible António found in the children’s shack. It has part of Manuel’s family history in it. There’s a religious pamphlet inside, too, with an address. See?”

  “Sister Perrault? In France? Hmm, that’s strange. I wonder if Miguel knows anything about it. Let’s go ask.”

  “I think there’s a lot he has yet to tell us,” Daniel said, allowing her to pull him along. “But, Cristina, we’ve got more planning to do. There are other children who need help. I thought we might try to do something more—if it’s okay with you. Get some awareness out, find families for other needy children. That sort of thing.”