Delia’s Gift (10 page)

I couldn’t deny any of that, but in my vision of the future, I saw myself being far more independent. And what if I found someone new to love and to love me? How difficult that would be if I still lived in Señor Bovio’s house. I wouldn’t bring up such a possibility
now, of course, but it hung in the air like something inevitable.

We ate the remainder of our dinner in relative silence, but he did not retreat from his suggestion afterward. The following day, I found a pamphlet in my room for the school he had suggested in San Bernardino, and then he began to parade a variety of automobiles for me to consider.

“I’d turn over one of Adan’s many cars to you, but it would be too painful for me to see them without him driving them,” he said.

“I understand, of course.”

“I’m in the process of getting rid of them, actually. It’s one of the more painful things for me. It was hard enough donating most of his clothing to Angel View, the charity in Palm Springs. I am saving all of his precious personal jewelry and other mementos for little Adan.”

On a number of occasions since I had been given the ultrasound, he referred to my baby as little Adan. I knew he was hoping I would not object to naming him Adan. A part of me wanted simply to say I would, but another part of me wondered if my baby shouldn’t have his own identity and not be made to live in his dead father’s shadow. I was afraid even to bring up this conflict in my mind. How I longed for a companion, a trusted ear to listen to my most troubled and intimate thoughts.

Again, I tried reaching Fani and even considered calling Edward. I almost did, but I stopped myself when I thought I would just be getting him into deeper trouble. I had done enough to him as it was. He didn’t need me bringing him down any more.

However, whenever I saw the pile of mail being brought to Señor Bovio’s office, I wondered if there could be a letter from Edward or possibly, finally, a letter from Ignacio. Perhaps his mother had mentioned my visit when she had visited him in prison, and perhaps she had suggested that he write to me. It was truly a dream, I knew, but I couldn’t help fantasizing about it.

In my fantasy, Teresa would bring Ignacio’s letter to me, and I would hold it for hours without daring to open the envelope and read the letter. I would be too nervous. What if it was a letter filled with anger and curses? What if there were no forgiveness and understanding? It would be too painful.

But what if it was a letter filled with hope and love? Would I dare write back and tell him that Señor Bovio was working on getting him out earlier? What if I told him and Señor Bovio was unable to do much at all? It was much crueler to make a promise and have someone expect it than not to make any promise at all. He could hate me again. I spent hours thinking about all of this, even though it was something that hadn’t happened. I lived with the hope that someday it would.

Another three weeks went by, and my scheduled second visit to Dr. Denardo’s office occurred. This time, Señor Bovio was more nervous. I had the feeling that Mrs. Newell had unloaded her litany of terrible scenarios on him as well. I was having an amniocentesis, which was a test to see if there were any genetic abnormalities. I was sure she had told him, as she had made sure to tell me, that the test could detect chromosomal disorders such as Down syndrome or the structural defect she had described earlier, spina bifida.

Señor Bovio tried to be nonchalant when he asked me questions about my family, my relatives, but I knew why he was asking.

“We have always been healthy people,
señor.
Anyone who died young in my family died because of an accident,” I said, making sure that Mrs. Newell clearly heard my answers. “Perhaps I don’t need this test,” I suggested. “I understand it is expensive.”

Mrs. Newell made a sound under her breath.

“No, no, it’s good we do it,” Señor Bovio said. “The cost is not important, and Dr. Denardo is a talented doctor.”

I said nothing more about it. The test was completed, and the results were good. Dr. Denardo concluded by telling Señor Bovio and me that the rest of my pregnancy should be “clear sailing.”

After that, I had good days and bad days. Sometimes I was simply depressed and glad that everything was being brought to me. Just like Señora Bovio, I found it easier to remain all day in my suite. However, despite Señor Bovio’s having a beautician and a manicurist visit frequently and despite the many new gifts, I seemed to sink into a deeper depression. Dr. Denardo had warned me about experiencing emotional highs and lows, but when I began the sixth month, I found myself stuck in the lows more often.

I began to suffer some of what Dr. Denardo had described would be the minor disorders of pregnancy. Everything that happened seemed to please Mrs. Newell. At first, I thought it was because it verified all of the things she had predicted, but I began to wonder if she wanted me to have the discomforts because I was an unwed mother. She never failed to add a comment
such as “If you want to dance, you have to pay the piper,” “A night of joy can lead to a morning of regret,” or simply “You should have thought about this.”

When I complained about heartburn, she made my meals smaller and more frequent. She advised me to drink milk, and that did appear to help, which was what made it more difficult for me to complain about her. Her little quips were biting, but her treatments were soothing. It was the same with my constipation, backaches, and muscle cramps. Although I cringed at her touch, I couldn’t help but enjoy the massages, and she was right there with an antidote or a suggestion as soon as I uttered a complaint. Whether she was doing it to make things better for me or to impress and satisfy Señor Bovio didn’t matter. The result was the same.

One Saturday afternoon, while I was lying on the love seat, bored with what I had been reading, aching, and feeling sorry for myself, I heard a knock on my door.

“Yes?” I called, sitting up, and was happily surprised to see Fani.

She looked as beautiful as ever in a light blue, tightly fitted cotton sweater and designer jeans with sequins running up the sides. She had her hair flowing down under a USC cap. The air around her seemed charged with electricity as she burst into the suite wearing her best glittering smile.

“Where’s our teenage mother?” she cried, laughing. “
Mi dios,
you do look pregnant now.”

“I was always pregnant, Fani. I couldn’t help your not believing me.”

“Whatever,” she said, practically floating down to me. “How are you?”

“Miserable,” I said, which made her laugh again. “I feel like I’m becoming a blimp. Look at my legs,” I said, showing them to her.

“Ugh,” she said, sitting at the foot of the love seat. “I may never get pregnant. I might just hire someone like you to carry my egg and my husband’s sperm.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said. “Where have you been, Fani? Why didn’t you ever come back or return my calls?”

“I didn’t think Ray wanted me to,” she said.

“Why not? He never told me such a thing.”

“He didn’t tell you, but he called my mother and complained about me blowing smoke in your face and not being the right sort of companion at this particular time.”

“I don’t like that,” I said.

“Forget it. He was just being overly protective. Anyway, as soon as school ended, I went on holiday with some friends to France. As you can see,” she said, tapping her cap, “I decided to attend USC.” She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “And guess whom I see quite often on campus.”

I sat up, excited. “Edward?”

“
Sí, su primo
Edward. He always seems uncomfortable when he meets me, but I deliberately go out of my way to force him to run into me. I enjoy teasing him. Jesse left him, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Seems that even gay lovers can be fickle.” She paused. “Don’t you want to know if he asked about you?”

“You know I do, Fani. He tried coming here, but
mi tía
Isabela—”

“I know, I know. I heard all about the deal she made or the threat, whichever way you see it. At the time, I told him you were doing rather well and being treated like Señor Bovio’s daughter-in-law would, if he had one. He was happy about it. I also told him I hadn’t seen you and why.”

“How come you’re able to visit me now, then?”

“For just this reason, I guess,” she said, holding her hands out to me. “Ray’s worried about you. Your nurse has told him you’ve been more depressed than expected, whatever that means, and he thought if I visited you, it might cheer you up and bring you out of your funk. Why are you depressed? You have everything you could want here, don’t you?”

“
Sí.
”

“So? You’re not getting as spoiled as I am, are you? Then nothing’s enough.”

“No, Fani,” I said, smiling at her honesty. “The truth is, I miss my family. I am still quite unhappy about what has happened to Ignacio and his family. Señor Bovio has not yet worked out a way to get him out of prison sooner. I can’t see my cousin Edward. And I have a nurse who might once have worked for
el diablo.
”

She roared with laughter. “Well,” she said, “I’m occasionally home on weekends, as I am this weekend. Maybe we could hang out, go to the Fountain.”

The Fountain was a dance club.

“I don’t think I’d be much fun there.”

“You never know. I heard pregnant women turn on some boys. One thing’s for sure, they can’t get into trouble. You’re already there.”

“Very funny. You’re not saying anything about your
parents. Señor Bovio has never said anything to me. What is happening with them?”

“They have reached an understanding. There’s a truce under way. They don’t talk about anything but necessities, and they live separate lives. They hardly ever eat dinner together. Oh, they do when I’m home, just to put on an act, but it’s like sitting with two people who speak different languages or are deaf. Practically everything’s said with a gesture. I don’t care, as long as they don’t get in my way.”

She looked around.

“It’s quite a suite, but it’s still a prison,” she said. “I have an idea. You need some excitement, some fun in your life, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you do. Especially now. How would you like to see Edward?”

I shook my head.

“Is that a no?”

“I don’t want to cause any more trouble for him, Fani.”

“You won’t. It’s not your fault if you accidentally meet him, is it? That could happen.”

I still shook my head.

“C’mon. It will be fun for you. I won’t tell him anything. I’ll invite him to my house next weekend. He’ll come. He’s been pretty depressed about Jesse and needs a change of scenery. I’ll invite him to play golf on our course. I won’t tell him you’re coming, too. You’ll just drop by. That way, neither of you will look guilty.”

I remembered Señor Bovio’s warning about arranging another secret meeting.

“It frightens me, Fani. He could get into serious trouble with his mother again.”

“Good. That makes it exciting,” she said, jumping up. “Then it’s settled. Next Saturday. It’s actually a perfect Saturday for it. Both of my parents are going somewhere. I’ll get Ray to have his driver take you to my house. I’ll tell him I’m having you to lunch. I’ll promise no smoking. Actually, I’ve given up smoking. I realized it was making my teeth yellow and affecting my complexion. I know,” she added. “I’ll get the suggested menu from your nurse from hell and promise to serve it. That should nail it down. Okay?”

“What if Edward doesn’t come?”

“It won’t be a total loss. We’ll simply have a nice time ourselves. I’ll serve you something you’re craving. Don’t worry. Settled?”

I took a deep breath. She was right. The prospect of seeing Edward made it enticing.

“Okay,” I said.

“Good. Now I’ll tell you about my little romances at college,” she said. “Let me open one of those bottles of wine.” She nodded at the wine cooler.

“I don’t dare have any. Mrs. Newell—”

“I’ll give you a sip.” She went for a bottle. “Oh,” she said, turning back. “Ray did make me promise to do something if I paid you a visit.”

“What?”

“To talk you into going to nursing school sooner rather than later and remaining here. I have a feeling he wanted me to visit more to do that than simply to cheer you up, but think about it. You’d have to be an idiot not to take him up on it.”

“I see.”

“Why, just imagine, Delia. You could even pretend you didn’t have a child! The boys you meet at school won’t be immediately turned off, and you could reveal it casually later. That’s exactly what I would do if, God forbid, I was ever in your situation.”

She laughed and returned to the wine.

Who worked for
el diablo
? I wondered. Mrs. Newell or Fani?

“I
understand,” Señor Bovio began at dinner that night, “that you would like to spend a day with Fani? Go to her home?”

“Yes,” I said. I searched his face, looking for some sign of suspicion.

“Fani came to me to ask, and I sent her to see Mrs. Newell.”

“Mrs. Newell? Why,
señor
?”

“I trust her judgment with these things totally,” he said. “She would know if Fani would be good for you now or not. They spent quite a bit of time together,” he added. “Mrs. Newell made everything very clear to her, I’m sure.”

“Everything?”

“What you should and should not eat, do, that sort of thing,” he said, waving his hand. “She is sufficiently comfortable with Fani and agrees that a change of
scenery will probably do you good. However, she would like to speak with you, too, about it.”

Later that evening, she came to see me.

“I’m approving this trip,” she began.

I wanted to say that I was not in prison here, but I held my tongue. After all, I would see Edward.

“However, despite my talk with Estefani Cordova, I still have concerns. Most young women who aren’t pregnant and who’ve never been pregnant don’t appreciate your condition. I’m sure she’ll offer you things that will not be good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me and not by now, Mrs. Newell.”
Thanks to you,
I wanted to add, but I didn’t.

She just shook her head skeptically, but she didn’t stop her admonitions.

“If you drink alcohol, it will go directly to your baby. If you smoke or take anything in the way of drugs, you can damage your baby’s brain and nervous system.”

“I would never do any of that.”

“I bet you told yourself you would never be pregnant before you were married, too,” she replied, and left.

I swallowed back my rage, believing that was it. However, the day before I was to visit Fani, Mrs. Newell embarrassed me in front of Señor Bovio with what was surely the bottom of the barrel of warnings but was just as cutting.

“I’m sure there will be boys there. I know what happens when young women your age have such freedom. Don’t be surprised if you are in some bizarre way attractive to one of them. Look at your bosom. They’ll all want to put their hands on your abdomen to
see if they can feel the baby’s movements, and that can lead to other things. You’re even more vulnerable now than you were. I know how much pregnant women want to be attractive to men,” she said, nodding to confirm her own statements. She always spoke as if what she said was gospel.

I glanced quickly at Señor Bovio, who wore an expression of fear. It was as if the scene she drew up were actually taking place right before his eyes. With all of these warnings and predictions of dire consequences, I couldn’t help but wonder why she had approved the trip at all. Perhaps Fani was better at convincing people, even people like Mrs. Newell.

“You don’t know me,” I said. “I’m not at all the kind of girl you are describing, Mrs. Newell.”

She blinked her smile and nodded at Señor Bovio before turning back to me.

“I know you. I know all of you.”

What a strange thing to say, I thought. Instead of driving me away from even the sight of her, however, my interest in her suddenly grew stronger. I couldn’t help wondering what had made this woman see the world only as a place for diseases and unhappiness. That afternoon, I cornered Teresa, who was vacuuming and dusting a guest room. My curiosity was at first about that.

“Is Señor Bovio expecting a guest?”

“I do not know, Delia. I was only told to get the room prepared, clean and polish and put fresh linen on the bed, restock the bathroom, and vacuum the carpet.”

I lingered. Finally, she realized I wanted more and stopped working when she saw I was waiting there.

“Do you need something?”

“Yes. Information.”

“What information?”

“What do you know about Mrs. Newell?” I asked.

My question obviously surprised her. “Mrs. Newell? What do you mean?”

“She never talks about herself. She never mentions her husband or where they live, anything. If I ask a question, she always tells me she’s here for me and I’m not here for her, something like that.”

“I don’t know anything,” Teresa said quickly. “I don’t see her except for here.”

“You know more than I do about her, Teresa. Don’t worry. Whatever you tell me will stay right here in this room.”

She started to shake her head.

“I know you don’t like her. I don’t, either, but I put up with her just like you do to please Señor Bovio. I can’t wait to be rid of her. I know she really doesn’t like me, either, and she certainly has little respect for you.”

“I can’t lose my job here,” Teresa said. “I haven’t saved all that much. I send money to my brother back in London.”

“You won’t lose your job. If she in any way caused Señor Bovio to fire you, I’d leave the same day, and you know he doesn’t want that,” I said firmly enough to impress her.

She considered. I saw that the open doorway made her hesitate, so I backed up and closed it softly.

“Well?”

“I don’t know anything firsthand, Miss, but in a
house as big as this, employees gossip about other employees.”

“
Sí,
I understand. And?”

“Mrs. Newell was pregnant once herself but suffered a miscarriage.”

“I knew it. In my heart of hearts, I felt it,” I said, excited.

“She wasn’t a nurse then.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t until after that tragedy that she became a nurse. She’s still married, but she and her husband don’t have much of a life together. He sculpts and makes clay pots and such. He’s not famous or anything and just scratches out a living. She brings home the bacon, as we say. She worked in a hospital first, and then she started doing private duty. Now she’s highly regarded and highly paid.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“It’s silly, Miss. I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s too late for that,” I said dryly. “If I were any more upset than I am, I’d be walking on my hands.”

She laughed and then grew serious again, but she was still hesitant.

“Well? You might as well tell me the rest of it, Teresa. You’ve told me this much.”

“I’ve heard it said that she gets so close to the pregnant woman she’s caring for, especially in the last month or so, that it’s…”

“Yes? It’s what?”

“It’s as if she’s having the baby, the baby she lost.”

“How does she do that?” I asked, now confused.

“Oh, people just talk, Miss.”

“How? Tell me what they say, Teresa. I should know.”

“It’s just talk.”

“Tell me,” I insisted, stepping toward her.

“It’s rumored that sometimes she behaves as if she’s the one in labor. I’m sure it’s all an exaggeration,” she added quickly. “What people, other pregnant women, mean to say is that she takes it all so personally and seriously, she acts as if she is the one having the baby. She does follow the same diet, avoiding the foods she tells her patients to avoid.”

“And she’s doing that here?”

“Yes, but it’s not a bad diet to follow, so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything sinister, Miss.”

I could see she was still holding back.

“What else, Teresa?”

“I did hear that she was let go once. The pregnant woman insisted that she was pandering to her husband.”

“What did that mean?”

“Oh, you know, coming on to him, but pregnant women can get paranoid about that sort of thing, being in that condition, you know. Mrs. Newell threatened to sue her and her husband if they spread any stories, so no one knows exactly why she was let go.”

She paused and shook her head.

“Now, look at you, look at what you’ve made me go and do. I’m just behaving like some pantry gossip. Nothing I’ve said has a tinkle of truth to it, I’m sure.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Nothing you’ve told me changes anything. I’ve never been comfortable with her from day one. I’m glad to hear others have felt that way about her.”

“If you go to Mr. Bovio with any of this, I’m a goner, Miss. I’m out in the street. That I am.”

“I promised you it wouldn’t leave this room, and it won’t. I wouldn’t tell anyone anything I didn’t know firsthand, Teresa. I’ve been the victim of gossip so much here. I can appreciate how it poisons your life.”

“Yes, it does, Miss. That it does. As I said, everything told to me about her could very well be just that, nasty exaggerations. She might just be what you see, a stern, professional nurse who takes her work too personally. You don’t have to be her best friend or anything, and, as you say, once you give birth, she’s gone on to another job, and you would probably never see her again.”

“Okay, Teresa, thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

She smiled. “You’ll be fine, Miss. Everything will be just fine, I’m sure.”

I nodded and left her working, but despite what I had told her, I was upset. I just had to control it. Going to Fani Cordova’s
hacienda
and finally seeing Edward again was just the medicine I needed at this point. Now I was happy I had let her talk me into it.

In fact, I was impatient with the remaining time. It couldn’t go fast enough for me. I distracted myself with reading and television and my walks. I no longer swam, even though the pool was heated for me. My pregnancy seemed to be maturing at a geometric rate every passing day. Every day, I studied myself, measured my waist and my breasts, and saw how quickly I was growing. I did begin to have some small milk leakage, too. It put me into a little panic. To her credit, Mrs. Newell saw that and reassured me that I was textbook perfect and nothing that was happening was un
usual. Of course, she never failed to imply or even come right out and say that it was a result in a large part of her care and supervision.

On Saturday morning, I was almost too nervous and excited to eat any breakfast. I did the best I could to appear nonchalant about my day with Fani. Just before Fani arrived, Mrs. Newell repeated her list of warnings.

“Spicy food and alcoholic beverages are out. Don’t be too active. Don’t let them talk you into riding in some all-terrain vehicle or going on a motorcycle.”

“I would never do such a thing, Mrs. Newell.”

“I’ve seen young, pregnant girls do things as stupid, believe me. If people are smoking around you, ask them to stop or move far away. As you know, you’ll be urinating more frequently, so don’t go far from a bathroom. Now, what are you wearing?” she asked, and reviewed my choices. She made sure I put some pads in my bra.

“Just in case,” she said.

I expected Señor Bovio to behave like the worrywart Dr. Denardo had playfully called him, too, but to my surprise, he had already left the estate for a meeting. There would be no last-minute admonitions from him. Mrs. Newell was right beside me, however, when Fani appeared, bursting in with her characteristically explosive energy.

She wore a red tank top and dark yellow short-shorts with a tie-dyed bandanna around her forehead and a pair of ridiculously long red shell earrings. The fingers of both hands were filled with a variety of colored stone rings, and both wrists were wrapped in turquoise Indian bracelets. She looked like a rainbow gone wild.

“We have a perfect day, almost no humidity. My father calls these days ‘dry heaven,’” she told Mrs. Newell, who just stared at her as if she were from another planet.

She then pulled herself together and proceeded to dictate what foods were restricted and what were not. She emphasized the danger of smoke and alcoholic beverages and left Fani with the warning that I was now her responsibility.

“I think Delia is old enough to take care of herself, Mrs. Newell,” Fani told her.

“I doubt she would be in the condition she is in if that were so. You should take a lesson yourself,” Mrs. Newell countered, smirked, and turned to walk away.

Fani rolled her eyes. “Where did Ray find her? Death row in some women’s penitentiary?”

I laughed and followed her out. She had a brand-new ruby Mercedes convertible with the top down. It brought back memories of the car Edward had bought me before all hell broke loose after our trip to Mexico. It was one of the first things Tía Isabela had gotten rid of following our return. Once, I thought, I was on top of the world. I had a beautiful car, beautiful clothes, and a palace in which to live.
Mi tía
Isabela was actually getting to like me, or at least I thought she was.

“Isn’t it a beautiful car?” Fani asked, pausing for both of us to look at it. “Daddy bought it for me last month. I call it a ‘guilt gift’—his guilt, of course. But you know me, Delia. I’ll take whatever I can get any way I can get it.
La caridad empieza en casa y luego se traslada a los vecinos, no
?”

She was telling me that the best charity begins at home and then moves on to the neighbors. I had heard
the saying before, but
mi abuela
Anabela had told me it was just an excuse for selfishness.

Fani saw the disapproval in my face. “Oh, stop being such a goody-goody, Delia. Have some fun, damn it. You’ve been locked away with Nurse Diablo too long.”

I did laugh at that and got into her new car. It was so plush inside I thought I was wrapped in soft leather.

“It’s so hard being me,” Fani kidded, “but someone has to do it.”

We took off, driving too quickly down to the gate, I’m sure. I was also sure she was doing it just for Mrs. Newell’s benefit. We both knew she was watching from some front window. The guard gave Fani a disapproving look and took his time opening the gate, but she threw him a kiss and shot out the moment he had done so. I screamed, and she laughed.

“Edward is already there waiting eagerly for you,” she told me when we calmed down.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell him.”

“I wasn’t, but I was afraid he wouldn’t come. He was hemming and hawing and searching for one excuse after another until I mentioned your name.”

My heart started to race faster than the car.

“He came directly from college, so his mother doesn’t even know he’s in the desert,” she continued. “Don’t look so worried,” she said, glancing at me. “My house isn’t exactly visible or accessible to anyone we don’t want it to be visible or accessible to, Delia. You couldn’t ask for a more private location.”