Delia’s Gift (23 page)

Teresa, who had been waiting, opened the door. She avoided looking at me. “Mr. Bovio is in the library,” she said. “I’ll take you to him.”

As we passed through the grand entryway, I looked up at the dome and said a quick prayer. I then looked up the stairway, thinking about Adan Jr. and hoping he was sleeping comfortably. There was no sign of Mrs. Newell. Señor Bovio was sitting sideways at the head of the long table, looking as if he were about to get up and walk away. I saw that he had a glass of brandy.

“I don’t want this to take long,” he said when we entered. “It’s been an unnecessarily long enough day as it is.” He focused his angry eyes on me.

“It shouldn’t take us long,” Mr. Simon said. “Thanks for agreeing to the meeting.”

Apparently, Señor Bovio had been told who Mr. Simon was. He put his briefcase down on the table and nodded at us to sit as well. Then he opened it and pulled out the document I had signed to accept Señor Bovio’s custody of Adan Jr. He slid it over the table toward Señor Bovio.

“It’s not necessary to show me that,” Señor Bovio said, glancing down at it but not touching it.

“Since it’s the centerpiece of our discussion, I thought I should put it on the table,” Mr. Simon said. “If I am right about the chronology here, you had offered and provided what you believed to be excellent medical care for Delia Yebarra during her pregnancy.”

“There’s no question about that,” Señor Bovio said. “No matter how unappreciated it was,” he added, targeting his gaze at me.

“And,” Mr. Simon said, ignoring the comment, “you offered her your home for herself and her child after he was born. You offered to provide for her to attend a school for nursing, but at the time, you did not ask to have sole custody of your grandchild.”

“I don’t need this historic review,” Señor Bovio said, and sipped some of his brandy.

“I just want us all to agree on the facts, sir.”

“I agree so far,” Señor Bovio said. “And?”

“And it wasn’t until Delia suffered a near-miscarriage and had to have the emergency caesarean that you presented her with this document. You learned that there was the presence of a drug popularly known as Ecstasy or X in her blood and threatened to make that an issue if she refused to sign this document. Am I correct?”

“No decent grandfather would have done less,” Señor Bovio said. “Especially if we consider that he had lost his son and was the sole protector of his son’s child.”

“No one’s questioning your motives, sir.”

“Then why are you here?” Señor Bovio fired back at him, “defending these…kidnappers?”

“Perhaps, sir, you were a bit hasty in your condemnation of Delia, either deliberately or otherwise.”

“In her heart, she knows that is not so,” Señor Bovio said, glaring at me. “She conspired with a fugitive in Mexico, obstructed justice, and perhaps after taking drugs or drinking too much, carelessly caused my son’s death.”

“Ray!” Tía Isabela cried.

“Why aren’t those facts placed on this table along with my document?” he snapped back at her. He turned to Mr. Simon. “Are you here to get me to have the district attorney drop the kidnapping charges? Don’t you consider what I went through when I learned my grandson was stolen? You think I should care about their pain and suffering and forget my own? My son is gone!”

“No, sir,” Mr. Simon said.

“Then why did you come here?” he shouted, his face reddening and the veins in his neck straining.

“Simply to get at the truth, sir,” Mr. Simon replied quietly. “Something I hope you want as much as we do.”

“The truth,” Señor Bovio repeated disdainfully.

Mr. Simon looked at Tía Isabela and nodded.

She rose and went to the library door, then turned back with Teresa right behind her. Apparently, she had been waiting in the hallway just outside the library.

“What is this?” Señor Bovio demanded.

“We’ll know in a few minutes, Mr. Bovio,” Mr. Simon said. He looked at Teresa. “Please, have a seat,” he said.

Teresa glanced at Señor Bovio and then sat. She kept her gaze down.

“Your full name is Teresa Donald?” Mr. Simon began.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“And you’ve been working for Mr. Bovio for a long time, Teresa?”

“Nearly thirty-two years,” she replied.

“That’s dedication,” Mr. Simon said.

“Teresa is practically a member of my family,” Señor Bovio said. “So?”

“I’m happy you feel that way about her. Apparently, she feels the same way about you,” Mr. Simon said. “Teresa, I know this is difficult for you. You made that clear to Mrs. Dallas, but you see where it’s all taken us. Please, tell Mr. Bovio what you have told Mrs. Dallas.”

Teresa looked up at Señor Bovio.

“What is it, Teresa?” he asked.

“It’s Mrs. Newell, sir,” she said. “She was the one who put the drug into Delia’s body.”

It was as if thunder had clapped in the library.

Señor Bovio stared at her, and then he smiled and shook his head. “No, Teresa. You’re mistaken, I’m sure.”

“I’m not, sir. I’m sorry. I saw her on a few occasions add some tiny portions to the nutritional drink she prepared for Delia right before she suffered the near-miscarriage.”

“It was probably one of those nutrients she said Delia needed,” Señor Bovio told her. “You wouldn’t know, Teresa. I’m—”

“No, sir. Normally, I wouldn’t know, but I thought she was keeping this stuff in an odd place.” She looked at Mr. Simon. “I clean her room as well as Adan Jr.’s, you see. I was making her bed, changing the sheets, when I lifted the mattress a bit, and the packet fell out of the bedsprings. I wouldn’t have noticed it, but I always dust under the bed after I remake it. Naturally, it frightened me to see it hidden like that. I recalled seeing her sprinkle powder from a packet just like it, and as you said, sir, I assumed it was something to do with the special concoction she made for Delia. Who was I to question that?”

“What did you do with it?” Mr. Simon asked.

“I was very frightened. I put it back where it was, squeezed in the bedsprings.”

Señor Bovio just stared at her and then shook his head slightly. “Why didn’t you come to me with this story?” he asked.

“I thought about that, sir, but you were so…dependent on Mrs. Newell. You thought so highly of her, and I saw how having Adan Jr. here had given you a new lease on life, as they say. I didn’t have the heart to destroy your happiness and…” She paused. “I didn’t think you’d take my word for anything against her.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Señor Bovio asked, pulling his head back, still very skeptical.

I thought Teresa would retreat in the face of Señor Bovio’s determination to discredit her report and keep his faith in Mrs. Newell, but she held her ground and even strengthened it.

“For one thing, she’s still here, sir. She wouldn’t have been if Delia was looking after her son, now, would she?”

“That’s—”

“I’ve seen some other things that bothered me from time to time,” she quickly added, and looked down again as if she were the one who should be ashamed.

“What other things?” Señor Bovio demanded, pressing his palms against the table so hard I thought he would snap his own wrists. “What other things, Teresa?”

“There were times I caught her trying on Delia’s maternity clothes.”

No one spoke. Señor Bovio’s mouth opened slightly.

“I wouldn’t have thought much about it, but I had heard some stories about her. Even so, I wouldn’t dare be the one to spread new rumors, and I didn’t know how to tell you about such a thing, Mr. Bovio.”

He shook his head. “This is blatantly ridiculous. Why would you come forward now with this, Teresa?”

“I can’t say I’m proud of myself for not coming to you sooner, sir, especially after you sent Delia away like that. I know Mrs. Newell was pleased, and you looked very pleased as well.”

She continued, looking to me now, “I never had a child of my own, but I could only imagine what it was like having your baby literally ripped out of your body and then your arms. It got so I couldn’t sleep at night thinking about it, and then, when this happened…well, I can’t say I wasn’t rooting for you, Delia. As soon as I heard you and your cousin were arrested, I went to Mrs. Dallas.”

She told Señor Bovio, “I was still afraid to go to you, sir. You were so angry now, I didn’t know what you’d do or say. I didn’t want to lose my position here, but it was like swallowing something sour, sir. I couldn’t hold it down anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.” She said that more to me than to him.

“This has got to be some sort of misunderstanding,” Señor Bovio insisted.

“Then you’re telling us you know nothing about this?” Mr. Simon asked.

I had no idea why or how he could ask Señor Bovio such a thing, but he had his lawyer’s motives and sounded stronger and more like a prosecutor now. I also understood what Tía Isabela had meant when she explained why she wanted a lawyer at the table.

“What? Giving her drugs? Are you a total idiot? Do you think I would endanger my grandson like that?”

“I hope not. I don’t imagine most people would believe it, but in a courtroom—”

“What courtroom?”

“Well, you can plainly see that these events change things, Mr. Bovio. There was, whether you were aware of it or not, obvious coercion here. This young woman was maneuvered into signing over custody of her child.” He pointed to the document on the table. “Following that injustice, she came here as any mother might and took her baby back, and now she’s about to be charged with kidnapping. If she was coerced into signing over her child, there’s no kidnapping charge. She might have grounds for her own lawsuit, and I’m sure the district attorney would have interest in all of this.”

Señor Bovio was quiet for a moment. He looked at all of us and then at Teresa before addressing Mr.
Simon. “I still don’t believe any of this. Just because you have a maid’s impressions of some ingredient…the girl was just involved in a drug incident in Los Angeles, wasn’t she?” he snapped back, now sounding more like someone grasping at straws.

“Fani Cordova will admit to providing the drug to my daughter, and my daughter will admit to getting it from her,” Tía Isabela said. “She will testify that Delia knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, she realizes she’s alive today because of Delia’s quick thinking. I guess Edward would say his sister’s begun to grow up.”

“This is all just confusing the situation,” Señor Bovio insisted.

Mr. Simon turned to Teresa. “When was the last time you changed Mrs. Newell’s bedding and dusted under that bed, Teresa?”

“Today, sir. This morning.”

“And can you tell us anything about the item you found and put back in the bedsprings?”

“It’s still there, sir. Last I looked.”

“Well, we have no search warrant, Mr. Bovio, but I would think you would want to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we do,” Mr. Simon said. “It would also go far to prove you weren’t part of this.”

Señor Bovio looked at us and at Teresa. We were all staring intently at him.

I held my breath. Would he tell us all to get out, or would he do what Mr. Simon asked? Was Mrs. Newell’s grip on him and his happiness so strong that he would blot out the truth?

He saw a tear escape my eye. I wiped it away quickly, but he nodded and stood.

We all rose and followed him out slowly. Our march
to the stairway and the slow climb up was so somber I could feel the weight of all of the darkness I had gone through on my shoulders. In my heart of hearts, however, I believed Adan was walking up those stairs beside me.

Mrs. Newell heard us coming and stepped out of Adan Jr.’s room. She held him in her arms. He was asleep. “And what’s this?” she asked.

Señor Bovio paused. “Maybe nothing,” he said. “Maybe everything.”

He nodded at her bedroom, and Teresa opened the door.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Newell asked, stepping forward.

Adan Jr. squirmed in her arms but didn’t awaken.

We entered her bedroom. The lights were on. She came in behind us. I stood beside her, watching Adan Jr., dying inside to reach out and take him from her arms but deathly afraid to do anything to interrupt.

Teresa went to the bed and got to her knees. She looked under the bed and then up at Mr. Simon and nodded.

“What is this?” Mrs. Newell demanded now. “This is my bedroom!”

“For the moment,” Señor Bovio said, nodding at her, “let Delia hold Adan Jr.”

“What?”

“Just do what I ask, Mrs. Newell.”

She turned to me, but I didn’t think she was going to relinquish my baby. I moved forward and reached for him. She hesitated, tightened her grip, and then relinquished him. I held him closely.

Edward moved forward and lifted the mattress. Mr.
Simon shook the bedsprings, and then Teresa reached under and brought out the packet.

Mrs. Newell seemed to freeze. Even her eyes turned to ice. She didn’t move. “I don’t know what that is,” she quickly said.

Señor Bovio looked at her and took the packet from Teresa. He stared at it a moment.

He didn’t look up at Mrs. Newell when he spoke. “I would like you to pack up your things immediately and be out of this house and off my property as quickly as humanly possible.”

“What? I tell you I don’t—”

“As quickly as humanly possible,” Señor Bovio repeated, looking at her coldly this time.

“You are making a big mistake, Mr. Bovio. Why, if your son was alive—”

His lips trembled. “He would be smiling,” Señor Bovio said. He looked at me and Adan Jr. “He’s smiling now, I am sure,” he said.

My tears fell on Adan Jr.’s face.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me.

And I would swear until the day I die that he smiled.

O
ne day in early April,
mi tía
Isabela’s head housekeeper, Señora Rosario, came to Adan Jr.’s nursery to tell me I had a visitor. He was waiting outside. She said he wouldn’t come into the
hacienda.
I had just finished feeding and changing Adan Jr. and set him in his crib, contented and ready for his nap.

“
Quién es
?” I asked. The days of no Spanish permitted in the house were gone. I thought Señora Rosario appreciated that more than anyone.

“
No sé. Él no diría.
”

Why wouldn’t he tell her his name? I wondered. For a moment, I thought about the boy with whom I had gone on that dreadful double date when I was with Fani in Los Angeles. I don’t blame him for not giving his name, I thought, and marched to the front entrance. I had no patience for this.

It had been months since I had returned to live with
Adan Jr. in Tía Isabela’s
hacienda.
Edward had returned to college, and Sophia was attending a college-preparatory school in San Diego. Her near-death experience had matured her in ways Tía Isabela had lost faith in ever seeing. I had put off nursing school until the fall and now would attend the one in San Bernardino, which meant I could commute and not be away from Adan Jr. too long. With Inez and Señora Rosario assisting, I felt comfortable about all of it.

Señor Bovio was a frequent visitor, never arriving without gifts for Adan Jr. and me but sometimes bringing something for Tía Isabela as well. They were starting to see each other socially again, and he was even talking seriously about returning to politics. He had finally gotten to the point where he could look at me without tons of guilt darkening his eyes and lowering his gaze. It was Adan Jr. who, with his wondrous smile, tied us together in ways that would bring us to forgive.

I opened the front door and stood for a moment looking out with a mixture of surprise and happiness but also some fear.

Ignacio stood by his father’s truck, his arms folded across his chest. He looked even bigger than the last time and still had that military-style short hair. I walked down to him slowly.

“I thought if I sent in my name, you would not come out,” he said.

“What a foolish idea,” I told him, and he smiled.

“Someone with some influence managed to get me out early.”

“I’m happy for you and for your family, Ignacio.”

“
Sí, gracias,
” he said, and then he looked away and confessed that he had been out for almost a month.

“A month? I did not know.”

“I was afraid to come see you. I was afraid you hated me now or wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Another foolish idea,” I told him.

“My parents knew all about you, about your returning to live with your aunt. Do you still want to be a nurse?”

“
Sí.
I’m going to school in the fall.”

“That’s good. I’m sure you will be a very good nurse.”

“Are you working again with your father?”

“For now. He keeps pressuring me to go to school, too. While I was in prison, I worked in the warden’s garden. I changed a lot, and he liked it very much. My father thinks I should study landscaping and become a fancy gardener.”

“That would be wonderful, Ignacio.”

“He says it’s a holy thing to bring beauty into the world.”

“
Él es un hombre sabio.
”

“
Sí.
I should only be as wise at his age.”

“You will.”

“Maybe. How is your son?”

“He is very well,
gracias.
He’s sleeping now; otherwise, he would be in my arms.”

Ignacio laughed. “I’m sure you don’t let go of him often.”

“That time comes soon enough.”

“You sound as if you’ve become very wise, maybe too wise for me,” he said.

“I can afford to share it,” I said, and he laughed. Then he nodded. “It’s been a while since I really laughed. I’m glad I stopped by.”

“Then you’ll have to return often. It’s better to laugh than to cry.”

“Another saying of your grandmother’s?”

“No. This is my own.”

“Now I know you’re a fully grown woman. You have your own sayings to pass on.”

“Then you’ll be back?”

“
Sí,
” he said. “We’ve both come too far, made too many crossings, to turn and walk away.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said.

He unfroze his arms and embraced me. In that long moment as we held on to each other, all of the pain and suffering we had endured seemed to fall away, dropping to our feet like old, dead leaves. He pressed his lips to one of my tears.

“The salt of your body is now the salt of mine,” he whispered, and then he got into his truck, smiled, waved, and drove off.

I watched until he was gone.

I didn’t know that Tía Isabela was watching from a window. She was waiting when I entered the
hacienda.

“That was a surprise for you,” she said. I studied her face and saw an impish smile.

“Maybe not so much for you,” I told her.

She laughed. “Ray did whisper in my ear a while back, but I did not want to say anything for fear Igna
cio would not contact you. No more disappointments are permitted in this house,” she declared.

“That’s good,” I said.

We were both in a good mood, anyway. Edward was coming home to spend the weekend with us.

Later, we had a nice dinner together. Edward was very excited about his decision to go to law school and talked so much that neither Tía Isabela nor I had a chance to tell him anything. It made us laugh even harder. Finally, toward the end of our dinner, he put down his coffee cup and leaned toward his mother.

“I have been meaning to ask you something,” he said. “I didn’t want to bring it up, because I didn’t want to spoil everything.”

“What is it, Edward?” Tía Isabela groaned, throwing me a look of feigned agony.

“When we were on our way to Señor Bovio’s home that night, you told us you had gotten him to grant the meeting by making him a promise. You never told us what that promise was. What was it?”

She looked down at her coffee cup and fiddled with her spoon, a slight smile on her lips. “I promised him I would marry him,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe I will keep it.”

“I thought you always wanted to marry him,” Edward said.

“Not while he was living with a ghost. If I had married him then, I’d probably be doing what Delia had to do, wearing his dead wife’s clothes, maybe even her wigs.”

“That was quite a chance you took, then,” Edward said.

She looked at me and nodded. “I thought it was time to take one.”

None of us spoke. I took a deep breath.

“I think it’s time to do one more thing,” she said.

“What?”

“Let it be a surprise.”

We didn’t pursue her. When Sophia’s spring holiday began, and Edward’s as well, she revealed it.

Two days after we were all together, she presented us each with a plane ticket.

The following morning, we were all on our way to the airport. The flight and the drive took most of the day, but we arrived in our village in Mexico before the sun had gone down. Sophia was all eyes as we navigated the broken streets and passed the cantinas to the square, where the people had gathered to eat and sing. For her, it was truly like visiting another planet. It was even a little like that for me. I had been in such a different world.

It wasn’t until we reached the cemetery and got out to stand before the family graves that I felt I had truly come home again.

And when I looked at Tía Isabela, I could see she finally felt something similar.

She smiled and talked about her parents. She knelt at their graves and my parents’ graves and said her prayers.

“I’m sure my father is still angry at me,” she told us.

“Not anymore,” I said. “You’ve returned and won’t let him die the third death.”

She smiled and put her arm around my shoulder. “
Gracias,
Delia,
gracias
for bringing us all here.”

We joined hands, the four of us, and walked to the car to go to the square, where we would find the Mexico that was in us, that would not die, that would take us farther than we had ever dreamed, that would help us to cross over any obstacle.

And where the spirits of our family waited to embrace us and help us light the candles to guide us forever through the darkness.