Delia’s Gift (6 page)

With that, he left, closing the door softly.

I went to the safe to look and was shocked to see how much jewelry was in it. All of the pieces looked very expensive. I was happy he trusted me with it, but wearing some of it would make me very nervous, and where would I wear any of it, anyway? I didn’t anticipate being invited to any parties or dinners, unless Señor Bovio had some planned. I wondered about that. Would he introduce me to his friends? If so, how would he refer to me? It was awkward for both of us. I couldn’t imagine him doing so. This could be a very long pregnancy and a very lonely one, too.

It already had been a very long and, in many ways, tiring day. Except for the short time I had sat at the pool, I was continually on a bed of pins and needles. I was not used to being the center of so much attention. I couldn’t make a move without someone watching me. Even now, I imagined eyes in the walls, as if the
hacienda
itself were alive and studying me. It was part of the reason I wanted to get away for a while, why I had asked about a car. I had been hoping to be on my own, but I could see now that Señor Bovio didn’t trust me enough yet. He probably was afraid I would do what I had been tempted to do from the moment I had arrived, sneak away and return to Mexico. It was still something I toyed with in the back of my mind.

I began to go through the dresser drawers to look for a nightgown. I found two drawers full of them, primarily in red, some sheer, a few meant for cooler
nights. There were matching slippers, as well, for almost every nightgown and robe. In one drawer, I found a box of old photographs and sat on the floor going through them. There were many people in the pictures whom I didn’t know, but there were many of Adan at all ages. I noticed that in only a very few of them was he standing beside his mother. With her schedule as a movie actress, I imagined it must have been very lonely for him.

Finally tired enough to feel confident that I would sleep, I crawled into the oversized bed. The
hacienda
was very quiet and far enough from any street or road to be beyond the sounds of traffic. When I put out the lights, the glow of a half-moon came through the light curtains. I had not closed the drapes. Because even these curtains had a crimson tint, the moonlight that seeped in and over the bed and the room was the color of light-red rose petals.

I said my prayers.

I closed my eyes and thought about the baby forming inside me. Parts of Adan and parts of me were exploring and testing each other, finding ways to join with those that had already begun creating our child. Adan was still in me, still a part of me. Maybe it was his spirit that was in this bedroom suite and not his mother’s, after all; maybe that was what Señor Bovio had felt.

Thinking about him and the accident on the boat, I wondered if, even for a split second, Adan had blamed me. Whether it was my own imagination at work or not, I sensed anger in this room with me. If I hadn’t turned, slipped on the ladder, lost control of the boat at that moment, he wouldn’t have been so badly injured.
If he didn’t blame me, and Señor Bovio had decided it was more important for him to forgive me and care only about my giving him a healthy grandchild, then perhaps his mother’s spirit was here and did blame me. Perhaps rather than keep me safe, she would be the vengeful one.

And then, I thought, if I considered Ignacio and his father, Tiá Isabela and Sophia as well, there was a great deal of rage swirling around me. Would all of the good spirits, those who had loved me, be able to come to my defense? What truly lay in store for me?

All of these thoughts troubled me and kept me tossing and turning, falling asleep and then waking with a start. By the time the morning light cleared away the shadows, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I slept later than I had intended, but I knew what I must set out to do. I rose, showered, and dressed.

Teresa was in with my “perfect” breakfast. Apparently, Mrs. Newell had arrived early because she had to oversee every slice of bread. She had created some nutritional drink that tasted like pure chalk to me. I drank what I could and then hurried downstairs. It was just about ten o’clock. According to what Señor Bovio had promised, the car and driver would be waiting.

I did not see Señor Bovio when I descended, nor was he waiting outside. The car was there, however, as was the driver he had simply referred to as Stevens. The moment I came out of the house, he got out of the car and hurried to open the rear door for me.

“
Gracias,
” I said.

He returned to his driver’s seat and waited for instructions.

“Please, start for Indio,” I told him. “I’ll show you where to turn.”

“Very good, Miss. If you want water or anything, there’s a small refrigerator on the right.”

He started away. I looked back at the
hacienda,
still surprised that Señor Bovio hadn’t been there to greet me or watch me drive away. I did see that Stevens had an earpiece and was speaking softly to someone on a cell phone and imagined it might be Señor Bovio.

There wasn’t much traffic, and less than thirty minutes later, I had Stevens turn on the street where Ignacio’s family resided. I pointed out the house and driveway, and he turned into it.

“I won’t be long,” I said, and went to the front door.

Ignacio’s brother answered the buzzer and stood there looking at me with such disgust on his face I thought he might attack me. He was as big as Ignacio now.

“
Quién es,
Santos?” I heard his father ask. The sound of his voice made me tighten up. I hadn’t expected either of them to be home. I was hoping to speak only with Ignacio’s mother.

“Her,” Santos said, practically spitting at me. He left the door open and turned away.

I entered slowly.

Ignacio’s father had his foot on a stool. It was bandaged. He looked up with surprise. Ignacio’s sister wasn’t there. I was sure she was in school. His mother came in from the kitchen and stopped when she saw me.

“Why did you come here? What do you want?” Ignacio’s father asked.

“Just to talk,
señor
. What happened to your foot?”

“A broken ankle,” he replied quickly. “Talk about what? Why have you come here?”

I looked at Ignacio’s mother. She seemed ready to cry. Her lips trembled. Santos kept himself slightly turned away, his head down.

“I never had an opportunity to speak with you, to explain what had happened, to—”

“We know what happened. We don’t need you to come here to give us any explanations. Please. Go. You bring only bad luck to my family.”

Now I was the one near tears, but I wouldn’t turn and run out.

“You don’t know what happened,
señor.
I have tried to explain it to Ignacio as well. I wrote letters, but he does not respond.”

“He’s finally smarted up,” his father said. “Too late to help himself, I’m afraid. You know what life is like where he is, what he will become?”

“I know,
señor
.”

“Then what is it you can say that would make any difference now?”

“I can say I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my fault,
señor.
I did nothing to cause this to happen.”

He smiled and looked at his wife. “Did you hear? She did nothing,” he said. Ignacio’s mother looked at me, the utter helplessness in her face so clear and tragic.

“Señor Davila, I have tried many times to explain. I had no idea that my cousin had found Ignacio’s note to me and had told the police. She didn’t even warn her own brother so he wouldn’t get into trouble. She was always trying to hurt me. That was more important.”

“So, if you knew that, why were you so foolish as to leave that note where she could find it? Didn’t I tear up every letter Ignacio sent you after you had read it? Wasn’t I afraid that something like that would happen?”

“It was—”

“What?” he nearly shouted.

“Important to me. I didn’t want to tear it up.”

“So, instead, you left it where she could find it and do this terrible thing to us?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what you intended or didn’t intend, Delia. The result is my son is in a terrible place, and there is nothing I can do for him.
Nada.
”

“All I ask, Señor Davila, is that you please, please, tell him I didn’t mean for this to happen. When you see him again, will you ask him to write to me?”

“Why?”

“Why? I’d like…to…”

“To do what? Haven’t you done enough to this family? Go back to your wealthy friends. Leave us be.”

He turned away from me. Santos had kept his head down the whole time and now lifted it and looked at me with the same anger that was in his father’s unforgiving face. Only Ignacio’s mother had any warmth for me, but she was too frightened to say or do anything. She simply shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I put a slip of paper on the small table under the picture of Jesus. “This is my address now. I am at Señor Ray Bovio’s
hacienda.
”

Ignacio’s father looked up sharply. “The man whose son died on the boat?”

“
Sí.
” I imagined it wouldn’t be long before they found out why. “I am pregnant with his son’s child.”

Ignacio’s father stared coldly a moment. “Please, get out of my home,” he said.

I stood a moment and then turned and hurried out, pursued for what I feared would be the rest of my life by the terrible pain and anger in Señor Davila’s eyes.

“Where to now, Miss?” Stevens asked.

“Just back,” I said, and turned to stare out the window. I said nothing more and barely moved until we had arrived at the Bovio
hacienda.
Stevens hurried around to open the door for me, and I charged up the steps and entered the house.

Señor Bovio was right there, waiting. He took one look at my face and shook his head.

“Look how you have upset yourself,” he said. “Come into my office now,” he added authoritatively.

I followed him down the corridor to his large, beautifully furnished office. He had a cherrywood desk with matching paneling on the walls and a slate floor. The room was bright because of the big windows and French doors that had a western exposure. There were two walls of bookshelves, an entertainment center, and an area with computers and printers. Two dark-red leather sofas were on the right and left of the desk, and there were matching chairs in front of the desk. I saw the pictures of Señora Bovio and various political figures and celebrities on the wall, where he had also hung pictures of Adan. There was an entire section of wall covered with movie photos from the films in which Señora Bovio had starred.

“Sit, Delia,” he said, and then sat behind his desk. “Why did you go to see the Davila family?”

I was on the verge of crying, but the fact that he was aware of every move I made angered me. “Am I to be
spied upon constantly, treated like a prisoner? I warned you about that when you came to see me at the clinic,” I replied.

“I am not treating you like a prisoner or spying on you. I am only watching over you. I do not take my responsibilities lightly, and for now, your health and welfare are my responsibilities. Look,” he said, taking a different, softer tone, “if you tell me what’s bothering you, I can see about helping you. If I don’t know, what can I do for you? It bothers me that you are obviously so upset.”

I shook my head and looked away. “There is nothing you can do,
señor.
”

“Are you so absolutely sure? I am a man of great means, Delia.”

“You know what happened in Mexico,
señor
. I’m sure
mi tía
Isabela has cried about it on your shoulder many times, told you how I embarrassed the family and nearly ruined her good name and reputation.”

“
Sí,
and…”

“And I do feel guilty and responsible, but not for her. I feel terrible for the Davilas, especially Ignacio’s parents. They are suffering so much.” Tears bubbled under my eyelids. “I will never get their faces out of my mind. Never.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you can fully understand, Señor Bovio. You would have to have looked into Ignacio’s father’s and mother’s faces as I just did and feel the knife in your heart.”

He nodded. “It’s not good for you to carry such a burden right now, Delia.”

“Yes, well, it is nothing compared to the burden they carry,” I replied.

He sat back and thought. “I may be able to help,” he said after another long moment.

“Help? How?”

“I have some influence with some very important government officials. I can’t say exactly when or how, but perhaps I can get Ignacio Davila released much earlier than his jail sentence demands.”

“Can you?” I asked, now excited.

“I think so,” he said.

“Oh,
señor,
that would be—”

“But I won’t even try unless you promise me certain things,” he said.

“What things,
señor
?”

“I don’t like you doing these things to yourself. I don’t want you returning to the Davila home. They are angry people in pain, and you never know how they will react.”

“Oh, they would not hurt me,
señor.
That—”

“Will you promise me this?”

“
Sí, señor,
” I said, nodding. “I can do no good for them returning, anyway. I don’t think they would even open the door for me.”

“
Muy bien.
I will work on this, Delia, but you must promise to be a cooperative patient both for Dr. Denardo and for Mrs. Newell and, of course, for me. I don’t want you to think of yourself as a prisoner, but for now, I want you to take extra good care of yourself and permit me to give you everything and anything you need. This is a very big property. There is much for you to do here to amuse yourself. I’ll have any and
all books and magazines for you. You have your own entertainment center upstairs. You ask for anything, and I will have it brought to you, anything.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to leave the property?”

“Why would you need to leave? I just said I can have anything you want brought to you, including your schoolwork. Indulge me during this pregnancy. Afterward, you can do what you want, go where you want.”