Delia’s Gift (16 page)

She came into the room and looked around.

“Quite a come-down from Señora Bovio’s luxurious suite,” she said.

“I was never that comfortable up there, anyway,” I said.

“I imagine not. It was probably like sleeping with a ghost, but I warned you.”

She plopped into a chair and for a long moment looked too tired to speak.

“You know that Sophia was thrown out of school and Edward has run off from college?”

“I heard. Fani Cordova told me.”

“Fani,” she said. “It doesn’t surprise me to hear that. She probably enjoys spreading bad news, especially where it concerns me. I never liked that girl, and she knew it.” For a moment, she ran her gaze over me like someone looking for concealed weapons. “Well, despite all you have done—”

“I did nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s not true.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, does it? I understand Ray has made you quite an offer. You’ll be as rich as Señor Lopez. Wouldn’t your parents be surprised?”

“He’s buying my son.”

“Buying your son,” she repeated. “It’s his grandson, isn’t it?”

“I’m his mother. Maybe you don’t know it, Tía Isabela, but a mother is more important.”

“Please, spare me the canned lectures about parenthood. My husband used to go on and on about it. Think, Delia. What could you offer your son now?”

“Family,” I said. “Love.”

“Right. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this. You see what raising children brings you. Sophia is still trying to drive a stake through my heart, and now Edward has run off, wasting all that I’ve done for him and all of his opportunities. If I died tomorrow, my children would barely blink.”

“I would never have such a relationship with my child. I would never permit him to be as self-centered as Sophia or drive him away as you have done with Edward.”

“No? You don’t think he’ll grow up self-centered, the way Señor Bovio would spoil him, despite you?”

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll take him away from here first.”

“Please, Delia. Get real, already. He’ll never permit it, and you’ll end up in a bad place. He’s too powerful for you.”

I looked away. Her words were like nails pounded into a coffin. Just like death, the truth about what she was saying couldn’t be denied.

“He’s described to me in detail what he’s offering you. I think he’s nuts, myself, but I can’t believe you’re actually procrastinating about it, risking that he’ll take back his offer and have you thrown out.”

I couldn’t stand hearing it, especially from her.

“Why have you come here, Tía Isabela? You don’t really care about what happens to me, do you?”

She sighed. “Ray pleaded with me to come talk sense into you. He sounded as if he was on the verge of losing his patience.”

“He’s losing his patience? My baby is upstairs, locked in a room. I am not permitted to see him.”

She shook her head as if it wasn’t a big thing.

“It’s my baby!” I cried.

She closed and opened her eyes. “You had better think hard about all he is offering you and not make this last big mistake. I came for you as much as for him. It’s the last thing I will do for you, Delia.”

She stood up.

“Get out with something while you still can. That’s what I would do.”

“Maybe that’s why I shouldn’t,” I said.

She reddened. “I’m really tired of you. You won’t see me again.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

She shook her head. “You know what, Delia? I hope you don’t take Ray’s offer. I hope he does me a favor and gets rid of you, has you deported or something.”

She turned and walked out, her footsteps echoing off along with her, the threats lingering in the air like the odor of something dead.

Not long afterward, Teresa came to my room carrying a dress. She told me Señor Bovio had asked her to invite me to have dinner with him that evening. He had called her from one of his commercial properties and asked her to bring me this dress of his wife’s to wear. It was one I had not seen. It looked like one of the ones that hung with the tags still on them in the closet, never worn.

“He said to tell you he has a nice surprise for you,” she said. “Dinner will be at seven tonight, Miss.”

“A surprise?”

“That’s all I know, Miss. Oh. He said you should be sure to bring the signed document with you.”

“I see. Thank you, Teresa.”

She smiled. “I hope there’s truly good news for you, Delia.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I was on pins and needles waiting for this dinner and this surprise. Did it mean Ignacio would be freed? Whatever the surprise, it was clear he expected me to give him what he wanted first. I read and reread the
revised statement. It simply said that I had visitation privileges, but I had to call and arrange for the visits first. If there was any doubt in my mind before, it was clear now that Señor Bovio expected me to be out of his
hacienda
very soon.

I put on the dress. It had a very pretty off-the-shoulder white bodice and a red ankle-length skirt. It fit well. I didn’t have the right shoes for it and laughed at myself for even caring. However, I brushed and pinned my hair. I imagined that he didn’t want me to look like the poor lost soul I was. I didn’t mind. If I looked good and held on to some of my dignity and pride, perhaps he would be more forthcoming. I was determined to bring up Adan’s name and see if that would get me anywhere with him, too.

He was already at the table in the dining room when I arrived at seven. He looked quite dapper, more like the Señor Bovio I remembered. It was almost as if all of the terrible things that had happened since were just bad dreams. At any moment, Adan himself would come in behind me, and we would sit at the beautiful table and talk about wonderful things.

“You look very nice,” Señor Bovio said. “I knew that dress would fit you now.”

“
Gracias, señor.
”

I sat, and Señor Bovio offered me some red wine. When I hesitated, he smiled.

“You don’t have the same food and drink restrictions now, Delia. Enjoy.”

I nodded, and he poured me a glass.

“I can see, by the way, that Mrs. Newell did a very good job of keeping your weight down. Despite what
you’ve been through, you have nearly regained your beautiful figure.”

“Perhaps she should work more with people who are obese,” I said, and he laughed.

“No, no, she is a top maternity nurse. But no more about her.”

He sat back and waited for Teresa to serve us our salads and leave. Then he lifted his fork and smiled.

“Tomorrow, Stevens will be outside at ten
A.M.
to take you to see someone I know you have been waiting a long time to see.”

He kept his smile, waiting for my response. My thoughts ran wild for a moment.

“Ignacio? He is out of prison?”

“No, not out of prison yet, but I have arranged for you to see him.”

I started to shake my head.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“He wants to see me?”

“He doesn’t know what he wants or doesn’t want right now. He’s in prison, and it’s not a country-club prison, believe me.”

“But—”

“I thought it would please you, Delia,” he said. “Don’t you want to see him?”

“Yes, of course, but…was he told that he had to see me?”

Señor Bovio lost his smile. “Do you want to see him or not?”

“Yes,
señor,
very much.”

“Then I wouldn’t ask so many questions. These things are not as easy to arrange as you might imagine.
It will lead to his release faster if the people who are in a position to arrange it believe he can be a successful man out in public again. He has, I understand, not been an ideal prisoner and has not been interested in seeing anyone, even members of his own family. You could do him some good.”

“
Sí,
” I said, still feeling ambivalent and confused. There was something going on here that I didn’t quite understand.

“Dress simply, and don’t bring a purse. It’s easier if they have less to search.”

“Search?”

“They won’t let you into the visitors’ area without being sure you’re not bringing in weapons, drugs. You could be strip-searched, Delia. This is a maximum-security prison.”

“
Sí,
” I said, now growing frightened.

“I don’t know exactly why, myself, but I was told to tell you not to wear a wire bra. Maybe women hide things in them. You have a sports bra, I know. Wear that.”

“
Sí,
” I said.

“You signed the paper?” he asked, eating and nodding at the envelope.

“
Sí, señor,
” I said.

“Good. We’re having prime rib for dinner.” He leaned toward me. “Mrs. Newell would never permit you to have it when you were pregnant. Too fatty, but it’s very tasty. And wait until you see our dessert.”

He put his fork down and reached for the envelope. I watched him open it and look at the paper. Then he smiled at me.

“You have done a wise thing,” he said, “both for yourself and for Adan.”

I said nothing. Teresa served us our meal, and Señor Bovio asked me about my choice of nursing schools and then began to talk about Adan Jr. as if he were already old enough to consider college himself.

“Too many young people think only about the social scene and not enough about their education. They choose to go to this school or that, not because of the school’s success in studies but because of football or basketball or whatever. If a parent or a guardian is to do a good job with a young man, he should guide him to make the right choices for the right reasons.”

I just sat listening and eating. After a while, he grew quiet himself and just ate and looked off as if he were sitting by himself. In fact, when Teresa came to clear off the dishes, he looked around as if he had just realized I was there with him and we had just eaten.

I heard a door slam, and we both listened to the footsteps descending the stairs. Moments later, Mrs. Newell appeared in the dining-room doorway.

“How is he?” Señor Bovio asked.

“He’s doing fine, Mr. Bovio.” She looked at him, and he nodded at the envelope. Then she turned to me. “In two hours, you can come upstairs for five minutes,” she said. “First, I’d like you to wash your hands, and I want you to put on the robe I have for this purpose. If you are doused heavily in perfume, I’d like you to wash it off.”

“No, no, I’m not,” I said. “Why am I limited to only five minutes?”

“You can appreciate what I went through with her
these past months,” she told Señor Bovio instead of responding. “It was constantly like this, questioning every order I gave, making me work harder.”

“I don’t mean to make you work harder, Mrs. Newell. I—”

“Considering what you have done to this child,” she said coldly, “and how difficult you have made it for him to survive, I would think you would be grateful for even two minutes.”

I started to speak but stopped myself. If I said anything more, I might not be able to see Adan Jr. at all. Señor Bovio hadn’t raised a syllable in my defense. He looked away, in fact.

Mrs. Newell didn’t say another word. She went into the kitchen to get her own dinner. I looked at Señor Bovio, hoping to hear him promise me more.

Instead, he said, “I’ll go in with you.”

I wondered if he thought I might scoop up Adan Jr. and run out of the house, but then he smiled and added, “When we brought Adan home, Señora Bovio and I sat at his side for hours and hours, marveling at his tiny features, his every move. It meant more for us to be there together. After all, we made him together. Aaah,” he exclaimed when Teresa came out with a rich chocolate cake. “The dessert I promised. Nothing is too rich for you now, Delia.” He smiled gleefully.

I thought to myself that when
el diablo
smiled, he surely smiled the same way.

Two hours later, he was waiting at the door for me. I was so nervous that I was trembling. He knocked softly, and we heard the door unlocked. Mrs. Newell looked at us and stepped aside, directing me first into the bathroom, where she had special soap she wanted
me to use and the robe she wanted me to wear. I did everything just as she directed, terrified that I’d make some small error and she would send me away before I saw Adan.

Finally, I was able to approach the crib and look at my baby. To me, he looked absolutely perfect, his face fuller. I didn’t see myself in him as much as I did Adan. For a while, all I could do was stare in wonder. Then, slowly, almost like someone bringing her fingers close to a candle’s flame, I reached down to touch his little hand. His eyes fluttered open, and I would swear forever that he looked up at me and smiled.

Then and there, I vowed I would not leave him behind. Señor Bovio could have me sign a thousand documents, give me tons of money, and lavish the most expensive gifts on me, but none of it, nothing, would keep me from my baby.

Suddenly, I felt Señor Bovio step up beside me, his body touching mine.

“Adan,” he whispered, “has come back to us.”

My heart fluttered. I looked up at him, and in his eyes, I saw the madness of love Adam surely had for Eve, the same love that would enable him to defy God’s commandment and deport him and Eve forever from Paradise. Like a dark, heavy shadow, Señor Bovio loomed over me and my baby.

“It’s time,” Mrs. Newell declared.

“But surely it hasn’t been five minutes,” I protested.

“Surely it has,” she said, stepping closer.

I looked at Señor Bovio. He nodded, took my arm, and turned me toward the door.

When I looked back, Mrs. Newell was leaning over
the crib, blocking Adan Jr. from my view. I heard him cry and started to turn back, but Señor Bovio kept me moving forward and out of the room.

I knew then that my baby was the paradise from which I was being driven away.

I
pleaded outside in the hallway.

“Didn’t you see him smile when I touched him,
señor
? Couldn’t you see how a mother’s touch brought him happiness?”

Señor Bovio continued walking toward the stairway. I caught up with him and grabbed his arm to get him to stop and turn around.

“He knew it was me,
señor
. He grew inside me. My blood is in his veins. He—”

“It was the dress,” Señor Bovio said, leaning down to whisper to me.

“
Qué
? What?”

“The dress.” He smiled. “That dress you’re wearing was the dress she wore the day we brought Adan back from the hospital. The dress,” he whispered again, and continued toward the stairway.

I stood looking after him, my mouth open but my
tongue unable to form a single word. Behind me, I heard the door being locked.

I followed Señor Bovio, but he hurried off to his office and closed the door before I could get to him. I knocked on it, but he didn’t answer.

“
Señor,
please, listen to me.”

I waited, but there was only silence, and the door was locked.

Frustrated, I hurried back to my room to take off the dress. I couldn’t get it off fast enough. His comment frightened me so. What madness was this now? Was he just confused, overwhelmed by emotion? How much could I blame on a man’s sorrow over the loss of his only son? Whom could I tell all of this to, anyway? Tía Isabela? Fani? Edward, who had run off? Dr. Denardo? Who would listen to me or believe anything I said now?

Undressed, I sat in a daze until I was too tired to think or keep my eyes open, but the image of Adan Jr.’s face settled over my eyes the moment I closed them to search for sleep. It brought me to tears. Then I remembered that I would be seeing Ignacio the next day, and I began to think only of that.

In the morning, I put on the dress I had worn when I had first come to
mi tía
Isabela’s home, a dress Ignacio had seen me wearing. I was surprised at how tight it was in the waist and bosom, but I wore it anyway. I looked for Señor Bovio. Teresa told me he had already left the house. Mrs. Newell went up and down the stairs quickly, avoiding me.

As I went out to the car, I think I was as nervous as I had been that first day I had arrived in Palm Springs. My stomach was doing flip-flops, and my heart wasn’t
racing as much as it was ticking loudly like some old grandfather clock. Stevens said good morning and smiled at me. At least someone acknowledged my existence, I thought. I got into the car and practically curled up in the corner, terrified of what awaited me.

What would Ignacio do? Would he even come to the visitors’ area to see me? Would he want to greet me with a kiss or a slap? Not that long ago, we had risked our lives together in the desert, and he had nearly lost his life to protect me. He had rescued me a second time when he appeared at my old house to reveal that he was still alive. I had been days away from marrying a man I did not love, trapping myself in a life that would be a kind of prison, too. We had made promises to each other then, promises that were perhaps too great for me to keep.

As the limousine took me to him, I admitted to myself that I couldn’t place all of the blame on Sophia for having alerted the police. Ignacio’s father hadn’t been wrong, either. I had blundered and made it possible for her to do it, knowing all along that she was crouching like a cat in the bushes, waiting for an opportunity to do me harm and to do the Davilas even more harm. Ignacio had put so much trust in me, so much faith and love. I was sure that he had spent many lonely hours in his prison cell berating himself for being so gullible. I was not his favorite person.

And yet I wondered if the love we had once had for each other, a love that had seen us through such a dangerous and painful time, was strong enough to survive all of this. Would I see a flicker of it in his eyes or only hate and anger? What sort of weak defense could I put up for myself, anyway?

More important, I wondered now why Señor Bovio really had arranged for this. Why was it suddenly so important? How did it fit into his plans? What did he expect would happen? Somewhere inside me, in a place where my skepticism and distrust lived, I felt we were being manipulated. I had missed so many signs and warnings before. I was probably missing one now, too.

The guard at the entrance had my name on a list. We drove in and parked. Stevens told me he would wait in the car. The prison walls, fences, and barbed wire looked intimidating. I had read about prisons and seen them in movies, but this was the first time I would be in such a place. So nervous that I couldn’t feel my legs moving, I walked to the first booth practically in a trance and again gave my name. The guard opened a door, through which I walked to another door and another security checkpoint. The guard there was older and friendlier. He showed me the way to the visitors’ reception area. There was another guard there, with a dog that was brought close to me to sniff for drugs. I was told to pass through the door, where a female security guard took me to a private area. I thought this was where I would be strip-searched, but she only patted me down and showed me into the visitors’ room.

It was a large room, with rows of tables and chairs evenly spaced. There were already families visiting inmates, wives and even children. Guards were stationed at every corner, and one walked slowly through the aisles, watching the conversations. I saw television cameras in the ceiling. I was directed to a table to wait.

“How long will it be?” I asked.

“Not long,” the female guard said, “but sometimes
the inmate decides not to come. I’ll let you know immediately if that is the case.”

I thanked her and found I was holding my breath. A young woman sitting two tables to my right smiled at me. The inmate she was visiting had yet to arrive, too. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times she had been there and how long the person she loved would be in prison. Surely, it must be even more difficult for people like Ignacio and me, people who have lived outdoors so much of their lives, to be locked away in this concrete and metal world, I thought. It nearly brought me to tears, but one thing I didn’t want to do in front of him was cry.

So much time passed, or seemed to pass, that I began to believe he wasn’t coming. Perhaps Señor Bovio wanted me to experience this rejection as a way of ending my request for him to do something for Ignacio. That made sense to me. I now anticipated the female security guard returning without him. She did enter the room, but she didn’t come to me. She went to greet another female visitor, and then, a minute or so later, Ignacio walked through the door.

His hair was cut so close he looked almost bald. I thought he was somehow bigger, wider in the shoulders, even taller. He paused for a moment when he saw me and then walked slowly to the table. He said nothing, and I said nothing. Then he sat, folded his hands, and looked down at them.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, still not looking at me.

I wasn’t sure if he hated me so much he couldn’t look at me or if he couldn’t look at me because he was ashamed of being there, of my seeing him so trapped.

“For the very same reason I wrote to you, to try to get you to believe me when I said I did not arrange for you to be arrested. It was my cousin who told the police.”

He raised his eyes to look at me. “I know all about you, about your love affair with the rich man who died on the boat and your being pregnant and living in his father’s home.”

“Yes, but—”

“While you were writing to me, promising all those things, telling me to have hope and come back to you, you were going to fancy parties and having this affair. You played me for the fool.”

“No.”

“Do you have a baby?”

“I do and I don’t,” I said.

He snapped his head back. “What’s that mean?”

“My baby’s grandfather made me sign a paper to give him custody.”

“You gave away your baby?”

“You don’t understand, Ignacio. I have nothing.
Mi tía
Isabela hates me and won’t help me.
Mi primo
Edward has run away from college and has not been able to help me. He has his own problems. I have no one, no money, and—”

“Why didn’t you just return to Mexico?”

“Listen, listen,” I pleaded, leaning over the table.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the security guard study me closer, so I backed away a little.

“I’m going to have a lot of money. Señor Bovio has promised to help get you out of here soon. Maybe—”

“Maybe what, Delia? You have a different life now. You’re a true
norteamericana.
”

“No.”

“You will live in a grand
hacienda,
have rich friends and soon a new man. When I get out of here, where am I going? Back to ten dollars an hour, maybe. I’m not going to let you fill me with new promises, Delia. I am stuck here. These promises are like pins in my heart now. I don’t want to believe in anything or anyone anymore.

“A man almost killed me here yesterday. You know what the fight was over? It was over a CD he said I stole. Life is not very valuable here. People kill each other for the simplest reasons. I’m just trying to survive. I don’t want to hear about money and futures.

“You look very good, prosperous,” he added bitterly. “You have a
patrón,
no? It was probably very smart of you to get pregnant.”

“I did not plan this, Ignacio. Please don’t think such a thing of me. Things just happened. You don’t know what my life was like when I returned from Mexico. Tía Isabela—”

“I don’t want to hear how hard your life was, Delia. Look at where I am.”

I nodded, the tears now flooding my eyes so thickly that looking at him was like looking through gauze. My face softened him a bit.

“Why did you come here? What is it you want from me, Delia? Forgiveness? A blessing? You don’t need any of that. At least, you don’t need it from me.”

“I do,” I said.

“That’s too bad, then. I’m all out of forgiveness. They drum it out of you here,” he said. “Sometimes I feel as if I no longer have skin. I have a hard crust. I have to be like a lizard, especially when my mother
comes here and cries the whole time, and my father just sits and stares like a man who has been robbed of his soul.”

“I’m so sorry, Ignacio.” I wiped a fugitive tear away quickly.

“You used to worry so much about the
ojo malvado
. Well, in here, no one worries about the evil eye. It’s satisfied enough. Look,” he said, sounding more like the Ignacio I had once known. “I’m not important anymore in your life. We have different borders now to cross, Delia. You’re in a different world. You can’t return to mine, and you shouldn’t, anyway. Just forget me, and I’ll forget you. Think of our lives before as if it was all a dream and nothing more.”

“I don’t want to do that, Ignacio.”

“
Sí,
but what we want and don’t want doesn’t really matter, Delia. At least, not for me. Stay with the grandfather,” he said, and started to rise.

“No, I can’t. He doesn’t want me to stay, anyway. He wants only his grandson.”

“My father wants grandsons, too. Right now, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to bring another child into this world.
Adios, muchacha
.” He started away.

“Ignacio!”

He did not turn back. He walked with his shoulders turned in, his head down, and disappeared through the doorway. The tears broke free and streamed down my face. I sucked in my breath and looked at the security guard, who was smirking and shaking his head at me. He looked as if he thought both Ignacio and I deserved every moment of our agony.

Ignacio was right about this place, I thought. Forgiveness and love were as locked out of it as the inmates
were locked in. I got up and quickly left. Stevens was asleep behind the wheel when I reached the car. I knocked on the window, and he jumped up and looked at me, surprised.

“Back already?”

I nodded and got in. He said nothing more. He could see I wouldn’t talk. I felt as if I were shrinking in the backseat. Before we reached the Bovio estate, I would probably disappear. I didn’t, of course, but we drove out and rode in heavy silence all the way back to the
hacienda
. Señor Bovio was at the foot of the stairway, talking with Mrs. Newell, when I arrived. They both looked at me, and then she hurried up the stairs as he approached to greet me.

“So? How was your visit with your old boyfriend?”

“Not good,” I said.

“Not good? Why not good? Look at what you are trying to do for him? Wasn’t he appreciative? Doesn’t he still want you to be his wife? You told him Adan was well taken care of, didn’t you? You explained our arrangement?”

I looked at him more closely now. Was this his hope? That I would go off and start a new life with Ignacio, who would probably not want another man’s child to raise? All of it suddenly made sense.

“None of that matters to him,
señor
. Ignacio is a very bitter young man. He does not see his life and mine joining ever again.”

“Well, that’s ingratitude if I’ve ever seen it. He should count his lucky stars that he has a woman like you willing to care for him.” He thought a moment. “Well, maybe after you have gone to school and become a nurse…”

“I do not think any of that would matter to him now,
señor
.”

“Then good riddance to him,” he said angrily.

“Can I see my baby now?”

“No. Later, maybe. We’ll see what Mrs. Newell says,” he said sharply, and walked toward his office.

I looked up the stairway and saw Mrs. Newell looking down at me. I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hated her at that moment. I never thought I would wish someone dead, but I prayed that the evil eye would turn its attention to her for a while. She must have seen the anger in my face, fire coming from my eyes. She turned and disappeared quickly down the hallway. As I started toward my room, Teresa stepped out of the kitchen and called to me.

“Delia, you had a phone call while you were away,” she said. “Fani Cordova would like you to call her back. She said you know her number.”