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.”
“Fani? Gracias, Teresa.”
Perhaps Fani had news of Edward, I thought. I needed some good news. It was the last bright light left in my stormy, gray sky. I hurried to a phone.
“Yes, I’ve seen him,” she said when I immediately asked if that was her reason for calling me. “He’s back from his self-destructive rampage. He looks as if he lost twenty pounds and won’t say where he’s been.”
“Did he—”
“Ask about you?” She laughed. “Yes, it was practically the first thing he asked. Didn’t he call? I told him you would probably be able to talk to him and see him now.”
“No,” I said, my happiness balloon losing air.
“Well, I imagine he will, or maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe you can see him. I’m inviting you to come to Los Angeles. I have my own apartment here, you know. There’s a terrific party this weekend, and there’s a good chance Edward will be there, especially if he hears you’re coming.”
“I don’t know. I’m not exactly in a party-going mode,” I said, and told her about my visit with Ignacio.
“You went to see him in prison? Wow. That’s cool.”
“It wasn’t so cool, Fani.”
“Look, you’re tired. It’s not your fault. You can’t just roll over and die, Delia. I heard the doctor gave you a clean bill of health.”
“How did you hear?”