Delia's Heart (Delia 2) - Page 117

I did some reading and some arts and crafts, watched a little television, gradually developed more and more of an appetite, and started to do exercise.

It was well into my third week before Inez came to visit me and describe what had occurred. She told me things were quite back to normal, which meant Sophia was her usual obnoxious self and Tía Isabela was once again absorbed with her social life.

“No one is permitted to speak about you,” she said. “Señora Dallas didn’t come right out and say it, but it’s very clear.”

“And Edward?”

“He hasn’t been home. I don’t know, but I don’t think he calls much.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come here, Inez,” I said. “It’s liable to get back to my aunt.”

“I’m not afraid.” She leaned closer. “I have another employment opportunity which will pay as much. I just have to wait another two weeks.” She sat back, smiling.

“That’s good. Señora Rosario will be upset, I’m sure.”

“She’s talking more and more about retirement. It won’t be much longer for her, either.”

“Who would think looking at la hacienda de mi tía that it was a place where people would not want to work?”

Inez laughed. “We would!” she cried.

We hugged before she left, and we promised not to forget each other.

Two more weeks flew by, because I was doing more and keeping myself quite busy. I really did think I was recuperating and getting stronger, until I woke up one morning sick to my stomach. At first, I, and my nurse, thought the medication might be responsible. Then she looked at me askance and asked me about my period. I wasn’t that overdue, but her next question and my answer raised her eyebrows.

“Are your breasts tender?”

I had felt that and nodded.

“Do you notice yourself urinating more, Delia?”

Again, I nodded.

She stepped back, as if I had slapped her across her face. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

When she returned, she had Dr. Jensen with her. He looked at her, and she left us alone.

“Delia,” he asked me directly, “could you be pregnant?”

For a long moment, I wondered why such a realization would come as a complete surprise to me as well as to him.

And then I thought about how all of the events of the immediate past were like some chain of dreams, distant, vague, and deliberately repressed. There was so much I didn’t want to remember. It was more comfortable to think of it as all in my imagination, part of some childlike pretending. I was more comfortable now living only in the present. I didn’t want to think of the past or the future, only the very moment I was in.

But Dr. Jensen’s question revived my wonderful lovemaking with Adan on the boat. The images came up like bubbles in water, bursting around me.

My answer came in the tears streaming down my cheeks.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll speak with your aunt, and—”

“No!” I screamed.

He lifted his hand away as if my shoulder had turned into the top of a hot stove.

“Please!” I moaned.

“Okay, Delia. Calm down. What is it you want?” he asked.

I shook my head.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Delia Horror
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