Delia's Gift by V. C. Andrews
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you do. Especially now. How would you like to see Edward?”
I shook my head.
“Is that a no?”
“I don’t want to cause any more trouble for him, Fani.”
“You won’t. It’s not your fault if you accidentally meet him, is it? That could happen.”
I still shook my head.
“C’mon. It will be fun for you. I won’t tell him anything. I’ll invite him to my house next weekend. He’ll come. He’s been pretty depressed about Jesse and needs a change of scenery. I’ll invite him to play golf on our course. I won’t tell him you’re coming, too. You’ll just drop by. That way, neither of you will look guilty.”
I remembered Señor Bovio’s warning about arranging another secret meeting.
“It frightens me, Fani. He could get into serious trouble with his mother again.”
“Good. That makes it exciting,” she said, jumping up. “Then it’s settled. Next Saturday. It’s actually a perfect Saturday for it. Both of my parents are going somewhere. I’ll get Ray to have his driver take you to my house. I’ll tell him I’m having you to lunch. I’ll promise no smoking. Actually, I’ve given up smoking. I realized it was making my teeth yellow and affecting my complexion. I know,” she added. “I’ll get the suggested menu from your nurse from hell and promise to serve it. That should nail it down. Okay?”
“What if Edward doesn’t come?”
“It won’t be a total loss. We’ll simply have a nice time ourselves. I’ll serve you something you’re craving. Don’t worry. Settled?”
I took a deep breath. She was right. The prospect of seeing Edward made it enticing.
“Okay,” I said.
“Good. Now I’ll tell you about my little romances at college,” she said. “Let me open one of those bottles of wine.” She nodded at the wine cooler.
“I don’t dare have any. Mrs. Newell—”
“I’ll give you a sip.” She went for a bottle. “Oh,” she said, turning back. “Ray did make me promise to do something if I paid you a visit.”
“What?”
“To talk you into going to nursing school sooner rather than later and remaining here. I have a feeling he wanted me to visit more to do that than simply to cheer you up, but think about it. You’d have to be an idiot not to take him up on it.”
“I see.”
“Why, just imagine, Delia. You could even pretend you didn’t have a child! The boys you meet at school won’t be immediately turned off, and you could reveal it casually later. That’s exactly what I would do if, God forbid, I was ever in your situation.”
She laughed and returned to the wine.
Who worked for el diablo? I wondered. Mrs. Newell or Fani?
6
Reunion
“I understand,” Señor Bovio began at dinner that night, “that you would like to spend a day with Fani? Go to her home?”
“Yes,” I said. I searched his face, looking for some sign of suspicion.
“Fani came to me to ask, and I sent her to see Mrs. Newell.”
“Mrs. Newell? Why, señor?”
“I trust her judgment with these things totally,” he said. “She would know if Fani would be good for you now or not. They spent quite a bit of time together,” he added. “Mrs. Newell made everything very clear to her, I’m sure.”
“Everything?”
“What you should and should not eat, do, that sort of thing,” he said, waving his hand. “She is sufficiently comfortable with Fani and agrees that a change of scenery will probably do you good. However, she would like to speak with you, too, about it.”
Later that evening, she came to see me.
“I’m approving this trip,” she began.
I wanted to say that I was not in prison here, but I held my tongue. After all, I would see Edward.
“However, despite my talk with Estefani Cordova, I still have concerns. Most young women who aren’t pregnant and who’ve never been pregnant don’t appreciate your condition. I’m sure she’ll offer you things that will not be good for you.”
“I know what’s good for me and not by now, Mrs. Newell.” Thanks to you, I wanted to add, but I didn’t.
She just shook her head skeptically, but she didn’t stop her admonitions.
“If you drink alcohol, it will go directly to your baby. If you smoke or take anything in the way of drugs, you can damage your baby’s brain and nervous system.”
“I would never do any of that.”
“I bet you told yourself you would never be pregnant before you were married, too,” she replied, and left.
I swallowed back my rage, believing that was it. However, the day before I was to visit Fani, Mrs. Newell embarrassed me in front of Señor Bovio with what was surely the bottom of the barrel of warnings but was just as cutting.
“I’m sure there will be boys there. I know what happens when young women your age have such freedom. Don’t be surprised if you are in some bizarre way attractive to one of them. Look at your bosom. They’ll all want to put their hands on your abdomen to see if they can feel the baby’s movements, and that can lead to other things. You’re even more vulnerable now than you were. I know how much pregnant women want to be attractive to men,” she said, nodding to confirm her own statements. She always spoke as if what she said was gospel.
I glanced quickly at Señor Bovio, who wore an expression of fear. It was as if the scene she drew up were actually taking place right before his eyes. With all of these warnings and predictions of dire consequences, I couldn’t help but wonder why she had approved the trip at all. Perhaps Fani was better at convincing people, even people like Mrs. Newell.
“You don’t know me,” I said. “I’m not at all the kind of girl you are describing, Mrs. Newell.”
She blinked her smile and nodded at Señor Bovio before turning back to me.
“I know you. I know all of you.”
What a strange thing to say, I thought. Instead of driving me away from even the sight of her, however, my interest in her suddenly grew stronger. I couldn’t help wondering what had made this woman see the world only as a place for diseases and unhappiness. That afternoon, I cornered Teresa, who was vacuuming and dusting a guest room. My curiosity was at first about that.
“Is Señor Bovio expecting a guest?”
“I do not know, Delia. I was only told to get the room prepared, clean and polish and put fresh linen on the bed, restock the bathroom, and vacuum the carpet.”
I lingered. Finally, she realized I wanted more and stopped working when she saw I was waiting there.
“Do you need something?”
“Yes. Information.”
“What information?”
“What do you know about Mrs. Newell?” I asked.
My question obviously surprised her. “Mrs. Newell? What do you mean?”
“She never talks about herself. She never mentions her husband or where they live, anything. If I ask a question, she always tells me she’s here for me and I’m not here for her, something like that.”
“I don’t know anything,” Teresa said quickly. “I don’t see her except for here.”
“You know more than I do about her, Teresa. Don’t worry. Whatever you tell me will stay right here in this room.”
She started to shake her head.
“I know you don’t like her. I don’t, either, but I put up with her just like you do to please Señor Bovio. I can’t wait to be rid of her. I know she really doesn’t like me, either, and she certainly has little respect for you.”
“I can’t lose my job here,” Teresa said. “I haven’t saved all that much. I send money to my brother back in London.”
“You won’t lose your job. If she in any way caused Señor Bovio to fire you, I’d leave the same day, and you know he doesn’t want that,” I said firmly enough to impress her.
She considered. I saw that the open doorway made her hesitate, so I backed
“Well?”
“I don’t know anything firsthand, Miss, but in a house as big as this, employees gossip about other employees.”
“Sí, I understand. And?”
“Mrs. Newell was pregnant once herself but suffered a miscarriage.”
“I knew it. In my heart of hearts, I felt it,” I said, excited.
“She wasn’t a nurse then.”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t until after that tragedy that she became a nurse. She’s still married, but she and her husband don’t have much of a life together. He sculpts and makes clay pots and such. He’s not famous or anything and just scratches out a living. She brings home the bacon, as we say. She worked in a hospital first, and then she started doing private duty. Now she’s highly regarded and highly paid.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“It’s silly, Miss. I don’t want to upset you.”
“It’s too late for that,” I said dryly. “If I were any more upset than I am, I’d be walking on my hands.”
She laughed and then grew serious again, but she was still hesitant.
“Well? You might as well tell me the rest of it, Teresa. You’ve told me this much.”
“I’ve heard it said that she gets so close to the pregnant woman she’s caring for, especially in the last month or so, that it’s…”
“Yes? It’s what?”
“It’s as if she’s having the baby, the baby she lost.”
“How does she do that?” I asked, now confused.
“Oh, people just talk, Miss.”
“How? Tell me what they say, Teresa. I should know.”
“It’s just talk.”
“Tell me,” I insisted, stepping toward her.
“It’s rumored that sometimes she behaves as if she’s the one in labor. I’m sure it’s all an exaggeration,” she added quickly. “What people, other pregnant women, mean to say is that she takes it all so personally and seriously, she acts as if she is the one having the baby. She does follow the same diet, avoiding the foods she tells her patients to avoid.”
“And she’s doing that here?”
“Yes, but it’s not a bad diet to follow, so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything sinister, Miss.”
I could see she was still holding back.
“What else, Teresa?”
“I did hear that she was let go once. The pregnant woman insisted that she was pandering to her husband.”
“What did that mean?”
“Oh, you know, coming on to him, but pregnant women can get paranoid about that sort of thing, being in that condition, you know. Mrs. Newell threatened to sue her and her husband if they spread any stories, so no one knows exactly why she was let go.”
She paused and shook her head.
“Now, look at you, look at what you’ve made me go and do. I’m just behaving like some pantry gossip. Nothing I’ve said has a tinkle of truth to it, I’m sure.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Nothing you’ve told me changes anything. I’ve never been comfortable with her from day one. I’m glad to hear others have felt that way about her.”
“If you go to Mr. Bovio with any of this, I’m a goner, Miss. I’m out in the street. That I am.”
“I promised you it wouldn’t leave this room, and it won’t. I wouldn’t tell anyone anything I didn’t know firsthand, Teresa. I’ve been the victim of gossip so much here. I can appreciate how it poisons your life.”
“Yes, it does, Miss. That it does. As I said, everything told to me about her could very well be just that, nasty exaggerations. She might just be what you see, a stern, professional nurse who takes her work too personally. You don’t have to be her best friend or anything, and, as you say, once you give birth, she’s gone on to another job, and you would probably never see her again.”
“Okay, Teresa, thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”
She smiled. “You’ll be fine, Miss. Everything will be just fine, I’m sure.”
I nodded and left her working, but despite what I had told her, I was upset. I just had to control it. Going to Fani Cordova’s hacienda and finally seeing Edward again was just the medicine I needed at this point. Now I was happy I had let her talk me into it.
In fact, I was impatient with the remaining time. It couldn’t go fast enough for me. I distracted myself with reading and television and my walks. I no longer swam, even though the pool was heated for me. My pregnancy seemed to be maturing at a geometric rate every passing day. Every day, I studied myself, measured my waist and my breasts, and saw how quickly I was growing. I did begin to have some small milk leakage, too. It put me into a little panic. To her credit, Mrs. Newell saw that and reassured me that I was textbook perfect and nothing that was happening was unusual. Of course, she never failed to imply or even come right out and say that it was a result in a large part of her care and supervision.
On Saturday morning, I was almost too nervous and excited to eat any breakfast. I did the best I could to appear nonchalant about my day with Fani. Just before Fani arrived, Mrs. Newell repeated her list of warnings.
“Spicy food and alcoholic beverages are out. Don’t be too active. Don’t let them talk you into riding in some all-terrain vehicle or going on a motorcycle.”
“I would never do such a thing, Mrs. Newell.”
“I’ve seen young, pregnant girls do things as stupid, believe me. If people are smoking around you, ask them to stop or move far away. As you know, you’ll be urinating more frequently, so don’t go far from a bathroom. Now, what are you wearing?” she asked, and reviewed my choices. She made sure I put some pads in my bra.
“Just in case,” she said.
I expected Señor Bovio to behave like the worrywart Dr. Denardo had playfully called him, too, but to my surprise, he had already left the estate for a meeting. There would be no last-minute admonitions from him. Mrs. Newell was right beside me, however, when Fani appeared, bursting in with her characteristically explosive energy.
She wore a red tank top and dark yellow short-shorts with a tie-dyed bandanna around her forehead and a pair of ridiculously long red shell earrings. The fingers of both hands were filled with a variety of colored stone rings, and both wrists were wrapped in turquoise Indian bracelets. She looked like a rainbow gone wild.
“We have a perfect day, almost no humidity. My father calls these days ‘dry heaven,’” she told Mrs. Newell, who just stared at her as if she were from another planet.
She then pulled herself together and proceeded to dictate what foods were restricted and what were not. She emphasized the danger of smoke and alcoholic beverages and left Fani with the warning that I was now her responsibility.
“I think Delia is old enough to take care of herself, Mrs. Newell,” Fani told her.
“I doubt she would be in the condition she is in if that were so. You should take a lesson yourself,” Mrs. Newell countered, smirked, and turned to walk away.
Fani rolled her eyes. “Where did Ray find her? Death row in some women’s penitentiary?”
I laughed and followed her out. She had a brand-new ruby Mercedes convertible with the top down. It brought back memories of the car Edward had bought me before all hell broke loose after our trip to Mexico. It was one of the first things Tía Isabela had gotten rid of following our return. Once, I thought, I was on top of the world. I had a beautiful car, beautiful clothes, and a palace in which to live. Mi tía Isabela was actually getting to like me, or at least I thought she was.
“Isn’t it a beautiful car?” Fani asked, pausing for both of us to look at it. “Daddy bought it for me last month. I call it a ‘guilt gift’—his guilt, of course. But you know me, Delia. I’ll take whatever I can get any way I can get it. La caridad empieza en casa y luego se traslada a los vecinos, no?”
She was telling me that the best charity begins at home and then moves on to the neighbors. I had heard the saying before, but mi abuela Anabela ha
Fani saw the disapproval in my face. “Oh, stop being such a goody-goody, Delia. Have some fun, damn it. You’ve been locked away with Nurse Diablo too long.”
I did laugh at that and got into her new car. It was so plush inside I thought I was wrapped in soft leather.
“It’s so hard being me,” Fani kidded, “but someone has to do it.”
We took off, driving too quickly down to the gate, I’m sure. I was also sure she was doing it just for Mrs. Newell’s benefit. We both knew she was watching from some front window. The guard gave Fani a disapproving look and took his time opening the gate, but she threw him a kiss and shot out the moment he had done so. I screamed, and she laughed.
“Edward is already there waiting eagerly for you,” she told me when we calmed down.
“I thought you weren’t going to tell him.”
“I wasn’t, but I was afraid he wouldn’t come. He was hemming and hawing and searching for one excuse after another until I mentioned your name.”
My heart started to race faster than the car.
“He came directly from college, so his mother doesn’t even know he’s in the desert,” she continued. “Don’t look so worried,” she said, glancing at me. “My house isn’t exactly visible or accessible to anyone we don’t want it to be visible or accessible to, Delia. You couldn’t ask for a more private location.”
“I know. It still makes me very nervous. I can’t help it. You don’t know mi tía Isabela. Nothing enrages her more than not being obeyed or not getting what she wants. She can make trouble for you, too.”
“Me?” Fani laughed. “If she starts with me, she’ll be sorry.”
“I don’t want anyone to start with anyone,” I said.
Edward’s car was parked in front of Fani’s family home. It wasn’t immediately visible when we entered the property. She was right about that, because the driveway was so long.
“You haven’t seen each other for quite a while, have you?” Fani asked. She looked almost as excited about Edward and me meeting as I did.
“It has been a long time, yes,” I said.
She pulled up behind his car.