Delia's Gift (Delia 3)

“I am doing it for all of us, Dr. Denardo, especially my baby.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“You didn’t deliver Adan, did you, Dr. Denardo?”

He smiled, glanced at Mrs. Newell, who looked bored, and turned back to me. “Why do you ask that, Delia?”

“I have been told Señora Bovio gave birth in the hacienda.”

He nodded. “Yes, actually, right in this room.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “She was a beautiful young actress hounded by the paparazzi,” he said. “She chose to do so for her own privacy, I suspect.”

He and Mrs. Newell started out. I realized he hadn’t really answered about whether he had performed the delivery. I started to call to him, but something stopped me. I couldn’t say what it was. I only knew I didn’t really want to learn much more.

Not long afterward, Señor Bovio came up to tell me how pleased he was with the doctor’s report.

“He said you are an excellent patient and in remarkably good health. If we just do everything right, follow his and Mrs. Newell’s instructions, we’ll be fine. Are you pleased? You have everything you want and need here, right? It’s all good, sí?”

“I’d like to get out more, señor. I need not take all of my meals up here, for example.”

“No, but for the first week or so, I think it’s best the servants don’t pester you with their nosy looks and questions. I won’t always be around to make sure of that. I’ll always be sure there is proper security, however.”

“You need not worry about uninvited visitors, señor,” I told him, thinking he was mainly worried about Sophia and her friends barging in on me.

“I know, but it would please me to be certain. Indulge an old worrywart,” he added, smiling. “I understand the doctor called me that.”

“Sí.”

“I’m happy for you, Delia, for both you and the wonderful baby you’re carrying.”

“Gracias.”

He started to turn away.

“Señor.”

“Yes?”

“When you came to the clinic, you mentioned that I would have access to a car.”

“Oh, yes. Where would you like to go?”

“I’d like to know I can go wherever I want whenever I want,” I said.

“Certainly, of course…sí. My driver is at your disposal. It’s easier. Just let me know when you want him available, and—”

“Tomorrow,” I said sharply. “After my breakfast.”

“Tomorrow?” He looked frightened for a moment and then smiled. “Fine. Sure. I’ll have the car out front at ten A.M.”

“Gracias.”

“Will you be going far, long?”

“Not far, señor.”