Delia's Gift (Delia 3) - Page 47

I said nothing, but his intensity made me a little nervous. He looked as if he actually did hear his wife’s voice. Although I enjoyed the film, a good love story, I was happy when it ended. He sat there for a long moment, as if he expected to see it start again. Then he laughed.

“When Adan was little, he thought there were two different women. One was his real mother, the woman who was here with him, and the other was someone who looked like her and sounded like her. Rosalinda would laugh and talk about herself as if she really was someone else who was in the movie. When Adan was older, we teased him about it, but he stopped my wife in her tracks one night when he told her she would always be someone else to him when she was in a movie. He told her he would never like that woman. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Because that woman keeps her from being with me,’ he replied. I think he was only twelve. For a while after that, I thought she might just give up acting. But of course, she didn’t.”

“She was very good,” I said.

“Yes, this was one of her better films. I’ll bring another around to watch with you soon. I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I feel much more comfortable watching her films here and, as I said, especially with you.”

“I don’t mind, Señor Bovio.”

He laughed at another thought. “For sure, Rosalinda would have tried to hide the fact that she had become a grandmother. She often told me it was very important, especially for an actress, to appear younger than she really was. ‘When they start asking me to play some teenage girl’s mother, I’ll quit,’ she vowed. She said there was a very negative attitude about older women in Hollywood. It bothered Adan, because she rarely encouraged him to join her on a press junket or any publicity event. After her death and even after her funeral, Adan didn’t accept it. He told me he felt she was just away on another film. It took a long time for it finally to settle in. You know, we all have our own ways to stop the third death.”

“Sí,” I said. His words and memories brought me close to tears, tears for him and for Adan and tears of shame of myself for being so difficult now.

“I am sorry, señor. I know your pain goes deeply through your soul. You’ve lost the two people you loved the most in the world.”

“Gracias,” he said, and then quickly smiled. “Let’s think of nothing but the baby.”


“Sleep well,” he told me.

Nearly another week passed, but he didn’t offer to watch another film, and I didn’t ask for one. Perhaps it had been too painful for him after all, watching with me or not. He had obviously loved his wife very much and never stopped missing her, despite the stories about her affairs.

However, even though I tried to be happier for his sake, the boredom and tediousness of my days grew worse. I began to complain more and more about my confinement, until finally, after Dr. Denardo’s next visit, I was permitted to take walks outside again.

“Mrs. Newell has done a very good job with you, Delia,” he said. “We’re back on track. Rest one more day, and then start your program of regular exercise. Millicent will begin training you in the breathing exercises, too. You’ve been a perfect patient,” he said, patting my hand. “It’s no secret that the first child for a woman is usually the most difficult.” He smiled. “I have patients who swear they’ll never have another afterward. Many don’t.”

I saw Mrs. Newell gazing at me over his shoulder. The expression on her face when he said that made me wonder. Was she included in the reference to such women? Was that why she never made another attempt at having a child? She knew all there was to know about pregnancy and birth, apparently. Was she so disappointed in herself, so angry at her own body, that she had forbidden herself to make another attempt?

Afterward, I chided myself for having any interest in her at all, but for the moment, as in the expression Adan had taught me, she was “the only game in town.” Getting anything personal from her was probably harder than getting government classified secrets, however.

I tossed away my interest and thought only about the next day. I couldn’t believe how excited such a simple privilege was making me. I tossed and turned practically all night in anticipation, and I was very impatient in the morning, waiting for my breakfast. I knew Mrs. Newell wouldn’t permit me to go walking if I didn’t first eat her meager portions and nutritional concoctions.

Finally, I was ready to go out. I spent more time than I thought I would deciding what to wear and even took the time to brush my hair and apply a little lipstick. Then I put on a pair of earrings, decided they were too ostentatious, and chose another pair and another before settling on a pair. My face was a little bloated, but I didn’t dwell on it. Nevertheless, anyone observing me would think I was going to some grand event. I imagined Fani teasing me, telling me I was hoping the handsome young pool man had returned.

With renewed energy surging through my body, I put on my newest pair of maternity shoes and stepped out of my suite feeling as if someone had unlocked a cell door. The moment I did, Mrs. Newell pounced, giving me the feeling that she had been waiting just outside her own suite, anticipating.

“Wait,” she called to me, and walked slowly to me.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you going far,” she said. “And I want you to return in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes? Why?”

“You’ve just recuperated from a scare. I don’t want a relapse under my watch. If we are to believe what you told us, you are in the seventh month now. This is the third trimester. You’ve been experiencing more changes in your own body, and I have explained to you how and why the baby has been moving, turning, positioning himself. In fact, from what I have observed and from my years and years of experience and numerous patients, I believe you might be farther along than even the doctor thinks.”

“What does that mean?”

She blinked a smile. “It means that maybe you weren’t as accurate as you think with your periods, or…”

“Or what?”

She took so long to reply that she made my heart race. It wasn’t like her to hesitate. She usually said whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.

“Are you certain that the baby you are carrying is indeed Adan Bovio’s baby?”

For a moment, the heat that came into my face felt as if it would burst into flames. I couldn’t speak. She stood there with that sly, suspicious smile twisting her lips.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Delia Horror
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