Delia's Gift (Delia 3) - Page 49

It was interesting that despite how all of this had happened, I could still see myself being a good mother.

“Una mujer con un niño y ningún marido tiene que ser padre de la parte así como madre,” Abuela Anabela would tell me when a young widow with children walked by. A woman with a child and no husband must be part father and mother. When I was young, I imagined the woman growing a mustache. Abuela Anabela thought that was very funny and told her friends, who laughed at me and hugged me. I was so confused.

But now I understood too well. I was determined that I would find ways to provide for my son. I wouldn’t be so dependent on Señor Bovio and, of course, never depend on mi tía Isabela. I would want my son to know Edward. Perhaps, somehow, I could have him be my son’s godfather. What would Tía Isabela do then? How could she keep her reputation in the community and oppose such a wonderful thing?

I wasn’t as helpless as some thought, I told myself. I could still walk with my head high. I was still my father’s daughter, and I had a proud heritage, despite our far poorer lifestyle. We were never a weak people. We found ways to survive and prosper, and, most important of all, we never stopped loving one another. That is, all of us except for Tía Isabela, and look at what her defiance and anger had brought her.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize how far I had gone, even with my waddling pace. I was nearly to the horse track. I had never been there, of course, nor had I met the man who cared for the two horses and maintained the stable. Right now, I saw him lead one of the horses, an Appaloosa with a frosty coat with white specks, to the corral and let him loose. Señor Lopez, the soybean farm owner my father had worked for, had had one just like it. He had even let me ride him once.

“Hello there,” the caretaker called to me when he saw me approaching.


“I haven’t seen you out and about lately,” he told me. “I’m Gerry Sommer.”

“I’m Delia,” I said.

“Yeah, I know who you are. Teresa told me about you. How are you doing?” he asked, nodding at my stomach.

“Okay,” I said.

“Not much longer, huh?”

I laughed. “I’m what you might say…exaggerated.”

“Exaggerated?” He laughed. “Never heard it quite put that way.”

“That’s a pretty horse, an Appaloosa,” I said, nodding at the corral.

“Oh, you know about horses?”

“A little. I once rode one just like him back in Mexico.”

“He’s just about fifteen hands and has a great temperament.”

“Was that Adan’s horse?”

He nodded. “He misses him, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it, señor.”

“I ride him and give him exercise when I can. Adan was a good rider and a jumper.”

“What’s his name?”

“Adan simply called him Amigo.”

I walked to the railing. “Amigo,” I called, and he raised his head and looked at me. I remember Señor Lopez telling me that Appaloosas have eyes with an almost human look to them. Amigo certainly fit that description. Right now, his eyes were full of sadness, I thought. I smiled at him, called to him again, and suddenly, he started toward me.

“Well, that’s something,” Gerry Sommer said. “Sometimes he won’t even come to me.”

I reached out and touched him. He lowered his head and raised it.

Gerry Sommer laughed. “He likes you, all right. He’s saying yes.”

“Maybe someday I’ll ride him,” I said.

“Good. I could use the help when it comes to giving him exercise,” he told me.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Delia Horror
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