23
Ruth Anne
Edmonds, Washington - 2018
When Salvador didn’t answerhis phone, I left a message. Then, needing to do something besides worry, I knelt to the ground and ripped out every weed I could find. The physical exertion did little for my anxiety, but I kept working, desperate for Salvador to call me back.
My sweet, sweet Lia. What had I done to her? Ever since her sonogram, we’d been so close. Had I ruined everything now?
My mind wandered back to that miserable week after the trial when Salvador and I were stuck in Texas, waiting for Lia to be born. I’d been adamantly opposed to giving birth in Texas, but the length of the trial prevented us from returning to Washington to deliver there.
At the time, Salvador and I were staying with my father who’d been given custody of Brandy. Despite everything she’d been through, Brandy was a delightful child. Nothing comforted me as much as spending time with her. I could actually feel myself healing whenever she wrapped her little arms around my neck and said, “I love you, Aunt Ruthie.”
“I love you too, cuddle bug.”
She’d throw her head back and laugh like the happy, cheerful little girl she was. Sometimes she still laughed like that when her boys or Troy did something that delighted her.
The day after Brandy’s fourth birthday, I gave birth to Lia during a tornado warning. The blaring siren shook the hospital as Lia came into the world, red-faced and screaming.
When I saw my daughter’s light hair and pale skin, I wanted to scream. Up until that moment, I’d held out hope that Salvador, and not Eddie, fathered my baby.
Intellectually, I knew it wasn’t possible. According to the sonogram, I’d gotten pregnant around the time of Cheryl’s death, not before as I’d thought. Nevertheless, I desperately wanted the sonogram to be wrong. Doctors didn’t know everything after all.
Gazing down at her, Salvador laughed with joy at this baby he believed to be his own flesh and blood. Had he done the calculation, or asked me about her coloring, he might have been able to figure it out.
Instead, he accepted the lie that Lia was his. “She’s perfect, Ruthie. And what a set of strong lungs!” He smiled at me with pride.
I wanted to return his smile. I wanted to throw aside all my sorrow and bask in the joy of a newborn baby, but I couldn’t. When the nurse asked if I wanted to hold my daughter, I quietly shook my head. “No.”
“I’ll hold her.” Salvador took Lia and cradled her against him as if his arms were built for the sole purpose of holding her. She let out a blood-curdling scream, but Salvador wasn’t deterred. “Hey now, what’s all this fuss about?” Gently, he rocked her back and forth, speaking to her in both English and Spanish until she stopped crying.
“Daddy’s got the magic touch,” the nurse said, her admiration evident.
Salvador kissed the top of Lia’s head. “Well, it’s pretty easy to have a magic touch with such a beautiful baby.”
“She looks like you,” the nurse continued.
“You think so?” Salvador beamed, incredibly proud.
At that moment, all my plans to tell him the truth vanished. While I never wanted to be dishonest with my husband, I couldn’t hurt him. I wouldn’t hurt him. Finding out the truth would only cause further harm.
Full of shame, I turned over in the hospital bed and closed my eyes. The kind nurse placed a hand on my back. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Her compassion broke me. Pressing my lips together, I nodded. “Just tired.”
“Of course you are. Daddy and I will take care of the baby while you rest. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Hoping she was right, I closed my eyes, desperate for sleep to carry me far, far away.
* * *
The next fewdays after Lia was born were a blur of sleeping and feeding. When we came home from the hospital, Brandy met us at the door, shouting, “Baby, baby, baby.”
My father looked weary but happy to see us. The trial had been difficult for him, and it seemed that he’d lost even more weight. Nevertheless, Salvador insisted we all sit on the couch and take a picture. Had I known it’d be the last picture I’d have of my father, I might’ve forced myself to smile more.
Despite being aware of my father’s declining health, his peaceful passing in his sleep that night shocked all of us. How was it possible that I’d lost both my sister and father in less than a year?
A battle with Eddie for custody of Brandy ensued. For obvious reasons, he didn’t want Salvador and me to raise his daughter. Yet, he had no living relatives. If we weren’t granted custody, Brandy would be sent to foster care.