He’s sketched the photo, but he’s changed just one thing. He’s smudged out half of his face. I touch the shadow there, smear the pencil, and something catches in my throat. What must it be like for him? What must it have been to survive the fire only to find yourself not yourself? To feel you're better served to wear a skull for a face.
I take a deep breath in and force my gaze away from his. The other boy must be Leandro, his brother. I wonder if they were close. Strange that we’ve been married for three months, and there’s still so much I don’t know about my husband.
I take a breath in and close the book. It’s late, and I need to get some sleep, but I want to ask him about the book, so I take it with me up to his bedroom, not mine, and I lie down in his bed and put the book on the pillow beside me. I want him to know I’m not hiding it. And when I close my eyes, I sleep.
* * *
“Ivy,” a voice calls. Someone gives me a shake.
I groan, rolling away.
“Ivy, dear, Mrs. Van Der Smit will be expecting you soon. It’s almost two o’clock.”
I blink, rub my eyes and turn to find Antonia standing over me. “What?” I look over at the other side of the bed. It’s empty. The book right where I left it.
He never came home.
“The driver will take you to Mrs. Van Der Smit’s house in less than half an hour.”
“Oh.” I sit up and run a hand through my hair. “Where’s Santiago?”
“He called earlier to ask me to arrange a driver for you.”
“He didn’t come home?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I’m sorry, dear.” She looks at her watch. “Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll make the bed up.”
“Um, okay. Do you think I could call him?”
“He said he’d be offline for the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’ll ask him to talk to you if he calls in again, all right?”
I nod and push the blanket off to get ready to go. At least he remembered to arrange for me to go to Colette. But where is he?
* * *
At Antonia’s insistence, I eat a quick piece of toast in the kitchen once I’m dressed before a driver I don’t know takes me to Colette’s house. It’s a beautiful, cold but sunny day, and I’m grateful to be out of the house. And visiting a friend feels like a normal thing to do.
When we pull up to the beautiful mansion in the Garden District, the front door opens, and Colette comes outside, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders and waving happily. It puts a smile on my own face to see her. To feel so welcome.
“Ivy!” she calls out when I step out of the car, and we hug halfway up the path to her porch. “I’m so glad you came!”
“Me too. It’s good to see you.” She draws back, and I look down at the huge belly between us. “How is it going?”
“Still pregnant.” She turns, takes my hand, and we walk back toward the house like we’ve known each other forever. “I’m a few days late. This little guy doesn’t want to leave. I’m evicting him if he’s not out by Saturday,” she says, rubbing her belly affectionately.
I raise my eyebrows.
“They’ll induce if I don’t go into labor naturally by then.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine either way.”
“Yes, it will. I just wish he’d come already. I’m anxious to meet him.”
“Do you have a name picked out?”
She smiles. “Well, Jackson thinks we’ll name him Jackson of course.” She rolls her eyes.
“Of course.”
“But I have my heart set on Benjamin. That’s my grandpa. Or was. He’s gone now, and he was always so wonderful to me,” she says, her face falling a little. “It will be a remembrance.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone.”
“It’s okay. It’s been five years, and he had a good long life.”’
“Well, I say since you do most of the work, you get to pick the name.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling Jackson,” she says as we enter a casual sitting room. “I hope you don’t mind if we sit in here. Jackson’s got someone in his office, and I don’t want to see him if I can help it.”
“No, this is great. And your house is so beautiful.” I go to the window and look out over the vast garden. It’s a very different house than Manor De La Rosa. Much more lived in, more colorful.
“It’s my favorite one.”
“Favorite?”
“Jackson’s family has several, but they’re a little too stiff for my taste.”
“His family or the houses?”
She laughs. “You caught that.” The door opens then, and a woman walks in carrying a tray of tea, coffee, and cookies. “Thanks, Lindy,” Colette says with a warm smile.