Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

“Huh? Marido?”

“Her husband.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “I see. He fell in love with her sister instead, and she blames your mother?”

“Sí.”

“So she hated her sister and, by proxy, you.”

“I do not understand this word proxy.”

“She couldn’t take revenge on your mother. Your mother was already dead. She’s taking her revenge on you. That’s good old Mom. Now this makes sense to me.”

He laughed. His laugh actually frightened me.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he continued, now moving toward the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

He paused at the door, fumbling for the knob. I started toward him to help him, but he found it and turned back to me. He reached out.

“Delia.”

“Sí,” I said, and I took his hand. He held it firmly and smiled.

“I am happy I did not make a mistake fighting for you, Delia. Thank you for having the courage to tell me the truth.”

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it, and then he opened the door and left me standing there, not sure if I should be happy or even more terrified. It would not be much longer before I would learn which one I should be.

In the morning, Sophia went off eagerly to school. Before she left, she caught me in the hallway and told me how exciting it was going to be for her. I thought I was making a mistake with the English.

“Exciting?” I shook my head.

“Yes, stupido. Everyone is going to want to know what happened. All of a sudden, everyone is going to want to be my best friend. Alisha and I have already discussed how we are going to behave and what we will say and won’t say. Too bad you don’t go to my school. You’d be número uno.”

I didn’t know what to say. Why would I be número uno? I just looked at her in confusion, and she laughed and went sauntering off. A little while later, I saw Tía Isabela taking Edward to see the doctor and have his bandages removed. She didn’t look angry, and she didn’t speak to me at all. I went about my work. I could see Señora Rosario and Inez were still upset about me. They were not as friendly and kept their distance all morning. When the mail was brought into the house, I hurried to see if I had received another letter from Abuela Anabela, but there was none. I had hoped for one. Even a short note in her handwriting would have brought me some comfort.

Later in the afternoon, Edward and Tía Isabela returned. I was dusting in the library. Señora Rosario told me to take out every single book, to dust it and dust around it. There were so many books I would be there for hours, I thought, but I did not complain. I heard Señora Rosario greet Tía Isabela and Edward at the front door. They spoke too softly for me to hear any words. My heart was pounding because I was worrying about Edward’s eyes. What if they were both too damaged? No matter how much he believed in me or cared about me, he wouldn’t be able to help hating me. If I hadn’t come…

The sound of Tía Isabela’s footsteps on the travertine tile stopped my thoughts and brought a trembling to my fingers. I dropped the book I was dusting. When I looked up, she was standing there looking in on me. She turned and closed the library doors. For a moment, she just stood there gazing at me with the oddest smile on her face. It was not one of her cold, sharp smiles that sent shivers down my spine. She looked as if I had done something that pleased her. It reminded me of the rare smile Señora Cuevas would flash on me or any other student who had done something that delighted her. I waited, my own smile of confusion rising into my face.

“How are Edward’s eyes?” I asked. There was no time to struggle with English, and she and I had been speaking Spanish to each other off and on now.

“It’s what the doctor predicted,” she told me. “One eye is about ninety-five percent restored, but the other is too damaged. I’m sure he’ll tell you about it in more detail during one of your very private tête-à-têtes.”

“Our what?”

“Your secret talks,” she said, still holding that smile. She peeled off her hat and undid her hair, shaking her head to let it fall freely. Then she sat on the settee and folded her hands in her lap. “I should have known not to trust you,” she said. “I should have expected it, but you are good. You did such a convincing performance when you first arrived.”

“I do not understand. What performance?”

“Your little show of innocence, of weakness. I should have picked up on you when you flashed that defiance that first day, but you quickly slipped back behind that mask, far enough behind so that I would trust you, eh?”

I shook my head. “I do not understand, Tía Isabela. What mask?”

“It’s okay. I have no one to blame but myself. I should have remembered one of my father’s sayings: ‘La confianza también mata.’ Trust also kills, right, Delia? I haven’t believed in anyone but myself since I left Mexico, and then I go and believe in you, the one person I should have distrusted from the beginning.”

“I have done nothing, Tía Isabela.”