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"I will see the nurse on my way out. I must get more clothes for Matthew."
She felt drained. "I'd forgotten. My apartment. There are clothes in the tall chest of drawers for him."
"The key?" he asked.
"In my purse." She didn't really want Diego in her apartment. There were no visible traces of
anything, but he might find something she'd overlooked. But what choice did she have? Matthew had
to be her first consideration.
He brought it to her, took the key she extended, then replaced the pitiful vinyl purse in her locker. The
sight of her clothing was equally depressing. She had nothing. His dark eyes closed. It hurt to see her
so destitute when she was entitled to his own wealth. Diego knew that Melissa's father had gone
bankrupt just before his death.
The apartment she shared with Matthew was as dismal as the clothing he'd seen in her locker at the
hospital. The landlady had eyed him with suspicion and curiosity until he'd produced his checkbook
and asked how much his wife owed her. That had shaken the woman considerably, and there had been
no more questions or snide remarks from her.
Diego searched through the apartment until he found a small vinyl bag, which he packed with enough
clothing to get Matthew through the next few days. But he knew already that he was going to have to
do some shopping.
The child's few things looked as if they'd been obtained at rummage sales. Probably they had, he
thought bitterly, because Melissa had so little. His fault. Even that was his fault.
He looked in another chest of drawers for more gowns and underthings for Melissa, and stopped as
he lifted a gown and found a small photograph tucked there. He took it out carefully. It was one that
Melissa had taken of him years before. He'd been astride one of his stallions, wearing a panama hat
and dark trousers with a white shirt unbuttoned over his bronzed chest with its faint feathering of
black hair. He'd been smiling at her as he'd leaned over the neck of the horse to stroke its waving
mane. On the back of it was written: Diego, Near Atitlan. There was no date, but the photo was worn
and wrinkled, as if she'd carried it with her for a long time. And he remembered to the day when she'd
taken it the day before they'd taken refuge in the Mayan ruins.
He slowly put it back under the gown and found something else. A small book in which were tucked
flowers and bits of paper and a thin silver bookmark. He recognized some of the mementos. The
flowers he'd given her from time to time or picked for her when they'd walked across the fields
together. The bits of paper were from things he'd scribbled for her, Spanish words that she'd been
trying to master. The bookmark was one he'd given her for her eighteenth birthday. He frowned. Why
should she have kept them all these years?
He put them back, folded the gown gently over them and left the drawer as he'd found it, forcing
himself not to consider the implications of those revealing mementos.
After all, she might have kept them to remind her more of his cruelty than of any feeling she had had
for him.
He went shopping the next morning. He knew Melissa's size, but he'd had to call Mrs. Grady to ask for
Matthew's.
It disturbed him to buy clothes for another man's child, but he found himself in the toy department
afterward.
Before he could talk himself out of it he'd filled a bag with playthings for the child, chiding himself
mentally for doing something so ridiculous.
But Matthew's face when he put the packages on the sofa in Mrs. Grady's apartment was a revelation.
Diego smiled helplessly at the child's unbridled delight as he took out building blocks and electronic
games and a small remote-controlled robot.
"He's had so little, poor thing," Mrs. Grady sighed, smiling as she watched the boy go feverishly from
one toy to another, finally settling down with a small com-puterized teddy bear that talked. "Not
Melly's fault, of course. Money was tight. But it's nice to see him with a few new things."
"Si" Diego watched the little boy and felt a sudden icy blast of regret for the child he'd caused Melissa
to lose.
He remembered with painful clarity what he'd said to her the night she'd run out into the rain and
pitched down the steps in the wet darkness. Dios, would he never forget?
He turned away. "I must go. Melissa needed some new gowns. I am taking them to the hospital for
her."
"How is she?"
"Much better, gracias. The doctor says I may take her home in a few more days." He looked down at
the heavyset woman. "Matthew will be going with us to Chicago. I know he will miss you, and Melissa
and I are grateful for the care you have taken of him."
"It was my pleasure," she assured him.
"Thank you for my toys, mister," Matthew said, suddenly underfoot. His big dark eyes were happy. He
lifted his arms to Diego to be picked up; he was used to easy affection from the adults around him.
But the tall man went rigid and looked unapproachable. Matthew stepped back, the happiness in his
eyes fading to wary uncertainty.
He shifted and ran back to his toys without trying again.
Diego hated the emotions sifting through his pride, the strongest of which was self-contempt. How
could he treat a child so coldly it wasn't Matthew's fault, after all. But years of conditioning had
made it impossible for him to bend. He turned to the door, avoiding Mrs. Grady's disapproving
glance, made his goodbyes and left quickly.
Back at the hospital, while Diego went to get himself a cup of coffee, Melissa had a nurse help her
into one of the three pastel gowns Diego had brought. She was delighted with the pink one. It had a
low bodice and plenty of lace, and she thought how happy it would have made her years ago to have
Diego buy her anything. But he'd done this out of pity, she knew, not out of love.
She thanked him when he came back. "You shouldn't have spent so much..." She faltered, because she
knew the gowns were silk, not a cheap fabric.
He only shrugged. "You will be wearing gowns for a time," he said, as if that explained his generous
impulse.
He sat down in the armchair in the corner with a Styrofoam cup of coffee, which he proceeded to sip.
"I bought a few things for your son," he added reluctantly.
He crossed his long legs. "And a toy or so." He caught the look in her eyes. "He went from one to the
other like a bee in search of the best nectar," he mused with stiff amusement.
Melissa almost cried. She'd wanted to give the child so many things, but there hadn't been any money
for luxuries.
"Thank you for doing that for him," Melissa said quietly.
"I didn't expect that you'd do anything for him under the circumstances, much less buy him expensive
toys." Her eyes fell from his cold gaze. "I haven't been able to give him very much. There's never
been any money for toys."
She was propped up in bed now, and her hair had been washed. It was a pale blonde, curling softly
toward her face, onto her flushed cheeks. She was lovely, he thought, watching her. There was a new
maturity about her, and the curves he remembered were much more womanly now. His eyes dropped
to the low bodice of the new gown he'd bought her, and they narrowed on the visible swell of her pink
breasts.
She colored more and started to pull up the sheet, but his lean, dark hand prevented her.
"There is no need for that, Melissa," he said quietly. "You certainly do not expect me to make
suggestive remarks to you under the circumstances?"
She shifted. "No. Of course not." She sighed. "I didn't expect you to buy me new gowns," she said,
hoping to divert him. She didn't like the way it affected her when he looked at her that way. "Couldn't
you find mine?" And as she asked the question, she remembered suddenly and with anguish what she'd
hidden under those gowns. Had he seen He turned away so that she couldn't see his expression.
"One glance in the drawer was enough to convince me that they were unsuitable, without disturbing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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