Enamored (15 page)

After supper, Diego and Matthew sprawled on the carpet in front of the television. Melissa’s eyes softened at the two of them, so alike, so dark and delightfully Latin, laughing and wrestling in front of the television. Diego was in his stocking feet, his shirt unbuttoned in front, his hair disheveled, his eyes laughing at his son. He looked up with the laughter still in his face and saw Melissa watching him. For an instant, something flared in his eyes and left them darkly disturbing. She flushed and looked away, and she heard him laugh. Then Matthew attacked him again and the spell was broken. But it left Melissa shaken and hungry. Diego was accepting Matt, and that should have satisfied her. But it didn’t. She wanted Diego to love her. When, she wondered bitterly, had she ever wanted anything else? But it seemed as impossible now as it had in the past. He wanted her, but perhaps he had nothing left to offer.

* * *

Diego was involved with work for the next few weeks. The atmosphere at the apartment was much less strained. Matt played with Diego, and the two of them were becoming inseparable. And Diego looked at Melissa with lazy indulgence and began to tease her gently now and again. But the tension between them was growing, and her nervousness with him didn’t help. She couldn’t understand his suddenly changed attitude toward Matt and herself. Because she couldn’t figure out the reason behind his turnaround, she didn’t trust it.

When the time came for her final checkup, Diego took time off from work to take her to the doctor.

She was pronounced cured and released from the doctor’s care. He told her to progress slowly with her rapidly healing leg but said she was fit to work again.

When she told Diego that and started hinting at wanting to get a job, he felt uneasy. She’d run away from him once, and he was no longer able to hide his growing affection for the boy. What if she knew that he suspected the truth? Would she take Matt and run again, fearing that Diego might be trying to steal him away from her? His blood ran cold at the prospect, but he wasn’t confident enough to put the question to her. He might force her hand if he wasn’t careful. The thing was, how was he going to keep her?

He worried the question all the way back to the apartment, reserved and remote as he pondered. He went back to work immediately after dropping her off at the apartment. He didn’t even speak as he went out the door. His withdrawal worried Melissa.

“You need some diversion, Mrs. Laremos,” Mrs. Albright chided as she fixed lunch for them. “Staying around this apartment all the time just isn’t healthy.”

“You know, I do believe you’re right,” Melissa agreed with a sigh. “I think I’ll call Joyce and take her out to lunch tomorrow. I might even get a job.”

“Your husband won’t like that, if you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am,” Mrs. Albright murmured as she shredded carrots for a salad.

“I’m afraid he won’t,” Melissa said. “But that isn’t going to stop me.”

She dropped a kiss on Matthew’s dark head as he sat engrossed in a children’s program on the educational network and went into Diego’s study to use the phone.

It was bad luck that she couldn’t remember the name of Apollo’s company. Diego surely had it written down somewhere. She didn’t like going into his desk, but this was important. She opened the middle drawer and found a black book of numbers. But underneath it was an open envelope that caught her attention.

With a quick glance toward the door and a pounding heart, she drew it out and looked at it. The return address was the Arizona Bureau of Vital Statistics. Her cold, nervous hands fumbled it open, and she drew out what she’d been afraid she’d find—a copy of Matthew’s birth certificate. Under father, Diego’s full name and address were neatly typed.

She sighed, fighting back tears. So he knew. But he hadn’t said anything. He’d questioned her and promised her that he wouldn’t come near her again until she told him the truth about Matthew. Why? Did it matter so much to his pride? Or was he just buying time to gain Matthew’s affection before he forced Melissa out of their lives? Perhaps despite what he’d said about Guatemala he meant to take Matthew there and leave Melissa behind. His lack of ardor since he and Matt had gone to the zoo, his lack of attention to her, made her more uncertain than ever. And today, his remoteness when the doctor had said she could work. Was he thinking about throwing her out now that she no longer needed his support?

She was frightened, and her first thought was to pack a case and get Matthew far away, as fast as possible. But that would be irrational. She had to stop and think. She had to be logical, not make a spur-of-the-moment decision that she might come to regret.

She put the birth certificate back into the envelope and replaced it carefully, facedown under the black book, and closed the drawer. She didn’t dare get a number out of it now because Diego would know that she’d been into his desk drawer.

Then she remembered that Mrs. Albright would surely have his number. She went into the kitchen and asked the woman.

“Oh, certainly, Mrs. Laremos,” she smiled. “It’s listed under Blain Security Consultants, Incorporated, in the telephone directory.” She eyed Melissa curiously. “Are you all right? You seem very pale.”

“I’m fine.” Melissa forced a smile. “It’s just a little hard to get around. The ligament is healed, but my leg is stiff. They wanted me to have physical therapy, but I settled for home exercises instead. I’m sure it will limber up once I start them.”

“My sister had a bad back, and the doctor put her on exercises,” Mrs. Albright remarked. “They helped a great deal. I’m sure you’ll do fine, ma’am.”

“Yes. So am I. Thank you.”

She went into the living room and looked up the number, dialing it with shaky hands.

Joyce’s musical voice answered after the second ring.

“Blain Security Consultants. How may we help you?”

“You can come out to lunch with me tomorrow and help me save my sanity,” Melissa said dryly. “It’s Melissa, Diego’s wife.”

“Yes, I recognized your voice, Melissa,” Joyce said with a laugh. “And I’d be delighted to go to lunch with you. Shall I pick you up at your apartment about 11:30? If my boss will let me—”

Apollo’s deep, angry voice sounded from a distance. “Since when do I deny you a lunch hour, Miss Latham? By all means, if that’s Melissa, you can take her to lunch. Stop making me out to be an ogre.”

“I’d never do such a thing, Mr. Blain,” Joyce assured him stiffly. “It would be an insult to the ogre.”

There was a muttered curse, and a door slammed. Joyce sighed and Melissa hid a giggle.

“See you tomorrow,” Joyce whispered. “I’d better get to work or I may wind up out the window on my head.”

“It sounds that way, yes. Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

That evening, Diego came home late. He was just in time to kiss Matthew good-night. Melissa, watching them from the doorway, saw the affection and pride in his dark face as he looked at his son. How long had he known? Perhaps he’d suspected it from the beginning. She sighed, thinking how transparent she’d always been to him. She was so green, how could he help but know that she couldn’t sleep with anyone except him? Probably he even knew how deeply she loved him. His cruelty in the past, his rejection, even his indifference, didn’t seem to affect her feelings. She wondered where she was going to get the strength to leave him. But if he was thinking about taking Matthew away from her, she wouldn’t have any choice. He’d never made any secret of his opinion about love. He didn’t believe in it. She had no reason to suspect that his feelings had changed over the years.

He loved Matthew, if he loved anyone. Melissa was a complication he didn’t really seem to want. When he stood up and moved to the door, Melissa hid her eyes from him. She didn’t want him to see the worry in them.

“Joyce said you’re taking her out to lunch tomorrow,” he remarked after she’d called another good-night to Matthew and closed his bedroom door.

“Yes. I thought I might try getting out of the apartment a little bit,” she said. “It’s…lonely here.”

He stopped at her bedroom door, his eyes dark and quiet. “It will not always be like this,” he said. “When time permits, now that you are able to get around, we will find some things that we can do as a family.”

She smiled wistfully. “You don’t need to feel obligated to include me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

She’d forgotten how clever he was. She averted her eyes. “Well, boys like to be with men sometimes without women along, don’t they?”

He eyed her curiously. He’d expected her to say more than that. He felt irritable at his own disappointment. What had he expected? She’d held out so long now that he didn’t really expect her to give in. He was giving way slowly to a black depression. He’d left her alone, hoping she’d come to him and tell him the truth, and she hadn’t. Suppose he’d misjudged her feelings? What if she didn’t care? What if she left him, now that she didn’t need him to take care of her?

He barely remembered that she’d asked him a question. “I suppose it is good for Matthew to spend some time with just me,” he answered her wearily. His face mirrored his fatigue. There were new, harsh lines on it. He studied her slowly for a moment before he turned away. “I have had a long day. If you don’t mind, Señora Laremos, I prefer sleep to conversation.”

“Of course. Good night,” she said, surprised by his tone as well as by the way he looked.

He nodded and went down the hall. She watched him, her eyes wistful and soft and full of regret. Love wasn’t the sweet thing the movies made of it, she thought bitterly. It was painful and long-suffering for all its sweetness. He wanted Matthew, but did he want her? She wondered what she was going to do.

She turned away and went into her own bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked thinner and older, and there were new lines in her face. Did Diego ever think about the past, she wondered, about the times the two of them had gone riding in the Guatemalan valleys and talked about a distant future? She thought of it often, of the way Diego had once been.

She opened her chest of drawers and pulled out the snapshot she’d taken of Diego the day before her father had found them in the hills. Her fingers touched the face lightly and she sighed. How long ago it all seemed, how futile. She’d loved him, and pain was the only true memory she had. If only, she thought, he’d loved her a little in return. But perhaps he really wasn’t capable of it. She tucked the photo away and closed the drawers. Dreams were no substitute for reality.

Chapter Eight

T
he restaurant that Joyce and Melissa went to was small and featured French cuisine. Melissa picked her way through a delicious chicken-and-broccoli crepe and a fresh melon while Joyce frowned over her elaborate beef dish.

“You’re very quiet for someone who wanted to talk,” Joyce remarked fifteen minutes into the exquisite meal, her dark eyes quietly scrutinizing Melissa’s face.

Melissa sighed. “I’ve got a problem.”

Joyce smiled. “Who hasn’t?”

“Yes. Well, mine is about to make me pack a bag and leave Chicago.”

Joyce put down her fork. “In that case, I’m all ears.”

Melissa picked up her coffee cup and sipped the sweet, dark liquid. “Matthew is Diego’s son,” she said. “The son I told him I lost before I ran away from him five years ago.”

“That’s a problem?” Joyce asked blankly.

“I didn’t think he knew. He didn’t seem to like Matt at first, but now they’re inseparable. I thought that maybe he was beginning to accept Matt even though he thought he was another man’s son. But yesterday I found a copy of Matthew’s birth certificate in his desk drawer.”

“If he knows, everything will be all right, won’t it?” Joyce asked her.

“That’s just it,” Melissa said miserably. “It was important to me that he’d believe Matt was his son, without proof, that he’d believe I could never have betrayed him. But now I’ll never be sure. And lately Diego acts as if he doesn’t want me around. I even think I know why. He knows that Matt is his, and he hates me for letting him think I lost his child.”

Joyce blinked. “Come again?”

“That’s really a long story.” Melissa smiled and stared into her coffee. “I thought I was justified at the time not to tell him or get in touch with him. The way he used to feel about me, I was sure he’d try to take Matt away.”

“Maybe he would have,” the other woman said gently. “You can’t blame yourself too much. You must have had good reasons.”

Melissa lifted tortured eyes. “Did I? Oh, there’s been fault on both sides, you know. But now that he knows Matt is his, he has to be thinking about all the time he’s missed with his son. He has to blame me for that, even though I had provocation. And now I’m afraid that he may be trying to win Matt away from me. He may take him away!”

“That is pure hysteria,” Joyce said firmly. “Get hold of yourself, girl! You can’t run away this time. You’ve got to stay and fight for your son. Come to think of it,” she added, “you might try fighting for your husband, as well. He married you. He had to care about you.”

Melissa grimaced as she fingered her cup. “Diego didn’t really want to marry me. We were found in a compromising situation, which he thought I planned, and he was forced to marry me. He and his family made me feel like a leper, and when I discovered that I was pregnant, I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing up my child in such an atmosphere of hatred. So I let him think I lost the baby and I ran away.”

“There’s no chance that he loves you?”

She smiled wistfully. “Diego was a mercenary for even longer than the rest of the group. He told me once that he didn’t believe in love, that it was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants me. But that’s all.”

Joyce studied her friend’s sad expression. “You and I are unlucky in love,” she said finally. “I work for a man who hates me and you live with a man who doesn’t love you.”

“You hate Apollo, too,” Melissa pointed out.

Joyce smiled, her eyes wistful. “Do I?”

“Oh.” Melissa put the cup down. “I see.”

“I give him the response he expects to keep him from seeing how I really feel. Look at me,” she moaned. “He’s a handsome, rich, successful man. Why would he want someone as plain and unattractive as I am? I wish I were as pretty as you are.”