Chapter 52: Chapter 52
Cavalier opened his eyes at 6:10 a.m. on Saturday with his right arm numb and the room in the west wing still dimly lit. Laura was still lying with her back to him, breathing evenly, her shoulder bare, revealing the five fingernail marks he’d left on her hip the night before.
He sat up slowly, picked up his pants from the floor, and got dressed without making a sound, while the test kit lay face down on the nightstand where he’d left it at 4:20.
He looked at it for three seconds, left it there, and walked out.
He went down to the study and dialed.
“Vargas.”
“Cavalier, it’s 6:30 on a Saturday—what’s going on?”
“I need you to come to the mansion at eleven—routine exam for Laura.”
“Routine with that kind of urgency?”
“Routine, but with that kind of urgency.”
—Is there anything in particular I should look for?
“Complete blood count, hormone panel, and beta hCG among the markers.”
There was a three-second pause on the other end of the line—one of those pauses an old man makes when he understands without needing an explanation.
—Cavalier.
—Vargas.
“Does your wife know I’m coming?”
“No, I’ll let her know when you’re on your way.”
“And does she know what you suspect?”
—Vargas, come at eleven, and I’ll tell you the rest when you’re here.
He hung up.
At 9:30, there was a knock on the door of the room in the west wing; it was Gloria with a breakfast tray loaded with coffee, eggs, toast, and a pitcher of juice.
Laura opened the door in her robe, her hair hastily pulled back, fresh dark circles under her eyes, and the bite mark on her lower lip still visible.
—Gloria.
“Sweetheart.”
“Did my husband send you?”
“No, Mrs. Marcela.”
“Okay, send him in.”
—Would you like something to eat?
—I’ll be fine, Gloria, don’t worry.
—Mrs. Marcela asked me to tell you she’s downstairs if you need her.
“Tell her I’ll come down later.”
Gloria set the tray on the nightstand and left.
Laura closed the door, locked it, and walked over to the tray. She took three bites that tasted like cardboard, drank half a glass of juice, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the pregnancy test box, which was still face down on the nightstand.
She turned it over, looked at it for five seconds, and spoke softly to the empty room.
“Mommy, I’m not going to take it now. Today I’m with your toxic son-in-law, and if I tell you I’m pregnant today, it wouldn’t be fair to this baby. I’ll take the test next week, don’t worry.”
She turned it face down again, got back into bed, and closed her eyes.
At ten to eleven, Cavalier went up to the room in the west wing and knocked twice.
“Laura.”
—Cavalier.
—Vargas is downstairs.
Three seconds on the other end.
—Vargas?
—Yes.
—What for?
—Routine exam. I asked you about it last Tuesday for this week, but I forgot to let you know yesterday with everything that happened.
—I don’t remember anything about last Tuesday.
—I told you about it at dinner on Wednesday—don’t you remember?
—Okay.
She opened the door with her robe buttoned all the way up to her neck, her hair still pulled back, and the face of a woman who hadn’t slept more than four hours but had spent them on top of a sex she hadn’t yet decided how to name.
“Should I go down like this?”
“Just go down however you’re comfortable—it’s just an arm, Vargas, some blood, and twenty minutes.”
“Give me five minutes.”
She closed the door.
Vargas was waiting for her in the office the mansion had on the ground floor at the end of the hallway in the east wing—a small office with an exam table, a desk, and a portable ultrasound machine.
When Laura walked in, Vargas smiled at her from his chair.
“Mendoza.”
“Vargas.”
“Left arm, five minutes.”
“Okay.”
He drew her blood and got the needle in on the first try, as always; he secured the cotton swab with tape and asked her to wait twenty minutes for the results from the portable lab, since the new device processed the basic tests in fifteen.
Laura remained seated on the exam table with her gown over her comfortable pants, playing with the cotton swab, while Cavalier stood motionless by the window.
Twenty minutes passed, then thirty, and at thirty-five, Vargas looked at the device’s screen, furrowed his brow, looked at it again, and then glanced at Cavalier over his glasses.
He stood up, walked over to Laura, and smiled at her.
“Mendoza.”
“Vargas.”
“Congratulations.”
Three seconds.
“What?”
—Positive beta hCG, four weeks according to the curve; we’ll confirm it with an ultrasound in fifteen days, but it’s there. Congratulations to both of you.
Vargas smiled at him and turned to Cavalier.
“Congratulations, Cavalier.”
Cavalier nodded once.
Vargas patted him on the shoulder and turned back to Laura.
—All right, Mendoza, I’ll let you rest. I’ve left the ultrasound order and some vitamins on the nightstand, and I’ll stop by tomorrow to check that everything’s going well. If you have any bleeding, dizziness, abdominal pain, or anything else, call me right away.
“Okay.”
“And no double shifts this week, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Congratulations, really.”
Vargas picked up his briefcase and left.
Laura remained seated on the examination table with the cotton pressed against the crook of her elbow and a blank expression on her face, while Cavalier stood by the window, not moving an inch.
Ten seconds, twenty.
Laura stepped down from the examination table, took two steps, and stood in front of him, looking up at him with her jaw clenched and both hands clenched at her sides.
“Cavalier.”
“Yes.”
“You already knew.”
“No, Laura, I suspected it.”
“Since when?”
—Since 4:20 a.m. today, when I saw the test kit on the nightstand in the west wing.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
—No.
“Why not?”
—Because I didn’t know if it was true, and because I didn’t want you to find out with me in the room at 4:30 in the morning after what happened.
—And then you ordered a routine test without telling me.
—Yes.
—And then you found out officially before I did.
—Yes, Laura.
—You jerk.
—I know.
—You bastard, Cavalier, again. Don’t call me Laura. Again. First it was the contract, then the balcony incident, and now this—three times you found out about something that was mine before I did, three fucking times.
—Laura.
—The next time you decide to find out something about me before I do, you’d better not tell me—you’d better keep it to yourself forever—because every time I find out you knew, it hurts more than the thing itself.
—I know.
“Don’t tell me you know—you know, and yet you keep doing it. That’s the difference between knowing and understanding.”
Cavalier didn’t answer her.
Laura walked to the office door and opened it, and standing in the doorway, in the hallway of the east wing, was Marcela, her face pale, her right hand resting on the doorframe, and her eyes closed.
“Marcela.”
Marcela opened her eyes.
“My love.”
“Were you listening?”
“I was walking down the hallway and heard Vargas offering his congratulations.”
A pause.
“Honey, is it true?”
“It’s true, Marcela.”
Marcela brought both hands to her mouth; tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“My grandson, Laura, my grandson.”
And without waiting for an answer, she hugged her as if the baby were already out, kissed her forehead, stroked her hair, and touched her belly over her robe without asking permission.
Laura didn’t pull her hand away.
Over Marcela’s shoulder, her eyes sought out Cavalier, who was still standing by the office window, watching her.
“Cavalier.”
—Yes.
—One more thing.
“Go ahead.”
“Tonight you’ll sleep in the suite, and I’ll sleep in the west wing, until I decide otherwise.”
—Okay.
—And don’t spoil your mom’s fun.
—I won’t.
Marcela let go of her, cupped her face with both hands, and smiled at her through her tears.
“Honey, we have to let Manuel know.”
“You tell him; I’m going upstairs to bed.”
“Okay.”
She went up to the west wing, closed the door, locked it, and sat on the edge of the bed, placing both hands on her belly.
For the first time since 9:42 a.m. the previous day, she spoke aloud to the baby.
“Baby, I want you to know something: your dad’s a jerk, but he loves you, and so do I, and the two of us together are going to learn not to mess up your life—but that’s going to take time. In the meantime, you’ll have to hang in there, and so will Mom.”
She closed her eyes.
And at 11:40 a.m. on Saturday, in a room in the west wing of a Cavalier mansion, a woman four weeks pregnant decided that her bastard of a husband was going to sleep alone until she figured out how to forgive him for finding out about their daughter before she did.