CHAPTER EIGHT
VERÓNICA RAMSEY
“Honey, the baby is crying.” Moses, my husband, nudged me in the back and rolled over.
I was beyond tired and a tad bit irritated with him because he didn’t get up himself and give me a break. “Aw, come on. Can’t you get him? I just got in bed.”
“Verónica, you know I have to go to work in the morning.”
I threw back the covers and searched in the dark for my slippers as LM’s wails got louder. I felt insulted. I knew he had to work, but staying home taking care of a newborn was work too, and Moses was going to have to recognize it. “Taking care of our child is also a job, and it doesn’t end at five o’clock.” I stuffed my feet in my slippers. “I’m coming, boo,” I mumbled, fighting through the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. I didn’t want resentment to build inside of me, so I knew I would have to tell Moses how I felt.
To be honest, I was surprised by the way Moses was acting, since he was so supportive in the beginning. I didn’t know if it was the postpartum depression or the loss of my brother and first husband that was making me feel this way. I felt like Moses was taking me for granted.
“Mommy’s coming, sweetie.” I peeked in the nursery to assure myself LM was crying from hunger. His little arms and legs were flailing around as his whimpers became roars.
I wanted to keep the baby in our bedroom with us until he got a little older, but Moses felt it would lead to LM sleeping in our bed instead of his own. I totally disagreed with Moses, but not enough to pick a fight about it. If there was one thing that I’d learned from my previous marriage, it was to choose my battles.
I retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and placed it in the microwave for twenty seconds to knock the chill off. Part of me was glad LM was making so much noise because that meant Moses wouldn’t be able to get a lick of sleep until I returned with the bottle.
“Verónica, are you getting a bottle?” Moses called down the stairs.
I wanted to say something really stupid to him but I held my lips together, choking back the sarcasm. Instead, I ignored him and his stupid-ass question.
I put LM back in his crib and headed back to our room. I was still a little heated about being the one who had to get up all the time to tend to the baby, but I wasn’t as angry as I’d been half an hour earlier. How could I be mad when I saw the way my son’s eyes danced when he saw me? Like most men, he was only focused on one thing—my boobs. He fought me tooth and nail when I stopped giving him the boob and traded it for a bottle. I couldn’t take the constant tugging on my nipple so I opted to pump my breast instead. “He got it honest.” I chuckled, but my good mood soured almost immediately.
Mike, my first husband and LM’s real dad, was killed a few days before he was born. My Uncle Monte ordered Mike’s murder when he found out that I was pregnant. If Monte had his way, LM and I would be dead. A cold chill traveled down my back. I hurried up and got into the bed. Part of me wanted to snuggle against my husband, but the other part of me was still upset with him. Moses patted me on the leg as I burrowed into the sheet.
“Everything all right?”
He was snoring seconds after he asked without waiting for a response.
I moved away from his touch, but I doubted if he even noticed. I allowed my thoughts to wonder if things would have been different if Mike were alive. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him. I wanted more fire and passion, and it was probably my desire for more that got him killed. I started crying, something I found myself doing at least five times a day, and I was unable to stop. Perhaps I would have felt differently if I had had a chance to mourn Mike’s death before I married Moses, but it was too late to change any of that now. I knew I was suffering from postpartum depression but who had time for that with all the other things going on?
I felt like the only person in my life who hadn’t lied to me was my son. As I drifted off to sleep a tiny voice resonated in my mind. “Trust no one,” the voice said. It wasn’t the voice that sent off warning bells in my head, it was the words themselves that caused a galactic blast to flow through my veins. The voice was androgynous, neither male nor female, but it still sounded vaguely familiar. I struggled to keep my eyes open so I could ponder on the identity of the voice, but I fought a losing battle. I was just too tired to think anymore.
CHAPTER NINE
VERÓNICA RAMSEY
I secured LM in the middle of my bed and tickled him. “Hey, sweetie, things are going to be okay. Momma is just going through a rough time.”
He smiled at me. The only thing that I didn’t regret over the last six weeks was the birth of my son. He was the love of my life, and I vowed to do everything in my power to protect him—unlike how my parents had protected us. Even after everything went down, I wanted to believe that they loved us in their own way. But it wasn’t enough.
LM was changing before my eyes. Initially, he looked like my first husband, Mike, but over the last month he started to look more like me. And, surprisingly enough, he was starting to look like my current husband, Moses. I pulled my baby closer to me. I didn’t have much left in the world I’d die for. However, I was getting pretty tired of Moses’ lackadaisical attitude toward us. He went through what I could only describe as phases: one minute he loved us and the next he acted as if he hated us.
I was bothered by the fact that my husband showed little to no interest in my son and seemed to be obsessed with finding the money and bonds Tilo had stolen from my family. I couldn’t care less about the money, but Moses was determined to find Tilo and expose her. He was convinced that she was still alive, but I wasn’t so sure because God doesn’t like ugly and what she did to my family was straight-up ugly. Plus, investigators said that based on the amount of blood found in her car it meant she was more than likely dead. I thought she got what was coming to her, but I couldn’t convince Moses of this. It just wasn’t that important to me, and it was causing a rift in our relationship. If he showed one-tenth of the energy he spent on finding Tilo on us, I was certain we would have a great marriage. Getting him to shift his focus was the hard part.
“Are you awake?” My father came into my bedroom and I cringed.
My father knew nothing of boundaries. My bedroom door was closed so he should have knocked before he entered. I could have been doing anything before he barged in.
“I’m awake, but the next time you see my door closed, please knock. I may have been getting undressed.”
His skin turned crimson red. I wasn’t trying to embarrass him, but I was no longer a child living in his home. The situation was reversed, and he had to learn to respect it.
“I’m sorry. I have much to learn.” Padre hung his head.
I felt ashamed for lashing out at him when it was really Moses whom I was mad at. I could only imagine how different our country was from his. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, Padre, but if I didn’t correct you, you might walk in on something you don’t want to see.”
He gave me a blank look like he had no clue what I could be referring to.
“Padre, I’m married now.”
He turned red but I knew he finally understood.
“I may have ridden the short bus, but there is nothing wrong with what’s up here.” He pointed to the top of his head.
I almost choked. Did my father just make a joke? My father kept a straight face; it only made me want to laugh even more. I held it as long as I could until we burst out laughing.
He said, “It’s good you laugh. It’s not good to have so much tension in your life.”
No truer words were ever spoken. Things were so hectic at the house. I was dealing with a new husband and a father who had been absent most of my adult life. I’d spent several months with an evil imposter who claimed to be my father and I almost died as a result. Now, my real father was back in the picture, and I was having a difficult time learning to trust again. “Come on in, Padre.” I patted the bed to let him know it was okay to join me. We didn’t have any other seating in the master bedroom. The furnishings in Moses’ house were sparse, and I hadn’t had the time or the energy to change this house to a home.
“How’s my grandbaby?”
“This little fella makes sure I’m up every two hours.”
“Do you want me to take him so you can get some rest?”
I could tell by the moisture gathering in his eyes that he really wanted to tend to his grandson, but he still had some explaining to do about the past before I could let him hold the future. “No, that’s okay. With my luck, by the time I fall asleep you would be bringing him back with his greedy ass. I’m good. I’m about to get up anyway. I want to go to the hospital to visit Victória.”
“I spoke to the doctors today and she is doing good. They called to say she is finally awake.”
I jumped up, practically flipping LM off the bed in the process. “Are you serious? That’s great news. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” My voice rose, and I was mad at my father all over again.
He stood up off the bed. “That is what I came up here to tell you.”
I immediately felt stupid for jumping to conclusions. “I’m sorry, Padre, for barking at you. I’ve been so worried about Victória, I was beginning to believe she would never wake up.” I had thought this many times, but this was the first time I’d said it out loud. I turned LM on his stomach so I could get dressed. I wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible.
“Padre, can you give me a moment so I can get dressed?”
“Of course.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.
I threw back the covers and slipped my gown over my head. I wanted to shower but I also needed to get to the hospital. I picked up the phone to call Ramón and stopped cold. I still couldn’t believe he was gone.
I walked over to the closet to try to find something to wear, but nothing in the closet would fit my petite frame. I’d lost all my pregnancy weight but because I hadn’t really been out of the house since coming home from the hospital, I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking my regular clothes.
“Shit.” I put my nightgown back on and went to the top of the steps and called to my father.
“Yes?” He stood at the bottom of the steps. He looked so uncomfortable, I felt sorry for him.
“I need to run to the basement to see if I can find something to wear. Could you come upstairs and watch the baby? He can’t fall off the bed, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
He quickly climbed the stairs with a big grin on his face. I patted his shoulder as we passed on the stairs.
LM was not on the bed when I returned to my room with several pairs of jeans and tops to match. My father was also missing and I began to panic. My heart started beating real fast; I found myself gasping for breath. I’d asked him to watch over the baby. I didn’t give him permission to move him. I threw the jeans on my bed and stormed off down the hall to the room that he was occupying. I stopped short at his door when I saw him cradling my son and whispering into his tiny ear. My heart swelled; I could not stop the tears from flowing down my face. I hadn’t given my father any credit. I’d forgotten that he used to hold me in the same manner. I silently turned and went to my room to get dressed.
I needed to get to my sister and let her know I was alive and that our father had finally come home. I wasn’t sure how I was going to break the news about Ramón. I would just have to cross that bridge when I got to it.
CHAPTER TEN
TILO ADAMS
“Do you like it?” The hairdresser swiveled my chair around.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My new hair came down well past my shoulders, and it was very full at the top. It actually looked good. I hardly recognized myself. “Excellent! You did a great job.” I got out of the chair and moved in closer to the mirror.
She handed me a small mirror so I could exam my entire head. I wanted to make sure no tracks were showing. I wasn’t about to walk around looking like a damn fool. “Shit, my own mother wouldn’t recognize me.”
If she thought it was something strange to say, she didn’t say it. I had to be careful unless I wanted to pick up another body at the hairdresser’s.
“That’s what a weave does, creates a new persona and allows some people to be who they weren’t at birth.”
“Whoa, that’s how you feel about it?” I was surprised that she would be so blunt with her description. But when I thought about it, she was absolutely correct. Weaves did allow people to be what they weren’t. If you were bald, it allowed you to have hair. If your shit was thick and coarse, you could buy some slick and silky curls.
She said, “I’m glad you like it.”
The weave was tight, and I was glad I’d taken the time to get it done. “Keep the change.” I handed her $200. I was feeling extra good and sexy. I even felt like putting on makeup, something I hadn’t done in years. I would indulge in that on the way to the airport in the morning.