Private Acts (17 page)

He stared at the back of her head and the neat ponytail of midnight-colored hair. “He wants you, not your son. I can take care of Aarón, protect him.”

“There is nothing to protect him from.”

“You don’t believe that. You know the truth, even if you refuse to accept it. He’s your son. Doesn’t he deserve better?”

She spun around, her eyes flashing angrily. “I can give him everything his heart desires. Look at all of this. Can you give him this, Miguel?”

“No, but I can give him love, and I can give him stability. I can give you the same, but what I have to offer is not good enough for you.”

He may not be as rich as this man, but he was wealthy in his own right. He could afford to live in more lavish surroundings, but he chose to live modestly because of how he’d grown up. He lived below his means, never wanting to be so desperate for money and status he’d do anything for it. Like his mother.

Patricia swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. He could see the struggle within her, and he knew the answer he wanted was soon forthcoming.

“You always had so much rage inside of you, so much anger at the world—always fighting.”

She had no idea it was all because of her, or she pretended not to. It was so hard to tell. Frustration at his situation and anger because of the things children said about her had fueled that rage, and he’d felt compelled to defend her honor, even though he understood what she did. She was still his mother.

“I know you think I became pregnant on purpose, but I didn’t. It’s true I expected more after his father died, but…I didn’t want Aarón at first. Then I thought it might be a way for me to do everything over, since I’d failed you. Maybe this time I could…I don’t know…redeem myself. Prove to you and everyone else I’m more than just a rich man’s whore.”

Her words triggered something in Miguel. Samirah. Had he treated her as such, ending the relationship even though he knew she had feelings for him and he for her? He accepted he had fallen in love with her, despite his best efforts to keep the relationship casual. Being in
Miami
under the current circumstances was bad enough, but missing Samirah made it one hundred times more difficult.

He’d been afraid he’d lose Samirah the same way he’d lost his mother all those years ago, but Samirah was nothing like her. Samirah had a kind and generous heart. She made everyone smile. She played with the neighborhood children and helped people with their English. Money, the single most important thing in his mother’s life—more important than her own children—didn’t matter to Samirah. She told him herself she would travel to other countries and stay until the money ran out.

What had he done?

He gripped the counter as a trembling shook his entire body. He’d sent her away and now he had no idea how to get in touch with her. He had to find her and tell her he’d made a terrible mistake.

“Miguel, are you listening to me?” He resurfaced into the present. “What’s wrong with you? You look pale. You’ve been acting strangely ever since you arrived.”

“Nothing. What did you say?”

Sadness crossed his mother’s features. “I said I won’t force Aarón to come with me to
Germany
. You can take him back to
Ecuador
with you.”

* * * *

Samirah walked into the kitchen to find her sister at the stove pouring coconut milk into a pot of
Caribbean
pelau, a dish their mother had taught them to make at a young age. It was Monday afternoon. After hearing her oldest nephew ask in the hallway outside the bedroom if Aunt Samirah was sick, she realized she was not being a good guest and should stop wallowing in self-pity by hiding out in the spare bedroom.

Rebekah looked up from stirring the pot. “Hi hon, how are you feeling?”

Samirah shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

Her sister covered the pot and smiled sympathetically at her. There were only three years between them, but Rebekah had always been so much more mature and responsible. Except when she eloped with Rafael Lopez at the age of eighteen. How she’d envied her sister her freedom and escape from being under their father’s strict rule. But then Rebekah had moved back home after her marriage fell apart, and almost ten years passed before she and Rafael reconciled.

 
“You know, I just realized you owe me,” Samirah said to lighten the mood.

“Oh, really?” Rebekah placed one hand on her hip, wider now because she was almost eight months pregnant with her fourth child. Outside, Samirah could see her brother-in-law, Rafael, her twelve-year-old nephew, and the two-year-old twins in the pool.

“Yep. Considering after you eloped, Dad turned into a prison warden who monitored my every move and made my life a living hell.”

She picked a piece of lettuce from the bowl of salad her sister had prepared and munched on it.

“Yeah, sorry about that. But you do realize if I’d never run off, you wouldn’t have had an incentive to leave home and see the world. You should be thanking me.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

Rebekah nodded and they both laughed.

“Have you decided to find out what you’re having yet?” Samirah asked. She was avoiding the inevitable conversation. “You look like you’re carrying twins again.”

Her sister had said she was tired of all the testosterone in the house and wanted a girl, but she refused to find out if she carried a girl or a boy.

“Thanks, but I’m not,” Rebekah said dryly. “I’m a little offended by your remark. I’m not that big.”

“Mhmm. You guys are going to need a bigger place soon. You’re already almost out of space with all these kids.”

“Why does everybody keep saying ‘all these kids’? I have three. Only three.”

“It seems like a lot, though. Maybe because they’re all boys and they’re always so loud. Huh. Yeah, you only have three.”

“Well, four, if you count their father,” Rebekah said.

A faint smile came to her lips as she watched her husband roar and jump into the water. The two youngest yelled and clapped excitedly, their little legs kicking frantically as they swam toward him with the floatation devices around their waists. Meanwhile, Ricardo, the oldest boy, came up from behind and jumped on his father’s back.

 
“I’m still hoping it’s a girl, but according to him—” She lowered her voice and affected a Spanish accent. “Lopez men only make boys.”

Samirah grinned at her sister’s imitation of her husband’s voice. “He might be right. There are a lot of men in his family.”

Rebekah heaved a sigh. “I know. But I’m not giving up hope.” She rubbed her belly and gave Samirah a questioning look. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

“Sure. You start. Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“I told you so.”

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so.” Her sister’s eyes filled with sympathy.

“Don’t. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. You should be chewing me out, considering we had a deal I wouldn’t get involved with anyone while in
Ecuador
. I was supposed to be taking a break and getting my head together. I need you to yell at me and make me feel bad.”

“What for? I’m sure you already feel bad enough as it is.”

Just then, Rafael entered the kitchen. He had a towel slung around his neck, which he’d obviously used to pat himself dry before coming into the house. “Samirah, you’re alive. I was beginning to doubt you were really here.”

“Don’t tease her, she’s not feeling well.”

“I’m fine. Don’t listen to her.”

Rafael shrugged, as if he didn’t understand the strange conversations of women. “How long before dinner’s ready?” he asked. He moved to stand beside Rebekah. He towered over her, a big, beefy man who didn’t seem to have lost much of the muscle he had packed on before he retired from professional wrestling years ago.

“Thirty-five to forty minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll get the boys out of the pool.” He bent his head to her belly. “Hello
mijo
, how are you doing? Dinner is soon served.”

“Rafe, stop, it’s a girl. Say
my daughter
.”

He chuckled, a very masculine laugh. “She’s so cute when she’s in denial, isn’t she?” he said to Samirah. “If it’s a boy, we’ll keep trying until you get your girl, okay,
mi amor
?” He dropped a light kiss on her mouth and then pinched her bottom.

“Rafe!”

He chuckled again on his way back out the door and called for the boys to get out of the pool.

“Make sure they dry off before coming inside,” Rebekah yelled after him. She took Samirah by the arm. “Come on, let’s go in the living room where we can talk. In a minute you’re about to hear something like the sound of stampeding buffalo running through the house.”

They sat on the sofa and Samirah told her sister the entire story, from the time she met Miguel to the day they said goodbye.

At one point, Rebekah interrupted her. “On top of a car in the middle of a parking lot outside of a fundraiser? Weren’t you worried you’d get caught?”

“It crossed my mind, but it wasn’t my biggest concern at the time.”

“Apparently not. Continue.”

At the end, Samirah heaved a heavy sigh. “Being with Miguel was the first time since I left Mom and Dad’s that I felt I had a home. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of fun traveling around the world, but with him, I got so comfortable. It felt good. It felt right.”

“I don’t think you could’ve done anything different, hon. You have to give it time.”

Samirah looked into her sister’s eyes. “Does the pain ever go away?”

Rebekah pursed her lips. “You know how it was after Rafe and I broke up. I have to be honest, it never goes away.” She took Samirah’s hand. “But it does get easier.”

“I wish he’d asked me to stay,” Samirah whispered brokenly. “I would have stayed, Bekah. If he’d asked me to.”

* * * *

Later in the evening, they were all in the media room watching a movie on the pull-down screen. The twins and Ricardo sprawled on the floor with bowls of popcorn. Rebekah sat curled into Rafael’s body on one end of the sofa, with his hand resting protectively on her stomach. Samirah sat on the other end of the sofa with her feet under her.

The phone rang and Rafael reached for it on the side table. Looking at the Caller I.D., he said, “It’s your brother.”

“Hey, Adam,” Samirah heard her sister say.

She returned her eyes to the screen. The movie was something about a family and talking zoo animals. She stifled a yawn.

“Adam, wait a minute, calm down. She’s right here.” Rebekah sat up from Rafael and her gaze met Samirah’s. “Wait, what did you say? Miguel?”

Samirah’s heart leapt in her chest. She crawled across the sofa and pressed her ear to the phone so she could hear.

“I don’t know who the hell this Miguel guy is,” Adam was saying, “but he insists he knows Sam. The clients she worked for in
Ecuador
gave him the name and address of my firm. He came into my offices and scared the hell out of my secretary while I was out to lunch, demanding to know Sam’s whereabouts. Then he came back again this afternoon, and we got into a shouting match. What did she do down there? She was supposed to be working.”

“She was working.”

Samirah took the phone. Her palms were so sweaty she thought it might slip from her fingers. “Adam, what exactly did he say?” she asked breathlessly.