The Love of a Latino (15 page)

The first word that popped
into his head was “run.” He got the worst feeling that this visit had to do
with the baby she was cuddling in her arms and him being the father. The second
thing that surface was Dahlia. If this was heading in the direction he thought,
it would crush his wife—that, he would spare her at all cost.

But it hadn’t gone at all
like that. Sarafina was not the same immature woman she was a couple months
ago. It seemed as if motherhood had forced her to grow up. She was back to
stay. Maxwell had run off with some girl and he didn’t want anything to do with
her or the baby. Rafe’s heart went out to her as she described the physical and
verbal abuse she faced at Maxwell Remington’s hand. As he listened, Rafe made a
mental note to break Remington’s legs if he ever saw him again.

What Sarafina needed, was
support. She was too scared and embarrassed to face her family after the way
she behaved. Rafe could do that. He could support her by going with her to
confront her parents. Even though things didn’t end well between them she was
still a friend. If for some reason she could not mend fences with her family he
would help her with her son. He knew Dahlia would understand. His wife was the
most loving and humble person he knew.

Now, more than two hours
after, he sat here in his large executive office overlooking the city of New
York. The glass windows allowed him exclusive views of the Hudson River. This
is something Dahlia would love to see.

Everything was right in the
world. Sarafina was back home with her parents, Dahlia loved him, and he was
going to be a father in less than three months. Glimpsing at the Black Caviar
Bang watch that adorned his right wrist he realized that is was going to be past
two and he had not heard from his wife for the day. Retrieving his new smart
phone from his jacket he hit one and then the call button. Those two must be
stalking every baby shop in the city. It seemed that is all they ever did since
Natasha flew in six days ago. By the time they got in at night Dahlia was exhausted
and even though worried about the baby, she was happy. That was all that
mattered. He knew she would never do anything to harm their baby.

The phone took forever to
respond and when it did, it went straight to voicemail. Cutting the call, he
tried again. This time there was no delay, it went straight to voicemail. After
several attempts with the same results, Rafe began to worry. One thing Dahlia
never did was let her phone battery go dead. That was the one rule they had. He
must be able to always be in contact with her and her with him. Just for good
measure he had also gotten her one of those solar charges that powered up with
light. It never left her bag.
Something was wrong!
Scrolling through his
phone, he found Natasha’s number but it ended in the same result.
Voicemail!

“Damn it Natasha, answer your
phone!”

He was in the middle of
another voicemail greeting when the phone on his desk rang. Grabbing the phone,
he nearly shouted at his secretary, “What is it Luann?”

“Mr. Cavos, there is a young lady
on the phone asking for you. She says she’s your sister-in-law. Should I patch
her through?” The shrilly voice on the other end asked.

Impatiently he answered “Yes,
yes. Put her through.”

“Raphael…Oh God! Please, you
have to hurry!” Natasha’s frantic voice vibrated in his ear.

 “Natasha, what is it? What
happened?”

“We didn’t see the car. It
came out of nowhere!” She rambled.

“Natasha, calm down and tell
me what the hell is wrong. Where is, Dahlia?”

“Dahlia! Oh God! There was so
much blood…”

Fear coiled up from the
recesses of his stomach to swallow his heart at Natasha’s word. Someone must
have taken the phone from the other end because a more calm female voice asked
“Hello, who is this?”

“This is Raphael Cavos. Is my
wife alright?”

“Sir, my name is Jennifer
Guiles. I am sorry to tell you, but your wife is here at Geneva Memorial. She
was hit by a car earlier on and is currently in surgery.”

Rafe utilized the iron fisted
control he always practiced. He could not, would not panic. “How bad is she?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Cavos, but
honestly I cannot answer that right now. What I can tell you is that she was
rushed into surgery the moment she arrived and she is still in there.” How the
hell could that woman be so calm when she was delivering such bad news?

More than an hour in surgery?
Was it that bad? Dropping the phone back on its hanger without so much as a ‘thank
you’ to the Guiles woman, Rafe grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and
headed out the door.

It was the middle of the day
and this was New York. The traffic would be a nightmare. He needed something
that could cut through the traffic without any obstructions. The Bugatti Veyron
would not cut it. Grabbing his mobile once again he dialed. When the person on
the other end answered he commanded, “Martin, I need the Tomahawk right away,”
then he hung up. That beast is exactly what he needed right now.

Rushing past his secretary he
threw her a quick “Luann cancel everything for the rest of the day” without
even looking at her.

Before she could answer or
ask a question the elevator door closed cutting him off. Resting his head
against the cold wall he shut his eyes, praying that his wife and child would
be okay. Without them he would cease to exist.

****

The first thing he noticed,
when the elevator door opened to admit him to the large hospital waiting room,
was a pregnant Natasha. She was pacing the floor, her clothing stained with
what seemed like blood. She must have heard the ding of the elevator door
because she looked up. For the first few seconds she just stared at him, but
then she ran across the wide expanse of the floor throwing herself in his arms.

“Oh God, Raphael, I don’t
know what happened! One minute we were eating and talking, the next minute she
was in the road and the car came out of nowhere.”

Easing her away from him, he
grasped her tear stained face. “Natasha...Natasha. Calm down.”

“I tried to warn her, but she
didn’t hear,” she continued speaking.

Shaking her gently, Rafe said
a little more firmly, “Natasha, calm down.”

This time his words seemed to
have penetrated her panicked nerves because she stopped to look at him and then
the flood of tears came again. Taking her to sit in one of the chairs, he then
brought a cup of water from the nearby dispense—all the time noticing the blood
stains on her clothes. His heart and lungs constricted at the thought that all
of it was his wife’s blood. There was too much!

Impatiently he waited for her
to compose herself, and when he thought she was calm enough he asked, “Now, can
you tell me what happened?”

Her already swollen eyes immediately
filled with tears. Although, they spilled over onto her cheeks she was able to
tell him. “We were having lunch at a café in town. Everything was going fine.
Then Dahlia just got this strange look on her face. The next thing I know she
was stepping onto the road and the car came out of nowhere,” her face crumpled
again.

“Natasha? The blood…the blood
on your clothes, does it all belong to my wife?” The husky words escaped his
parch throat. Deep down he already knew that it was, but he just wanted to make
sure. This time she just nodded. Fear rose from the depths of Rafe’s soul.
Dahlia was so tiny. If all that blood belonged to her, that meant it could not
be good. If anything happened to her or their child he wasn’t sure if he would
be able to live.

He needed his parents here. Reaching
for the third time, for his mobile in less than an hour, he called his mother.
He needed the support from the woman that had given his life.

“Rafe…Son. I was beginning to
think you have forgotten about your dear, old mother.” Lauralyn answered on the
second ring.

“Mom…
Mamá…”
Rafe
wished there was a gentler way to say what he had to say.

“Hijo,
what is it?” The older woman’s maternal instinct
kicked in.

“Mamá, estoy en el hospital…”
He began slowly.

“The hospital? Is it the
baby? It’s too early!” Lauralyn exclaimed. She was dying to become a
grandmother, but it was still too early. She knew the consequences of a
premature baby.

“Mom, there was an accident.
Dahlia, she’s—she’s in surgery.” Rafe delivered the information in the calmest
voice he could muster up.

“Oh God! An accident? What
kind of accident? Is the baby alright?” His mother’s alarmed voice queried.

“Mamá,
we are at Geneva Memorial. I will explain when you
get here. Can you bring Natasha a change of clothing please?” This was not something
he wanted to discuss over the phone.

“Of course, my son! You just
hang on! Your father and I will be there soon.” That was the ‘take charge’
mother he knew.

Rafe was just replacing the
phone in his pocket when he saw the doctor. The short white man, dressed in the
hospital gear asked, “Are you the family of Dahlia Cavos?”

Standing to face the balding
man, Rafe tried to prepare himself, determined to stay in control no matter
what the news. But when the doctor said, “I am sorry, but I don’t have good
news, Mr. Cavos.” Rafe’s knees buckled beneath him and he sank back into his
seat. He knew what the doctor’s next words would be.

****

Everywhere ached! Her head,
her broken arm, her broken ribs, the cut on her lower abdomen, but nothing hurt
as much as her heart. Deep down there was an emptiness that made her feel so
incomplete. A hollow gap only her son could have filled but he was gone now and
nothing would bring him back. It was a constant struggle to even open her eyes
to face each day, knowing that when her hand touched her stomach she would not
be able to feel her son move inside her.

She honestly didn’t know how
she found the strength. Coping with the loss of her baby was in itself an
ordeal, but not having the support of the one person she needed most was
crushing. Not once in the nineteen days since her accident, since her baby
died, did Raphael embrace her or tried in any way to comfort her. His visits
were rear and when he did come he would stand at a distance. He would briefly
enquire how she was, if she needed anything and then he would leave. There was
no mention of their son, and if she did break down and cry Raphael would stare
at her through cold distant eyes. Sometimes she felt as if he was looking right
through her.

Today she would be going home
but she wasn’t even sure if he would be here to pick her up. What could she
say? Now that she was no longer pregnant, would he still want her? Was he
spending his time with the woman and child she saw him with that day? Try as
she may she could not stem the flow of tears that erupted from her already
swollen eyes. The thought of Raphael being with someone else, holding a child
he may have had with another woman was almost too much to take. It was Lauralyn
that had been at Dahlia’s side constantly, nurturing and comforting her.
Natasha had flown home only four days ago insisting she stay until she was sure
Dahlia was better.

When the older woman sensed
her pain she tried to console Dahlia. “Be patient, my child. I know it is hard
but you have to understand, before my son met you emotions were not something
he did well.”

Dahlia tried, she really did.
But she needed Raphael to hold her and tell her it was not her fault. That she
was not to blame for their son dying. She needed to know that the woman he was
with that day is not his lover, that the baby was not his.
Oh God,
she
needed her husband so much!

Sleep quickly claimed her
because when she finally woke up it was to someone roughly nudging her
shoulder. “Dahlia, wake up. It is time to go.”

Raphael was standing over
her, an unreadable expression on his face. He stepped back when she opened her
eyes as if he would be contaminated by her touch—it hurt. To have the man she
loved treat her as if she was a leper. In an attempt to penetrate the barrier
he seemed to have erected, she offered him a feeble smile but tears quickly
pooled in her eyes when Raphael abruptly turned away to pick up her packed bags
from the foot of the bed.

“I will go and sign the
papers. You can meet me outside.”

That cold indifferent man was
not her husband. He was a stranger. That same stranger was waiting for her at
the nurses’ station when she was finally pushed out on a wheelchair by the
nurse. That same stranger sat with her in the car, eyes staring straight ahead
on the long quiet journey home. Not once did he even acknowledge her presence. It
was so strange being this close to him, knowing that this is the man that she
had shared the most intimate of pleasures with, and yet he acted as if she was
a complete stranger. She knew he must be hurting too, but what she could not
understand was why he wasn’t saying anything. The silence was killing her.

It continued all the way home,
but when Raphael quietly deposited her bags into the master bedroom and turned
to leave without so much as looking at her she had to do something. She grabbed
at his hand begging. “Raphael,
please
talk to me.”