The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage (14 page)

Javier watched as she turned and left the room. She didn't slam the door, as many women would have done. She closed it with a soft little click that ricocheted through him like a gunshot.

A
LMOST
a week went past and Emelia saw very little of Javier over that time. He hadn't even come to bed each night until the early hours of the morning, which made her wonder if he was avoiding talking to her. He seemed to be throwing himself into his work until he fell into bed exhausted. Even in sleep she could see the lines of strain around his mouth, and on the rare occasions when his eyes met hers during waking hours they had a haunted shadowed look.

Aldana had come across Emelia being sick a couple of mornings ago as she'd come into the master suite to change the bedlinen. The housekeeper's dark gaze seemed to put two and two together for she said, ‘Is that why you came back to Señor Mélendez—because you need a father for your bastard child?'

Emelia straightened her shoulders and met the housekeeper's derisive gaze head on. ‘I have tried my best to get on with you. I know you don't think I am good enough for Javier. But if you wish to keep your job, Aldana, I think you should in future keep your opinions to yourself.'

Aldana mumbled something under her breath as she
bundled the rest of the linen in her arms on her way out of the bedroom.

Emelia had put the incident out of her mind but when Javier came home from a trip to Cadiz on Friday evening she could tell something was wrong. She came into the sitting room to see him with a glass of spirits in his hand and it apparently wasn't his first. His mouth was drawn and his eyes were even more shadowed than days before. She could see the tension in his body, his shoulders were slightly hunched and his tie was askew and his shirt crumpled.

‘Did you have a hard day?' she asked.

‘You could say that.' He took another deep swallow of his drink. ‘How about you?'

She sat on the edge of one of the sofas. ‘It was OK, I guess. I went for a long ride on Callida.'

‘Is that wise?' he asked, frowning at her. ‘What if you fell off?'

‘I didn't fall off and I will only ride until the doctor says it's time to stop.'

There was a long silence.

‘Is something wrong, Javier?' she asked.

He gave her a brooding look. ‘Have you spoken to anyone about your pregnancy? I mean outside the villa. A friend or acquaintance or anyone?'

She frowned at him. ‘No, of course not. Who would I speak to? I've been stuck here for days on end with nothing better to do than lounge about the pool or ride around in circles while you're off doing God knows what without telling me when you'll be back.'

He moved across to the coffee table and picked up a collection of newspapers. He spread them out before her, his expression dark with fury. ‘Have a look at these,'
he said. ‘You don't need to read them all. Each one of them says the same.
Mélendez Reunion—Love-Child Scandal
.'

Emelia felt her heart slip sideways in her chest. She clutched at her throat as she looked down at the damning words. ‘I don't…I don't understand…' She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘How would anyone find out I was pregnant? The doctor wouldn't have said anything. It would be a breach of patient confidentiality.'

In one sweep of his hand he shoved the papers off onto the floor. ‘This is exactly what I wanted to avoid,' he said, scowling in anger.

Emelia moistened her bone-dry lips. ‘I exchanged a few words with Aldana the other day,' she said. ‘I was going to mention it to you but you were late getting back.'

His gaze cut to hers. ‘What did you say?'

‘It was more what she said to me,' she said. ‘She was in our room changing the bed when she heard me being sick. When I came out she accused me of only coming back to you because…because I needed a father for my child.'

His brow was like a map of lines. ‘What did you say to her in response?'

Emelia elevated her chin. ‘I told her she should keep her opinions to herself if she wanted to continue working here.'

A dark cloud drifted over his features. ‘I see.'

‘She's never liked me, Javier,' she said. ‘You know yourself she's never really accepted me as your wife. She won't let me do anything or touch anything or bring anything into this stupid over-decorated, too formal
mausoleum. I've tried to be polite to her but I can't allow her to say such an insulting thing to me.'

‘I understand completely,' he said. ‘I will have a word with her.'

‘You don't have to fire her on my account,' she said, looking down at her hands. ‘It might not have been her, in any case…I mean, leaking the news of my pregnancy to the press.'

Javier came over to her and placed one of his hands on her shoulder. ‘You are prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt when everything points to her being guilty?'

She looked up at him. ‘But of course. She's never spoken to the press before. She loves working for you. It's her whole life, managing the villa. I don't think she would deliberately jeopardise that.'

He placed his fingers beneath her chin, his thumb moving over the fullness of her bottom lip. ‘You are far too trusting,
querida
,' he said. ‘People often have nefarious motives for what they do, even the people you care about.'

‘That stuff in the paper…' She glanced down at the scattered mess on the floor. ‘Is there nothing we can do?'

He pulled her gently to her feet, holding her about the waist. ‘Don't worry about it,' he said. ‘It will blow over eventually.'

She looked into his eyes. ‘Javier… You really believe this baby is yours, don't you?'

Javier realised she was asking much more than that. She was asking for a commitment from him that he had never wanted to give before. He wasn't sure he wanted to give it even now. How could he be sure he wouldn't turn out like his father? But what he had begun to realise
over the past few days was that being a father was not just a biological contribution. It was a contract of love and commitment with no conditions attached. His father had not been capable of going that step further. He had impregnated his mother but once she had died he had not fulfilled his responsibilities as a father. He had shunted Javier off to teachers and nannies while he'd got on with his life. This baby Emelia was carrying deserved to be loved and cherished and he was going to make sure it lacked for nothing. ‘The baby is ours,' he said watching as her eyes shone with tears. ‘I am proud to be its father.'

‘I love you,' she said as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her close. ‘I'm very glad that is one thing you remembered,' he said.

She looked up from his chest and smiled. ‘I would have fallen in love with you all over again if I hadn't.'

‘You think so?'

‘I know so,' she said and reached up to meet his descending mouth.

 

Paris was enjoying an Indian summer and each day seemed brighter and warmer than the previous one. The first week they had spent wandering around the Louvre and Notre Dame, stopping for coffee in one of the numerous cafés. They had mostly been able to avoid the paparazzi, although one particularly determined journalist had followed them all the way up the Eiffel Tower steps for an impromptu interview. Javier had been extremely protective of Emelia, holding her close against his body as he'd curtly told the reporter to leave them
alone. It had made Emelia glow inside to think of him standing up for her like that. It made her wonder if he was in love with her after all. She sometimes caught him looking at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was seeing her with new eyes.

The hotel Javier had booked them into was luxurious and private and close to all the sights. He even organised a private tour of the Palace of Versailles, outside of Paris, which meant she didn't have to be jostled by crowds of tourists.

They were walking past the fountain towards the woodland area when Emelia felt the first cramp. She had been feeling a little out of sorts since the night before but had put it down to the rich meal they had eaten in one of Paris's premier restaurants.

Javier noticed her slight stumble and put his arm around her waist. ‘Steady there,
cariño
,' he said. ‘You don't want to take a fall.'

She smiled weakly and settled against his hold, walking a few more paces when another pain gripped her like a large fish hook. She placed a hand against her abdomen, her skin breaking out in clamminess.

‘Emelia?' Javier stopped and gripped her by both arms. ‘What's wrong?'

She bit down on her lip as another cramp clawed at her. ‘I think something's wrong…I'm having cramps. Oh, God…' Her legs began to fold but he caught her just in time.

He scooped her up in his arms and walked briskly to the nearest guide, who promptly called an ambulance.

Emelia remembered the pain and the ashen features of Javier as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance and then nothing…

 

When she woke the first thing Emelia saw was Javier sitting asleep in the chair beside her bed. He jolted awake as if he had sensed her looking at him. Relief flooded his features as he grasped her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. ‘You gave me such a fright,
querida
. I thought I was going to lose you all over again. You have taken ten years off my life, I am sure.'

Emelia dreaded asking, but did so all the same. ‘The baby?'

He shook his head. ‘I'm sorry,
mi amor
. They couldn't prevent the miscarriage but you are safe, that is the main thing.'

Emelia felt her hopes plummet. The main thing was he was off the hook, surely? No more baby. No more commitment. No more pretending to be happy about being a father. ‘How far along was I?' she asked in an expressionless tone.

‘Not long, just a month, I think I heard one of the doctors say.'

Emelia studied his expression without saying anything.

He shifted in his seat, his eyes going to their joined hands. ‘I know what you are thinking, Emelia,' he said gruffly. ‘And I know I deserve it for how I reacted to the news of the pregnancy. I didn't exactly embrace the idea with any enthusiasm.'

‘I'd like to be alone for a while,' she said.

He looked at her again. ‘But we need to talk about the future.'

She pulled her hand away and stuffed it under the sheets. ‘I don't want to talk right now.'

He slowly rose to his feet as if his bones ached like those of an old man. ‘I'll be waiting outside.'

Emelia held off the tears until he had left but once
the door closed on the private room she let them fall. So he wanted to talk about the future, did he? What future was that? She had been lulled into thinking they could make a go of their marriage but he had not once told her he loved her. He always held something of himself back. She was never going to be able to penetrate the fortress of his heart. Not now, not without the baby she had longed for, the baby she had hoped would be the key to showing him the meaning of love. She had seen the flicker of relief in his eyes. No pregnancy meant he could continue with his life the way he always had—free and unfettered. Well, he was going to be much more free and unfettered than he bargained for, she decided.

 

‘How is she?' Javier asked the doctor on duty when he came back from the bathroom.

‘She doesn't want to see anyone right now,' the doctor said. ‘She is still feeling rather low. It's quite normal, of course. The disruption of hormones takes its toll. She can go on some antidepressants if she doesn't improve.'

‘When can I take her home?'

‘She lost a lot of blood,' the doctor said. ‘She's had a transfusion so we'd like her to stay in for a few days to build up her strength. She has been through rather a lot just lately, I see from the notes.'

‘Yes,' Javier said, feeling guilt like a scratchy yoke about his shoulders. ‘Yes, she has.'

‘Just be patient,' the doctor advised. ‘There's no reason why she can't conceive again. These things happen. Sometimes it's just nature's way of saying the time is not right.'

Javier sighed as the doctor moved on down the
corridor. He had never thought there would be a right time, and yet the right time had come and gone and he had not even realised it.

 

The nurse handed Emelia her discharge form with a disapproving frown. ‘The doctor is not happy about you wanting to leave so soon, especially without your husband with you. Can't you wait until he gets here? He's probably stuck in traffic. There was an accident in one of the tunnels this morning.'

Emelia straightened her shoulders. ‘I have been here for four days as it is. I am sick of being fussed over. I am sick of hospitals. I want to get on with my life.'

‘But your husband—'

‘Will understand completely when he hears I have left,' Emelia said with a jut of her chin as she picked up her bag. ‘You can tell him goodbye for me.'

Emelia slipped out of the hospital, keeping her head down in case anyone recognised her. The press had been lurking about, or so one of the cleaning staff had informed her. That had made her decision a lot easier to make. She was tired of living in a fish bowl. She was tired of being someone she wasn't, someone she had never been and never could be. The accident had been devastating but it hadn't been the catalyst everyone assumed it had been. She had already made up her mind that she could no longer live the life Javier had planned for them both. It didn't matter what his reasons were for marrying her, the fact remained that he didn't love her. He wasn't capable of loving anyone. And, while she loved him and would love him for the rest of her life, she could not continue living in hope that he would change.

A taxi pulled into the entrance of the hospital and,
once its occupants had settled up, Emelia got in and directed the driver to the airport. She had already booked the flight via the high tech mobile phone Javier had brought in for her. It was another one of his expensive presents, one of many he had brought in over the last few days: a pair of diamond earrings and a matching pendant, a bottle of perfume, a designer watch that looked more like a bracelet than a timepiece, and some slips of lace that were supposed to be underwear. She had received them all with a tight little smile, her heart breaking into little pieces for the one gift he withheld—his love.