Afonso hadn’t seen Catarina Romano in two days. She’d been effectively avoiding him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
After meeting Francisco and Madalena Silva on Monday, Afonso had been relieved for the caretakers’ presence at the manor, a sort of buffer between him and Catarina. Senhor Francisco and he had been busy coordinating their schedules and working new to-do lists for the property. Dona Madalena’s responsibilities kept her to the house, with the cleaning and the cooking, and he’d seen her talking with Catarina a few times.
But the Silvas had left on Thursday for a family event, and the house was too silent since then. Afonso couldn’t find any evidence of Catarina being around, not even in the kitchen. Dona Madalena had left some meals to warm up, and it didn’t look like anyone else was using them except him. Didn’t Catarina come down to eat?
He ate quickly and cleaned up after himself, placing the leftovers in a glass container in the refrigerator. Afonso went through the house, checking to see if everything was in order. The work on the north lawn had kept him busy, but it was now done. He’d mowed one area at least the size of a football field, if not larger, trimmed all the edges, cleared the irrigation system, and fertilized the whole yard. He still needed to patch the bald spots, for which he needed new sod. A trip to Castelo Branco would take care of it. He had to make a list first to make sure he didn’t forget anything else.
The ground floor was in order. He walked through the music room and spared a quick glance at the piano, not letting himself linger on it. It didn’t seem like Catarina had come by the library. Afonso had been using it as a headquarters of sorts, referring back to the tablet with all the landscaping plans and to the maps Filipe had left for reference. Afonso had added notes and new files, including his cleaning and restoration schedule for each area, along with the shared schedule with the caretaker. Every morning before leaving the house, he checked off the work he’d done the day before and made himself a note for what needed to be done next.
He skipped the list for now. He’d come back to it before going to bed.
When he arrived at the first floor, he stopped to listen at the top of the stairs. He had yet to venture to the west wing; he hadn’t needed to.
He didn’t know which room was hers, but, from the layout of the house and what Filipe had said, she was probably in the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway.
The other bedrooms had doors ajar and were unoccupied and unfurnished, like most of the house. A large bathroom stood in between. In the east wing, where he was staying, a similar size bathroom serviced the two smaller bedrooms, one of which was his.
At the double door, he hesitated. She wouldn’t welcome seeing him. But he had to make sure she was all right, and he’d risk her anger for his peace of mind.
Afonso rapped on the door and called her name, then waited.
Nothing.
Could she be outside and he’d miss seeing her?
“Catarina?” He knocked again.
After knocking again and calling her name with no response, Afonso tried the handle. The door was unlocked, and it turned easily. It was late in the day, and the remaining sun, low and still plenty warm, slanted through the windows and across the wood floor. The bedroom was sparsely furnished, and the gray walls took a peach tint at this time of day. A large bed sat against the south wall between two windows, piled high with white bedding and pillows strewn on its surface. A wardrobe, a stuffed chair by the west wall, and a wooden stool by the bed failed to fill the large space. On the other side, the door was ajar to the ensuite bathroom, saving him from knocking there too.
Afonso stood at the entrance a moment longer, taking in the lack of personal belongings and the stale air that filled the space. On impulse, he walked to the nearest window and pulled up on the sash, letting in the sweet evening breeze. When he turned around to leave, the mound of messed bedclothes moved, and a toe peeked out. He stopped.
She was there, one with the rolled sheets and the messed-up bedcovers, white fabric on pale skin. How could he have missed the shallow breathing and the woman sleeping uneasily a few paces away from him?
Afonso stood by the bed. Was she asleep or sick? “Catarina.”
She didn’t respond.
He called her name again, louder, leaning closer to the bed.
She moaned and turned to his side.
“Catarina, have you been sick?”
She mumbled.
Afonso knelt by the bed and kept his hands away from her. “I’m sorry I came to your bedroom. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Is Juan-Carlos here yet?” Her voice rasped, and she coughed.
Afonso dragged a stack of pillows against the headboard and helped her up. When she raised herself on her elbows, she went down again.
There was definitely something going on. Her skin felt papery and warm to the touch, and her lips were dry. “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?” He looked around for a glass, but there wasn’t one there.
Afonso got up and found a glass in the bathroom with a toothbrush in it. He gave it a quick rinse and filled it halfway. It would have to do until he could get something better in her.
He brought the glass to her lips. “Little sips.”
She choked, and he drew the glass away as she slid back into the bed.
Guilt pricked at him. She must have had a relapse. Filipe had mentioned she’d been sick, but Afonso had forgotten to check on her after the Silvas left. He took her pulse and counted the beats. He didn’t know her well enough to assess her mental state, but the physical signs pointed at severe dehydration. Did he have the means to help her regain her health? Should he call Filipe?
He didn’t know how long she’d been like this. A couple of days or more? It would be better to err on the side of caution and get her to medical help. Maybe it was a case of severe dehydration or maybe it was something more. He wasn’t a doctor and he couldn’t diagnose her. He’d take her to the emergency room and call Filipe from there once she was admitted.
Afonso assisted her in drinking a few more sips of water, but even that seemed to tax her energy.
“Just rest here, Catarina. I’m going to get the car around closer to the door, and I’ll get you to see the doctor.”
She made a sound, but Afonso couldn’t tell if she’d understood, or even heard him.
“Filipe,” she called, her voice just above a whisper.
He stopped at the door and turned to her. “Yes?” It would take too long to correct her.
“Don’t tell Juan-Carlos I’m not feeling well,” she whispered in the same scratchy voice.
Who was Juan-Carlos? Filipe hadn’t mentioned anyone by that name. Could it be her decesead husband? Was she confused or hallucinating? “I won’t,” he assured her.
Once in the garage, he decided to get the truck instead and drove it to the front of the house, where it was closer to bring her from the bedroom.
In her bedroom, Afonso wrapped her in the flat sheet, not knowing what she wore underneath the pile of bedclothes. He carried her to the back seat, more slowly than he would have liked, but taking care not to jostle her too much.
The normal one-hour drive to Castelo Branco took him only forty minutes. When he arrived at the regional hospital, he was relieved the emergency personnel took Catarina in right away.
“What’s her name?” the on-call nurse asked.
“Catarina Romano.” She’d never mentioned her married name, but nowadays some women didn’t change their surname when they married.
When he hesitated going past the admitting door, the nurse turned back to him. “You can come in with her. Just stay out of the way.”
Afonso rubbed his neck. “I’m not—I’m not family.”
“Are you her fiancé?”
He shook his head.
“Boyfriend?”
“No, nothing like that. I work at the house where she’s staying. Her cousin owns it, and he hired me. Is it serious? Do I need to call him?”
“I’ll let you know after the doctor is done assessing her.”
For the first thirty minutes, Afonso sat on a plastic chair in the waiting room. In the far corner, away from the few others that had been brought there tonight, he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, counting the ceramic tiles on the floor. When he asked for an update, the nurses told him to wait.
An hour later, Afonso had nodded off against the wall when someone touched him on the shoulder. He jumped forward in the chair.
“Follow me,” the nurse said.
She took him past the swinging door. “Wait here.”
The nurses’ station stood to the left of the wide hallway. A row of sick bays, most with the curtains drawn open, lined up to the right side.
After a few minutes, a doctor approached him. “What’s your relationship to the patient?” He consulted the clipboard in his hand.
“None. I work at the house where she’s staying. Do you think I need to call her family?”
“I can’t discuss her case with you then. All I can tell you is that we’re keeping her overnight.”
The doctor walked away, leaving Afonso with his questions unanswered.
A petite nurse approached him. “If you’re brief, you can come say hi to her before we take her upstairs.”
Did he want to talk to Catarina? Maybe he could ask her if she wanted him to call Filipe.
He slipped past the curtain. At first she looked to be sleeping, but she turned her head toward him. An IV needle was hooked to her arm, and she had an oxygen hose in her nose. Other nearby equipment monitored her state.
“Was it you who brought me here?” Her voice was low but firmer than before, more coherent.
Afonso nodded. “Do you remember anything at all?”
“Not really. Did you call Filipe?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
She held a hand up a bit before letting it drop to the bed. “Don’t call him.”
Afonso raised an eyebrow.
“By the time he gets here, I’ll be home and feeling better.” She paused to take a breath. “Don’t call him, please.”
“Anyone else you want me to call?” Did she have no family she wanted to come?
She shook her head.
The nurse entered then. “Okay, time’s up.”
Afonso didn’t know what to say to Catarina. “Hope you’ll feel better soon.” She hadn’t said what was wrong with her, and he didn’t have the right to ask.
“Wait.”
He turned back.
She looked toward the nurse, and the nurse busied herself at the opposite corner, giving them a false sense of privacy.
Afonso stepped closer to the bed.
“Can you—do you think you could give me a ride home when I’m released?” Her tone was insecure, almost as if she didn’t dare ask him.
“I was planning on it.” Did she think he was going to leave her at the hospital with no means to get back?
“Can I call you when I’m ready to go?”
“Sure. I’ll leave my number with the nurses.”
“I’d like to have it.” She lowered her eyes. “If you don’t mind.”
Afonso looked around for a pen and a piece of paper, hiding his surprise at her request. The young nurse handed him her pen and a small pad. He wrote his name and number and handed the square to Catarina.
She held on to it. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Call me when you’re ready. I’ll need an hour to get here,” he added.
He stopped at the nurses’ station and left his number, with instructions to call if something happened. They should have someone’s number even if he wasn’t related to Catarina. Maybe she didn’t want her family to come, but he wouldn’t leave her stranded.
The vulnerability in her expression had touched him. She was not the same person he’d met around the manor in the past two weeks. Whatever sickness she had, it had humbled her.
But there was something more in her eyes. Something that troubled him.
* * *
Catarina smoothed the piece of paper between her palm and the thin cotton blanket. It was more than a piece of a paper with a name and a phone number written on it. It was a connection; the only one she had right now.
Afonso was kinder than she’d expected. Kinder than she deserved, after the way she’d treated him.
“We’ll be transferring you upstairs within the hour,” the nurse said after taking Catarina’s blood pressure again. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
After the nurse left, Catarina wiped the single tear that had leaked without permission.
She was exhausted. In body, in mind, and even in heart. A deep weariness had taken over her being.
The last few days were a blur, and she didn’t have a clear memory of Afonso bringing her to the hospital. He’d said he’d need an hour to drive back, so she must be in Castelo Branco.
He’d driven her to the hospital in Castelo Branco, and he was coming back to take her home. Not her home, but the only one she had at the moment.
She had misjudged Afonso Cortez.
Unbidden and unwanted, the memory came to her of the time she’d had an emergency appendectomy four years ago. Juan-Carlos hadn’t been home, and the chauffeur had taken her to the hospital. She’d expected Juan-Carlos to come see her when he found out about her surgery, but he didn’t come. When she called him to say she was being released, he sent the chauffeur to pick her up. Then he’d left an hour after she arrived home, saying she needed to rest and he was just in the way. She had cried all night, more from the disappointment than the post-op pain.
Today, a stranger had treated her with more compassion and kindness than her own husband ever had.
They moved her to a small two-bed room and placed her by the window. Relieved to see the other bed empty, Catarina tried to relax and settle in for the night.
Between the nurses coming to take her vitals every hour and her guilty conscience keeping her awake, sleep eluded her.
In the early morning she was feeling marginally better. Not yet to full strength, but whatever they’d put in the IV had made a difference already. She even ate some of the light breakfast they brought her, and by the time the doctor came to see her after ten o’clock, she told him she was ready to go home.
“Not so fast. I’d like to keep you for a few more hours and make sure you won’t have a relapse.” He pulled up a chair. “Let’s talk about what happened. How did you get to this point of dehydration?”
Catarina turned her face to the other side for a moment. The doctor looked to be in his midfifties, about the same age as her dad. She was twenty-five years old; definitely not a child. So why did she feel like she was being scolded for not taking care of herself?
“I’ve been throwing up quite a bit, and then I lost my appetite. And I’m always tired.” So tired.
He opened the folder in his hand. “We ran some blood tests. Your hCG levels indicate you might be further along in your pregnancy, but your small size is confusing. Obstetrics is not my specialty.” He looked up at her. “You do know you’re pregnant, right?”
She nodded. Sometimes she didn’t want to remember she was pregnant, but it was hard to forget when her own body betrayed her.
“I’m going to prescribe anti-nausea medicine for when it gets really bad. I’ll give you some samples to take home until you can get to a pharmacy.” He scribbled something. “Take them with food. And a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Take them at night, with dinner. You’ll be more likely to keep them down. Carry a water bottle with you. Stay away from sodas, coffee, and caffeinated drinks. Fruit juices in moderation. Plenty of rest and eating at regular times will help too. Do you have an obstetrician?”
“Not yet.”
He turned a page in the folder and scanned it for information. “Where do you live?”
“In Sete Fontes.” It was the closest village to Filipe’s house.
“You’ll have to come to Castelo Branco. You won’t find any doctors closer. I can give you a couple of recommendations if you’d like.”
“Yes, please.”
He made another annotation. “They’ll give it to you when you’re released.” He paused. “Make an appointment as soon as possible. If I don’t see you before you leave, good luck, Catarina. Take care of yourself and your baby.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
After he left, the day nurse came in to replace the IV bag and check her vital signs. Again.
“Lunch will be here soon, and the doctor ordered you to eat all of it.”
“I’ll try.”
The nurse adjusted the flow from the IV bag to the tube. “If you don’t eat, you’ll have to stay another night.”
The stern look on her face didn’t leave any doubts about how serious she was. Catarina rushed to amend herself. “Okay, I’ll eat everything.”
After lunch, she napped. She’d eaten all the food on the tray, and even though there hadn’t been much of it, it had taken a long time to go through it.
When the nurse came to change the IV bag once more, she promised it would be the last one.
“I need to call my ride to let him know I’ll be going home soon.” Catarina hoped Afonso would answer the phone.
The nurse pushed the old-fashioned phone closer to Catarina. “I forgot to tell you. A man called when you were sleeping.”
Catarina stilled. “A man?”
“Afonso Cortez? Do you know him?”
“Yes, he’s the one giving me the ride. What did he say?”
“He just asked about you and how you were doing.” She picked up the half-filled water pitcher. “I’ll bring you some fresh water.”
Catarina turned the words in her mind. Afonso Cortez had called asking about her. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand why he cared. He was a contradiction: a man who’d been in prison for committing a crime, and a man who rushed her to the hospital and called to find out how she was doing.
Maybe Filipe was right and she’d judged Afonso too harshly.
After another short nap, she called Afonso and asked him to bring some of her loungewear clothes to change into. When he showed up, at the exact time he’d said he’d be there, he carried a shopping bag.
He set it down at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t feel right about going through your wardrobe. I hope this will do.” He looked down, then away to the window before looking back at her. “I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” He turned and left quickly.
Was that a blush creeping up his neck? She didn’t know him, but it looked like Afonso Cortez was blushing.
She opened the bag and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in white tissue paper. When she drew the layers back, silky pink fabric sat inside. Catarina picked it up and held a beautiful satin kimono-style robe in front of her. It had a row of magnolias all around the hem and on the cuffs of the long sleeves and enough length to reach past mid-calf. It was appropriate for her to wear on the way home and it would serve well as a cover-up. But it was something so unexpected.
So thoughtful of Afonso, who hadn’t wanted to riffle through her drawers in the wardrobe.
The nurse came to unhook the IV from her and disconnect the rest of the equipment. “The doctor already signed your discharge papers.” She read the instructions to Catarina and had her sign at the bottom. “An orderly will come with the wheelchair shortly.”
“Do I really need to leave in a wheelchair?”
The nurse gave her a stern look. “That is not open for discussion.”
She helped Catarina to the edge of the bed and put the plastic bag with her possessions—the mismatched pajamas she’d arrived in—within her reach. The nurse pulled the curtain around Catarina’s bed and left.
Catarina sat there and gave herself a few minutes to adjust. It had been a hard week, and there was a lot for her to take in, a lot to think about. Especially about Afonso. She changed from the hospital gown into her pajamas, being careful not to stand too long and risk a fall.
Then she reached for the kimono and slipped it on. It slid smoothly against her skin. She pulled at the lapels and cinched it tightly to hide what she wore underneath. She sorely needed a shower, and there was nothing she could do about her limp hair, but wearing the kimono made her feel less self-conscious of the state she was in.
When the orderly wheeled her to the front of the hospital, Afonso stood by the truck, the passenger door wide open. Afonso gently took the plastic bag from her and placed it in the back seat. Then he reached for her elbow and helped her to the front.
He walked around and buckled himself behind the wheel. After looking ahead for a moment, he turned to her. “Let me know if we need to stop along the way.”
Catarina held his gaze. “I think I’ll be okay.”
He nodded and turned the ignition on.
The ride home was quiet and long. Somehow she fell asleep, and Afonso nudged her awake when they arrived. Catarina managed to climb the stairs to the first floor and take a quick shower, using the built-in seat to steady herself. She changed into clean pajamas and dried her hair. The pink satin kimono was draped at the foot of the bed where she’d left it, and she slipped it back on.
Catarina stilled when she approached her bed. It had been made, the sheets changed. Dona Madalena and Senhor Francisco wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, as they’d repeatedly told Afonso and Catarina before they left.
Afonso had done it. He’d changed the sheets, washed them, and made the bed.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. When would this man stop surprising her?
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Afonso entered the bedroom carrying a tray. “Do you have your medication with you?” He set the tray on the nearby chair.
“They’re in the bag. I’ll get them.” She didn’t want him to see the sample box of prenatal vitamins.
On the tray, a small pitcher of water, a glass, and a cloth napkin crowded one side. A soup plate with vegetable soup and a piece of toast took the rest of the space.
Catarina looked up at Afonso and hitched an eyebrow, but he seemed to anticipate her question.
“You shouldn’t take your pills on an empty stomach.” He gestured at the plate. “It’s just a simple vegetable soup. Fresh. I made it this morning.”
“You made soup from scratch?”
He shrugged. “I called the nurse to see what you could eat, and she suggested simple meals to build your strength.” He took a step back and slipped his hands in his pockets, then drew them out. “I’ll come back later for the tray.”
Catarina looked between him and the tray once more. “Why are you doing this for me?”
He frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She could think of a few reasons.
Just as he reached the door, she called after him. “Thank you.”
Afonso’s expression softened. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for everything,” Catarina added.
A simple thanks wasn’t enough.