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CHAPTER37
He crumpled her last letter in his hands, so much emotion flowing through him, he could barely function.
Antonio had brought home a laptop today, to try to do some things he wanted to do with the ranch. His plan to scrub the laptop and make it a blank, untraceable slate a compulsion at this point. He knew the things people could do with technology, and he wasn’t going to let his latest venture be a victim.
But all that was moot after stopping at the post office for his mail and reading her letter.
He’d insisted on snail mail for their correspondence, needing the time it took to mentally process their words. There was no immediate gratification of an instant message, and he knew that physically writing letters was an exercise in patience, utilizing a part of the brain long forgotten.
Besides that, he could save them.
Up until now, they’d written about mundane things, like what they cooked for themselves after a day of work, as well as what they had done at work. They’d also gone into childhood dreams for themselves, and he’d talked a little bit about his stint in the Army before his dad had died and he’d had to stop.
In this letter, she’d told him that she’d been pregnant when she’d gotten home from Honduras.
The words had punched him in the gut.
His baby. A product of the one time he’d taken her body, unwillingly, in front of Hector and El Cuchillo.
A shiver ran down his back at the memory.
Fight me or fuck me, but make it look good.
He’d overpowered her easily, the combination of drugs and lack of good food making her weak, so he’d fucked her to save their lives. He’d shown his hand with the torture of the kid, whom he hadn’t realized was Hector’s little brother, and they were coming to kill him for being too soft on the women.
Of course, she hadn’t realized that.
Knowing I had a life growing inside of me, a life that you put there against my will, was more than I could take. I’d imagined things so differently. I’d imagined a pregnancy with a partner I chose, someone who loved me and the baby and wanted to be there every step of the way. But this baby, she wasn’t that, was she? You didn’t want me; you wouldn’t be there.
And I didn’t want you. But I wanted the fucking baby. She was innocent of our intentions and motivations. She wasn’t tainted by Honduras or whatever had happened there.
And I had started making plans immediately. I couldn’t help myself. She would go to the best day cares; she would never own a computer; she would take horseback riding lessons and take dance, and love the color purple.
I miscarried the baby six weeks later. It was for the best, the doctors said. Something about the miscarriage being a way to get rid of a baby that wasn’t “viable.” Like taking out the garbage. The doctor’s bedside manner could use some work.
I’ve always wanted kids, but of course, I wanted them to be made from love, and this one wasn’t, was it? She couldn’t be. I’d been taken by force, raped. Maybe it was my body’s way of telling me it would wait for a baby that was like the one I wanted? I don’t know.
The loss of that life did something to me.
Even now, I’m so confused. I like you. I have no idea why. I shouldn’t. But there’s something between us, that even now, I want to explore.
I know now why you did it. I know you were on the good side. I know the circumstances were out of your control. My brain knows. My heart knows. But something is still holding me back and I can’t figure out what it is.
He smoothed the expensive stationery out and re-read the words.
Antonio had been a father. For a brief moment in time, his life had a meaning. He had a legacy.
Was there anything he could have done to change anything?
Pushing the laptop box away, he pulled out his paper and started writing her back.
Cariño,
Your letter hurts me deeply. I wish with everything I have good left inside me that I had been there for you. The fact you went through that alone tells me how strong you are. I can’t imagine the pain and confusion you experienced, and for that more than anything else, I am incredibly sorry.
I too have dreamed of a family. A wife to rule our world with while we raised little humans. My parents were loving with each other, but to my mother’s heartbreak, I was her only child. I dreamed of giving her grandbabies to dote on and spoil. But I gave all that up a long time ago.
When I was young, I joined the Army to bring some stability to my future and my family. For three years, it all went to plan. I served with Ghost and the some of the others, until my father died. I went home on family medical to attend his funeral and make sure my mother was okay. But she wasn’t.
