“What about love, Ramon?”
“What about it?”
“Couples who marry usually love each other.”
“Didn’t you just say that you told Micah that you’d fallen in love with a boy and that we broke up before he was born?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” Ray said, cutting her off. “Or are you ready to lie again?”
“When … when did I lie?” Migdalia sputtered.
“When you told your boyfriend that I raped you.”
“I said it to save my life,” she retorted.
“It was a lie that saved your life and almost cost me mine.” Ray sucked in a lungful of breath, held it for seconds before letting it out. “We’ll talk about this again after I meet Micah.”
“When?”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you, Micky. I’ll give you my number to the rectory, and if I don’t pick up, then leave a message with the secretary, and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, I suggest you let your son know that he has a father who wants to meet him.”
Migdalia nodded as she sniffled. “Okay.”
“I’ll help you clean up here before I drive you back to the Bronx.”
Migdalia felt as if she was on an emotional roller-coaster ride. She didn’t want to believe Ramon was willing to give up his vocation to marry her and legitimize his son. Where was the love? Or was it all about possession? There was a part of her that still loved her son’s father, but it wasn’t the all-consuming passion that had her seeking him out all hours of the night. The first time Ramon had made love to her, she knew she was a changed woman. His lovemaking made her believe they would be together for the rest of their lives. That she would grow old in his arms with their children and grandchildren to remind them what they’d had when they were young.
But it had been a fairy tale that didn’t end with a happily ever after. She’d come to him with the news that she was carrying his child, and he rejected her because he either didn’t believe she was pregnant, or that she’d slept with some other man and wanted to trick him into marrying her.
If he’d changed, so had she, because she wasn’t a frightened nineteen-year-old girl fearful of telling her parents that she’d been sleeping with a man who’d gotten her pregnant. She was twenty-nine, soon to be thirty, and a registered dietitian who’d completed a master’s degree program, a year of internship, and had passed the CDR exam. She earned enough to support herself and Micah without assistance from anyone. She didn’t need a husband as much as Micah needed a father in his life.
That was something Father Torres would have to accept. If not, then his recourse would be to sue her for visitation. And she was certain his bishop would not look favorably on the young priest who had fathered a child out of wedlock.
Ray spent a miserable week waiting for Migdalia to call him for a date and time when he could meet his son. He knewhe’d made a serious faux pas when he insisted she marry him. The demand was out before he could censor himself.
He knew his demand was to absolve himself of the guilt that he hadn’t believed her when she’d come to him with the news that she was carrying his child. He also had been inflexible because he believed she couldn’t get pregnant if he’d always used a condom when having sex with her. The only thing that made conception impossible was abstinence, something he’d practiced for the past ten years.
The phone in his bedroom rang, and Ray picked it up before it rang a second time. “Hello.”
“Hey, buddy. Do you have time to come into the city and hang out with me and Frankie?”
It was Kenny, not Micky. “When and where?”
“At my new place.”
“I’ve never been to your new place.”
“That’s why I’m inviting you. I know you have obligations and are on call twenty-four-seven as a priest, but can you spare a couple of hours to reconnect with your brothers?”
“I’m free Saturday afternoon. But I have to be back on Sunday, because I’m responsible for the Spanish mass.”
“What time is that?”
“One o’clock.”
“If that’s the case, then pack an overnight bag. I’ll put you in my spare bedroom and get you up in time to get back to the Bronx before you have to say mass.”
