Page 29 of An Immaculate Deception

Almost. Because Leandro hasn’t denied it. And his gaze is still fixated on the cake, which makes me certain I’m right.

“Let’s just go back to dinner,” Doctor Lobo says. “Come now.”

But I cannot. As long as Leandro doesn’t speak, he wins, and I have nothing. I will pry him open, tear him apart, break him if I must.

“If I’m wrong,” I say, “then surely it’s fine if I discard this cake right now?”

“I…” Leandro starts. “I simply forgot about the cake. It slipped my mind. I’ll take care of it later.”

His voice is breathy, halting. But the simplicity of the explanation sears me. Doctor Lobo and Maria das Dores are thinking the same: Leandro has admitted his mistake, and I am making a huge fuss over nothing. I don’t know how I can go back to the table. I feel so humiliated.

Maybe I’m wrong about everything, after all.

“What of…what of the renovations?” My voice trembles. “Who slept in the room upstairs? Who slept down in the senzala?”

His eyes widen at the mention of the senzala. But still, he doesn’t speak.

“Madalena…” Doctor Lobo says softly. With pity. They all pity me. Doctor Lobo clears his throat, then starts toward me.

“You’re just going to stand there silent?” I say to Leandro. “Letting him speak on your behalf? Coward. You were full of sweet words the day we saw the circus together, when you led me to the cliff and put a child in me!”

“What?”

“I am with child!”

“It’s not mine!”

My brain buzzes inside my skull. He emphasizes not mine like he wants nothing to do with the baby. Like it’s not his problem. Next thing I know my palm is stinging from how hard I’ve just slapped him.

The room has stilled. Leandro doesn’t stir, doesn’t touch his red cheek. But his jaw is set and his breathing is rapid and shallow. I pick up the entire cake stand, carry it to the wood-burning stove, lift the dome, and hurl the cake into the flames.

16

I’m sitting in Doctor Lobo’s carriage, sobbing into my hands. The driver asked me a question, but when he realized I was crying, he turned away. I refuse to be inside that house a minute longer. I need Doctor Lobo to come out soon and take me away. I have nothing of myself there anyway, even these clothes aren’t mine. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.

Mother’s voice pulses in my mind, red and hot: He’ll say it isn’t his.

It was her very first thought. So odious. Her immediate assumption and expectation, which had seemed so preposterous at the time.

And it turned out to be prophetic.

How dare he. I am a fool.

He just stood there and watched the cake be engulfed by flames, then scooped up the ashes into a pail. No doubt he’ll keep the ashes and never dispose of them. I mean less to him than the ashes of that cake, and the baby means even less still.

I’d like to toss him into the flames.

A silhouette of a man appears at the front door. Before I can make out who it is, a little bit of hope flares within me: Maybe it’s Leandro, coming out to apologize. Maybe this has all been a big misunderstanding.

But the figure is tall and broad shouldered. It’s Doctor Lobo. Of course Leandro isn’t coming out to talk to me. I start sobbing again.

A moment later, Doctor Lobo opens the carriage door.

“I’m not staying in this house a moment longer,” I say. “Take me home.”

Just like that, I’ll be gone from Leandro’s fazenda, and maybe from his life forever.

I cry the whole way, as we traverse the moonlit roads under a blanket of stars. But at least this time there is no storm threatening our lives.