Chapter 5
I almost don’t recognize Leandro.
There’s a sunken, hollow aspect to his cheeks.
Dark half-moons sit under his eyes, which lack their usual brightness.
His skin is pale and dull, and his lips are a grayish purple.
His hair is combed too close to his head, and lacks its usual messy charm.
He gawks at me with an expression I’ve never seen before, which frankly disturbs me, as though he’s both fear stricken and eager at the same time.
I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but something is.
“My dear Leandro!” I force myself to stand, even though pain shoots from every nerve of my body as I do. I strain to make my way to him, and Doctor Lobo comes to my aid. Leandro just stands there.
The loving words I’ve been expecting—My dear Madalena! Are you well?—never come.
Leandro is stonelike as I hug him. When my arms wrap around his shoulders, he takes a tiny step backward, and for a moment I fear that he will not return the hug at all.
His body trembles slightly, and when finally he embraces me, I’m relieved, even though his hands barely touch me.
His breath hitches, as if coming out in spurts, warm and moist on my neck.
He doesn’t speak. I feel his shoulders shake, then I hear the hiccuping.
When I step back, I see that he’s weeping. I’ve never seen him in such a state.
“How are you feeling?” I venture.
“I…” He starts and stops, seeming to choke on his words. I throw the physician a concerned look.
Leandro is gaping at me, opening and closing his hands. His cheeks and lips are wet and the way he’s staring unsettles me. It’s an intense, unblinking stare, almost as though he’s not breathing. Like he wants to speak but can’t. Like if he speaks, he will break into a million pieces.
I scan his body for bruises. His forehead is swollen and red, but besides that I see no other signs of harm. But some wounds are invisible, internal, and sometimes those are the worst ones.
It’s my fault. He tried to go to the driver’s seat and I stopped him.
I was so myopic about my own goals that I disregarded his safety, and the safety of the driver and the horse.
If I hadn’t stopped him, if I had not chosen that dire moment to tell him about the pregnancy, maybe he would have reached the seat before the driver fell, and before the thunder roared above us and spooked the horse.
“I thought you were—”
“It’s the work of God,” Doctor Lobo interrupts.
I’m overcome by an instinct to hold Leandro and soothe him, seeing him like this, and I reach forward to kiss him.
Doctor Lobo clears his throat and I draw back, suddenly mindful of myself. I hear Mother’s censoring voice in my head: No touching! How improper it would be for me to kiss him with Doctor Lobo in the room.
“Leandro,” Doctor Lobo says, “why don’t you go fetch some water?”
Leandro nods, confirming that he at least can still be spoken to even if he can’t speak, then takes his leave.
His demeanor is odd. Even the way he so quickly obeyed the doctor, seemingly unperturbed at being ordered about in his own house, head hung and eyes downcast—something about that strikes me as wrong.
“Well,” Doctor Lobo says once we are alone in the room. “It’s been a stressful time for both of you. Madalena, will you please sit down so that I may finish the examination?”
You had better examine Leandro instead, I think.
Doctor Lobo takes out instruments from his case and gives me precise instructions. He places a cone-shaped device in my ear and listens. He presses a cold metal instrument to my back and has me take deep breaths.
My brain is a jumble of half-formed simmering thoughts.
I was inside the carriage, clutching at the seat, too terrified to move.
But when I told Leandro about the baby, he held my hand and looked me in the eye, and there was pure love in his gaze.
His whole body seemed to inflate. I felt it: He was about to propose.
If the accident hadn’t happened, he would have proposed right there in the rain-soaked carriage.
But the way he is now…Does he even remember our conversation? He’s curdled somehow, and it makes me ill to the bone.
Doctor Lobo has me stand, raise my arms, lift my shoulders, bend down and touch my toes, all the while asking “Does it hurt here?” and “How does this feel?” and scribbling on his notepad.
Images of the accident keep assaulting my mind, uninvited.
The sickening feeling of the carriage moving so fast it bounced up and down, being dragged into the total darkness and the terror.
How long did it take someone to find us?
Was Leandro awake, suffering, taking care of me, and waiting for help in the darkness while he himself was also in pain or injured?
I’m too afraid to ask, so I let the weighty silence hang.
“So,” Doctor Lobo says lightly. He’s regained his larger-than-life demeanor. “What do you think about Prudente de Morais?”
“Who?”
“The politician.”
I shrug. “Never heard. I’m not so into politics.”
I can see that he’s trying to make small talk to lighten the mood, but Mother says that politics isn’t a suitable topic of conversation for proper ladies.
“Do my parents know I’m here?” I ask, ignoring the throbbing in my head.
“We sent a messenger over,” Doctor Lobo says. “I explained what happened, and that you are under medical care with only minor injuries.”
I fight the urge to protest the “minor injuries” description.
“…I reassured your family that you are expected to recover fully in a few days, and there is no need to visit yet.”
“No need to visit?”
Doctor Lobo finishes jotting something, then looks up at me.
“You’ve experienced a traumatic event, both physically and mentally.
The days that follow such events tend to be critical for recovery.
I want you—both you and Leandro—to remain under strict medical observation for the next few days.
You must avoid anything that could aggravate the symptoms and induce further shock or other side effects.
To that end, you must remain here at the fazenda, in medical retreat.
No visitors without my prior approval. You must also avoid any kind of strenuous physical activity—”
“Mother will not like that.”
I’m to stay here for several days, alone with Leandro, with no one other than the servants and doctor occasionally visiting?
I can already hear Mother demanding to bring in an outside chaperone.
“How is your relationship with your mother?” he asks.
I hesitate. Since I told her about the pregnancy, she’s hardly spoken to me. She turns rigid in my presence, fuming with thinly concealed fury.
I suppose I deserve it.
Only a mother could love you.
“Not very good.”
“Hmm.” He presses his lips together. “Then perhaps it’s best not to see her until the medical retreat is over.”
A part of me would like to see a familiar face as I recover, and maybe if Mother is worried about my health, she’ll soften. But the moment she sees that I’m well enough, her mood will darken. She’ll be furious that I did not manage to have a proper conversation with Leandro about the baby.
Perhaps it’s best to have a few days alone with Leandro before seeing her. In a way, I got a lucky extension of time to attain a proposal. When the shock wears off and he returns to himself, I believe I can get the proposal. He was just about to say it, I feel it in my heart.
But…
“Mother is very willful,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t believe letters sent via messengers will suffice. She’ll be very concerned about my being…”
Alone with Leandro.
“Well. About my well-being.”
The doctor nods thoughtfully. “I suppose I could stop by and speak to her in person.”
“Would you, really? Thank you, Doctor Lobo!”
This physician has a charm about him. Perhaps he can placate Mother.
“Leandro seems unwell,” I say.
“He’s in a bit of a shock,” he mutters. “Give him some time.”
A bit?
“Do you think he remembers what I told him about the baby?”
“He may or may not. The moments post-trauma tend to be delicate on the psyche. You should wait until he’s more back to normal to talk to him about it. Although…” His voice fades, as though a new thought has entered his mind.
“Although what?”
“Sometimes with accidents like this, you see…” He presses his lips together. “Sometimes people do change in ways that are permanent.”
The word permanent makes my blood go cold. I think of the hollow aspect of Leandro’s face, the sunken cheeks, the darkness under his eyes. His sullen demeanor. His unbearable silence and seeming inability to speak. His uncomprehending yet relentless gaze.
“But it’s too early to worry about that.” Doctor Lobo waves a hand. “Just give yourselves some time and follow my instructions carefully.” He places a cold metal instrument on my belly and listens in from the other end. “There are no signs of internal damage.”
I say a quick, silent prayer of thanks that the baby wasn’t hurt. But my relief is somewhat tempered by the Leandro situation. Sometimes people do change in ways that are permanent.
I have a child now. My child’s future depends on Leandro. I need Leandro to be well. (And I need him to want to marry me.)
“Doctor Lobo,” I say, “what were you going to tell me earlier? Before Leandro came into the room, you said you had to warn me about him.”
“Right, that. I was merely going to tell you that he’s in a bit of a shock.”
“Oh.”
I nod, but I can’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. The way he talked about Leandro, it felt as if he was about to say something bad. And when Doctor Lobo stared at the door, as Leandro stood behind it, he looked…tense, frightened, even.
I suppose I must have misread him. After all, I’m also in shock, aren’t I? My head hurts, my limbs are throbbing, and I’m utterly fatigued. He is a physician, and he is the Neves family doctor, so he must be among the best in the province.
“Forgive my discourtesy,” he says, “but I’m afraid I must say this, as your physician. When I mentioned earlier that you must avoid strenuous activities, well, this includes…intimate activities as well.”
I raise my brows. “I would never…!”
“Of course not. Forgive me, my role as medical practitioner sometimes forces me to speak coarsely.”
I am aghast. A lady should not have to be told not to be intimate with a man she isn’t married to. Is he saying this because I’m pregnant and unwed, so now he thinks of me as a woman of low morals?
Leandro returns with a glass of water for me. Doctor Lobo gives medical instructions while Leandro stands there watching me, dazed and wordless. I wish he would say something. At times, it appears that he’s seeing through me, and his gaze is distant.
Doctor Lobo prepares a sleeping draught, then hands it to me. It tastes bitter, but he says it will help with the pain.
I settle back in bed, and Doctor Lobo picks up his suitcase and promises he will return later to join us for dinner, but he must see other patients in the afternoon.
I lie back down and pull the sheets over my shoulders. My eyes close and I feel the sweet tentacles of sleep grip me. Then Leandro screams.
“Wake up!”
I sit up, pulse racing. Leandro stares at me, wild-eyed and feverish.
“For God’s sake, what’s the matter?” I ask.
Leandro shifts on his feet, cheeks crimson. He shakes his head. “Nothing, I…I am sorry.”
I am at a loss. Doctor Lobo places a hand on Leandro’s shoulder and says, “All is well. Let’s give her leave to rest now.”
He sounds as if he is speaking to a child.
And then they are both gone.
As I listen to their fading footsteps, I am still rattled by Leandro’s strange demeanor. Why scream at me to wake up? I wasn’t even asleep yet. Prior to this, Leandro said barely a word the whole time. His way of staring, too, unsettled me.
He’s just in shock, I tell myself. He’ll recover.