“You don’t sound very thrilled.”
“I would be thrilled if I believed it. Start at the beginning, Alicia.”
“General Stevens came to the office just now,” she said. “With him, he had a major who is stationed in Germany. He said that the major was his godson, that he and the major’s father had been at West Point together.”
What the hell has this to do with Jorge having a child?
“And?”
“The major—his name is Naylor—said that the boy’s mother went to his wife and told her and some colonel’s wife—they’re friends—about the boy.”
Oh, Sweet Jesus, please, Alicia doesn’t need this!
When Jorge—their baby and their only son—had died, Juan Fernando Castillo had to seriously consider getting institutional care for his wife. It hadn’t gotten that far, but she had been clinically depressed for more than a year, and she still had trouble at least twice a year, on Jorge’s birthday and on the date of his death.
“Sweetheart, Jorge . . . left us . . . twelve years ago,” he said.
“I know. I told you, the boy is twelve.”
“What does General Stevens want us to do about this? Alicia, how does he know, how can we know, that the child is Jorge’s?”
“Fernando, when I looked at the boy’s picture—his name is Karl—Jorge’s eyes looked back at me.”
That’s hardly proof of paternity.
Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry. How could that goddamned General Stevens do this to you? What was the sonofabitch thinking?
“And what does General Stevens want us to do about this child?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, does he want us to provide support? What?”
“He didn’t say anything about support. But if he’s Jorge’s son, our grandson, of course we’ll support him. What a question!”
Oh, shit!
“Sweetheart, listen to me. If this is true . . .”
“Of course it’s true!”
“We don’t know that, sweetheart. Wishing it so doesn’t make it so.”
“He has Jorge’s eyes,” she said.
Screw his eyes.
“What I’m asking you to do, sweetheart, is just take it easy right now. I’ll be home tomorrow and then we can talk about it. I’ll have a word with General Stevens, get all the facts..."
“I’m telling you, Fernando, this is Jorge’s child.”
“If it is, no one would be happier than I would. But we don’t know that, sweetheart. We have to be very careful in a situation like this.”
“Now I’m becoming sorry that I called you,” she said.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I’m sorry I called you,” she said. “You’re ruining this for me, Fernando. Sometimes you have a heart of ice.”