Chapter 3 - THE PAYMENT NOBODY EXPLAINED
"There's no hospital payment," Javier said.
He spoke so quickly that I almost believed him.
Almost.
I looked at the paper again.
The words beside Alba's name were unmistakable.
She knows about the hospital payment.
Lucy reached for the sheet.
"Give me that, Marta."
I folded it and slipped it into my purse.
"No."
"Marta, you're misunderstanding something very personal."
I stared at her.
"You've been sleeping with my husband, planning a family ceremony with my children, and apparently keeping notes about my daughter. What exactly am I misunderstanding?"
Lucy looked toward Javier.
For the first time, she seemed to want him to rescue her.
He didn't.
"What hospital payment?" he demanded.
"Not here," Lucy whispered.
"Then where?"
"Javier."
"Answer me."
Alba stepped behind me.
I felt her little hand find mine.
That decided everything.
Whatever this paper meant, my daughter wasn't going to spend another minute listening to adults argue about secrets she'd been forced to carry.
I turned to Elena.
"Can you take Alba to the car? I'll be right behind you."
Alba shook her head.
"Mom, I want to stay with you."
I crouched.
"I know, baby. And we're leaving together. I just need two minutes."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Elena offered her hand.
Alba took it reluctantly, but before leaving, she whispered something to me.
"The candle wasn't my idea."
"I know."
"No, Mom. Aunt Lucy told me what to say at the wedding. But I said something different."
My chest tightened.
"What did she want you to say?"
Alba looked at Lucy.
"She wanted me to say I chose my new family."
The room went silent.
I kissed Alba's forehead.
"You never have to choose between people who love you."
Then Elena led her out.
I waited until the door closed.
"Now," I said. "Explain the payment."
Lucy sat heavily on the velvet bench.
Javier remained standing.
"Lucy," he warned.
She looked at him with an expression I couldn't read.
"You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Of course you don't. You never wanted to know about anything difficult."
"Stop talking in circles."
Lucy looked at me.
"After your miscarriage, there was an outstanding hospital balance."
I frowned.
"I had insurance."
"Not everything was covered."
"Then the hospital would have billed me."
"They did."
I remembered the weeks after losing the baby.
Everything had blurred together.
Sympathy cards.
Casseroles left on the porch.
A tiny knitted blanket folded inside a drawer because I couldn't bear to look at it.
There had been medical bills.
I remembered Javier saying he'd take care of them.
But I didn't remember a payment from Lucy.
"How much?" I asked.
Lucy pressed her lips together.
"Twelve thousand dollars."
Javier turned.
"What?"
"Your mother said Marta couldn't handle another problem. She asked me to help."
I stared at her.
"My mother?"
Lucy nodded.
"She said the bill was going to collections."
"That's impossible. I was still receiving statements."
"Because the payment wasn't made directly to the hospital."
A slow, unpleasant feeling moved through me.
"Then who received it?"
Lucy looked away.
"Javier."
He took a step backward.
"Absolutely not."
"You asked me for the money," she said.
"I never asked you for twelve thousand dollars."
"You said the medical bills were overwhelming."
"I said we were having a difficult year."
Lucy stood.
"You told me you would use it to help Marta."
Javier looked at me.
"Marta, I swear I never received twelve thousand dollars from her."
I believed he might be telling the truth about that particular number.
Not because he was trustworthy.
Because his confusion looked real.
And that frightened me more.
Lucy reached into her bridal clutch and pulled out her phone.
"I have the transfer."
"Show me," I said.
She hesitated.
"Lucy."
She opened her banking app, searched through archived statements, and held the screen toward me.
There it was.
A transfer for $12,000.
The recipient was listed as J. Morales.
Javier's full name was Javier Morales.
But the account number didn't match our old joint account.
I knew because I had spent the last eight months untangling fifteen years of bills, credit cards, and bank statements.
"That's not our account," I said.
Javier leaned closer.
"No. It isn't."
Lucy frowned.
"But you gave me the information."
"When?"
"At your parents' house."
Javier shook his head.
"Lucy, I never—"
"Your mother wrote it down for me."
Nobody spoke.
I thought of my mother's face when I arrived.
Her insistence that Alba had ruined the ceremony.
Her eagerness to get the photograph away from my daughter.
And suddenly I remembered something.
A few weeks after the miscarriage, my mother had come to our house carrying groceries.
She'd asked whether Javier was taking care of my medical bills.
I'd said yes.
She'd looked almost relieved.
At the time, I thought she was being kind.
Now I wasn't certain.
"We need to speak to Mom," I said.
Lucy grabbed my arm.
"Wait."
I looked down until she released me.
"There's another reason I gave him the money."
"Whoever him is."
Her eyes filled.
"I thought it would make things right."
"Between whom?"
"Between you and Javier."
I almost laughed.
"Lucy, you were having an affair with him."
"I know."
"How does paying my hospital bill make that right?"
She looked miserable.
"Because I thought I owed you something."
Javier rubbed his forehead.
"This is insane."
I turned toward him.
"One more question. Did you know Lucy was planning to use the children in a unity ceremony?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Did you approve that paper about changing where they live?"
He looked genuinely offended.
"No. We agreed to invite them. We did not agree to any custody changes."
I studied him.
"Then why did Lucy write it?"
He looked at his bride.
Lucy didn't answer.
The door opened.
My mother stepped inside.
"Enough," she said.
Her voice was tight, but controlled.
"Guests are leaving. The officiant has gone home. You three need to stop this before somebody says something they'll regret."
I held out the folded paper.
"Mom, did you give Lucy Javier's bank information?"
My mother's face changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
"What are you talking about?"
"The twelve thousand dollars."
She looked at Lucy.
Then at Javier.
And finally at me.
"Marta, you don't understand what things were like back then."
"Then explain."
My mother sat down.
For the first time in my life, she looked old.
"Your father had made a mistake."
I felt my stomach drop.
"What mistake?"
"He borrowed money."
"From whom?"
She stared at the floor.
"From someone he shouldn't have."
Javier looked confused.
"What does that have to do with Marta's medical bills?"
My mother began twisting her wedding ring.
"Your father was afraid of losing the house."
I stared at her.
"Which house?"
"Our house."
The house where I'd grown up.
The house my parents still lived in.
The house where I'd spent Sunday afternoons watching Lucy sit across from me pretending she wasn't sleeping with my husband.
My mother looked up.
"That twelve thousand dollars helped us keep it."
Lucy stumbled backward.
"What?"
"You gave the money to Dad?"
My mother began crying.
"We were desperate."
I tried to understand.
Lucy had transferred money thinking it was for my medical expenses.
My mother had directed it toward my father's debts.
And somehow my daughter's name had ended up in a transition plan beside a note about that payment.
"Why would Alba know any of this?" I asked.
My mother covered her mouth.
Lucy stared at her.
"Mom, what did you tell her?"
My mother shook her head.
"Nothing."
But I remembered how Alba had looked that morning.
How she had asked whether Lucy would still be her aunt.
How carefully she'd held the little bag.
I stepped toward my mother.
"What does Alba know?"
My mother's voice broke.
"She saw something she wasn't supposed to see."
"What?"
My mother reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a worn white envelope.
It was addressed to me.
The handwriting was familiar.
My father's.
Across the front, written in black ink, were four words.
For Marta. After the wedding.
I reached for it.
May you like
My mother pulled it away.
And whispered, "Your father made me promise you wouldn't see this until Lucy was married."
