Epilogue

Ivy

3 Months Later


It is a bright winter day. I button Elena’s jacket and lift her out of the car. Santiago mutters a curse behind me, and I turn to find him fumbling with the stroller as he unfolds it.

“These things. I don’t understand why we need all the gadgets. I mean, a cup holder, for Christ's sake.” He gives it a shake, then runs his hands over the flat bed, tucking the blankets in around the still empty mattress with the little stuffed bear she sleeps with peeking out over the top.

He’s so careful with Elena, so caring. He’s a better father than I even imagined, and I had imagined him doting on her. He never gave himself enough credit.

He pushes the stroller toward us, eyes on Elena. She is reaching out for him with a big smile on her lips and her mouth open. She's all gums. Her cheeks are a healthy pink, her eyes the same shade as his. I know that can still change, but I hope not.

“You want your daddy, don’t you?” he asks, smiling a bright smile. He releases the stroller and takes her from me. “I hope all those people won’t expect to hold her,” he says to me with a glance through the windows of the French doors leading to the room where the party will be held after her baptism. It’s a baptism and a belated baby shower in one. The latter was Colette’s idea.

“Of course they’ll want to hold her,” I tell him. “She’s the reason they’re here. And you will smile and let them.”

“I will not.”

“Mm-hmm.” I push the stroller as we walk toward the small chapel at IVI. I remember our first night there. The night of the marking. It’s been more than a year since that day, and any feeling I used to associate with it or with this place is gone. That’s partly a choice and partly time healing old wounds. And during these past three months, Santiago and I have healed. We’ve started a new life together. A new life with our new family.

A pianist plays soft music, and I can smell incense burning beyond the chapel door. We park the stroller as soon as we’re inside and carry Elena in. I smile to find the small gathering already at the back of the church around the baptismal font. My father is standing beside Eva. He’s holding Michael’s hand, and Hazel is beside Michael. Jackson and Colette are here too, the two of them seemingly even closer than before. Colette is holding Ben. Antonia is talking to Marco’s wife and their two children as Marco stands nervously by.

Mercedes is accompanied by Judge. I’m more and more curious as to their relationship. They stand a little removed from the gathering. She will only stay for the baptism. I know she wanted to be godmother, but Santiago told her no. We haven’t discussed it yet, but we will, I'm sure, as time passes.

Jonathan Price stands as the representative of IVI, and I’m surprised but happily so. I remember meeting him. He’d been warm and kind, and Santiago is at ease around him. We smile in greeting.

The priest who married us is wearing his ceremonial robes. He clears his throat and smiles, gesturing for us to take our places.

Santiago and I take Elena’s coat off, and I leave it in the front pew so she’s dressed only in the long white christening gown that Antonia made her. I had no idea she could sew, but it’s beautiful and a shame it will only be worn once. Although that’s not entirely true. Each of our children will wear the gown at his or her baptism.

Marco straightens his tie as we approach, and Eva steps beside him. She’s beaming. He stiffens even more. It’s funny to see him nervous. Eva will be Elena’s godmother, and Marco will be her godfather. He actually got emotional when Santiago asked him.

“Are we ready?” the priest asks as Elena excitedly extends her arms to Eva, leaning all her weight toward her.

Eva makes a face at her that has her giggling, and her giggle is infectious. Ben starts to wriggle in Colette’s arms, and Michael starts to make faces at Elena to get her attention.

The priest clears his throat, and so does Eva in a mock effort to be serious. Santiago hands Elena over to her and whispers in her ear for her to behave, but I see the wink he gives her.

Elena should have been baptized months ago, but with all that was going on, well, we didn’t even think about it.

Santiago takes my hand, winding his fingers with mine, and we watch as the priest performs the ceremony in perfect Latin. Elena only fusses when he dribbles water over her forehead, her chubby little arms wriggling, hands fisted, cheeks getting bright red as she prepares to let out a howl of indignation. It makes me smile. She's so much like her father, and I have to squeeze his hand to stop him from going forward and stopping the priest.

The ceremony is over quickly, and soon, we’re wrapping her up in a blanket.

Mercedes comes to congratulate us and hands Santiago a small gift. Judge then escorts her out. I know she wants to stay and some part of me wants to tell her she can. But today is about Elena. Not Mercedes. As everyone begins to make their way to the reception room, Santiago and I hold back along with the priest as Jonathan approaches, taking something out of the breast pocket of his jacket.

“It is lovely to see you, my dear,” he says to me, taking my elbow and leaning in to kiss my cheek.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I answer. “It’s very nice to see you, too.”

“It is a happy surprise, old man,” Santiago says as they shake hands. “I hope you’ll come to the house for dinner one of these nights.”

“When I heard about the christening, I volunteered to represent The Society, and as far as dinner, I would be honored.” Jonathan runs the back of his finger over Elena’s cheek. “She is a beauty,” he says. “Like her mother.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“I had a little to do with it,” Santiago adds. “But I am glad she only seems to have inherited the color of my eyes.”

“Well, there is her temper,” I add.

Santiago gives me a look.

“Then you have your hands full,” Jonathan says. He holds the box out toward us and opens it.

I’d almost forgotten this part. The bracelet for all little girls born within IVI.

“Thank you,” Santiago says.

Jonathan nods, and he and the priest take their leave.

Santiago clasps the chain around Elena’s pudgy wrist.

I try to process what I feel about this, and in a way, it’s strange. I feel nothing. At least not right now. Maybe later I will. There’s one thing I’ve realized in the last year. The Society is a sort of extended family. And if you are on good terms with them, then they’re a powerful support system.

But if you’re not, if, like my brother, you turn against them, their wrath is just as powerful, their justice swift and final. But there is also compassion. Hazel and Michael were welcomed back. I don’t know what my father or she or even I had expected would happen if they found her. I always imagined them hunting for her. Hunting for anyone who’d left the fold. But it’s not like that. They will hunt you. Absolutely. If you’ve caused harm to members of The Society or The Society itself, they will hold you accountable. But walking away is not a punishable offense. At least it hasn’t been in the case of Hazel. My father’s fear had been in her running off, shunning a Sovereign Son. But that’s not how IVI saw it. I'm not sure how much Santiago had to do with that, but I am happy for the end result.

This doesn’t mean that I plan on enmeshing myself more than I would any other group or organization, but it makes me see things a little differently, and that’s a good thing because I know how important IVI is to Santiago. His ancestors are among the founding families, after all. It’s in his blood.

Someone clears their throat. We turn to the door to find Colette and Eva standing there.

“Are you guys coming?” Eva asks anxiously.

“The guests are getting restless,” Colette adds.

“I mean, really, if you want to hang out here,” Eva continues, rolling her eyes and walking toward us. “My niece is the main event so…” She trails off, shrugging a shoulder.

“We’re coming,” Santiago says.

“Actually,” I contradict, handing Elena over to her favorite aunt. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Eva’s gaze shifts from Santiago to me and back to him. “Just remember it’s a church,” she tells him and turns to walk away.

“How old is she again?” Santiago asks as the door closes behind them, and we’re alone. He turns to me, eyebrows raised. “We should go in. The sooner we do, the sooner we can go home.”

“You’re such a homebody.”

“And you’re a socialite?”

“You have a point.” I take his hand and lead him to a pew. We sit down beside each other and he studies me, his expression more serious.

“Ivy?”

I see the furrow between his eyes deepen and reach out to smooth it out. “It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to have a minute alone with you. We’re so rarely alone now.”

He smiles but waits. He knows me too well now.

“I wanted to wait until I was sure,” I start, glancing up at the altar as my eyes warm with tears. Happy ones. When I turn back to him, his are nearly the same as he waits expectantly.

I touch his collar to straighten it.

He takes my hands and dips his head to draw my attention back to his face. “Ivy?”

“We shouldn’t pack the christening gown away just yet.”

He cocks his head, draws a deep breath in as understanding begins to dawn. “Are you—?”

“We’re having another baby.”

He hesitates.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, just to be clear. He lets out a laugh and hugs me so tight, it hurts. But to hear him laugh and to feel him hold me like this, and to feel his happiness, it makes that same feeling of joy almost burst inside me, and tears are streaming down my face by the time he draws back. He’s using his thumbs to wipe them away as he kisses me, telling me how happy he is, how proud he is of me. And when my tears stop, we rest our foreheads against one another’s, and I touch his cheek.

“I love you so much,” I whisper.

“I love you even more.” We stay like that for a long moment before we pull apart. “Let’s keep this secret to ourselves for a little while.”

“Yes.”

“We’d better go in,” he says, pulling me to my feet.

I nod, and he places one hand at my back as we walk to the door. He opens it, and I step out.

“I’m not surprised, you know,” he says as we walk through the courtyard to the reception room.

“No? Because you seemed surprised.”

“Well, the De La Rosa virility is a legendary thing,” he says as he opens the French door and gives me a wicked grin. “I’ll show you again tonight.”

I put my hands on his shoulders, lean up on tiptoe and give him a one-sided grin. “I only hope your stamina is as legendary.”