Read The Poet's Wife for Free Online

again.
    ‘I know Vicente mentioned money to you, Luisa. How much do you and Eduardo want? Name your price.’
    Money? I have completely forgotten about all that. I continue gazing at the enchanting child in my arms and am about to speak when we hear a creak of the door behind us and turn to see Eduardo standing there.
    ‘We don’t want your money.’ His voice is quiet but confident and I feel a surge of pride. For the first time in his life, Eduardo holds an incredible power over his brother.
    ‘We want nothing from you. You disgust me.’ Vicente and I watch in astonishment as Miguel stares at his feet, cowed. ‘I never want you to darken this house again, do you hear me? I want nothing from you towards the upkeep of this child, not now and not while he’s growing up.’
    ‘Eduardo,’ interjects Vicente. ‘Why don’t you accept some money? For the boy’s future? Tell him, Luisa—’
    ‘I don’t want your money!’ Eduardo barks so loudly that it makes us all jump.
    I rush to my husband’s side and lay a hand on his arm. ‘Edu! Isabel will wake up!’
    Eduardo pushes his hair away from his face and stands upright. ‘We don’t want your money,’ he says more quietly through his teeth.
    ‘Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. And…I am extremely grateful, you know.’
    ‘I don’t want your gratitude either. I’m doing it for this poor creature, not you.’
    Miguel nods briskly and makes for the door. ‘Are you going to come now, Vicente?’
    ‘No, I may stay here a little while.’
    As Miguel is about to close the door behind him, Eduardo suddenly remembers something.
    ‘Oh, d…does he have a name?’
    Miguel merely shrugs his shoulders and with that, he is gone.
----
    I sabel is puzzled by the origins of this baby and frequently points to my rounded stomach and then to the baby with a bewildered look upon her face. I am pleased that she understands this; after all, I have taught her to be curious of the world around her. But all the same, I do not wish to confuse the child and decide that as soon as she is old enough to explain the situation to her, I shall do. Curiously, Isabel’s aversion to being presented with a younger sibling never extends to her new brother, whom we decide to name Joaquín . She can be equally unkind and spiteful with María as she is loving and gentle with our new child and I can only hope that this shall not always be the case. María is as fair as Joaquín is dark and as timid as he is curious. A less likely pair of twins could never be found, but to our great relief, nobody thinks to question it. Not my parents, nor Eduardo’s, not the postman, the butcher or the stream of visitors that flood through the gates of Carmen de las Estrellas three months after the birth of María. Up until that point, Eduardo and I decide it unwise to allow anyone into our home, as most likely they will discern the difference in age. Thus the story sent out to the world is that I suffered a trying pregnancy and labour and feel terribly fatigued. Joaquín is, naturally, much bigger than María but we explain this is due to the fact he is the first-born and thus more strapping. It is far-fetched, but it works.
    I have scarcely a moment to sit and breathe with three small children. Conchi, whom I know will keep our secret, helps enormously in her customary stoical manner. Yet even with the two of us, there seems an inordinate amount of work. I must confess I should be quite lost without her during these days. Eduardo, meanwhile, reluctantly concedes that he is not receiving the financial returns that his poetry merits, and returns to the city to work in the only law firm prepared to accept him after his previous dramatic resignation.
    My new role as mother of three consumes me so entirely that it is not until some six months later I feel able to resume my walks across the sierras. Isabel is old enough to walk alone by then, and although Conchi wishes to accompany me and help