Chapter 16
Alessandra
Before the doctor left for Florence, he asked me a question.
He leaned in close so no one else would hear. Only the kitchen staff were left in the kitchen, because Caterina hadn’t come back yet.
“Is everything okay?” he whispered.
I gave him a confused smile. “Everything’s fine.”
His voice remained a whisper as he said, “I meant with your pregnancy.”
I froze.
How did he know?
“What… what do you mean?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
“Have there been any complications?”
I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. The corner of my mouth trembled. “I… my blood pressure is a little high, so I’ve been going to the doctor every week.”
He looked over at the kitchen staff to make sure they weren’t listening in before he spoke. “Preeclampsia?”
The word struck terror into my heart.
“…yes,” I whispered. “How did you know?”
“You have unusual amounts of swelling in your hands. Your complexion is a bit pale, and you’ve held your forehead a couple of times during the meal as though you have a headache. You also seem…” He gestured towards the rosary in my left hand. “…a little bit worried.”
I pulled the rosary off the counter, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable, and buried it in the folds of my dress. I must have been rubbing the beads absentmindedly, which I tended to do a lot these days.
“It could have been a dozen different things,” he continued, “but when you mentioned high blood pressure and weekly monitoring, I figured it was preeclampsia. When did they diagnose it?”
“The 24th week,” I said nervously.
He was quiet for a second.
From his silence, I knew he knew how dangerous that was.
Dr. Aiello was my OB-GYN. I remembered what he had told me:
The earlier in the pregnancy this happens, the more careful we have to be. Anything before 28 weeks, we need to monitor you closely.
Raffaelo finally spoke. “You’re going for weekly monitoring, so that’s good. That’s the most important part. Are they doing ultrasounds to check on the baby?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Every two weeks.”
“Urine tests and blood work?”
“Yes, every week.”
“Excellent. Do they have you on any medications?”
“They have me on labetalol for blood pressure and dexametasona for the baby,” I said.
The names of the medications had been so strange-sounding just a month ago, but now they tripped off my tongue. After all, they were a daily part of my life.
“Good. The dexametasona will help mature your baby’s lungs. It sounds like you’re in good hands.” He peered into my eyes and smiled kindly. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Maybe it was his kindness…
Maybe it was talking to someone in a safe place, outside the frightening confines of my doctor’s office…
But my eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
“On Downton Abbey, Sybil died from it,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Raffaelo grabbed my hand and held onto it. “This is the 21st century. That was in – what – the 1800s?”
“The early 1900s.”
“Okay, well, your situation is very different. I haven’t seen the show – was she in a hospital?”
“No,” I whispered. “Her father followed the advice of a doctor and didn’t move her from their house.”
“Well, there you have it,” he said reassuringly. “If she’d been in a hospital, they would have been able to treat her – even back then – and she would have been fine. I’m assuming she had seizures – is that right?”
“Yes.”
“That was eclampsia. You don’t have eclampsia, you have preeclampsia.
It’s the difference between being diabetic and pre-diabetic.
You just need to be careful and see your doctor for monitoring.
Plus, like I said, if she’d been in a hospital, she would have been fine, even in 1900 or whatever year it was. ”
“We’re an hour away from Florence,” I whispered. “What if – ”
“If your doctor thinks it’s necessary, he’ll probably want you to have a C-section,” Raffaelo interrupted gently.
“Maybe a month early, at most, which will be fine for the baby. They’ll be monitoring both of you closely, long before you ever have to worry about it.
You’re going to be fine. And your baby is going to be fine. ”
I sniffled. “On Downton Abbey, the baby lived, at least.”
“And you’re going to live to see your great-grandchildren get married,” Raffaelo said.
I laughed and cried all at once.
“You’re going to be fine,” Raffaelo said. “Trust me.”
I nodded, tears blurring my vision. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he said, and smiled, then patted my hand. “Okay.”
When Adriano came to get Raffaelo a few minutes later, I told him ‘thank you’ again.
“You’re welcome,” he said warmly. “Remember what I said: everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
I nodded and smiled.
Adriano looked at me curiously. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“…okay,” he said, unconvinced. “Dario wants to see you in the parlor.”
That was unusual.
The parlor was the place where my husband did business – like the meeting he’d had this morning with his brothers, Lars, and a couple of my sisters-in-law.
I rarely went into the parlor. I still had an uneasy relationship with it, seeing as it was the first place I’d been taken when I was brought here to the mansion.
Against my will, I might add.
It was where I’d seen Lars after he killed the man in my father’s café…
And where Niccolo had first applied his brand of devious manipulation against me.
I’d since come to know both men as wonderful people –
But I still had bad associations with the room where it had all happened.
Dario asking me to come there didn’t necessarily mean anything was amiss –
But it didn’t bode well.
“Okay. Thanks,” I told Adriano, then smiled at Raffaelo again. “Ciao.”
As I walked down the corridors of the giant mansion, I rubbed the beads of my rosary.
I loved my new home. More than that, I loved my new family – and I adored my husband.
And yet, I was afraid. And not just of the parlor.
I was afraid that God was angry with me for marrying a mafioso.
I was terrified He would punish my baby for my sins.
I knew it was horrible of me to think that.
God would never take out His displeasure with me on an innocent child.
And yet…
In the Bible, King David seduced a married woman. When Bathsheba became pregnant, David ordered her husband, who was fighting in a war, to return home and sleep with her. When Uriah refused to leave his men, David ordered him sent to the front line, and he was killed in battle.
David married Bathsheba…
But God sent the prophet Nathan to rebuke him and pass God’s judgment.
Bathsheba’s baby died because of their sin.
The second the doctor diagnosed me with preeclampsia after we returned from Rome, I had only one thought:
This is my fault.
God is punishing me.
I knew I shouldn’t think that…
But all I could think of was Bathsheba and her baby.
My fear became all-consuming.
I immediately went to Mass in Florence and said confession. I admitted to my sin, albeit obliquely:
Father, I married a sinful man, and I fear God’s judgment on my baby.
The priest told me, All men are sinful, my child, but God is love. He loves you and your child, and He will protect you both.
I wanted to ask, What about Bathsheba? but I was too afraid to hear his answer.
The priest told me to say 20 Hail Marys and another 20 Our Fathers.
After I finished them, I couldn’t stop.
I began praying all the time.
Please, Mother Mary… please intercede on my behalf.
Please protect Elena…
And please beg God to forgive me.
I married Dario for love, Blessed Mother.
And despite the things he has done, he is a good man, deep down.
If anyone must bear the punishment for what I’ve done, please let it be me…
But please… please don’t let my baby suffer for my sin.
The one great hope I had was Dario’s promise to me:
That, with Roberto’s help, he would take the business legitimate.
That they would leave behind their family’s legacy of crime.
If God would only give us time, I was sure Dario would make good on his promise.
With God’s forgiveness, I hoped that would be enough to wash away the stain of my sin…
Of loving a violent man.
That was my one ray of hope – the single candle that lit my way in a pitch-black cavern of fear.
And then…
The candle was snuffed out.
Two foot soldiers stood watch outside the parlor. They bowed their heads respectfully, and one knocked lightly on the door.
I heard Dario’s voice call out. “Come in.”
I entered to find him staring out the window, deep in thought.
When he turned and saw it was me, he smiled. “Amore mio.”
I smiled back. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did.” As he walked over, he asked, “How is our daughter?”
“She’s going to be a professional footballer, I think. Here, feel.”
I took his hand and placed it on the side of my belly.
When Dario felt her little foot kicking, his face lit up with joy –
And then his expression suddenly dimmed, as though he was saddened by something.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“How have you been feeling?”
“Good,” I said, then allowed myself to get a bit closer to the truth. “…okay. By the way, Raffaelo figured out about the preeclampsia.”
Dario’s eyebrows shot up. “How?”
“He could tell from the symptoms, I guess. But he said I would be fine.”
“Of course you will,” Dario said. Not in the calm, reassuring tones that Raffaelo had used, but with an urgency that made me slightly uneasy – like he was trying to convince himself.
“You already have the finest doctors in all of Italy. And if you need the best in the world, I will get them for you.”
“I know,” I said with a forced smile.
He asked about my next appointment. I told him it was scheduled for Friday.
“Lars and I will go with you,” he said.
“That’s not necessary,” I protested. “You always send four men with me anyway – ”
“I know, but we’re going nonetheless. In fact, I’m considering having your doctor come here from now on. To the house.”
By threatening him, a dark little voice in my head whispered.
“I don’t want you forcing Dr. Aiello to come here,” I said.