Try not to worry! She might never have a child. Suddenly, all she wanted was to have Dante’s child. She choked back a sob. She needed some fresh air.
The minute she emerged from her appointment at the hospital, Abby sent the car home without her. She told the driver she wanted to do some shopping and would take a cab home. She didn’t know how she’d kept her composure when the smiling driver asked if she wanted him to come back and fetch her and her purchases. She couldn’t go back and face the interrogation. Not yet. She was still too upset to be a good liar. Her grandmother would be able to read her like an open book.
So she walked around the Florence piazza, too shocked to even notice the grandeur and romance of the square. Usually she would drink in the statues, the majestic buildings, and the history, and life would feel good. Today nothing was going to make her feel good, not after the diagnosis she’d been given.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. There had to be a mistake. She was only twenty-three years old. Women had children well into their thirties, some even forties. If only she’d stayed with Dante and not wasted the last three years. But like any young woman, she’d thought she’d have plenty of time to have children. At nineteen she had felt like she had all the time in the world. How ironic that now that she had made her peace with becoming a mother, was actually ready for motherhood, wanted motherhood, it might be denied her.
Dr. Molinari’s words echoed in her brain. He’d told her she may need a hysterectomy. Only now were the implications of those words beginning to sink into her dazed brain. Her legs, finally too shaky to hold her, forced her to find a chair at one of the cafés on the edge of the piazza.
She watched the children chasing pigeons across the square, listened to their laughter, and watchedtheir doting mothers who, although they were trying to have coffee with their friends, were aware of every move their children made.
The loss struck her hard. She couldn’t stop shaking from a combination of anger, fear, and immense sorrow. Funny that as the doctor calmly told her the percentages all she could picture was her future with Dante and their brood of at least five children. She’d sworn since her brother and parents’ deaths she’d make up for being an only surviving child by producing a large family. She didn’t want any of her children to be lonely the way she was while growing up. She was grateful for the love she’d received from her grandmother, but it didn’t take the place of a sibling.
“Papa!” cried a small boy as he raced across the square, scattering pigeons, intent on reaching his father’s outstretched arms.
Abby couldn’t breathe. How would she tell Dante? He’d want to move forward with the divorce now that she couldn’t give him what he truly desired—a child. He didn’t want to bring shame on the Lombardi family with divorce, but not having children was likely worse and he would seek divorce for that.
Her heart hurt and she rubbed her chest trying to get it to ease. She’d lose Dante.
“Contessa Lombardi, are you all right?”
Abby drew her gaze away from the heartbreaking picture of father and son walking hand-and-hand around the tables nearby. Carla, the woman who’d been in Dante’s arms the night she’d returned home, stood before her, her face etched with concern.
“Should I call Dante for you?”
“No. Don’t do that, please…”
Carla didn’t even ask. She took a seat across from Abby and called the waiter over.
“Have you ordered?” Not waiting for a reply she said, “Two espressos please,” in Italian. She waited until the orderwas taken before speaking. “I know we did not start off, how do you say, on the best feet, but I’ve known Dante for many years and I’d like to become your friend, too.”
“I can’t remember you being around when I first married Dante. He did, however, mention you occasionally.” Abby sighed. “When he was picking fault with me, he would hold up this woman, Carla, whom I’d never met, as the paragon of womanhood.”
Carla laughed. The sound seemed so out of place given Abby’s news.
“That is because he was never my boyfriend or husband. Nor would he want to be,” she added hurriedly. “I was in Antarctica studying plant life under the snow when you married Dante. I’m a botanist. Plants are my passion. Plants that have medicinal applications, in particular. I’m heading back to Brazil in six weeks for another twelve months. I’m so excited I can hardly wait. The Amazon is the pot at the end of my rainbow.”
Abby didn’t want to have this polite conversation while her world disintegrated around her, so she remained silent, hoping Carla would take the hint. Carla must have sensed her disposition.
“Why don’t you tell me what has upset you? Sometimes it helps to talk to a stranger.”
Abby felt her eyebrows rise. “A stranger who happens to be best friends with my husband?”
“Has Dante done something to upset you?Grazie,” she said to the waiter who brought their coffees. “I know how difficult he can be. But he has deep feelings for you.”
That made Abby almost choke on the strong coffee she’d just sipped. Placing the coffee cup back down, she said, “Perhaps you don’t know Dante as well as you think.”
“I tried to talk Dante out of the little scene in his den the night you arrived at his villa, but he would notlisten. Why do you think it was so important to him to make it appear that we were lovers?”
“Revenge?”
“I wonder ifyouknow Dante,” Carla said sarcastically. “You should know he would never be so petty.”
Abby leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her head resting on her clasped hands. Her bad mood made her temper flare. “Then why don’t you enlighten me since you seem to know him so well.”
“He wanted to see your reaction. He wanted to know you cared. Why would he do that if he were not still in love with you?”
“Dante has never been in love with me.”
