My baby!I wanted to scream.Go to her!
Panic had seized me, though, and I couldn’t find the words. I was too terrified to even think them, until the cool air felt like a temporary remedy to the hysteria, and I forced one word out.
“Mia!”
“Mia.” His eyes were frantic. “Scarlett—”
I started to run with my dress halfway buttoned. The trees around me seemed to sway with the unsteady rhythm in my head, their rustling a hundred whispers that wouldn’t quiet. The air burned against my lungs, but I was clammy with sweat.
A scream erupted from my throat when I ran into Nino, coming to find us. He tried to stop me, but I beat against him, screaming unintelligible words—they were coming out in a language he couldn’t seem to understand!
Brando said something to him in rapid-fire Italian, he said something back, and then Brando took off, pointing at me and then at the house.
“You need to stay with me, Signora Fausti,” Nino said.
“Fuck you,” I said, and I knew he understood that.
My baby! What was happening? I could see a crowd had formed around the door to the kitchen, and I could feel—feel—the tension. I could see the anxious glances people were giving one another.
A mixture between a sob and growl emanated from my throat, and without a second thought, my elbow came up, meeting Nino’s nose with a crunch, catching him off guard when he attempted to stop me from going further.
I ran as fast as my feet would take me, shoving people out of my way, until I finally emerged in the kitchen, where Ettore stood in the center, holding Mia in his arms.
Brando stood in front of him, murderous intent vibrating from someplace I could only feel, but he was outwardly calm. His brothers stood around him, mimicking his stance. Aunt Lola stood close with a knife in her hand. Tito stood next to her, holding one of his old-school amputation saws.
Italian was being flung back and forth, hands waving in fury. Except for Ettore, who stood calm, nodding at all the threats. It wasn’t laughter on his face, but amusement.
I had no attention to spare for any of it, except for my baby. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I slipped through the crowd, right past Donato, and got close enough to put my hand on Mia’s back.
“Give me my baby,” I said, “orIwill kill you where you stand. I swear it.”
Brando took a step forward. Ettore took a step back. I held my hand up to stop anyone from coming closer.
Ettore stared at me for a minute, maybe to gauge how serious I was being. Finally, he nodded.
“I did not come here to cause this child harm. Tell the men to step back, to vow not to kill me, and I will give her to you. As I tried to explain toyou.” He gave Lola a scalding look.
She lifted the knife, its metal catching the light and glinting, a fierce scowl on her face.
“Brando,” I said, not removing my eyes from Mia.
She was starting to stir. The situation hadn’t even disturbed her. She was used to sleeping through noise. But she rubbed her face against the unfamiliar man’s coat, her little hands coming up to feel his face. Then her eyes blinked open—a green that was almost startling set in her face. She had her father’s coloring but my eyes. She looked up at Ettore in bewilderment. Her lip came out in a pout a second later, and then she started to cry. Big fat tears ran down her cheeks when she realized she didn’t know who he was.
My arms ached to take her, to hold her close, to never let her go. They also ached to tear him to shreds. My hands had balled into fists so tight that my nails pierced my palms.
My husband became a wild animal for me; I became a wild animal for her.
Ettore shushed her before making some funny face that made her stop crying for a second. He said her name in a sweet tone and then brought up gelato.
“Ato?” she said, rubbing her sleepy, wet eyes. “Mo.”
“Yes,bambina mia, you will have more. Vanilla, ah?Papàwill get you some.”
“Appa.” Mia turned in Ettore’s arms, looking for Brando, a finger hanging out of her mouth, her two bottom teeth showing. When she found him, her lip came out again, and she held her arms out. “Ia.” She sniffed. “Appa.”
Brando rolled his shoulders. He was vibrating so hard thatmyteeth seemed to clatter. “I give you my word that the men will not harm you,” he said in Italian. “Give my daughter to me.”
“Ah,no.” Ettore shook his head. “I will give her to her mamma.”
