A scream echoed from upstairs, and it seemed like every eye in the room flew up to the noise. The men seemed to get worse after that, and so did the women, but in a different way. I suggested to Juliette that we cook something for dinner.
She nodded, about to get up, when Nonno started to talk.
“My mamma was born in this farmhouse. She gave birth to me here. In the same room Mia is shedding blood for her child.”
“And you were both okay,” Magpie said, kissing his hand.
He looked toward the window again when another scream seemed to tear from upstairs and make its way downstairs. His hands clenched, then relaxed, but I noticed that happened a few times. Almost as unnerving as the situation was the unease these men were almost sweating out.
As I was about to stand up, nudge Juliette to help me in the kitchen, a different kind of cry came from upstairs. A baby’s new cry. Every hair on my body stood up, and a rush of warmth seemed to flood through my heart and invade my veins. Matteo let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and set his head on my shoulder.
“A cry,” Magpie shouted, covering her mouth, before she moved her hands. “A cry!”
I wiped my eyes, so moved by it that I couldn’t control my tears. All the women were crying.
“Mia. The baby,” Maestro said in a quiet voice.
No one said anything, because no one knew. But a minute or so later, when Saverio came quietly into the kitchen and invited us all up, we knew.
Everything was okay.
Matteo’s grip on my hand felt like it might break my bones, but I was holding him just as tightly.
Mia was sitting up in the bed, tears on her cheeks, gazing down at her new baby like Matteo and I gazed up at the stars. The baby was covered in purple, and both sets of grandparents were sitting next to Mia and the baby. Scarlett was crying, and Brando looked like he might collapse against the wall, but his hand on Scarlett was keeping him steady. It was the same on the opposite side. Mari was in tears, and her husband had his hands on her shoulders, using her for support.
When Mia noticed all of us, she smiled. “Everyone, come closer. Everyone meet Graziana Margherita.” She looked at her grandfather and grandmother. “Your great-granddaughter.”
With tears in his eyes, Nonno walked over to the bed, leaned down, and closed his eyes as he kissed Mia on the forehead. She handed over Graziana Margherita, and Nonno looked at the little dark-haired baby like she was the sunshine, and he was a blind man seeing it for the first time.
“A baby girl,” he breathed. “Graziana Margherita, after my mamma and my entire heart.” He took her over to the window and held her up to the waning light, like he wanted her to bathe in it. They were both glowing. The sun had wrapped its arms around her and was welcoming her into the world, just like her great grandfather was. She was making the softest noises, her tiny fists balled and peeking out through the purple blanket, and he was smiling at her, laughing softly.
I thought maybe he would melt.
I was. I was melting.
And as I looked up at my husband and he looked down at me, his hand on my shoulder, I couldn’t wait for this moment for us. A moment where my husband would look at me like Saverio was looking at Mia—like she’d just given him the world, and he couldn’t be more thankful or in love.
With her. With their life.
That moment when Matteo’s parents and family would welcome our child just like this. Our child would know that he or she would forever be a part of something so special. Of this circle of never-ending love.
I couldn’t wait to see my mom in my child. Or just know that she existed inside of him or her, just like she existed inside of me. I’d make sure she’d live on.
I couldn’t wait.
Chapter 33
Stella
Iwondered if a permanent smile was a thing. Like, could it stick that way? I didn’t think that was such bad thing, except during sad, or mad, times. During mad times, it would probably piss the other person off more. And the laugh lines around the mouth? They’d be deep. And not very genuine.
Pushing my erratic, goofy thoughts aside, I thought back to Graziana’s birth. I loved that Graziana Margherita was born the day after our wedding, and that all was good with her and Mia. She was a healthy eight-pound baby who seemed to like her sleep and not fuss much. Uncle T (that was what I called Uncle Tito in my head), said it was because Graziana had enough padding to insulate her, therefore she’d be a more content baby.
I smiled even wider when I thought back to when it had been my turn to hold her. I’d never held a baby before. She was so warm in my arms, like a little plush weight, and she smelled like heaven. I could still smell her on my shirt, and, like Magpie had said, it was giving me baby fever. Especially when Matteo would stare at me, like he was imagining us with a baby too.
I dropped a dish in the sink and laughed when soapy water splashed me in the face. I was trying to help around the house. It seemed like Scarlett hadn’t had a chance to finish the dirtydishes. In fact, it looked like she might have been staring out the window when she was washing them, and when Whoever came running to tell her about Mia going into labor, she dropped and broke it. I set the mug to the side, but I still needed to find the missing piece somewhere underneath the suds.
Aunt Lola set her hand on my hip and peeked around me. “It is a good day to be alive, ah?”
