She nods and squeezes me tighter.I hug her back, letting the warmth of us holding each other be all there is.But it just turns colder and colder.
She suddenly releases me, smiling widely as she unclasps her crucifix from around her neck.“I know what we can do… to see if you’re pregnant.It’s not a real test, but it’s the next best thing.The necklace test.You must’ve heard of it.”
She’s holding the crucifix by its gold chain, still smiling widely.
“You mean that ancient superstition where the way the necklace moves is supposed to tell you what gender the baby is?”I ask skeptically.
“Exactly.If you are pregnant, it will tell us the gender,” she says, breathless with excitement now.“If it spins in a circle, you’re having a girl and if it swings back and forth, you’re having a boy.And if it just hangs and doesn’t move, then you’re not pregnant.It’s perfect.”
I remember my grandmother telling me about this test a long time ago, and even back then I thought it couldn’t possibly be accurate.But why not?If curses are real, why can’t this be real?Excitement to know is starting to displace the dark thoughts in my mind again.
“OK, why not?Let’s try it,” I say.“How does it work?”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and guides me to one of the chairs.“Sit and lean back.Then I will suspend the crucifix over your belly, and we’ll know.”
I do as she says, wondering if I should maybe lift my shirt so the reading will be more accurate, but decide against it, thinking that would be too silly.
She suspends the crucifix over my belly.Her hand is shaking slightly, but the necklace just hangs limply, not moving at all.
Was I completely wrong?Am I not pregnant at all?We both wait breathlessly, staring at the crucifix.
Nothing happens.
I finally exhale, already starting to convince myself that this is just a stupid old wives’ tale when the crucifix starts swinging back and forth across my belly.
“Are you doing this?”I ask, looking at her hand.It’s still shaking slightly, but she’s not moving any part of it that I can see.
She shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the crucifix that’s swinging over my belly harder and harder.
“A son,” she whispers.“You’re having a son.”
Tears are collecting in her eyes.And I suddenly don’t care if this is real or just superstition.I’m having a son.Matteo’s son.I already knew I was having his child.This is just the confirmation.
A boy.We’re having a little boy.
Tears are rolling down Maria’s face.Tears of joy.I stand up and hug her close, tell her how happy I am, how I can’t wait to tell Matteo tonight.And she tells me this is the best news she’d heard in years, assures me he will be overjoyed.
Then we just stand here, hugging each other, not a trace of the dark thoughts left in my brain as I already picture playing with my son, watching him grow, Matteo teaching him to surf, the three of us falling asleep together on that huge bed upstairs.I can already hear the child’s laughter.
But it’s interrupted savagely by gun fire.Machine gun fire.
Maria releases me, joy evaporating off her face as she stares past me at the window.I turn to see what’s there.
The man who had passed the windows of the kitchen less than ten minutes ago is limping towards us, the front of his shirt red with his blood.He collapses before he reaches the open French doors.
More gunfire is sounding from all around.But it’s short, ends quickly, and dies down fast.
“We have to run,” I tell Maria, grab her hand, and move to pull her after me to the garage, which is just beyond this kitchen.If we can make it there, we can escape in one of the cars.That’s all I’m focusing on.
“What’s the rush, pretty lady?”a man’s voice says from the direction of the garden.I know the voice.It’s the same man who sat at my table at that first restaurant Matteo took me to.The same man I stopped him from killing right then and there.
Dante Moretti.
The man Matteo left to kill today.
“It’s good to see you again,” Dante says as he enters the kitchen.“We must get to know each other better.”
“That is the absolute last thing that will happen,” I say and start running towards the garage, pulling Maria after me.
