“It’s called Santa Maria degli Angeli. Father Ascanio will arrange it for me.”
“I told you he would know what to do.”
“I am happy. I will give thanks to God every day for the gift of my child.”
Signora Bruno sucked in her cheeks. “When do you leave?”
“As soon as he has organized it.”
“Who will take you?”
“Dante.”
“Dante knows?”
“Of course. It’s his child, too. Once the baby is born he will buy us a place to live, and one day, when he’s independent of his father, we will marry. God will forgive us for having a child out of wedlock—and anyway, it is His gift, so He can’t be cross.” She smiled excitedly. “I’m so happy, Signora Bruno.”
The old woman frowned. How was it possible to feel happiness in her situation, her future being so uncertain? She didn’t believe for a minute that Dante would ever marry her; that kind of happy ending did not happen for girls like Floriana. She chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Well, that’s as much as we can hope for.”
“I’m going to be a mother.” Floriana sighed dreamily and flopped into a soft chair. “It’s a boy, I just know it. A beautiful little boy. I talk to him all the time.”
“I doubt he has ears to hear you.”
“He hears me with his soul.” Floriana’s smile was peaceful, as if she wanted for nothing. Signora Bruno couldn’t help but admire her optimism, and fear the moment life would disappoint her and snuff it out forever.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m living off air and thriving.”
“You look skinny.”
“I feel sick in my stomach but well in my heart.”
“You’ll harm the baby if you don’t get something down you. Come on, I’ve made soup.”
Reluctantly, Floriana followed her into the kitchen. The smell of onions was overpowering. “I don’t think I can eat anything. Perhaps a cracker. Do you have a cracker?”
“And some cheese.”
“Just a cracker.”
“I’ll butter it.”
Floriana grinned at her fondly. “You’re acting like a mother.”
Signora Bruno scowled to hide her emotion. “You need a mother.”
“How lucky then that I have you.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell Elio?”
“Of course not. One day he’ll wake up and find me gone.”
“You really feel nothing?”
“Nothing.” Floriana turned away and picked up a piece of onion peel. “He’s no father to me.”
“Perhaps being a grandfather will set him on the straight and narrow.”
“No, it won’t. Nothing will. He’s well and truly lost. No wonder my mother left him. Sometimes I think she must have hated me very much to leave me at his mercy.”
Signora Bruno was horrified. “You don’t believe that?”
Floriana shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all losers because they’ll never know the precious little child that I am going to bring into the world. I need nothing, Signora Bruno, nothing and no one, because I’ll have my son. I’ll never be alone again.”
Signora Bruno found her bravado heartbreaking.
Dante remained in Milan, confident that his child would be born in secrecy. He no longer felt that clawing fear in his stomach because the burden had been lifted and arrangements had been made. His father wouldn’t find out. Floriana would be safe and cared for. They could continue their relationship in a new town where no one knew them. As for the future, he didn’t have to think about it yet. For the time being things were fine. However, in the quiet moments before he fell asleep at night and when he awoke in the morning, he shuddered at the thought of how close he had come to ruin.
Floriana’s pregnancy was a delicate issue, and Father Ascanio didn’t want to speak to the Mother Superior on the telephone. He arranged to go and see her instead.
As he drove through the Tuscan countryside he mulled over the unfortunate situation. Floriana would give birth within the safe walls of Santa Maria degli Angeli, then Dante would whisk her away to some far-off town, to start a new life where she knew no one. Of all the people in his parish, Floriana was the least well equipped psychologically to cope with that sort of change. He feared for her, all alone with a small child and no daily support. Perhaps Dante would arrange for help, but still, she’d be emotionally close to no one.
He wrestled with anger when he thought of Dante’s foolishness. One moment of pleasure and he had potentially destroyed a young girl’s life. Of course, Floriana wouldn’t see it that way. She loved him and trusted that he would look after her and possibly even marry her one day. But Father Ascanio was old and wise, and had instantly recognized the weakness in the boy’s demeanor, having seen it so many times before in others. The way he hadn’t been able to look him in the eye, the way his shoulders had slumped in defeat—and Father Ascanio knew the boy. He had watched him grow up beneath the forceful authority of his father. To break that kind of influence took a will of fire and a courage of steel, neither of which Dante possessed, for all his charm and geniality.