Page 180 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

‘When they moved to Australia,’ she said, ‘I reapplied to art college, and was accepted again as a mature student. I thought my life—on hold for so long—was finally starting. Until—’

She stopped again. Looked at Vincenzo, sitting beside her, his face sombre.

‘I realise now,’ she said slowly, ‘that what happened to my nephew—which I never wanted to tell you about, or even think about, because it seemed like a dark, frightening shadow over my own pregnancy—affected my reaction to finding myself pregnant. Part of me felt guilty, I suppose, that I was having a baby and my poor brother and sister-in-law had just lost their child. And part of what I felt...’ her voice caught ‘...was...was fear. Yes, I know that my nephew’s condition was genetic, that he so tragically inherited it from his mother’s side, not my brother’s. But still I felt, I suppose, a kind of dread—even though I wouldn’t admit it, even though I was having a healthy pregnancy—lest something went wrong for me, too.’

She took a breath, like a knife into her lungs.

‘And it so nearly, nearly did!’

She reached for Vincenzo’s hand, clutching at it.

‘I know... I know you say that even if you hadn’t realised how dangerous that bleed was, my midwife would still have called me in, and the outcome would have been blessedly the same, but it wasyouwho saw the danger—’ She broke off again. Then, ‘Yousaw it!Youknew it!’

And now it was Vincenzo’s turn to speak. Heavily, sombrely. ‘There was a reason for that. As your time approached, I ensured I had learnt as much as I could about late pregnancy and labour. What risks might present themselves... What might go wrong.’ He stopped. Then: ‘You see, I knew things could. Knew things could go wrong. Because...’ He took an incising breath. ‘Because it did go wrong for my mother. She died.’

Siena could hear the hollowing in his voice.

‘She died from complications in labour, giving birth to my still-born sister.’

She saw his eyes go away from her, out across the room, out into the past, to the mother he had lost, the sister he had never known, the father bereft of his wife and daughter. Then they came back to her.

‘It was the last thing I wanted to tell you,’ he said. ‘And maybe...’ he took a narrowed breath, ‘...knowing how my mother’s death devastated my father, taking my sister as well, I felt anger somewhere inside...that...that we were having a baby so...so...’

‘So carelessly.’

Siena’s voice was flat. She held Vincenzo’s gaze. Would not flinch from it.

‘Both you and I,’ she said, ‘have tragedy in our families. Loss that should never have been. Not just our parents. Two children...loved and wanted and yet lost. While we—’

She broke off again. Her face buckled, her voice choking now. Emotion overwhelming her. So much emotion. Carried for so long. For nine long months. Suppressed, denied...feared. And now it was pouring through her in an unstoppable tide.

‘To think I never wanted to be pregnant! Could only feel how wrong it was! So completely wrong! And then yesterday—oh, dear God, we nearly lost him! We nearlylosthim!’

She felt the remembered terror of that breakneck drive to the hospital, the horror of realising what was happening—realising, like a blow, just how desperately she wanted this baby, how terrified she was of losing it...

Suddenly she was starting to shake. Tears began to convulse her. She couldn’t talk—not any more—as sobs ravaged her. And she was shaking...shaking so much—

And then arms were coming around her. Arms that were strong and sure, folding her against him, holding her, holding her safe while sobs choked in her throat. He was speaking to her, but it was in Italian, so she couldn’t understand. And yet she heard the passion in it, the vehemence. Her tears poured and poured until there were no more, and still he held her, gently now, soothing her, his hands warm and safe and protective.

For a long time he went on holding her as her tears ebbed, and it was the only place in all the universe that she wanted to be.

The only place she should not be...

She drew back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said chokingly, tearily. ‘I know I shouldn’t...shouldn’t cry. It’s just that—’ She broke off, unable to say more.

Her hands were still in his, and she was clinging to them, warm and strong. But they were not hers to cling to...

He pressed her fingers. ‘There is no more need for fear,’ he said. ‘He is well and safe, our Baby Roberto. We can give thanks for that.’ He took a breath—a scything one. ‘That is all we must think of now. That—and the future.’

Something had changed in his voice...something that made Siena look at him. Her heart was still beating hectically, in the aftermath of her outburst. She felt a chill go through her. Nervelessly, she slipped her fingers from his.

She took a breath. A hard one. A difficult one. Infinitely hard. But one she must take all the same so she could say what she must.

For his sake.

‘Vincenzo—it’s all right. You...you don’t have to say anything. I... I know what the future must be. I’ve always known.’

She could hear the hollow note in her voice...knew why it was there, knew that it echoed the hollow forming inside her. She made herself go on, knowing she wanted to say it herself, not wait to hear him say it to her. Say what she knew she must.

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