“Athena-”
“Athena Tesano is not my mother!” Rosella’s eyes began to water. “I want my mother.”
“Calm down, bella,” Bianca extended a soothing hand. “I will get word to your mother-”
“No.” Rosella stiffened, awareness illuminating her face. “No, you won’t. I’m a prisoner here, aren’t I?”
“Oh, child!” Bianca tried to laugh off the accusation.
Rosella wasn’t amused. “First, you listen in to my brief calls home and then the phone is suddenly out of service-”
“Rosella stop this, I beg you! You’re not a prisoner. The phone trouble is real. We barely have local service, and the long distance is still unstable. I’m happy to let you speak to the phone company if you want proof.”
“I don’t trust you,” Rosella shook her head vehemently while backing away from Bianca Marsala. “None of you. Most of all, Athena Tesano!”
“Rose-”
“She lied! She said she would tell Stone about the baby but she hasn’t. Why are you keeping me here?” Rosella’s face reddened beneath her rich complexion. Sweat beaded and shone heavily across her brow and cheeks.
“You can tell Athena not to worry anymore. I won’t force a baby on her precious son if he doesn’t want to be bothered. I’m happy to take my child and go.”
Rosella began to cry, too emotional then to brush off Bianca’s coddling when she set the phone to the table and came close.
“Your hormones are all over the place, child. You need to stay calm-”
“Get away from me!” Rosella lashed out, her hand connecting with Bianca’s face in a cracking slap. She ran for the phone, her fingers curling on the receiver when Bianca caught her.
The women struggled. Rosella had the receiver in hand and swung it wildly.
Bianca cried out. “Franco!”
Franco Marsala was rushing to his wife’s aid in a matter of minutes. The expression on his grizzled dark face was one of disbelief when he ran to the kitchen and saw the women locked in their fierce battle. He went to pull them apart and Rosella spiraled into heightened panic. She clawed Franco’s face until he managed to pin her arms to her sides and then held her wrists locked at the small of her back.
“Calm, child, calm-”
Rosella stiffened in a more disturbing manner then. Her back bowed into an impossible arch. She screamed and soon that cry was coupled with Bianca Marsala’s wail.
“Franco, look!”
Franco Marsala retreated on petrified steps when he saw what had his wife in such a state. He released Rosella and she braced her hands to the table for only a brief time until her knees gave way. She went down hard on the floor. Her long skirt wafted out over the puddle of blood beneath her.
“Let me help you, child,” Franco kept his hands extended in an offer of trust.
Rosella didn’t fight when he pulled her into his arms. She moaned, her head lolling as though she were moments from fainting.
“Get my bag from the office,” Franco instructed his wife.
“My baby...” Rosella moaned. “Please, my baby, don’t let my baby-”
“Shh...shh, bambina...all will be well...” Franco promised, his baritone voice soothing. Quickly, he took the stairs to the top floor of the house. There were only two rooms there, both suites. Rosella occupied one, the Marsalas the other.
Rosella’s face was sweat slicked and carried a pasty tinge by the time she was settled to the bed. “My babe...my baby is okay, yes?”
Bianca rushed into the room with her husband’s bag.
Franco leaned over to pat Rosella’s hand. “You will be fine, just fine,” the truth gleamed in Franco’s eyes however, when he looked to his wife and shook his head.
The Marsalas both looked to the floor where heavy splotches of blood stained the rugs and dark wood floors. Rosella screamed again, back curving into another unnatural arch.
Bianca hurried to a closet and pulled out several white towels and sheets. “The water is already on to boil!”
Franco tore a sheet in half and pressed one to Rosella’s forehead. Bianca took the others to the bathroom and wet them under the cold water tap. The woman worked quickly, spotlighting the efficiency of one who had assisted in more than a few childbirths-many of them rough. She returned to the room and passed the damp cloths to her husband.
“Should I call Athena?” she asked.
“No...” Rosella sobbed.
“Shh...” Bianca took one of the cloths and mopped Rosella’s forehead, smoothing back the damp curls clinging to her temples and cheeks.
“She wants the baby to...to take it fr-from me...and Stone.”
“You must calm yourself, Rosella, shh...” Bianca kissed her forehead and pressed the younger woman’s cheek to hers.
Franco removed Rosella’s soiled dress and underthings.
“She lied, she lied...she-she was never going to tell him...” the words poured from Rosella’s fever blistered lips.
“Franco!” Bianca called when another painful cry ripped from Rosella’s throat.
