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On the one hand, she prayed Salvatore was the father.
On the other, she prayed he wasn’t.
As the taxi pulled up to her apartment close to ten-thirty at night, she paid the driver and made her way up the three flights of stairs to her door. As she unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar scent of her home enveloped her. Bleary-eyed, she walked through the empty rooms, her footsteps echoing through the silence. She couldn’t wait for Chiara’s laughter to fill it when she came home early the next morning. It was so strange to be back here after a few weeks away. She’d never ever left since moving here, so it was like coming back to a home that was no longer hers. Sighing, she made her way into her bedroom, unzipped her suitcase and started to unpack. She wasn’t ready for sleep just yet. As she folded her clothes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a mistake. That she’d let fear guide her actions, instead of facing what could’ve been a wondrous future, head-on, if she’d found the courage to do so.
It was almost one o’clock when she gave up trying to sleep, and instead decided on walking her frustration and heartbreak out. She stepped out of her apartment block and across the deserted piazza, then turned down one of the cobblestone streets that would lead her across the Arno river, and to the Duomo. For a little while, with most people tucked up in their beds, she walked alone except for her shadow. Just across the bridge, she steeled herself as a lone man came from the opposite direction, his shoulders hunched against the cool wind. And it struck her – what in the hell was she doing walking the Florentine streets on her own at such an ungodly hour? Usually a hive of activity during the day and well into the night, at this hour it was like a ghost town.
But it was the best time to view the magnificent Duomo.
Raising her eyes to the stunning Renaissance dome of the cathedral, she felt the knot in her stomach tighten as the man passed her by. His glance was a little wary, as she imagined hers to be, too. They acknowledged one another with a slight nod. She breathed a sigh of relief as she brought her attention back to the massive structure towering over her, its walls illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. She stood still for a moment, taking in the beauty of the place and letting the silence surround her. It was peaceful, and in some way it made her feel less alone. The complex details of the marble facade, the eye-catching frescoes and the intricate sculptures all came together to create something truly magnificent. Something that had stood the test of time and witnessed the rise and fall of empires. Something that had been there long before she was born and would still be there long after she was gone. It was humbling, breathtaking, inspiring – exactly what she needed.
She walked around the perimeter of the Duomo, her footsteps echoing through the deserted piazza as she traced her fingers along the cool marble, lost in thought. It was times like this when she wished she still had her mother to talk to. Julie Sabatini had always had a way of making things seem less daunting. But she was gone, leaving her to navigate the mess of her life alone. She thought about Morgan and the love they shared. She thought about the mistakes she’d made, and the pain she’d caused both of them. She thought about the future and what it held for her. And then she thought about Salvatore, and the truth she’d been hiding from everyone, including herself. There was a lot she needed to fix, to make right, so she could enjoy some much-needed peace. Fingers crossed the paternity results came in the mail soon, because it was unbearable to wait much longer.
Her steps faster this time, she turned back towards her apartment, the sound of her heels echoing in the empty street. The wind picked up as she crossed the river again, sending chills down her spine. She pulled her coat in tighter and quickened her pace. She felt as if she was ready, now, to close her eyes and allow sleep to take her to whatever places she needed to be.
The following morning, bright and early, Chiara’s laughter reached her before she did. Standing in the piazza, Jess turned around and saw her daughter running towards her, her pigtails bouncing with every step. Her own smile was from the heart as she opened her arms to embrace her girl. For a moment she forgot about everything else that was happening in her life and just held her daughter close. This, right here, was all the family she needed.
‘I missed you so much, Mum!’ Chiara said, hugging her super tight.
Nonno approached, and she flashed him a loving smile. ‘I missed you too, baby girl.’ She kissed her daughter’s forehead, then brought her nonno in for a group hug. Untangling after a few moments, she looked to Chiara, her smile unable to go any wider. She was so grateful Nonno had thought to take Chiara away for two nights to distract her from the fact that Salvatore had deserted her in his designated time, yet again. ‘How was your trip to the seaside with Nonno, sweetheart?’
‘It was so much fun! I got to build sandcastles and swim in the ocean,’ Chiara said excitedly. ‘And look what I found!’ she exclaimed as she shoved her hand in her pocket then held out a small seashell. ‘It’s so pretty, just like you.’
‘Oh, Chiara, it’s absolutely beautiful.’ Taking the seashell, she examined it closely. It was a delicate shade of pink, with elaborate patterns etched by Mother Nature into its surface. ‘And you’re absolutely beautiful, too.’ She was touched by her daughter’s words, but at the same time, a pang of guilt hit her. She now realised she’d been so caught up in her own problems over the past year that she hadn’t been fully present, and whole, for her daughter. But from this moment on she would be, one hundred percent. No matter what was going on around her, or to her.
‘Should you, me and Nonno go upstairs and have some breakfast?’ She raised her brows. ‘I got us all our favourites from the bakery.’
‘Oh yummy!’ Chiara jiggled on the spot. ‘Yes please.’
‘Si, bella,’ Nonno agreed with a smile. ‘That would be lovely.’
As she and Chiara walked hand in hand up the stairs with her nonno close at their side, the weight of guilt settled on her shoulders once again. She might not have all the answers right now, but she would soon enough. In the kitchen, the sweet aroma of freshly baked croissants and coffee filled the air. Jess watched Chiara’s face light up at the sight of the chocolate croissant on the plate. Simple pleasures made for a sweet life. She’d missed her daughter so much and was grateful for the little moments like this. Then, like any normal Italian family wanting to appreciate food and each other, they sat around the table, chatting and laughing, enjoying their breakfast together. But even in the midst of their happy morning, Jess couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling of uncertainty and guilt that had been plaguing her. She couldn’t keep running away from the truth and the consequences of her actions. Soon she may need to face up to Morgan, Salvatore and, most importantly, Chiara. She would take responsibility for her mistakes and find a way to make things right, whatever the outcome might be. That she was sure of.
That night, after a wonderful day together, as Jess tucked Chiara into bed and kissed her goodnight, her mind was consumed with thoughts of Morgan once more. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the missing piece in their life. The one person who could make everything right again. But she also knew that if what she instinctively felt was correct, telling him the truth would come at a cost. And with her fragile state, and Chiara’s need for stability, she was terrified of it unsettling their lives further still. So, for the first time in nine long years, she got down on her knees and prayed to the God she’d lost all faith in after her parents’ deaths, but now felt compelled to turn to.
Making the sign of the cross, she ended her prayer with an amen, then pushed up to her feet. Heading back out to the kitchen, she looked to the table, then to her nonno. In front of him sat a large yellow envelope, and she could tell by the absorbing look in his eyes that it was the answer she’d been waiting for. She’d had it addressed to him so it didn’t go missing like Chiara’s passport had. Her hand went to cover her gaping mouth, and her very first instinct was to run and hide, so she could pretend she didn’t need to know. But then her nonno gave her a gentle, encouraging smile, one that gave her the courage to walk towards him, pull out a seat, and sit in silence. The envelope sat between them. She’d lived with the burden of not knowing upon her shoulders for so long, she barely recalled a time when she hadn’t felt weighed down by it.
‘Bella.’ Giuseppe Sabatini peered over the top of his glasses. ‘You’re going to have to open it at some point.’
‘I know, it’s just …’ Uneasy dread seeped into her veins as she stared at the envelope. ‘What if Morgan is her father, and then, what if he isn’t?’
Reaching across the little table, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Either way, you’re going to have to know to be able to deal with it, si?’
Jess nodded, knowing he was right. So, with a sigh of resolution, she reached for what would inevitably be her future. It felt like a lead weight as she lifted it from the table. Her heart in her throat, she slipped a finger beneath the seal, and once it was open, peered inside. Running her eyes over the wording, her stomach twisted with another rush of dread, but then her eyes snagged on one sentence towards the bottom. All kinds of emotions stirred, and she blinked in disbelief. Although she hadn’t had anything of Morgan’s to send along with Chiara’s hair, she did have a sample from an old brush of Salvatore’s to test his paternity.
‘Jess.’ Nonno peered at her through his thick-framed glasses. ‘Is it good news?’
‘Yes.’ She was both cryingandsmiling now. ‘Nonno, I was right, Salvatore is not her father, which means that Morgan is.’
‘Oh, bella.’ He stood way faster than he should’ve been able to and came to her side. ‘This is wonderful news.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Clutching him, she allowed her roiling emotions to somewhat settle before pulling back a little and looking into his kind eyes. ‘Oh, Nonno, I’m relieved with the result, but how am I going to tell Chiara that Salvatore isn’t her dad?’
‘Honestly, I think she’ll be shocked at first, but once that subsides I believe she’ll be keen to meet the man who’ll finally love her like she’s meant to be loved.’ He cupped Jess’s cheeks, regarding her with fatherly love. ‘And the same goes for you, my beautiful granddaughter.’
Jess took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. She knew telling Salvatore would be tough. She knew it would change everything. But she also knew it was the right thing to do. She owed it to him, to Morgan, to Chiara, and to herself to be honest. So, with her nonno’s encouragement, she picked up her phone and dialled Salvatore’s number. Her heart raced as she waited for him to answer.
‘Jess? Why the hell are you calling me at this hour?’ he asked snappishly.
