Page 50 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

“Difficult” didn’t begin to encompass the emotionalimpact of watching a woman birth a child so small that it fit in the palm ofher hand. The word couldn’t possibly explain how heart-wrenching it was to seethat same woman beg doctors not to make her birth the child, only to take himaway from her because he wouldn’t be able to live outside her body.

But it was the best fucking word Calisto had.

For the moment.

“You were with her,” Father Day said. “That’s what youtold me when you called.”

“Yeah.”

“Eighteen weeks is not enough time for a child. Mostare born dead.”

“I’m aware. He breathed. He was not stillborn. Hebreathed for nearly a minute.”

Father Day pursed his lips. “I’ll give him theblessing with the holy water. The same as I would any stillborn child. I can’tdo much else, Calisto.”

“It’ll be enough.”

“For the young woman, I certainly hope so. Perhaps ifher husband would act like the child’s life had some substance, like he wasreal, she might allow herself to feel the same way.”

Calisto wondered if that was part of Emma’s problem ingrieving for her child. Was her husband’s lack of empathy the reason why shehad shut the rest of the world out? Did she feel like she wasn’t allowed to besad over a child that her husband didn’t consider worthy?

“I still have to make that call,” the priest said.

“Sure.”

Calisto stepped out of the office and closed the doorbehind him. He walked out to the main floor of the church, over the altar anddown the steps. Emma sat quietly in the front row in a black ensemble that fitthe day. She was alone, unsurprisingly.

Affonso was nowhere to be seen.

Passing the small white casket at the bottom of thealtar, Calisto took a seat beside Emma. She barely reacted to his presence, andher gaze never left the spot on the floor.

“The priest is almost finished,” Calisto said.

He didn’t even get a blink from her.

It bothered him to see Emma so distant and out oftouch. She said very little when she did speak, and her voice was always soft.

“Emmy?”

Emma lifted her head, and her eyes were dry. “What,Cal?”

“Where did Affonso go?”

“He muttered something about needing a smoke.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She simply stared at him, saying nothing.

He took that as a no.

Digging in his pocket, Calisto pulled out the familiaritem that the priest had given him months ago. He rolled the black beads of therosary between his fingers, and let the cross swing between his knees.

“I don’t know what to do,” he heard Emma say under herbreath.

His chest tightened. “About what?”

“How I feel.”