Accidentally Expecting!

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE doctor emphasised that there was no time to lose, and a date was set for the next day.

They spent that evening at the villa, where the family had gathered to wish Dante well. He had apparently recovered his spirits, even making a joke of his new deference to Ferne.

‘I don’t believe this is Dante,’ she said. ‘It’s so unlike him to keep agreeing with me.’

‘He’s turning into a Rinucci husband,’ Toni said. ‘However strong we look to the rest of the world, at home we all obey orders.’

Nobody knew which of the wives murmured, ‘So I should hope,’ but the others all nodded agreement, and the husbands grinned.

‘But he’s not a husband,’ Hope pointed out. ‘Perhaps it’s time that he was.’

‘You’ll have to ask Ferne,’ Dante said at once. He smiled up at her with a hint of the old, wicked humour. ‘I just do as I’m told.’

‘Then you’ll be a perfect Rinucci husband,’ she said in a shaking voice.

‘But when is the wedding?’ Hope asked.

‘As soon as I come out of hospital,’ Dante said.

‘No,’ Hope said urgently. ‘Don’t wait so long. Do it now.’

Everyone knew what she meant. It might be now or never.

‘Can it be arranged so quickly?’ Ferne asked.

‘Leave it with me,’ Hope said.

She had contacts all over Naples, and it was no surprise when after a few phone calls she announced that an emergency service could be arranged for the next day. The wedding would be in the afternoon, and Dante would enter the hospital straight afterwards.

It was all achieved in double-quick time, and Ferne was left worried that Dante felt he was being hustled into marriage. Her fear increased when he was quiet on the way home.

‘Dante?’

‘Hush, don’t speak until you’ve heard what I have to say. Wait here.’

He went into the bedroom and searched a drawer, returning a few moments later with two small boxes. Inside one, Ferne saw two wedding-rings, large and small. Inside the other was an engagement ring of diamonds and sapphires.

‘They belonged to my parents,’ he said, taking out the engagement ring. ‘I never thought the day would come when I’d give this to any woman. But then, you’re not any woman. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all this time.’

He slipped it onto her finger, dropped his head and kissed the spot. Ferne couldn’t speak. She was weeping.

‘And these,’ he said, turning to the other box, ‘are the rings they exchanged on their wedding day. They loved each other very much. He got up to mad tricks, and she tried to stick with him whenever she could. She was afraid that he’d vanish without her.

‘I used to blame her for that. I felt resentful that she took risks without thinking of me, left behind. But I understand now. I’ve come to understand a lot of things that were hidden from me before.’

His voice shook so much that he could barely say the last words. He bent his head quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the fact that his cheeks were wet. Ferne held him tightly, fiercely glad that in her arms he felt free to weep, and that she too had come to understand many things.

That night they made love as if for the first time. He touched her gently, as though afraid to do her harm. She responded to him with passionate tenderness, and always the thought lay between them: perhaps never again; perhaps this was all there would be to last a lifetime. When their lovemaking was over, they held each other tenderly.

Next morning a lawyer called with papers for Dante to sign, and also some for Ferne.

‘They’re in Italian. I don’t understand a word,’ she said.

‘Just sign them,’ he told her. ‘If I become unable to manage my own affairs, this will give you complete control.’

She was a little puzzled, since surely as his wife her control would be automatic? But perhaps Italian law was more complicated. She signed briefly, and returned to her preparations.

There was no lavish bridal-gown, just a silk, peach-coloured dress that she already knew he liked. In a dark, formal suit, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him. Standing side by side, looking in the mirror together, they made a handsome couple.

Both of them tried not to look at the suitcase he would take with him, which contained his things so that he could go on to the hospital when the wedding was over.

At last the lawyer departed and they were alone, waiting for the taxi.

‘I think it’s here,’ she said, looking out of the window. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Just a moment.’ He detained her.

‘What is it?’

‘Just one more thing I have to know before we go ahead,’ he said quietly. ‘I want to marry you more than anything on earth, but I can’t face the thought of being a burden in your life. Will you give me your word to put me in a home if I become like Uncle Leo?’

‘How can I do that?’ she asked, aghast. ‘It would be a betrayal.’

‘I can’t marry you to become a burden on you. If you don’t give me your word, the wedding’s off.’

‘Dante…’

‘Understand me, I mean it. One way or another, I’ll leave you free.’

‘And your child?’

‘We just signed papers that will give you complete control, whether we’re married or not. So you’ll have everything that’s mine to support you and our child.’

‘Did you think I was talking about money?’ she asked with a touch of anger.

‘No, I know you weren’t, but you have to know that my arrangements will look after you both, even without a wedding.’

She sighed. Even now he was setting her at a little distance.

‘Do I have your word,’ he asked again, ‘that if I become incapable…?’ He shuddered.

‘Hush,’ she said, unable to endure any more.

‘I don’t want people to see me and pity me. I don’t want my child to grow up regarding me with contempt. Do I have your word that if this goes wrong you’ll put me away?’ He took her hand in his. ‘Swear it, or I can’t marry you.’

‘What?’ She stared, appalled at this unsuspected ruthlessness.

‘I’ll call it off right now if you don’t give me your word. I can’t go through with it unless I’m sure. You’ve never really understood what that dread means to me, have you? And I’ve never been able to make you.’

‘I know it means more to you than I do!’ she said wildly.

This should have been their most perfect moment, when they could be happy in their love despite all the problems. But she was saddened at his intransigence.

Perhaps he saw this, because his voice became gentler.

‘Nothing means more to me than you,’ he said. ‘But try to understand, my love; you’ve done so much for me. I beg you to do this one thing more, to give me peace.’

‘All right,’ she said sadly. ‘I swear it.’

‘Promise on everything you hold dear and sacred, on the life of our child, on whatever love you have for me-promise me.’

‘I promise. If it comes to that-’ she paused, and a tremor went through her ‘-I’ll do as you wish.’

‘Thank you.’

The wedding was in the hospital chapel. All the Rinuccis who lived in Naples were there. The women of the family lined up to be the bride’s attendants. The men scrapped for the privilege of waiting on Dante.

Toni gave her away, escorting her down the aisle with pride. Dante watched her approach with a look that took her breath away, and that she knew she would remember all her life. As she reached him and laid her hand in his, the problems seemed to melt away. Even the promise he’d imposed on her could not spoil this moment. She was marrying the man she loved, and who loved her. There was nothing else in the world.

Holding Dante’s hand in hers, she declared, ‘I, Ferne, take you, Dante, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life.’

She knew he wasn’t quite ready to understand that. She could only pray for the miracle that would give her the chance to show him.

Then they exchanged rings, the ones that had belonged to his parents, who’d chosen never to be parted. One after the other they recited the ritual wedding-vows, but then the priest looked a silent question, asking if they wished to add anything of their own. Dante nodded, took her hand and spoke in a clear voice for everyone to hear.

‘I give you my life for whatever it’s worth-not much, perhaps, but there’s no part of it that isn’t yours. Do with it whatever you will.’

It took her a moment to fight back the tears, but then she said in a shaking voice, ‘Everything I am belongs to you. Everything I will ever be belongs to you, now and always-whatever life may bring.’

She said the last words with special significance, hoping he would understand, and she felt him grow still for a moment, looking at her, questioning.

Then it was over. It was time to turn and make their way out of the little chapel, followed by the family.

Instead of a wedding feast they all accompanied Dante to his room, where a smiling nurse showed them in. There was a bottle of champagne to stress that this was a party, but before long the laughter and congratulations faded, as they all remembered why Dante was there.

One by one they bid him goodbye, all of them knowing that it might be final. Hope and Toni embraced him heartily, then left them alone.

‘You must rest well,’ the nurse told him. ‘So go to bed now, and drink this.’ She held up a glass. ‘It will help you sleep.’

‘I want to stay with him,’ Ferne said.

‘Of course.’

She helped him undress, and suddenly it was as though a giant machine had taken over. It had started, and nobody could say how it was going to end.

‘I’m glad you stayed with me tonight,’ he said. ‘Because there’s still something I need to say to you. I want to ask your forgiveness.’

‘For what?’

‘For my selfishness. I’ve had a good look at myself, and I don’t like what I see. You were right when you said I shouldn’t have let you get so close without telling you the truth.’

‘We were supposed to keep it light,’ she reminded him.

‘But that wasn’t under our control. You and I could never have met without loving each other. I loved you from the start, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself. Instead I selfishly found excuses, pretending that it wasn’t what it was, and I led you into danger.’

‘Don’t talk of it as danger,’ she interrupted him. ‘You’ve been the best experience of my life, and you always will be, whatever happens. Do you understand that? Whatever happens.’

‘But say you forgive me,’ he said. ‘I need to hear you say it.’ He was already growing sleepy.

‘I’ll forgive you if you want, but there is nothing to forgive. Please-please try to understand that.’

He smiled but didn’t answer. A moment later, his eyes closed. Ferne laid her head down on the pillow beside him, watching him until her own eyes closed.

This was their wedding night.

In the morning the orderlies came to take him to the operating theatre.

‘One moment,’ Dante said frantically.

As she leaned over him, he touched her face.

‘If this should be the last time…’ he whispered.

It hit her like a blow. This might really be the last time she touched him, looked into his eyes.

‘It isn’t the last time,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens, we will always be together.’

Suddenly he reached out, as though trying to find something.

‘What is it?’

‘Your camera,’ he said. ‘The one you always keep with you.’

Now she understood. Pulling it out, she fixed it to take a picture after a few seconds’ delay, and set it up a little distance away. Then she took him into her arms, looking into his face.

His own eyes on her were quiet with a peace she had never seen in them before.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’ll always be together. I may not be there again, but my love will be, until the end of your life. Tell me that you know that.’

She couldn’t speak, only nod.

Then it was time. The orderlies wheeled him away. Suddenly it was all over; she might never see him alive again.

‘Suppose he dies?’ she said to Hope, distraught. ‘Dies in an operation that he only had because I made him? He might have lived for years without getting sick. If he dies, I’ll have killed him.’

‘And if it goes well, you will have saved his life and his sanity,’ Hope said firmly.

How slowly the hours passed. Many times she took out the camera and studied the last picture she’d taken. It was tiny, but she could see Dante’s face turned towards her with an expression of adoration that startled her. Had it been there before, and had she just never noticed? Would it be the last of him that she ever saw?

What had she done to him?

She seemed to see her life stretching before her, with an empty place where he should have been. There was her child, asking where her father was, and not understanding that her mother had sent him to his death.

The years would pass and their child would grow, become a success, married. But without a father to show his pride and love.

‘I took it away from him,’ she mourned.

‘No,’ Hope said. ‘You have to understand that Dante was right about doing the quick-step with fate. He’s giving himself the best chance, or rather, you’ve given it to him. You were fate’s instrument. Now it’s out of our hands.’

At last he was wheeled out of the operating theatre, his head swathed in bandages. He looked pale, ghostly, and completely unlike the Dante they knew. But he was alive.

‘It went well,’ the doctor told them. ‘He’s strong, and there were no complications, so we were able to support the wall of the weak artery with less difficulty than usual. It’s too soon for certainty, but I expect him to live.’

‘And-the other thing?’ Ferne stammered.

‘That we’ll have to wait and see. It’s a pity he delayed treatment for so long, but I’m hopeful.’

That qualification haunted her as she sat beside Dante’s bed, waiting for him to awaken. She didn’t know how long she was there. It was a long time since she’d slept, but however weary she was she knew she couldn’t sleep now.

Hour after hour passed. He lay terrifyingly still, attached to so many machines that he almost disappeared under them. Part of his face was invisible beneath the huge plug clamping his mouth and attaching him to the breathing machine.

She had seen him wicked, charming, cruel, but never until this moment had she seen him totally helpless.

Perhaps it was for ever. Perhaps she had condemned him to this, although he’d begged her not to. He’d asked her forgiveness, but now, in the long dark hours, she fervently asked for his.

‘I may have taken everything away from you,’ she whispered. ‘You tried to warn me, but now, if your life is ruined, it’s my fault. Forgive me. Forgive me.’

He lay motionless and silent. The only sound in the room was the machine helping him to breathe.

Dawn broke, and she realised that she’d been there all night. A doctor came to detach the breathing machine, saying, ‘Let’s see how well he manages without it.’

Ferne stood well back while the plug was removed from his mouth and the machine pulled away. There was a pause, while time seemed to stop, then Dante gave a small choke and drew in a long breath.

‘Excellent,’ the doctor declared. ‘Breathing normal.’

‘How long before he comes round?’ Ferne asked.

‘He needs a bit longer.’

He departed and she settled back beside the bed, taking Dante’s hand in hers.

‘You’ve made a great start,’ she told him.

Could he hear her? she wondered. Hearing was supposed to outlast all the other senses. Perhaps if she could reach him now she could even help to keep his brain strong.

‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said, leaning close. ‘You’re going to wake up and be just the same as I’ve always known you-scheming, manipulative, dodgy, a man to be avoided by a woman with any sense. But I’ve never had any sense where you were concerned. I should have given in the first day, shouldn’t I? Except that I think I did, and much good it did me. Do you remember?’

He lay still, giving no sign of hearing.

She went on talking, not knowing what she said or how much time passed. The words didn’t matter. Most of them were nonsense, the kind of nonsense they had always talked-but he must surely hear the underlying message, which was an impassioned plea to him to return to her.

‘Don’t leave me alone without you; come back to me.’

But he lay so still that he might already have gone into another world. At last, leaning down, she kissed him softly on the lips.

‘I love you,’ she whispered at last. ‘That’s all there is to say.’

Then she jerked back, startled. Had he moved?

She watched closely. It was true; he moved.

A sigh broke from him, and he murmured something.

‘What did you say?’ she asked. ‘Speak to me.’

‘Portia,’ he whispered.

‘What was that?’

After a moment, he repeated the word. ‘Portia-I’m so glad you’re here.’

She wanted to cry aloud in her despair. He didn’t know her. His brain was failing, as he’d feared. Whoever Portia was, she was there inside with him.

Slowly he opened his eyes.

‘Hello,’ he murmured. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘I’m not-I was just happy to have you back.’

He gave a sleepy smile. ‘You were calling me names-scheming, manipulative, dodgy. Never mind. My little friend will stand up for me.’

‘Your little friend?’ she asked, scarcely daring to breathe.

‘Our daughter. I’ve been getting to know her. I want to call her Portia. She likes it. Darling Ferne, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right.’

It took time to believe that his recovery was complete, for the news seemed too good to be true. But with every hour that passed Dante showed that his faculties were as sharp as ever.

‘We played fate at his own game,’ he told her. ‘And we won. Or, rather, you did. You were the player. Before you came, I never had the nerve to take that game on. Without you, I should never have had it.’

He touched her face.

‘I see you there so clearly, and everything around you; all the world is clear. I hadn’t dared to dream that this would happen.’

‘It’s what I always believed,’ she said.

‘I know, but I couldn’t be sure. There was always the chance that you might have had to put me in an institution.’

Ferne hesitated. It would have been so easy to let this moment slip past and be forgotten, but something impelled her to total honesty, whatever the risk.

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I would never have done that.’

He frowned. ‘But you promised, don’t you remember?’

‘I know what I promised,’ she said calmly. ‘But nothing would have made me keep that promise. Even now I don’t think you begin to understand how much I love you. Whatever happened, I would have kept you with me. If you were ill, that would have been more reason to love you, but you were in no state to understand it then. So I had to practise a little deception.’

He looked stunned, as though the full power of her declaration was only just dawning on him.

‘But,’ he whispered at last, ‘you promised on everything you hold dear and sacred.’

‘I lied,’ she said calmly. ‘You wanted to be kept out of sight, so that’s what I would have done-but you would have been in our home, where the world couldn’t see you, but I could see you every day. Whether you were yourself, or whether your mind had gone, you would have been my husband and I would have loved you until the last moment of my life.’

Suddenly, shockingly, she found her temper rising. Why should she have to explain all this to him?

‘So now you know,’ she said. ‘I lied to you. I wanted to marry you so much, I’d have said and done anything. I made that promise without the most distant intention of keeping it, because I loved you with all of my heart and all of my life-but you just couldn’t realise, could you?

‘Can you see it now? Or are you just too proud and arrogant-and too stupid-to understand? You think love is a matter of making bargains, and you can’t get it into your head that love has to be unconditional. If it isn’t unconditional, it isn’t love.’

She waited to see if he would say anything, but he seemed too stunned to speak. Was she being foolish? she wondered. Was she risking their marriage for the satisfaction of getting this off her chest?

But she had no choice. If they were to stand a chance, the air must be clear between them.

‘So now you know the worst about me,’ she said. ‘I tricked you into marriage by deceit. I’m a shameless, dishonest woman who’ll do anything to get her own way.’

When at last Dante spoke, he said only two words, and they were the last words Ferne expected to hear.

‘Thank goodness!’

‘What was that?’

‘Thank goodness you’re a liar, my darling! Thank goodness you had the courage to be shameless and deceitful. When I think of the disaster that could have befallen me if you’d been truthful, I tremble inside.’

‘What-what are you talking about?’ she said, half-laughing, half-afraid to believe her ears.

‘I never felt I had the right to marry you, knowing what I might be leading you into. It was my way of setting you free. If you’d refused to promise, I’d have forced myself to refuse the marriage, although to be your husband was what I wanted with all my heart. In life, in death, or in that half-life I dreaded so much, I want you, and only you, to be there with me.

‘But that felt like selfishness. I demanded that promise because I believed I had no right to trap you and blight your life.’

‘But you could never blight my life,’ she protested. ‘You are my life. Haven’t you understood that?’

‘I guess I’m just starting to. It seemed too much to hope that you should love me as much as I love you. I still can’t quite take it in, but I know this: my life belongs to you. Not only because we married, but because the life I have now is the life you gave me.

‘Take it, and use it as you will. It was you who drove the clouds away, and you who brings the sunlight. And, as long as you are with me, that will always be true.’

Two weeks later Dante was discharged from hospital, and he and Ferne went to spend a few weeks at the Villa Rinucci. Even when they returned to their apartment they lived quietly, the only excitement being the delayed wedding-breakfast, celebrated when the whole Rinucci family was present.

After that everyone held their breath for the birth of the newest family member. Portia Rinucci was born the next spring, a combination of her mother’s looks and her father’s spirit. At her christening, it was observed by everyone that it was her father who held her possessively, his face blazing with love and pride, while her mother looked on with fond tolerance, perfectly happy with the unusual arrangement.

If sometimes Ferne’s eyes darkened, it was only because she could never quite forget the cloud that had retreated but not completely vanished. As her daughter grew, it might yet darken their lives again-but she would face it, strengthened by a triumphant love and a happiness that few women knew.