by Jan Moran
“Shh, there will be time for that later,” Mercy said, dabbing her eyes. “You have to be very careful. This baby needs to grow as strong as possible, and every week will improve its chances for survival.”
Ruby struggled to sit up.
Mercy took her hand. “Don’t be hasty about getting up.”
A chill of terror raced through Ruby. Could she lose this baby? The world that had once seemed so glittery and full of possibilities was now a dark and somber place. Gritting her teeth, she rested her hands lightly on her curved belly, vowing to do whatever it took to protect Niccolò’s sweet child.
“When the time comes, you’ll have this baby in a proper hospital,” Mercy said. “We won’t take any chances with you.”
As the days wore on, Ruby filled her time with reading, writing, and sewing. Her mother brought her school books, and the teacher from the small country school, Miss Naomi, agreed to test her knowledge. Ruby passed every subject exam with ease to earn her diploma.
Her teacher also brought her books about writing and composition, and Ruby devoured them. She recalled listening to Mr. Wyler on the set in Rome as he reviewed dialog with a writer, who often made changes to the script during filming.
As she lay in bed, she envisioned a story and began to write scenes that came to her. Soon, she strung her scenes together in a screenplay. Using her imagination made endless hours tolerable.
Missing the camaraderie on a film set, Ruby longed to go back to work. Despite her circumstance of birth, in her heart, Ruby knew she was born to act. As a child, she often crept into the hallway after bedtime and curled up to listen to her parents’ radio dramas. The actors’ voices were so rich with emotion they could make her cry or laugh or twist her favorite blanket in suspense. Those stories transported her to other worlds. Sometimes she fell asleep in the hallway, and her parents would carry her to bed.
What she saw in the movie house was a thousand times more exciting than radio. The costumes, the sets—all of it thrilled her. To grip emotions and transport people into another world—now, that was magic. It was all she’d ever wanted to do.
* * *
One day, Ruby was reading when her sister brought her lunch on a tray.
“You’re looking much better,” Patricia said, placing the tray on the bed. She’d prepared fresh tomato-basil soup, garden greens, deviled eggs, and homemade bread. “Still writing?”
“I’m so excited. It’s almost finished.” Ruby carefully pushed aside her work. “I can’t imagine what I would have done without you. I suppose I’d be back in Hollywood suffering Aunt Vivienne’s wrath.”
“That poor woman.” Patricia shook her head.
“Are you kidding?” Ruby made a face. “She cussed me out for being pregnant. Called me a stupid girl. When I go back, I’m leasing an apartment. Nothing fancy, but it will be mine.”
Patricia arched an eyebrow. “Do you know why Vivienne left Texas?”
“Mama only said she’d suffered a tragedy.” Ruby tried to remember what Vivienne had said that awful day.
“She was pregnant by some guy who took off when she told him,” Patricia said. “Our grandfather planned to send her away to a nun’s maternity home, but Vivienne left the night before. She headed west and didn’t stop until she hit the ocean. Supposedly, she had a miscarriage.” Patricia raised her brow.
“Supposedly?”
“Mama said Vivienne can’t have children now, and that’s hurt her chances for marriage.”
While Mercy was the oldest of all the children, Vivienne was the youngest, and not much older than Patricia.
Her sister lowered her voice. “I think Vivienne was so desperate that she took a chance on a procedure that went horribly wrong. Mama says that even though Vivienne had almost died, she should pray for forgiveness.”
Ruby was shocked at her sister’s revelation. As she thought about Vivienne’s dark recommendation in this new light, she was even more confused. Though her aunt could be crass, why had she suggested that Ruby take such a drastic measure and risk her life? Ruby shook her head. Was the shame of having a child out of wedlock greater than the possibility of death? There was still much she didn’t understand.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” Ruby asked.
“You were too little to understand. It happened right before Michael and I married.”
“That was a long time ago,” Ruby said, feeling left out. “You could have said something before I left to live with her.”
Patricia let out a long sigh. “There’s a lot this family doesn’t talk about. Like Daddy always says, if you can’t say something in the good house of the Lord, then you shouldn’t say it anywhere else.”
“Then that makes him a hypocrite,” Ruby said. “You heard him cussing a blue streak.”
“That wasn’t right,” Patricia said. “I’m sure he asked for forgiveness.”
“Not from me.” Ruby folded her arms. Although the lunch beside her looked delicious, she’d lost her appetite.
Patricia fidgeted with the edge of her apron. “Are you sure you want to go back to Los Angeles? You could have a good life here.”
“Barely scraping out a living like our folks?”
“I know, it’s just that…” Patricia bit her lip.
Ruby reached for her sister’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not running away. I’ll keep providing for Mama as long as she needs.”
“It’s not that,” Patricia said. “Though I don’t know what our folks—or us—would have done without your help. It’s just that I can’t imagine you on your own in that big city, raising a child in a little box of a place. And who’ll look after your little one while you’re away on sets in Italy or New Mexico?”
“I’ll find someone I can trust. Or I’ll take the baby with me.” In truth, Ruby was worried about this.
“You could stay here,” Patricia said. “I talked to Michael, and he says it’s okay.” Her face bloomed with a smile. “We’d love to have a little one around.”
Ruby glanced at the stack of pages she’d been writing. “I know you mean well, but I’d feel like a bird with my wings clipped.” She’d die a slow death under her father’s constant disapproval. “Besides, what could I do here? You and Michael are having a tough time, too.” She’d heard them discussing their family budget one night.
“There’s the diner on the highway,” Patricia said.
“I won’t doom my child to that kind of life,” Ruby said. “Or us. Would you want to see our mother working at that diner?” As soon as Ruby spoke, she regretted it, but it was true. They’d had a hardscrabble upbringing, and it wasn’t getting any better.
Patricia bowed her head. “I pray it won’t ever come to that.”
“It’s going to take more than prayers,” Ruby said, a little more harshly than she’d intended. “My agent has a part lined up for me as soon as I return. I have to continue acting now more than ever. For my child, for our parents. Besides, my chance at Hollywood won’t come around again.” Joseph’s warning still rang in her ears.
Patricia raised her eyes to Ruby. “You could leave your baby with us while you work. You know that no one would ever love that child as I would. You’d never have to worry about trusting a stranger. In between films, you would always have a home here.”
“But I can’t leave my child,” Ruby said, shocked at Patricia’s suggestion.
“Don’t you want the best for it?” Patricia asked. “Maybe we weren’t rich when we were kids, but we rode horses through wildflowers, cooled off in the swimming hole, and learned to grow the best tomatoes in the county fair. Could your child do that in Hollywood?”
Ruby felt a nudge in her belly and smoothed her hand over it. “This little life is all I have left of Niccolò.”
“We’re not taking your baby away from you.”
Ruby recalled growing up in the country. At seven years her senior, Patricia had raised her in many ways. Patient beyond her years, Patricia had taught Ruby how to ride ho
rses and coax vegetables from the soil. Their parents were always busy, working hard to scratch out a living and provide a home for them, even though Ruby and Patricia had their chores, too.
If Ruby had to leave her baby with anyone—and she would have to when she worked—it would comfort her to know that Patricia’s loving arms would wrap her baby with all the genuine love and gentle care a child could want.
Patricia touched her hand. “We also have all the baby clothes and everything you’ll need.”
Ruby knew her sister had been preparing to care for children for years. With her neat stitching, Patricia had sewn and embroidered the most beautiful baby clothes—stacks and stacks of them—for the babies that she was sure would arrive. She had put forth so much trust and so many prayers that she’d be blessed with children. It was as if each tiny outfit was an act of faith, proof of the fine mother she could be if only she were given a chance.
A nursery was ready and waiting, and Patricia dusted it weekly. The wooden crib and dresser that Michael had painstakingly crafted were polished to a soft satin sheen.
Ruby leaned her head against the handmade, goose down pillows. Her child could grow and run free here, and Ruby could visit and stay as long as she wanted. She would always be her child’s mother.
Patricia slid her arm around Ruby. “Will you think about it?”
“I will,” Ruby replied.
In her heart, Ruby knew that what Patricia was proposing made sense. Ruby had to work, but being on her own in a big city with an infant would be difficult. Aunt Vivienne wouldn’t be of much help—her mercurial personality didn’t include maternal longings. But Patricia and Michael were responsible and kind; she’d never heard a foul word between them. And how happy a little one would make them; this big house needed a child’s laughter.
Ruby could provide such a gift—a gift beyond value—to her sister. She rested her head on Patricia’s shoulder. As Ruby thought about her dilemma, it seemed selfish not to share her good fortune of having a child with her sister. Were their roles reversed, Patricia wouldn’t hesitate. With her generous nature, it wouldn’t occur to her to be any other way. Ruby could play the part of a soft-spoken lady, but Patricia was the genuine article.
Yet, Ruby’s arms ached to hold her baby. She hoped the child would have Niccolò’s bright blue eyes and dark hair. She longed to see his beautiful features reflected in her baby’s face. If he had to leave her alone in this life, instead of the one they’d once planned together, at least he’d given her a child that she could shower with love. To be separated from her child would be excruciating, but Ruby had few choices.
Niccolò would want the best for his child, too. Recalling the importance of family to him, she thought that he would agree.
Still, this wasn’t a decision Ruby wanted to make.
* * *
In the thin light of dawn, Ruby woke from a fevered sleep and instantly knew that something was wrong. Her back had started aching yesterday, and she’d hardly slept. Now, her pillow was damp with perspiration, but more than that, she felt a downward pressure that scared her.
She tried to raise herself on the bed, but a pain shot through her. No, no, no, she thought. Calculating quickly, she realized it had been six weeks since Doc Schmidt’s visit.
“Patricia, help!” She shifted and called out for her sister again.
Moments later, Patricia rushed in. “What’s wrong?”
“I think it’s the baby,” Ruby said, panting against the growing pain. “I need Doc right away.”
As Patricia hurried out, Ruby let out a long moan. With Niccolò’s name on her lips, she gripped the sheet in her fist through searing pain.
Drifting through waves of agony that crested and barely subsided, Ruby didn’t know how much time had passed before Doc arrived, but one thing was certain. It was too late to take Ruby to the nearest hospital, which was more than two hours away.
Her mother and Patricia worked to assist Doc, and Ruby could tell from their frowns and whispered prayers that something was dreadfully wrong.
“The baby is coming now,” Doc said, rolling his sleeves up and issuing orders.
Patricia hurried in with a stack of towels, while Michael brought in hot water.
Doc leaned over her, and Ruby could see perspiration beading on his forehead. “Stay strong, Miss Ruby, and follow my instructions.”
Ruby glanced at her mother, who nodded in agreement. Mercy’s stoic expression struck terror in Ruby’s heart. Gritting her teeth, she forced aside the feeling and clung to the image of Niccolò in her mind. She wrapped herself in the love they had shared.
Silent tears coursed down Patricia’s cheeks, but she’d committed to assisting Doc, and that’s what she did, swiping her cheeks every few minutes.
Niccolò, Niccolò. Ruby imagined him gripping her hand, willing her on, breathing his life force into their child.
“Baby’s coming,” Doc said. And then, “Hold up!” He barked his commands like a general. Ruby did her best to follow them, but she quickly grew tired and light-headed. Her limbs and muscles grew weaker with every effort.
Niccolò, be with me.
“Umbilical cord wrapped around,” Doc muttered.
Ruby felt herself grow lighter, and she seemed to transcend her body. Floating above the scene below, she saw her wavy, dark red hair tangled across the damp pillows and her legs pale as toothpicks against blood-stained sheets. Doc gritted his teeth, working feverishly, while her mother and sister choked back sobs.
Sounds seemed muted, and the scene unfolded before her, as if in a movie. Ruby was wondering what would happen next when suddenly she felt jerked back into her body. Doc was checking her eyes, and then, as a torrent of pain ripped through her, she tilted her head back and screamed.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before she heard Doc say, “Here she is.”
Her mother rose anxiously from the bed. “Is she…breathing?”
She. A girl. Ruby twisted an edge of the sheet in her fist.
Doc looked grim as he held a thin, limp form in his hands.
Ruby panicked. “No, not my baby!” Blood roared through her head, and all she could think of was how she’d lost them both. Despair as dark as she’d ever known coursed through her, and she wished she could return to that strange, in-between place devoid of pain.
“Shh,” Patricia said, gripping Ruby’s hands as she flailed. “Let Doc work.”
Tears wet her face as Ruby listened to the frantic prayer on her mother’s lips. How could her baby have slipped away while she remained? She would have gladly changed places, giving her baby girl a chance to live.
Moments seemed like hours, but finally, a tiny cry erupted, followed by a thin wail that sent shivers through Ruby. “Is she okay?”
Doc gazed at her with sorrowful eyes. “She’s premature, so her lungs might not be well-formed.”
A chilling terror sliced through Ruby. “Will she…live?”
“If she can breathe on her own, she has a shot,” Doc replied grimly, setting his jaw. “We’ll do what we can.”
Chapter 26
Lago di Como, 2010
* * *
Tucking her sketches under her arm, Ariana hurried down the stairs at Villa Fiori, excited about her plans. Today Alessandro was picking her up, and they were going to the shop she’d leased to start work on the interior. But first, she wanted to show her aunt what she’d been working on for her debut signature collection.
Ruby was already outside on the terrace having breakfast.
“Good morning,” Ariana sang out. She joined Ruby at the table, where Livia had set up a place for her and left a fresh pot of coffee. Pouring coffee, she said, “I brought some of my designs to show you what I have in mind for my collection.”
“I’d love to see them.” Ruby slid her grapefruit and granola to one side.
Ariana spread out a few sketches. “What I have in mind is a fusion of casual American and chic European style. Think Jacque
line Kennedy Onassis relaxing on a Greek island or Grace Kelly sailing to Monaco.”
Perusing the sketches, Ruby smiled. “I see the mid-century fashion influence, which looks very fresh in your hands.” She tapped one of the drawings. “I’d certainly like this outfit. A swinging bodice with a boatneck top and three-quarter bell sleeves. Paired with a slim pant. Good lines. And I love it in this shade of coral.”
“I thought you’d like that,” Ariana said. “After all those years of playing in your closets, I know your style. Bold, dramatic, rich with flair.”
“All the better to make an entrance, my dear.” Ruby folded her hands. “So, how are you planning your production?”
“I have fabric from Alessandro,” Ariana said. “And I’m having a dressmaker’s form, a sewing machine, and other supplies delivered in a few days. I’ll start by draping muslin on the form to create my designs. From that, a pattern maker can create patterns in a range of sizes. Customers can look at samples, order their size, and receive a custom fit.”
Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “What about people who are here on holiday and need an outfit for dinner?”
Ariana had thought about that. “I’ll also have some ready-to-wear in simple, luxurious resort-wear designs. Not quite one-size-fits-all, but close. Small, medium, and large. I’ll start with just a few so I can see what delights my customers.”
“Good idea,” Ruby said, studying each design. “These are marvelous. But then, I have complete faith in you and your ability.”
“There’s just so much I need to do before…” Ariana chewed her lip. Before I give birth, she thought. The funny thing was that except for having a ravenous appetite, she hardly felt pregnant at all.
“That’s wise,” Ruby said solemnly. “You want to be prepared in the event of—well, anything. Have you checked with Vera for obstetrician recommendations yet? She has a list of medical providers.”