Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Terrified, I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the ground. I’d always wanted to be a mother. To give a child something I lost far too early.
But this was real.
And the situation wasn’t ideal since the child would be fatherless.
It was hard to wrap my head around it all. Still not moving I stared at the test on the counter.
“Willow?”
My voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes?”
“Go check the test, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“Okay.” With trepidation, I walked forward and looked at the stick.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations, Willow. You will be an incredible mother.”
Tears spilled down my face as I touched my stomach.
Mom.
I’m pregnant.
A nervous giggle left me. “I’m pregnant.”
“Yes, sweetheart. You’re pregnant. You’re going to be a mom.”
Staring at the test, I smiled. “Thank you for being here, Tack. I needed it more than you know.”
“I will always try to be there if I can.”
His words were like a vow, and I sensed they meant more than I gave them credit for. I hoped my intuition was right.
A list of to-dos spiraled through my mind. This baby was going to bring me only joy. I was determined to not let the past mar this experience.
Through all the pain, I was getting something beautiful.
A gift from heaven.
On my tippy toes, I reached for a box on the top shelf of my closet. All afternoon I’d been reading on dos and don’ts for pregnancy. My head swam with information. On Monday, I had a doctor’s appointment. After I confirmed the pregnancy, I would tell Nonno.
The baby was the size of a poppy seed. So tiny.
Carson had called and asked if he and Francesca could come over. They would arrive soon. I’d already made my mind up to tell him. We were going to have children together. They were going to be the best of friends. I knew it.
Some adjustments needed to be made to my painting for a bit, which was fine. I had nearly compiled the list of what I needed to order. I was anxious to paint again as I felt a sense of new inspiration unraveling.
“Willow, are you in here?” Carson called from the hallway.
“Yes! In my closet.”
The box was lighter than expected when I finally reached it and pulled it down. Francesca and Carson were at the door.
“Hey guys.” After setting the box down, I hugged Francesca. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you guys. I’m totally going to spoil this baby. Do you mind?”
I held my hands out from her stomach and she laughed. “No, not at all.”
When Francesca had first arrived, she was super nervous and I had remained reserved. There was an ease about her today. Being totally obnoxious, I spoke to the baby. “This is Auntie Willow. I can’t wait to meet you.”
Carson shook his head at my silly antics.
“What? I need to make sure this baby knows who I am.”
Francesca beamed and touched her stomach. “This baby is going to be lucky with all the love he or she has.”
Picking up the box, I headed to the bedroom to give us all a little more space.
Carson motioned to the box. “What’s in there?”
“My baby stuff.”
His eyes grew wide—he probably remembered my confession at the beach house. Glancing at Francesca, he remained quiet, but I knew he wanted to know. I wanted her to know, too.
“We’re going to be parents together. I’m pregnant.”
Francesca gasped and then squealed before she took me in a hug. “This is going to be the best pregnancy. Our children will be the best of friends.”
As more time passed, the initial shock gave way to elation. I was going to be a mom. “It is. I’m glad you’re here, Francesca. It’s going to be amazing to have children the same age. We’ll be able to do so much together.”
Carson busted out laughing. “And get into a lot of trouble together. Heaven help us.”
I closed my eyes. “Payback is going to be a bitch, Carson. We were so naughty.” Glancing at Francesca, I added, “I’m so sorry for what you’re about to endure.”
“Oh, dear.” Francesca’s eyes widened. “I’m an innocent bystander in all this.”
Laying my hand on her shoulder, I concurred. “I’m so sorry. Word to the wise, we can never leave them alone. Or we’ll come back to a house filled with ants and children smelling like skunks.”
Francesca’s only words were, “Oh, double dear.”
Laughter erupted. We were in so much trouble.
Carson and Francesca left to see Marie and Bennett to tell them about the baby. They’d asked me to come along, but I wanted them to have this special time. Francesca needed to bond with his parents. It was smart waiting a couple of days to tell them until they understood a little more about what they wanted to do.
For now, Francesca had chosen to stay in the states. If and when she was ready to go back to Florence, they would work out a bicontinental arrangement. With Carson’s financial situation, traveling would be easy for them.
I hated that her father refused to talk to her. It had only been Francesca and Bernardo since her mother died when she was four years old. In a way, we were kindred spirits. We knew what it was like to be without. Having each other to lean on through motherhood was a blessing.
With my mango water, I came back to my bedroom to look through the boxes. Carson helped get the other two down from the shelf before he left, giving me strict instructions to not lift anything heavy.
Sitting on the floor, I took off the lid from the box with the label Willow’s Baby Memorabilia. The ancestral blanket was on top. This yellow knitted blanket had been in Mom’s family for eight generations. It passed to the firstborn daughter when her parents were done having children. So far, there had been a girl in each generation. I ran my fingers over the soft fabric. It was tradition to have the baby’s picture taken at one month of age while swaddled in the blanket and place it in the family book.
Soon, I would be adding to the picture book on the shelf in the office. Mom would be beside herself with excitement. She always wanted to have a house full of children, but she and Dad were never able to get pregnant again after me. Dad always said, “You were the only blessing we needed.”
Next were two series of paintings, each with three paintings to complete a willow tree. I paused and looked up at the ceiling to rein in the onslaught of emotions I felt—so many good memories of these paintings. At night, Mom and Dad would read to me on my bed across from the paintings. They were the last thing I saw when I went to bed and the first thing I woke up to.
It was hard doing this alone. I always thought I’d do this with my husband and parents still here. These would be perfect in the baby’s room. It was a piece of my parents for the baby to feel and see.
Thinking of the time I tried to recreate the pictures with crayon on the wall
, I laughed.
Mildred walked in at that moment. “What are you doing?”
I held up the middle painting that had Dad’s, Mom’s, and my initials intricately painted in the tree. “Taking a walk down memory lane.”
“Sometimes it’s good to be connected to those we loved.”
Mildred sat beside me. Picking up the painting that went to the left, Mildred held it in the proper place next to mine. “I remember these paintings. Your dad painted them as soon as he and your mom decided on a name, right?”
The acrylic felt bumpy as I ran my hands over it while I retold a story Mom always told me on my birthday. “Nonno was shocked they didn’t pick something a little more… Italian. Willow was Mom’s idea. Dad took her on a picnic under a willow tree for their first date. It was the memory of where they first fell in love—love at first sight.”
She shook her head. “I remember. For the first two months, Nonno would randomly drop hints for other names. Like, ‘Wow isn’t Marcella a beautiful name.’—Or—‘I had a dream last night I had a grandchild named Alessandra.’ Your mother thought it was funny and gave him as good as she got.”
It felt good to bring the memories to life, and remembering a simpler time, I picked up where Mildred left off. “When I was born, Nonno agreed with Mom that I was most definitely a Willow. In fact, I was the prettiest baby girl he’d ever seen. The nickname baby girl stuck ever since then.”
We stared at the paintings for a bit longer as I let the memories fill me with happiness.
Later, I sat on the beach eating a sandwich Mildred had packed in a small picnic basket for dinner. The tide had come in and a couple of dolphins played in the distance. It was peaceful.
Breathing in, I filled my lungs with the smell of the sea.
Trent approached from the side. “Is this seat taken?”
I sat up straighter. “No, go ahead. The ocean always relaxes me. There’s plenty to eat if you’d like something.”