"Mama, perhaps you should go meet her without me," I said, rubbing the flat of my hand in circles close around my heart. "I am on fire."
"Oh, well, maybe not." My hand came to rest on my belly. "It's just that I've got such wicked heartburn again."
"Ah, Fi, what did I tell you, this will be happening now, more and more. How about some baking soda?"
I wrinkled up my nose. "Oh, I suppose I should. Hate the taste though."
Mama chuckled. "Oh it's a small price to pay for..." And then she stopped, realizing that she had very stupidly been about to say 'it's a small price to pay for a baby!'
She frowned, shook her head. Reaching to a shelf, she took down a small box, and scooped out a tiny spoonful of white powder. She stirred the powder into a cup of water.
"You ought to sip this slowly," she said. "Now it's time for me to get dressed."
I swallowed as much of the milky water as I could tolerate. I was getting to the point that I hated being pregnant. Along with heartburn, I had varicose veins -- "vene varicosa" -- lumpy blue lines bulging and snaking down both my legs. And I had backaches. And slippery moods, my emotions sliding up and down with no warning.
Mama was back, ready to go. "Fi, Nunzi will be waiting for us."
"I'm still drinking the baking soda."
She gazed at me. "I think you are stalling."
I shrugged. "Perhaps." I chugged down the rest of the awful-tasting liquid.
"We've been through this Fi. You know what will happen to your baby if he goes to the ospizia!"
The baby's foot, or was it his elbow, poked up against my navel and then the bump scooted over to the right side. My excitement about the squirming little creature inside me sometimes gave way to desperation. In those moments, all I could think about was how the baby would be wrenched from me as soon as I delivered him. How could I keep my spirits up in the face of that certainty?
I put both hands on my belly. The only way I can go forward is to keep telling myself that if I don't give the baby to someone like Lina, then my precious son will end up in a place where he will be doomed!
But more and more, I keep wondering what kind of life awaits me after the delivery? Is there anything for me on the horizon?
I sighed loudly. "Give me five minutes," I said, and I headed into my bedroom.
*******
Thanks to Tullio, who was still living at G's house in San Lucido, helping to make arrangements to sell the property, Mama and Nunzi and I traveled in comfort. Tullio had arranged for a carriage and two horses to pick us up at the fountain. Nunzi and Mama and I shared one coach seat. It was a lovely down the the coastline. The sun was bright but there was a pleasant breeze off the water, so it wasn't too warm.
The steady clip clop of the horses was reassuring. I kept closing my eyes and imagining that Giovanni was sitting there beside me, as he had been so often before. It was only about two weeks ago that he died and I was still smarting. I kept trying to absorb the fact that he was gone, for good. But I couldn't get myself to believe it. Tullio kept telling me that I would be getting a "substantial" pot of money. But so far I had seen not one lira.
My mother was talking to me now and I wasn't paying attention. I looked up. "So sorry Mama, but I was thinking about Giovanni."
"Of course, I understand, mia figlia preziosa. He was a good man."
"I wonder what he would say about this idea, of me handing the baby over to someone we hardly know."
"Now Fi, you should not be thinking that way," Nunzi said, slipping into that voice she uses to lecture me. "Even if Giovanni had lived, you were still going to have to give the baby away. So don't go spinning any fantastic stories about what Giovanni was going to do to fix the situation."
I said nothing. What was the point? G was gone, and now I was on my own.
Mama had packed bread and cheese and some figs, and a few kilometers before we arrived in Diamante, she handed the food to Nunzi and me. I was thirsty, and my back hurt, and my legs were starting to feel numb.
Thankfully, we were very close. Nunzi instructed the driver, whose named was Filipo, that we had come to the road where we were supposed to fork off to the left, away from the coast. It was a rough road, with lots of sizable rocks, and I felt each and every bump, as the baby went bouncing up and down, rocking hard inside me.
"Oof, I will be glad to get there," I said.
"Not far now Fi," Nunzi said. "My husband said we only go about two kilometers up this road."
When the farm came into view, I wasn't overly impressed, at least not at first. There was a small stucco house, and another building that looked to be a barn.
We stepped down into a thin layer of straw, which had been scattered over the hardened mud in this section of the farmyard. As I descended with Filipo holding my hand, I stared into a pen with four gigantic hogs, two of which were completely slopped over with wet mud.
For some reason I could not explain, the pig pen brought a smile to my face. And then I noticed the two grey and white horses, and a beautiful cinnamon-colored dog who came right up to me. I started immediately to pet him, and he didn't leave my side the entire afternoon.
Also present was a little boy who looked to be about seven years old. Curly black hair and not shy.
"Bon giorno, io sono Rico," he greeted us. "Please can I show you the chicken coop?"
I glanced at Nunzi and then back at Rico. "Bongiorno, Rico, you know, Rico, I would love to see the chickens, but I am so very thirsty, and a bit tired from our journey, so could we look at them later after we visit with your mother?"
He nodded. "Mama is inside," he said, "I will show you. And so we followed him. Soon enough we were inside the simple farmhouse. Adelina walked right up to me. She was wearing a triangular white kerchief, tied around her head, knotted in back. Black curls poked out over her forehead.
This woman Adelina might be the tiniest person I've ever seen. I am not much over five feet, but she comes barely up to my shoulder. Like me, she had a large belly, and she held one hand beneath her bulge.
"Filomena, I have heard so many wonderful things about you," she said, her tone soft and kindly.
I nodded. "Thank you, Adelina."
"Oh please. My friends and loved ones all call me Lina! You must call me Lina too!"
I tried to smile but it wasn't convincing. I was going to say that Nunzi called her a saint, but for some reason I held back. I was feeling so many emotions swirling inside me, and all of them pointed into a well of sadness. No matter how special Lina turned out to be, I did not want to see my child land in her arms. Or in anyone else's for that matter.
And yet, I didn't want to see any harm come to my baby in the awful ospizia. This was the terrible choice that I faced. And now, confronted with the flesh and blood reality of this plump little woman, anger and sadness started to chase each other around and around in my mind, going so fast that I was starting to feel dizzy.
Nunzi introduced Lina to Mama, and without a moment's hesitation, Mama stepped forward and embraced the woman, whose plump body seemed to want to spill out of the tight green dress she wore. "Mille grazie," Mama said in a quiet voice and that just made me more angry. How dare Mama thank this woman who was going to steal from me the baby that I had started calling "my little squash," -- "la mia piccola zucca!"
"Please, sit down," she said. The three of us took seats around the kitchen table, and soon Giovanna was pouring espresso.
"May I have water?" I asked.
"Certainly," she said, and she poured me a cup.
Lina had baked panettone in honor of our visit and now she set a plate containing several thick slices on the table. Fresh butter too. We busied ourselves eating for a few minutes. Rico sat on his mother's knee and he was actually taller than she was.
Lina spoke first.
"Tell me Filomena how have you been feeling?"
"Well, mostly now, I am OK, since I no longer throw up. But I have very bad heartburn and lumpy blue veins on my legs. And oh the backaches..." I shrugged.
I thought I should ask her a question, but what? The ones in my mind were not at all the kind that I was supposed to ask: so how will you manage to love my son, who will be child number seven for you? How is it you are so fortunate to have all these children while I will be left with none? How will my baby possibly compete for affection with all of your brood, including your new little one? The three women around me began conversing, in a lively and friendly way, and I found myself without anything to say. Nothing at all to contribute. I started feeling worse and worse. More and more angry. Why had I come? Why hadn't I done what I originally suggested? Why hadn't I let Mama come without me? Or Nunzi? Let one of them figure out who would be the best Mama for my precious little zucca.
Soon I was clasping my hands together beneath my belly, and praying silently to the Virgin, as I always do in times of confusion and crisis. "Help me Mary," I said, over and over again. "Help me somehow please?" When Lina spoke to me next I didn't hear her at first.
"Do you need to lie down Filomena?"
All was silent. My eyes snapped open.
"Can I get you something else for you, Filomena? Or would you like to lie down for a while?"
"Oh...no..no, I am OK, thank you!" But as a matter of fact, I was suddenly very very hungry. The panettone was not enough and now I spoke out.
"But actually, I wonder if...I am suddenly craving anchovies," I said, and everyone started laughing. At first, I was confused. What was so funny?
"I guess you didn't hear me when I was speaking before," Lina said, "but I was telling your Mama and Nunzi that I have eaten probably two tons of anchovies in the last seven months. I have plenty of anchovies I can give you! And cheese and lots of salami, too."
She stood up. Rico stood too and then he came and whispered in my ear: "Is it time for me to take you to see the chickens?" He stepped back. He was an adorable little boy and suddenly I felt joy and sadness all wrapped in one. My little squash would some day grow up to be sweet like this child. And perhaps, I would be able to visit him. Oh but would he know me?!
I didn't want to start crying and I tried so hard to hide my tears. But then Rico hugged me and I melted. I cried. Hard! Nunzi walked me outdoors for some fresh air. I cried some more. She hugged me and I cried even harder.
After a while, though, I stopped.
We went back inside Lina's house and I ate a huge plate of anchovies. Along with thick slices of cheese and bread and salami. And more panettone. And more of Nunzi's figs!
The ladies were so glad to see me devouring all this food!
"It's good you are eating," Lina said, giving me that cheerful smile of hers, one that makes her face glow. She got up from the table and disappeared and soon she was back with something in her hands.
"This is for you, Filomena," she said softly. She held it aloft. It was a beautiful crocheted shawl,
"Oh, this is just beautiful, and so kind of you, Lina," I said. Mama admired the handiwork, and then she spoke.
"Lina, how do you find time to crochet with all of your family pulling on you?" "Ah, well, Lucia, I set aside time every day to crochet because otherwise I go...pazza!
She nodded, and smiled again. And then I realized -- she had the same kind of electric smile that my dear Giovanni had. A smile that wraps itself around your heart and holds you tight. Now she leaned toward me.
"I hope this shawl will offer comfort to you," she said in a soft voice. "You must take good care of yourself, going forward."
Now I smiled back at her. "Thank you for saying that Lina. Thank you for being so kind and thoughtful!"
Conversation began again. Lina talked about how she had cared for each of her children as newborns in a slow and patient way. "I just go day by day, and sometimes, when they cry and cry, then I go minute by minute," she said. She pointed to the corner. "I am fortunate to have a rocking chair," she said. "One that fits my backside!" She laughs out loud at herself. "There I sit, in 'il dondolo,' the rocker, with the baby, just letting the minutes and hours go by."
Besides her family, Lina says she has many close friends who she can call on for help during what she calls her "convalescenza postnatale," her "post natal convalesence."
"Filomena, there are many women here who will help me be a good mother to my baby and to yours too! And if you can, I would welcome you to be here at the same time."
My eyes widened. "I didn't...I wasn't expecting to...I mean, I didn't know I oould...be here," I said.
Lina reached over and squeezed my hand. "You are welcome to come," she said. "For some time in the beginning, we can both be the baby's mothers!"
I glanced at Nunzi, who looked to be as surprised as I was.
"Can I...will this be...permitted?" I said to Nunzi.
"Well I...I don't know...but I don't see why not," Nunzi said. "As long as you are not in Paola with the baby...then, I mean no one will know where you are, will they? So I think, yes, maybe you can be here, for a while." Now she looked to Lina. "How long are you talking about exactly? A month?"
Lina shrugged. Suddenly she looked to me to resemble a...a round little....squash! Una Zucca de Lungo Verde! A squat green squash!
I felt the shawl covering my shoulders now. I felt it holding me. I felt Giovanna holding me, with love. I felt her holding all of my feelings! Somehow I knew that this exquisite little woman would help me get through the ordeal that I faced!
Before we left, Rico took me outside to the chicken coop. It smelled awful. And the sound of the chickens squawking was so loud that I covered my ears.
Rico had a basket with him and he collected some eggs, holding them so gently and lovingly in his hands. Then he led me back to the house, with his warm little hand holding mine.
I could get used to life here on Lina's farm.
It wasn't until we were sitting in the carriage preparing to leave, with Lina and her son waving to us, when it hit me: there had been not a word spoken about money!
"Oh dear," I say, and Nunzi turns to me with a worried look.
"What? Are you feeling OK, Fi?"
"Yes, yes, but Nunzi, we never discussed...paying Lina," I said.
"You are not to worry about that," Nunzi said.
"But don't we need to talk to her, to make an arrangement, to find out how much she wants?"
"I spoke to her when you were getting to know the chickens with Rico."
"Oh. So, what did you decide?"
"Let's just say, Fi, that Lina is comfortable with whatever you can pay."
I sat there. The carriage was moving now. Ah, we were riding over the bumps again.
"But what if...what if there is no money? I mean, I haven't seen anything yet."
"Not to worry Fi." Nunzi turned to me and smiled. "Lina says she is prepared to love your child, no matter if there is money."
My eyes widened. "She really is a very special person, just as you said."
Nunzi kept smiling, and nodded her head. "Yes. Oh yes, Fi, that's for sure."
I closed my eyes and pulled the cotton shawl tighter around me. And then I felt the little squash do some kind of a flip, or maybe it was just a giant stretch. All I know is that I had to lean my head and my chest backward to make room for him to move!
At that moment, the carriage rocked side to side as we bumped up and over another hole in the road. "Oh my," I said. I breathed steadily, trying to ready myself for the long trip home.
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