Except that Anthony wasn’t here yet. She hadn’t had her phone, so she hadn’t been able to call him herself and let him know what was going on. The cops had taken Judy’s phone for evidence, so Machiavelli had stepped up to call him, which must have blown his mind, not only hearing that his wife was almost killed but being told by her former enemy. Anthony hadn’t been able to get a flight from Boston until early the next morning, but sent his love.
Mary and Judy were admitted to the hospital overnight for observation, and, after some doing, they even got the same room, for the best/worst slumber party ever. Mary called Anthony using the landline in the room, but wasn’t able to reach him. Her parents insisted on staying the night since he wasn’t there, and they’d conked out in chairs. Judy had fallen asleep after the Hodges and William left, leaving Mary not completely surprised to learn that her best friend snored. Still it was one of the loveliest sounds Mary had ever heard, and she thanked God that Judy was alive.
Mary couldn’t sleep and lay in bed, her eyes open, her thoughts racing, and her palms resting on her belly. She couldn’t help but replay the events of the night, even as horrific as they were, but it helped her to process them, now that she and Judy were safe. She could feel the baby moving through the cottony blanket, and every kick made her feel better.
The room was dark and quiet, and the only light came from the sharp greens and blues of the monitors keeping track of her vital signs, since she’d been given IV fluids and had a plastic clip on her index finger. Moonlight streamed in through the window next to her bed, bathing the room in a soft glow, and instinctively she turned her head to look outside, toward the sky.
The night was darkly black, the stars ghosted by the haze over the city, but the moon hung low in the sky, a mottled whitish-gray as perfectly round as a child’s marble. Mary had always liked the moon, and Judy told had told her that it had a female energy. But Mary didn’t know if she was allowed to think that anymore, or if it violated gender discrimination laws.
“Babe?” somebody whispered, and Mary startled, turning from the window to see Anthony walking toward the bed, hardly visible except for his smile.
“What are you doing here?” Mary asked softly, marveling. She raised her arms, and Anthony came to her, scooping her up and holding her close. She burrowed into his chest, even though the zipper of his windbreaker rubbed against her cheek, and she breathed in the familiar smells of hard soap, faded aftershave, and oddly enough, pencil lead. Anthony was the only person she knew who still used pencils, which left a sooty bump on his index finger, and inexplicably, their scent.
“I couldn’t get a flight until morning, so I rented a car and drove. I would’ve called you but my phone died.” Anthony released her, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hand and looking into her eyes. Mary could see his agonized expression in the moonlight, which touched her.
“Aw, you didn’t have to do that.”
“What happened, honey? It sounds like a nightmare.”
“It was, but it’s over now.”
“You could’ve been killed.”
“But I wasn’t, and the baby is fine.”
“Thank God. I want to hear everything, but not now, you have to rest.” Anthony’s eyes glistened. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, babe.”
“But you were, honey.” Mary heard herself say, her heart speaking for her. “You were—”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were, you’re always there for me, and I have so much to tell you. I’ve done so much thinking, but there’s one thing I know and it’s that you have always been there for me. All the time.” Mary tried to explain. “Whether it’s by my side, or waiting for me at home, or sleeping beside me. You’ve been there for me all along, and everything you said that night, about the baby, and about how I felt about the pregnancy, it was true.” She felt tears come to her eyes. “But that’s changing, it already has, I feel it. I’m so happy that we’re having this baby, and so grateful that I’m going to be home with her, or him, at least in the beginning. After that, we can sort out anything we need to sort out—”
“—I know, and we don’t have to worry about it now—”
“—and we’ll figure this out, even though I know it won’t be easy—”
“—we’ll do it with our families, and they’ll help—”
“—no, we’re the family.” Mary heard the truth of it, just as she said it aloud. “This is the family, the three of us. This is where it starts. We’re the center. If we just start here, and remember that, then everything else will fall into place, whether it’s work, my parents, your mother, The Tonys, the Rosary Society—”
“The what?” Anthony smiled, puzzled.
“Never mind, whatever it is, anything that’s not the three of us will find its own orbit.”
“Its orbit?”
“I can’t explain it, I just know I’m right. The moon told me.”
“Then I agree with you and the moon, sweetheart,” Anthony told her.
And he rewarded her with a long, loving kiss.
EPILOGUE
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in May, and Mary stood at the kitchen sink in her parents’ house, washing the dishes after dinner. Anthony, her father, and The Tonys had gone into the living room to watch the Phillies game, leaving Mary and her mother in the kitchen to clean up and do other things that you needed ovaries to perform. Anthony had tried to help, but her mother had shooed him away, to preserve decades of DiNunzio tradition. Meanwhile, Mary could barely reach the sink over her belly, since she had passed her due date four days ago and was mentally counting down to delivery, every second of every day.
“Here, Ma.” Mary handed the wet plate to her mother, who dried it with a faded dish towel.
“Grazie.” Her mother smiled sweetly, wiping the plate until it was drier than it had been out of the factory.
“You know, we can let it dry on the rack.”
“Si, Maria,” her mother said, again sweetly, and Mary knew that even though she had said yes, what she really meant was no.
“And I wish you would let me get you a dishwasher.”
“Si, Maria.”
“Or a garbage disposal.”
“Si, Maria.”
“And an air conditioner, it could go right in the window. It would work better than a fan.”
“Si, Maria.”
“You know we’re not Amish, right?”
Her mother laughed, if only to humor Mary, who’d made the joke about a thousand times before. She didn’t really mind washing the dishes, but she wanted to make her mother’s life easier. Right now, it felt perfect, with a soft breeze coming through the kitchen window, the smell of tomato and basil scenting the air, the background music of baseball play-by-play, and she and her mother standing side by side the way they always had, having some quiet time together. Mary would’ve said it was Zen, but Roger had given that a bad name.
Mary picked up the next plate and washed it with a sponge, trying not to think about Roger. She had been relieved that he had pled guilty to murder and two counts of attempted murder, and though he hadn’t been sentenced yet, she hoped he would get at least twenty years. Judy was beginning to emerge from the grief that had enveloped her after John’s death and she had become William’s guardian, which had helped them both. Machiavelli’s settlement had more than compensated London Technologies and refilled the coffers at Rosato & DiNunzio. Shanahan had been fired from Glenn Meade, after he’d returned from a weeklong bender. And Bennie had already talked to Mary about when she’d be coming back after maternity leave, and it looked as if they’d have to hire a new associate. Whether it would be a boy or girl, nobody knew.
“I think is a boy, Maria,” her mother said, out of nowhere, with a smile.
“You think?” Mary asked, smiling at the irony, then suddenly she felt as if she had to go to the bathroom, urgently. In the next moment, a gush of warm water started to run down the inside of her legs. She looked down, almost dropping the plate. “Ma, I think my water just broke! Is that what happened? My water broke?”