He Gave Another Child the Fatherly Love My Daughter Begged For

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My daughter asked me the way she always did. Is Papa still not coming home for my birthday?

I couldn't bear it and wanted to lie to her again, but instead she was the one comforting me.

Papa must have gone to be with Auntie Rosalind again, the one who keeps threatening to leave her husband. It's the same if Mama spends it with me.

My eyes filled with tears at once.

The night Lorenzo Fallaci and I were married before the whole famiglia, Rosalind started making noise about her own marriage falling apart.

Because of it, Lorenzo dropped me right there, half out of my clothes, and rushed off into the dark.

For the next five years, at Valentine's dinners, at our daughter's birthday parties, on the feast days and our wedding anniversaries, Rosalind would always, right on cue, kick up her marriage drama a moment beforehand.

I'd tried to stop him, but he'd only stare at me like I was being unreasonable.

"Cara, Rosalind is my adopted sister. Living under Salvatore's roof is hard and painful for her too. You need to be more understanding."

This time, it was our daughter's parent day at the little parochial school.

An hour before it started, Rosalind's call came, right on schedule.

His phone buzzed and his whole body turned toward it, the way it always did, as if someone had pulled a leash.

I blocked him at the door. "You've never gone, not once. Our daughter gets called a fatherless bastard by the other children."

He shoved me hard out of the way. "Didn't you hear Rosalind crying her heart out on the phone? If I don't go, that animal Salvatore will beat her!"

But when I brought our daughter to the school,

Lorenzo was there playing the interactive games, standing in as the father of Rosalind's child.

My daughter clutched my hand and asked me sadly, "Mama, has Papa stopped wanting us?"

I lifted her up and carried her inside. "No. It's that Mama has stopped wanting him."

I carried Gemma Fallaci in, and the moment she saw Lorenzo she called out to him. "Papa."

Lorenzo was crouched by the slide, playing a clapping game with Chiara Marchetti.

He heard her voice and straightened up. "Gemma? Why are you two here?"

He started toward us. He'd taken barely half a step when there was a dull thud behind him, and Chiara dropped to the ground and burst into tears.

"Papa, carry me! I want Papa to carry me!"

The instant Lorenzo heard her, he stopped short, turned, and bent down to scoop Chiara into his arms. "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

Rosalind came trotting over, crouched beside them, and wiped the tears off Chiara's face with a wet wipe. Just before her own eyes went glassy, her gaze flicked sideways, checking who was watching. "That fall hurt, didn't it? Papa and Mama are both right here. There, there, don't be scared."

Gemma slid down out of my arms and stood against my leg, both hands twisting the hem of her skirt.

She didn't call out a second time. She only watched Lorenzo's back, quiet and still.

The parent-child games started soon after.

The teacher had everyone gather round.

Gemma walked over toward her classmates.

She'd barely reached them when a little girl beside her pointed at her and pouted. "Gemma, you don't even have a papa. Your papa has never once come to your parent day! And you lied and said he'd definitely come this time. Liar!"

Another child joined in. "Yeah, she's always saying she has a papa, but we've never seen him even once. My mama says you're just a fatherless bastard!"

"Liar! Faker! Bastard!"

They crowded around Gemma, pointing and jeering without stopping.

Gemma's face went red all over, and she kept trying to explain. "I do have a papa, and my papa came today too! If you don't believe me, I can call him over!"

She bit her lip, pushed out of the circle around her, one small fist closed tight around the strawberry hairclip in her hair, then worked up her courage and ran a few steps toward Lorenzo, tilting her head up as she called out. "Papa! The teacher says the games are starting. Will you come play with me?"

Chiara instantly wrapped her arms tight around Lorenzo's neck and buried her face in his shoulder, one hand already tugging at his sleeve. "This is my papa! He's my papa! He's playing the games with me today. You're not allowed to steal my papa!"

The children all around burst out laughing and crowded back around Gemma. "Gemma is lying! Gemma is lying! She doesn't have a papa and she wants to steal someone else's!"

Gemma stood frozen in place, her head dropping low, her shoulders starting to shake.

I hurried over and pushed the other children back from her, then crossed to Lorenzo. "Gemma is your daughter, Lorenzo. Can't you see how badly she wants you to play the games with her?"

Lorenzo frowned at me. "Chiara scraped her knee. She needs looking after. I can't leave."

Rosalind stepped in at once, her voice soft as silk over a blade. "Don't take it to heart, Adriana Vitale. Chiara's still little. Whoever spends the days with her, that's the one she thinks of as her papa."

"Lorenzo comes by every weekend. In her heart she already treats him like a father. Truly, he might as well be her own blood, don't you think?"

"I just wasn't as fortunate as you, marrying a good man like my brother..."

By the end her gaze flicked once to the side, testing the faces around her, and only then did her eyes go faintly red at the rims.

Lorenzo smoothed a hand over Rosalind's hair, then turned his face toward me and said low, "Show a little understanding. It's just children. Don't make it bigger than it is."

Before I could get a single word out, laughter and shrieks broke out behind me again.

I turned. Gemma was hemmed in by three or four children.

She'd fallen back onto the ground, the hem of her flowered dress smudged with dirt.

A pudgy little boy jabbed a finger at her face and shouted, "Liar! You don't even have a papa! And you were trying to steal Chiara's papa. Aren't you ashamed?"

Gemma sat there on the ground, fat tears crashing down.

She stretched her arms toward Lorenzo. "Daddy! Daddy, come here! Tell them you're my daddy! Say it, Daddy, please..."

One of her small fists was clenched tight around the little strawberry hairclip, knuckles white.

Chiara clung to Lorenzo's neck and would not let go.

Lorenzo took one step forward.

Behind him, Rosalind's eyes glistened. "Lorenzo... if you go over and admit it now, Chiara's going to be so hurt."

"You're the one who's spent every holiday, every birthday with her. She already sees you as her father..."

"It's all my fault. I couldn't find her a good father..."

When she finished, Lorenzo drew his outstretched foot back after all.

He turned his back to me and gathered Chiara closer. "Don't cry, Chiara. Don't worry, Papa's not going anywhere. Does your leg still hurt?"

Gemma's sobbing warped and cracked, then slowly sank quieter.

And the children's mockery only grew louder around her.

I cut fast through that ring of children, crouched down, and lifted Gemma off the ground.

Her tiny hands gripped my collar, her whole face buried against my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt.

She hiccupped through the crying. "Mommy... is Daddy really not going to want us anymore?"

I carried her toward the edge of the yard, past the ones who still watched, and did not slow for a single one of them.

I bent my head and kissed the top of hers. "No. It's that Mommy's decided she doesn't want him anymore."

"Gemma, let's find you a new school. At the new one, no one will ever ask you where your daddy is again."

Gemma had cried herself out. Once we got home, she slumped against my shoulder, snuffling, and was asleep in minutes.

After I laid her down in her room, I went to the study and made the call.

"Signor Volpe. That placement in the far territory, the little school out past the reach of all of this. I want it."

There was a pause on the other end. The old man had done business in silences longer than most men's whole careers. "Isn't the little one just starting school? Didn't you keep saying it wasn't the time to go so far?"

"I'm planning to bring her with me."

Arthur Volpe went quiet for a few seconds. I could almost hear the weight of it settling on his end, the old debt he'd carried since my father's day, the pull of it against the Family's reach. Then he pressed his signet ring flat to the table, the way a man does when he means to keep a promise, and gave his word. "Adriana. Serve out three years in that quiet corner, and when you come back, doors open on their own. You have my hand in this."

Not long after I hung up, Lorenzo came home.

He was carrying a white cake box.

"Is Gemma asleep?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

I said nothing. My hand lay flat and still on the desk, the band on my finger cold and untouched.

He said sheepishly, "Today... I didn't think it through. I bought a cake. I wanted to make up her birthday to her."

I was about to refuse when Gemma, who must have woken at some point, wandered into the sitting room on her own.

She saw the cake box in Lorenzo's hands, and her sleepy eyes brightened. She asked in a small voice, "Papa, is that for me?"

Lorenzo crouched down and opened his arms to her with a smile. "Of course it's for Gemma. Come on, let's give Gemma her birthday."

Gemma trotted over and threw herself into his arms, a hint of a smile finally breaking across her face.

Lorenzo carried her to the dining table, past the framed photographs of men who no longer drew breath, and set her down where the candlelight would reach.

He opened the box and pressed the candles into the cake.

She leaned in to read the writing on top, then turned to me, puzzled. "Mama... the writing on the cake, why isn't it my name?"

I looked down at the line of pink letters.

"Happy Birthday, Sweet Chiara."

This cake had never been bought for Gemma at all.

Gemma couldn't read much, but she knew how her own name was spelled.

I lifted my eyes to Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, what is this supposed to mean?"

His face went a little awkward. "I might have grabbed the wrong one..."

Gemma read the words again. "This looks like Chiara's name..."

I bent down and gathered her against me, explaining quickly, "Gemma, someone at the bakery must have been careless and written the wrong name. Tomorrow Mama will go and have them make a new one, okay?"

Gemma didn't say anything, and then the doorbell rang.

Lorenzo got up to answer it, and Rosalind came in carrying Chiara.

She was all smiles. "Lorenzo, did you bring back the birthday cake you bought for Chiara? Perfect timing, Gemma can have a slice too."

Gemma and Chiara's birthdays were only a day apart.

Chiara, in a brand-new princess dress and shiny little dress shoes, bounced inside. The second she spotted the cake on the table she clapped her hands and squealed, "Wow! My cake! Mama, look, it has my name on it!"

Gemma stood beside the chair, both hands hanging at her sides. One small fist found the strawberry hairclip at her collar and closed around it.

She tilted her head up at Lorenzo, her voice soft, carrying a careful, fragile little hope. "Papa... this cake, it was bought for Chiara, wasn't it?"

"The one you bought for me, you just forgot to bring it home, right?"

Lorenzo looked at Gemma, then at Chiara stamping her feet at the edge of the table, and clenched his jaw.

"The cake's big enough. We'll all share it. Be a good girl, Gemma. Why don't you blow out the candles together with Chiara?"

"You're in school now. You should know better."

The hope in Gemma's eyes went out.

I walked over and lifted her into my arms. "Gemma, let's not have any cake, okay? Tomorrow Mama will take you to the amusement park. It's late now. Let's go up, take a bath, and go to sleep."

Rosalind called after me, "Come on, let's all have cake together. Yesterday was Gemma's birthday and she spent it alone. Today it's Chiara's birthday. Isn't it nicer if we all share the cake together?"

I turned my head and looked at her. The room seemed to hold its breath, even Chiara going quiet at the shift in the air. "You have to borrow another woman's husband just to celebrate a birthday? Exactly how starved for love is your daughter?"

"Gemma doesn't need to eat somebody else's cake. She already had her own birthday cake yesterday."

With that, I carried Gemma up the stairs.

Gemma didn't make a fuss.

She buried her face in my neck, so quiet, so good, her fist still shut tight around that little hairclip.

As I carried her up, Lorenzo's voice drifted after us, edged with anger. "Don't bother with them. If they won't eat, fine. We'll celebrate for Chiara. We promised we'd all spend her birthday together."

Rosalind answered with a laugh, and just before it came there was that half-second flick of her eyes toward Lorenzo, checking her light. "It's fine, I'm not upset. I know she's always had a problem with me, but I won't take it to heart."

"Chiara, make a wish! Time to blow out the candles... Lorenzo, help her blow them out."

The sound of three voices gathered downstairs, singing "Happy Birthday," drifted up through the floor.

Chiara clapped her hands, giggling, thrilled.

I shut the door and sealed those voices outside.

The next day, I took Gemma to the amusement park, one of the few places in the city that belonged to no Family, where no button meant anything.

I had just brought her down off the Ferris wheel when I spotted Lorenzo.

He was standing in front of the ice cream cart, bent at the waist, holding out a rainbow cone to Chiara.

Chiara rose up on her toes to take it, stuck out her tongue for a big lick. "Thank you, Papa. You have some too, it's so good!"

Rosalind stood beside them, holding up her phone to take pictures.

Rosalind saw me first.

She tilted her head. "After we got home last night, Chiara kept going on and on about wanting to come to the amusement park."

"Her papa's never around, you know. Nothing I could do but trouble my dear brother Lorenzo to bring her."

I looked down at Gemma.

She was staring at the rainbow cone in Chiara's hand, then up at Lorenzo, and the light in her eyes was fading, little by little.

She didn't say a word. Her small fist found the strawberry hairclip at her collar and closed around it. She only gripped my hand tighter.

This time, she didn't call out for her papa.

I lifted my head and looked straight at Rosalind, taking up her words.

"Rosalind, do you not have a husband? Does Chiara not have a father? Do you really have to keep stealing other people's husbands, other people's fathers?"

The smile froze on Rosalind's face.

Her gaze flicked sideways for half a second, gauging who stood near enough to hear. Then her eyes went red, her lips trembling, a sob in her voice. "Adriana... how can you say that about me? Do you have any idea what I go through with my husband?"

"Salvatore hits me, he curses at me, and now he won't even come home... It's just me and Chiara, and I have to carry everything alone..." "Lorenzo is the only brother I have. If you won't let me turn to him, who else do I have?"

Lorenzo's brows knotted the moment he saw her tears.

He turned to me, irritation plain in his voice. "What are you making a scene about now? Don't you know what she's dealing with? Married to an enforcer like that?"

"A man like Blackwood, raising a kid on her own, how hard that is, and you, her sister-in-law, can't show a little understanding?"

I looked at him, and this man felt so like a stranger that my chest went cold. I was about to fire back when Gemma tugged at my hand.

"Mama, don't be mad. Let's go. I want to ride the white horse. Let's go over there."

Chiara threw herself into Lorenzo's arms. "Papa! I want to ride that horse too! That biggest white one!"

I swallowed the anger burning in me and took Gemma over.

Lorenzo, carrying Chiara, came toward the carousel entrance too, Rosalind right behind them.

Once they were inside the ride area, Chiara shoved Gemma, darted ahead, then turned back and waved at Lorenzo. "Papa, hurry! Ride with me!"

Lorenzo shot me a look, tossed out a "Quit making a scene here," and turned to follow her.

Gemma gazed up at me, longing in her eyes.

I crouched down and smiled at her. "It's okay. Mama will ride with you."

When the carousel started turning, Gemma picked a little brown horse, and I stood beside her, steadying her waist.

Chiara sat on the biggest white horse up front, Lorenzo standing at her side, one hand on the saddle, the other hovering loosely at her back.

Rosalind stood outside filming on her phone, calling out to Chiara. "Look at Mama! Give me a smile! Look at Mama with Papa..."

Just as the last word left her mouth, the huge horse lurched hard to the left, and the whole structure came crashing down.

Screams erupted everywhere.

Gemma pitched off the little brown horse, and the massive wooden body of it slammed down toward her in an instant.

Beside her, Chiara's white horse toppled too.

Chiara was flung half a yard clear, landing on the padded floor, wailing.

Lorenzo pushed himself up off the ground, both hands coated in dust.

He turned his head, seemed to glance at me and Gemma, and then, without a moment's hesitation, rushed toward Chiara, snatched her up, and spun toward the exit at a run.

As he ran, he shouted back at Rosalind, "Call for a car! Get her to our doctor! Chiara's bleeding!"

I knelt in the splintered wood, my shoulder wedged under that heavy wooden horse.

The park hands came running, men who worked a front the Family half-owned, and several of them lifted the horse away together.

Gemma was curled up underneath, her face bone-white, blood streaked with dust running down her skin. Thank God she was still conscious.

"Mommy it hurts"

I scooped her into my arms, wrapped her in my coat, and dialed for help with trembling fingers.

"Gemma, don't be scared. You're going to be fine. Mommy's here."

Lorenzo had already carried Chiara to the front gate and climbed straight into the black sedan that pulled up, one of the Family's own, engine already running.

He got in with Rosalind, the door slammed shut with a bang, and they told the driver to make for the private clinic the Fallacis paid to keep quiet.

Gemma shivered against me, her voice small. "Mommy where's Daddy? Is he okay?"

I held her tighter, pressing my forehead to her cold one, my voice already breaking apart. "Daddy went ahead. It's okay. Mommy's here. Mommy's taking you to the doctor."

I ran with Gemma in my arms toward the clinic doors.

Her eyes were shut. She'd lost so much blood she had slipped into unconsciousness.

Gemma was rushed inside, past men who stood aside without a word, past the hush that always fell where the Family's money kept the lights on and the questions off.

I waited outside the door, frantic. After a moment a nurse hurried out. "The child's lost a lot of blood. She needs a transfusion. Someone needs to sign, and the blood's already on its way from our supply. Go, quickly."

I was about to move when Lorenzo strode over and yanked the form right out of my hand. "Chiara needs a transfusion too. You have to keep the blood for her."

My whole body went rigid.

He turned and looked at me and gave the order, cold and flat, the way a made man gives a command he expects obeyed. "Chiara and Gemma have the same blood type. Chiara's hurt. If there's an emergency so the blood has to be set aside for Chiara first."

My throat felt like someone's hand was clamped around it. It took several seconds before any sound came out. "Lorenzo, Gemma is in there fighting for her life!"

"Did you not see how much blood she lost in there? You're blocking her transfusion? Are you trying to watch her die?!"

Rosalind walked over with Chiara in her arms, her voice thick with grievance. Just before the tears came, her gaze flicked sideways, once, checking who stood in the corridor. "Sister what if Chiara has internal injuries? She's so little, a whole year younger than Gemma Lorenzo's just worried"

"Shut your mouth." I whipped my head around and glared at her. "Your daughter's got a scraped layer of skin on her leg, and she's bouncing around over there eating a lollipop. And you're telling me about internal injuries?"

Rosalind's tears spilled over in an instant. She bit her lip, hugged Chiara closer, and her voice shook. "Yes, Chiara doesn't look serious, but what if? What if?"

"She's already had it so hard, following me around. Her father doesn't want her. I can't let anything happen to her, not even a little"

Seeing Rosalind cry, Lorenzo immediately stepped in front of her, frowning at me. "Calm down. Chiara's smaller than Gemma. She should get priority to begin with."

"I already had the nurse go find other blood for Gemma. What are you panicking about?"

He handed the form in his hand to Rosalind. "Set it aside for Chiara first."

I lunged and grabbed hold of Rosalind. "Give me back that form! Give it to me!"

"Anybody who touches my daughter's blood today, I'll fight them to the death!"

Rosalind stumbled and dropped straight to the floor. "Sister, what are you doing? Why did you push me? Chiara, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself falling? Don't cry, don't cry, Mommy and Daddy are both right here."

Lorenzo quickly gathered them up and turned to roar at me, the sound cracking through the silent corridor while the clinic's men stood frozen, not one of them daring to move, "What's gotten into you? Something happens to your kid and you take it out on Rosalind? It wasn't Rosalind who made the wooden horse fall on Gemma, was it?"

"You were standing right next to Gemma. Why didn't you shield her yourself? When it comes down to it, you're the one who failed to look after her, and you've still got the nerve to blame other people?"

I couldn't spare him a single second. All I wanted was that form in Rosalind's hand, the slip that decided whose blood the hospital would hold.

Seeing me move, Lorenzo threw himself in front of Rosalind and Chiara and shoved me hard from behind. "Still making a scene? Settle down. What's gotten into you?"

My whole back slammed against the cold wall, and I crashed to the floor. Somewhere down the corridor, a soldier in a dark coat looked away, the way men in the life learn to look away from things that aren't their business.

By the time I recovered enough to stand, Lorenzo had already gone, one arm curved around Rosalind and Chiara as if they were the only blood he owned.

A little way off, the nurses stood watching, muttering under their breath. "That little girl he carried off wasn't hurt at all. Her scan just came back, only a few scrapes. What does she need blood for?"

"It's just awful. I heard the one in the operating room is his own daughter..."

The door of the emergency room swung open, and a nurse leaned out. "Is the blood here yet? The child's pressure is dropping."

Another nurse hurried over. "They've already arranged to pull it from a hospital across the territory..."

"Hurry. The child can't wait."

"Okay, okay, I'll push them again."

"..."

I stood frozen in place. I had never felt so helpless in my life. A man's rank could reach into an operating room and take the blood meant for his own child, and there was nothing in this world, no law, no oath, that would give it back.

Every minute, every second, the waiting was agony.

At last the blood arrived.

It was dark outside by the time Gemma came out of the anesthesia.

She opened her eyes and turned her little head with effort. Her fingers moved first, searching along the sheet until they closed around the small strawberry hairclip, gripping it tight. "Mommy... where's Daddy? Is Daddy okay? The horse didn't fall on him, did it..."

My tears spilled over all at once, dropping onto her little face.

I wiped them away quickly and forced a smile. "He's fine."

Gemma let out a relieved breath, then asked softly, "Then why didn't Daddy come stay with me?"

"Did he go be with Chiara again?"

I stroked her little hand, the one with the IV taped across it, and I didn't know what to say.

The day she was discharged, the sky was clear and bright.

With one arm I held Gemma and with the other I dragged the suitcase, and right at the hospital gate I flagged a cab and gave the driver the airfield. Old Volpe had pressed his signet ring flat to the table when he made the arrangement, the way he did when a promise carried a debt behind it. It was the only way out of the life that would let us live.

There was still gauze on Gemma's forehead as she leaned against my shoulder and asked, "Mommy, what are we going to the airfield for?"

I lowered my head and kissed her hair. "Mommy's taking you somewhere very far away. There are snowy mountains there, and wide-open grasslands. Do you want to go see them?"

Gemma thought it over and nodded, then suddenly asked in a small voice, "Then is Daddy... coming with us?"

I tightened my arm around her. On the table between us my hand went flat and still, my wedding band cold and untouched beneath my palm.

"No. From now on it's just the two of us. No Daddy..."