REGINA Magazine 24 | Page 80

“Whaddya mean, why not?” she sputtered furiously. “I’m not a putana! What do you think I am? I’m not selling my baby!”

The two looked at each other in the dim light. Gina was breathing hard. Suddenly, the garbage reek and Luca’s cigarette smoke was making her ill. A wave of nausea swept over her.

“I don’t feel so good,” she whispered, her hand on her belly. She attempted to swallow, but felt something stick in her throat.

Santa Maria,” Luca breathed, and stabbed out his cigarette on the grimy sidewalk. He regarded his sister soberly. “You hear yourself?”

Gina nodded morosely, wondering how far along she was. Suddenly, she felt tremendously tired, and thought longingly of her bed upstairs in the family nest her parents had created for them in the heart of the Roman metropolis.

“I said,” Luca repeated, “do you hear yourself?”

Gina looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“You just called it ‘my baby,’” He stated flatly. His face was emotionless, but his dark eyes were watching her intently.

Gina shook her head. Yes, she had. She knew what her brother was thinking – if she wouldn’t give her baby up for money, then she had to admit that ‘it’ really was a baby.

Her baby. A swell of emotion hit her, along with another wave of weariness.

It was all too much to think about. The tears started to course down her cheeks again.

“I got no right,” she whispered weakly, thinking of how her parents would react to the news. “Who’s gonna take care of it?”

In the end, Luca agreed to keep her secret, “but just for a week,” he added darkly. “You can’t screw around with this.”

CHAPTER 3

The young nun swept down the hallway in a state of high excitement. The summons to the Mother Prior’s office had not been unexpected.

Rumors had been flying around the Boston convent for about a week of a new establishment, a ‘daughter house’ to be founded in Italy.

This would be the Sisters’ second European venture. The first, in Scotland, had come at the behest of an embattled bishop there, who had gladly made a huge, 19th century church property in a depressed industrial suburb of Glasgow available to the four American Sisters, members of a newly-established Order dedicated to the ‘support of the family’ just ten years before.

“I’m old enough to remember the Westerns,” he’d announced in his thick Glaswegian accent.

REGINA | 80

“Whaddya mean, why not?” she sputtered furiously. “I’m not a putana! What do you think I am? I’m not selling my baby!”

The two looked at each other in the dim light. Gina was breathing hard. Suddenly, the garbage reek and Luca’s cigarette smoke was making her ill. A wave of nausea swept over her.

“I don’t feel so good,” she whispered, her hand on her belly. She attempted to swallow, but felt something stick in her throat.

“Santa Maria,” Luca breathed, and stabbed out his cigarette on the grimy sidewalk. He regarded his sister soberly. “You hear yourself?”

Gina nodded morosely, wondering how far along she was. Suddenly, she felt tremendously tired, and thought longingly of her bed upstairs in the family nest her parents had created for them in the heart of the Roman metropolis.

“I said,” Luca repeated, “do you hear yourself?”

Gina looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“You just called it ‘my baby,’” He stated flatly. His face was emotionless, but his dark eyes were watching her intently.

Gina shook her head. Yes, she had. She knew what her brother was thinking – if she wouldn’t give her baby up for money, then she had to admit that ‘it’ really was a baby.

Her baby. A swell of emotion hit her, along with another wave of weariness.

It was all too much to think about. The tears started to course down her cheeks again.

“I got no right,” she whispered weakly, thinking of how her parents would react to the news. “Who’s gonna take care of it?”

In the end, Luca agreed to keep her secret, “but just for a week,” he added darkly. “You can’t screw around with this.”

CHAPTER 3

The young nun swept down the hallway in a state of high excitement. The summons to the Mother Prior’s office had not been unexpected.

Rumors had been flying around the Boston convent for about a week of a new establishment, a ‘daughter house’ to be founded in Italy.

This would be the Sisters’ second European venture. The first, in Scotland, had come at the behest of an embattled bishop there, who had gladly made a huge, 19th century church property in a depressed industrial suburb of Glasgow available to the four American Sisters, members of a newly-established Order dedicated to the ‘support of the family’ just ten years before.

“I’m old enough to remember the Westerns,” he’d announced in his thick Glaswegian accent.