“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’rethe family.” Mary heard the truth of it, just as she said it aloud. “Thisis 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.”
“Itsorbit?”
“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.”
