Letters to the Baumgarters

Chapter Six

Dear Carrie and Doc,

I am so confused. I know you said I just need to be honest with them, and myself, and I know you’re right. But what if I don’t know what I want? If I don’t know my own heart?

I’m sorry I keep laying things on you like this, but when I write to you, somehow things get clearer. I start figuring out what’s going on in my head, and things inevitably come out that I didn’t even realize I felt. I know you said you don’t mind, but I feel like I have to apologize anyway. You’ve got enough going on with school and Janie and your own life. Like you need my problems too?

I’m trying to be honest and truthful about my feelings. I’m trying to figure out what it is I really want. A life with Mason? A life with Nico? The third option would be a life without either of them, which I can’t even begin to conceive of. Losing them both would break my already-broken heart into another million little pieces, and I just don’t think I could pick them all up this time.

Mason’s been my best friend for years. We’ve been through so much together. Even after we divorced, I never stopped loving him. I think we both needed the time and space and distance to grow. To grow up. To heal too. We’re so much better now than we ever were before.

But Nico… he’s so sweet, so generous and open and tender. How can I not love him too? And it isn’t just physical. If it were just the sex, I could give that up. We have so much in common-a love for this country, for the people and the food. We spend hours roaming galleries together, talking about art and culture. He’s so passionate, about life, about everything. About me. He makes me feel alive in ways I haven’t in so long.

The truth is, I’m selfish.

I want them both.

And I know, I know. It’s just not possible…

“Easter means you can eat chocolate again?” I asked Nico, holding one of his sister’s homemade truffles just out of his reach.

“Don’t tease the animals, dear.” Mason snatched the chocolate from my hand, tossing it to Nico, who caught it and stuffed it into his mouth before I could even protest.

“Meanie!” I stuck my tongue out at him. “You never let me have any fun.”

“Are they good?” Giulia asked, shifting the baby over her shoulder. He was bigger now, a few months old, able to hold his own head up, gazing around at us with big, dark eyes. Just looking at him made my uterus hurt. Literally. The cramps came in waves, although my period wasn’t due for another week.

“Fantastic, as always.” Nico kissed his sister’s cheek, leaving a smear of chocolate there. She laughed, wiping it off, as her brother reached for his nephew, lifting him high in his arms, making the baby giggle. When Luka’s eyes got wide, being so high, Nico handed him back to his sister before the baby could begin to cry.

“You’re such a tease.” Mason sat next to me on the sofa, putting an arm casually around my shoulder. Nico saw this and sat on my other side, taking my hand. I couldn’t help the heat filling my cheeks, seeing Mama Dorotea frowning in our direction, the way Nico’s sister Anna and her husband glanced at us from where they were playing cards at the dining room table with the kids.

Caprice, being the precocious teenager she was, looked between the three of us with big eyes and started asking the questions everyone wanted to know-in English, of course, because Mason didn’t speak much Italian. “So you’re married?”

“We were married,” I corrected her. “We’re divorced now.”

She wrinkled her nose, looking between Mason and her brother, the confusion apparent on her face. “But… what are you doing here then?”

“Visiting,” Mason replied.

“So you’re not together anymore,” Caprice went on, pushing him to clarify.

“Hey, Anna, did you get your landlord to fix your leaky sink?” I inquired, trying to change the subject.

I could hear Mama Dorotea in the kitchen muttering something in Italian. She hadn’t said much to the three of us, but I caught the word “bastardo” and winced, glad Mason didn’t know the language. She was still angry that Nico had moved out. I was surprised she’d invited us to Easter at all, but then again, I’d overheard Nico saying, “If they can’t come, I won’t be coming either,” so that might have had something to do with it.

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes, slapping a card down on the table. “Ha! I win the re bello!”

“What’s that?” I asked, getting up off the sofa and going over to the table. It was a good excuse to get away from Caprice’s questions.

“The beautiful king,” Anna said in English, kissing the card and holding it up to Sal, who scowled in her direction. “It’s Scopa. Do you want to play?”

“No thanks. I’ll just watch.” Although I knew the rules, I’d only played a few times. It was a lively game, and the family quickly slipped back into speaking Italian, laughing and slapping cards down on the table. Soon Mason and Nico had wandered over to the table to watch as well, but I was glad to see that Caprice had decided to stay with Giulia and Will in the living room so she could cuddle the baby.

I didn’t like to get too close to the baby. When he’d been such a tiny newborn, with all that dark hair, he’d reminded me so much of Isabella it physically hurt me to look at him. Now it was better, although I swear my belly contracted every time I glanced over there, as if aching for a life of its own. I’d sworn, after she was born, that I would never have another. I said I’d never risk going through that again, whatever the chances might be.

Mason had been heartbroken. In spite of our young age, in spite of his parents’ relief-yes, relief-at our daughter’s death, in spite of our precarious financial situation, in spite of everything, he’d wanted to try again right away. It was one of the things that had driven us apart. Just thinking about having another baby brought a stab of fear and pain so great it made me feel faint.

“Are you okay?” Mason asked at my elbow.

I glanced back at him and smiled. “Fine.”

“You look pale,” Nico said. He was behind me, on my other side, watching the game. In the other room, the baby cried, and the pain in my middle increased as if in response. I gasped, my hand instinctively moving to cover my lower belly. The cramping, which had been dull and constant, suddenly became a sharp, stabbing thing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mason again.

I struggled for breath to speak. The pain had taken it. “I don’t know.”

“What is it?” Nico turned me to face him, frowning.

Everyone was looking now. Even Mama Dorotea, who had heard the concern in her son’s voice, had appeared in the kitchen doorway, a turkey baster in her hand. In the next room, I heard the baby crying in earnest now. Probably hungry, I thought, remembering how my breasts had ached after Isabella was born, making milk for a baby who would never eat.

“I’m just a little dizzy,” I managed to whisper, but the room was receding, going black at the edges, and I knew it was more than that. Something was suddenly very, very wrong.

The last thing I remembered was Mason and Nico kneeling over me, the sound of a baby crying far away, and me, speaking my daughter’s name like a prayer.

“What happened?” I croaked, opening my eyes to the same sight-Mason on one side, Nico on the other. This time they each occupied a rail, leaning over to look at me in the hospital bed. I knew I must have fainted-I remembered that much. And the pain, the sharp, stabbing, searing pain in my belly. That was gone now.

“There’s my bella.” Nico smiled, brushing hair out of my face.

Mason, not to be outdone, leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Hey beautiful.”

“What happened?” I asked again, swallowing hard. My throat hurt. Why did my throat hurt? “Can I have some water?”

They both reached for it at the same time, but the Styrofoam cup was on Mason’s side. He held it for me while I sucked on the straw, peering at them over the lip of the cup.

“You’re going to be all right,” Nico soothed. He spoke softly in Italian, smoothing my hair, picking up where Mason had left off.

“English, please,” Mason insisted, glaring at him as he put the water back on the table. “Dani, you had to have an operation.”

“What?” I half sat, looking around the room. There was another bed, but no occupant. No nurse or doctor was in the room. “What kind of operation?”

“Your womb,” Nico said, speaking English. “She was damaged.”

I looked at Mason, wide-eyed, feeling my limbs turn to ice. “What is he talking about?”

“It was your IUD.” Mason swallowed, glancing toward the door, probably hoping a nurse or someone else would come in and tell me the rest. Dear God, what was the rest? Did I want to know? I could already imagine. I’d gotten the intrauterine device right after we’d lost Isabella. Mason and I had fought long and hard about it. He didn’t want to use any birth control-he desperately wanted another baby. I remembered telling him, “Babies aren’t like light bulbs. You can’t just go out and replace them.” I’d won that argument.

“Wait…” I looked between them, up on my elbows, wearing just a hospital gown, a thin sheet as cover. I was afraid to look beneath it. I couldn’t feel much of anything, but I was woozy. They’d probably pumped me full of pain meds. “No. Please tell me…” I swallowed, the thought so beyond comprehension I almost couldn’t speak it. “Please tell me it’s not gone. I’ll… will I still be able to have children?”

Mason looked at me, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I…” I blinked back tears. “I don’t know. What difference does it make?”

Mason shrugged. “I just… I just remembered you saying, after Isabella…”

“Your IUD perforated the uterus,” Nico interrupted. “You had internal bleeding.”

“You lost a great deal of blood,” Mason reiterated. “That’s why you fainted.”

“So did they take it?” My voice was choked, hoarse.

“No, no,” Nico assured me, clasping my hand. Mason took the other one. “They stopped the bleeding and repaired it.”

I sat back, shaking in relief, so surprised at my own reaction I could barely speak.

“How long do I have to stay here?” I glanced around at the white walls, the curtain half-pulled around the bed.

Mason looked at Nico. “The doctor said until tomorrow.”

“But you can’t go back to your place,” Nico chimed in. I stared at him. “You can’t be alone. You need someone to be with you for at least a week.”

“So you’re coming home with us.”

“With you?”

Nico nodded, leaning over and kissing my cheek. “We’ll take good care of you.”

“My bedroom’s near the bathroom,” Mason said, unlocking the apartment door.

“Mine’s by the kitchen,” Nico countered.

“My bed’s easier to get in and out of.”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“Mine-”

“Oh for god’s sake, I’ll sleep on the couch!” I cried, plopping down on it and pulling a blanket over my head. “I’m glad the furniture finally arrived!”

“Now see what you did?” Mason sighed.

“Me?” Nico scoffed. “You started it.”

“Are you two-year-olds?” I pulled the blanket down, rolling my eyes. “Keep it up and I’m going back to my place, no matter what the doctor said.”

Jezebel came wandering out of the kitchen. She perked up upon seeing me, leaping onto the arm of the sofa beside me and swishing her tail. I petted her head and she purred.

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course.” Mason smiled. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Let’s not start this again. The couch will be fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Nico asked. “I made soup.”

I smiled at him. “Starving.”

We all sat on the couch and watched a marathon of La Piovra — Italy’s version of The Godfather as a television series-and ate soup. Even Jezebel came to lick the remains out of my bowl. I found myself dozing off, leaning first on Mason’s shoulder, then adjusting to lean against Nico’s. Both men cradled me, petted me, rubbing my head or my feet.

“Sleepy bella.” Nico kissed my cheek. “We should let her rest.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“But it’s early yet,” I protested, glancing at the clock-only seven!

“Your body needs to heal,” Mason insisted.

“And you do that best while you’re sleeping.”

I smiled. “Tag-teamed.”

They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” I flushed. “You’re very, very bad men and I hate you both.”

They kissed me goodnight, each of them. They both tasted like chicken noodle soup, but I savored the difference in the press of their mouths, the way Mason’s lips parted a little, how Nico breathed me in with his kiss.

“Goodnight, Dani,” Mason whispered.

“Goodnight, bella,” Nico echoed.

I smiled, but I was so tired, I barely got the word out before I drifted off. “’Night.”

The boat rocked back and forth and I clung to the sides, my knuckles white. The heat was close, blazing. My face was so hot it felt blistered. Ahead of me a hooded figure steered the gondola on a river of lava and I wondered if this was the River Styx. Was I dead? Was this death?

My first thought was Isabella. Would I see her again? What was past the barrier ahead?

A bony finger rose from the robe, pointing, and the boat came to a shaky stop. The river diverged into a V here, the rocky walls rising around us reflecting the orange heat of the lava below.

I had to choose.

I can’t.

I shook my head, refused. The bony finger rose again. Choose.

No, no, no. Don’t make me. Please don’t make me choose. I begged.

The finger dropped and the figure was still. Relieved, I sat back in the boat, closing my eyes. It was out of my hands. Whichever way we went, I wasn’t responsible.

The boat rocked hard and I jolted up. The gondola tilted so far to one side scalding lava began to seep over the edge. Then the other. The figure was going to tip the boat! I was going to be thrown in!

“No!” I cried, but the words were useless.

The boat flooded with fiery liquid and reached its tipping point, throwing me into a broiling hell of fire. I screamed, trying to swim in the searing heat, seeing the figure right the gondola, standing again at the edge and beginning to steer away.

I swam in the sweltering heat. Impossible. Why hadn’t I melted into nothing? I was on fire, but the heat was white-hot, like needles, tiny knives, and I shivered in response. I was drowning in fire like ice, the pain making my whole body ache.

“Dani!”

I turned toward the sound of my name. Mason! Was he coming for me?

“Bella! Wake up!” Nico, calling me.

Choose. The figure was back, standing over me, floating above the river of pain. Choose.

“No!” I thrashed on the couch, feeling hands holding me down. “Cold,” I muttered, shivering. I thought I’d kicked my blankets off, but no, there they were, tangled around my waist. Both men were standing over me in their boxer shorts. Had I called out?

Mason’s hand on my forehead. “Oh Jesus Christ, she’s burning up.”

“Get her to the bed,” Nico ordered.

“Whose?”

“I don’t care!”

Mason carried me, the blankets dragging behind him. His bed was soft, the down comforter warm, but still I shivered. I couldn’t stop.

“Keep me warm,” I begged, reaching for Mason. He slid into bed beside me, glancing at Nico, and I called for him, too. “Please, Nico. Please.” And he came as well, snuggled behind me, both of them putting their arms around me, a cocoon.

But even the heat from their bodies didn’t help. Still, I shivered, my teeth chattering, even though they pulled the down-filled covers up to my chin, both of them smoothing my hair. I tried to sleep and I think I did, but I woke whimpering, feeling myself slipping into nothing, grasping for something to hold onto. Mason was there to hold me, Nico right behind.

“I’m so cold,” I complained, burying my face in Mason’s chest, feeling Nico’s arms around me. I slept again, this time dreaming of hell, my own private version where Satan forced me into impossible choices over and over.

“What’s wrong with me?” I woke up as Nico brought a thermometer, putting it under my tongue.

“Shhh.” He soothed, looking over at Mason. “I think it’s just a little bit of fever.”

“Little my ass.” Mason took the thermometer out as it beeped. “It’s… forty? What the hell does that mean?”

Nico paled. “We need to call the doctor. That’s about… a hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Hello, I need to speak to Dr. Selvaggi.” Mason was on the phone before Nico even finished his sentence. “Dr. Selvaggi please,” he repeated louder. “I need to speak to Dr. Selvaggi right now!”

Even I could hear the string of Italian coming from the receiver, which I knew was completely unintelligible to Mason.

Nico grabbed the phone, speaking fluent Italian. “Dr. Selvaggi’s patient, Danielle Stuart, has a fever and I suspect she has an infection.” He paused, listening. “Forty.” He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Mason re-appeared with a cool cloth, resting it on my forehead. It felt good, but I was still so cold! Nico talked to the doctor as Mason wiped my face and neck with the washcloth, whispering my name, kissing my cheek.

“What did he say?” Mason asked when Nico hung up the phone.

“He’s going to prescribe antibiotics,” Nico told him, switching back to English. “But he wants to see her on Monday.”

I groaned. “No more doctors!”

“He also said we have to get her fever down.”

Mason nodded. “Do you have aspirin?”

“Bring her into the bathroom.” Nico was already heading out of the room.

“Can’t you just go get it?” Mason called.

“We need to get her into the tub.”

“What?” I protested, but Mason carried me and Nico ran the water. They undressed me like a child, fed me aspirins, and helped me to the tub.

I screamed, thrashing in the water, trying to escape.

“It’s freezing!”

“Keep her in.” Nico’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I have to get ice.”

My teeth chattered so much, the noise in my head so loud, I could barely hear Mason’s words as he grabbed my limbs, pushing me back in, something about holding still and being for my own good.

“Do we really have to do this?” Mason panted when Nico brought a bowl full of ice cubes into the bathroom.

“The doctor said to.” Nico looked at me, his face pained. “If her fever gets much higher, she may start to have seizures. It could cause brain injury.”

“Christ.” Mason winced as Nico poured the ice in and I screamed again.

“Please,” I begged them both, my eyes wild, so cold I couldn’t feel my fingers where my nails dug into Mason’s forearm. “Oh god, please, stop. Please!”

Nico’s voice was hoarse. “I have to get more.”

I sobbed, clinging to Mason, and then to Nico, when the freezer was empty of ice. They took turns soothing me, both men working to cool my feverish body as I writhed in the tub, begging for it to end.

Nico took my temperature, although I was shivering so much I could barely keep the thermometer between my chattering teeth.

“What is it?” Mason asked, his jaw tight.

Nico’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Better. Let’s get her to bed.”

A fluffy towel and four rough hands later, I was dry. One of Mason’s t-shirts-it smelled comfortingly like him-went over my head and this time Nico carried me back to the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” Nico whispered into my ear in Italian, kissing my cheek, my temple, as he pulled the covers up to my chin. “Hang on, bella. I love you.”

“Just don’t leave me.” I put my arms around his neck and hung on.

The doorbell rang and Mason and Nico exchanged glances.

“It’s the pharmacy,” Nico said.

Mason was already heading toward the door.

And then there were more pills, two huge ones, big enough to gag a horse. I choked and spit water all down the front of me, wetting the t-shirt. Mason pulled it off and just covered me with the down-filled blanket again.

“Now what?” Mason sat next to me on the bed.

“We wait. We pray. We hope.” Nico was on my other side, his cool hand pressed against my forehead.

Mason snorted. “Isn’t there something a little more proactive we can do?”

“There’s nothing but this.” Nico spooned me, his arm around my waist.

“I’m still cold.” I opened my eyes, seeing Mason looking at us, his expression unreadable. I reached for him, feeling desperate. “Please.”

He came to bed, his breath warm on my cheek, his hand on my hip.

“Closer,” I whispered, and he obliged. They both did, enveloping me, and I finally relaxed, this time falling into a dreamless, peaceful sleep with no fire, no ice.