Juliette began to make coffee only to find that the filters were out. She’d meant to buy more, but she’d forgotten. She slammed down the lid and leaned against the counter, tears in her eyes.
“Are you OK, sweetie?”
It was her mother, already dressed for work. She was a round, kind-faced woman, who had never really adapted to the idea that her daughter was no longer ten years old.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Juliette tried to seem more together than she was. Best not to let her mother worry.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just had a bad dream.”
Usually, that would have been enough. She expected her mother to come over, and wrap an arm around her; to tell her that it was all right now, the dream was over. But, instead, her mother’s worried expression remained.
“Are you sure, honey? You’ve been acting a little…down, lately.”
How could she possibly tell her mother that she no longer felt like Wisconsin was where she belonged without breaking her heart? She tried to think of something to say, but her mother was already talking.
“You were crying over nothing the other day, too, and your appetite’s been all over the place. Is it, you know, your time?”
Juliette smiled at the way her mother lowered her voice and looked around. Three children, and the woman was apparently still of the opinion that anything to do with being a woman was best kept as private as possible.
“I wouldn’t ask, you know. It’s just, I don’t know if I should worry…”
As she tried to think of an answer to reassure her mother that everything was fine, Juliette felt her smile fade. No, it wasn’t her time of the month. But it should have been, nearly a week and a half ago, now.
“Sweetheart?”
The look of concern on her mother’s face only intensified, and Juliette was having a hard time figuring out what to say to her.
“I just… I miss Italy.”
The words ripped out of her, though she hadn’t meant to say them. But then she felt her mother’s arms around her and knew that she’d been a fool to worry about her reaction.
“I know, honey, I know. We’re glad to have you back, of course. But from your letters… I don’t know. I just wish you’d found a way to stay.”
They stood there for a little while, before her mother said she needed to get on the road to work. What she didn’t know was that she was leaving her daughter even more distraught than she thought she was, and over something completely different.
Juliette’s hands shook as she set aside her coffee cup and went upstairs. Mechanically, she showered, dressed, and went out to her car. She drove to the pharmacy, trying her best to think of anything other than what she was doing and why she was doing it.
The test was simple, and straightforward, but she still read the directions four times. And, when two lines showed up on the strip, she stared at it for five minutes before she grasped what it meant.
It had to be wrong. It had to be. But three more tests, all with the same result, made it seem less and less likely.
There’d only been one man. The baby had to be Giancarlo’s.