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Vitt half smiled at Joe’s bright blue footed pajamas. “Babies all over the world must wear these.”
“Snug sleepwear is essential,” she answered, fastening the little flap that covered the zipper head. “You don’t want a baby to get tangled up or in trouble.”
For a moment Vitt was silent, his powerful body still. “Was it hard raising him on your own?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, her expression rueful. “Especially in the beginning. I was so tired. So terribly sleep-deprived.”
“Did you have anyone to help you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Not even your mother?”
“I haven’t seen her in years.”
Vittorio watched as she expertly juggled Joe on her hip and prepared a bottle. “So there never were any worries? He’s given you no fits? No scares?”
“I didn’t say that. I worried about him every single night. For the first six months of his life I woke again and again during the night to make sure he was safe, to make sure he was breathing. I was absolutely terrified that when I closed my eyes, something would happen to him.”
“You mean like SIDS?”
She nodded. “You probably think that’s silly.”
“Not at all.” He reached out a hand and held it over
Joe, as if bestowing a blessing. “One of my cousins lost his son to SIDS. It was devastating.”
“I can’t imagine anything more horrible,” she said, holding Joe closer.
“Neither can I.”
Jillian struggled to wrap her mind around such a tragedy. “Did your cousin have other children?”
“A little girl. She was almost three at the time.” Vittorio shook his head. “Christopher lost his life six months later. It was a very hard time in the family.”
Jillian shivered at the grim direction their conversation had taken even as Vitt’s words stirred a ghost of a memory.
Years ago a young Sicilian immigrant named Christopher had died in Detroit after her father accused him of double-crossing Detroit’s crime family. Christopher claimed he was innocent, without any connections to organized crime, but it didn’t save him. “How…how did he die?”
“He was shot.”
“Where…where did it happen?”
“In the States.”
“I know, but where?”
Vitt gave her a hard look. “Does it matter?”
She shook her head, but on the inside, she knew it did matter. It mattered too much.
“Were you serious about having us renew our vows in the d’Severano chapel?” she asked, suddenly desperate to change the subject.
“Yes.” He suddenly smiled. “Provided you don’t wear black again.”
She couldn’t resist his smile. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Good.” He stood there another moment, tall, broad, imposing, considering her. “I suppose that means we better get you a proper dress.”
