‘It’s ginger.’ He glanced at his mother, an expression of complete amazement on his handsome face, and then back to the baby.
Kelly heard him, and something in her rebelled. ‘She is a girl, not an it,’ she murmured, hauling herself up into a sitting position.
‘Kelly, Kelly, mia cara.’ Gianfranco dashed to her side, and his dark eyes, blazing with emotion, caught and held hers.
‘Kelly, she is beautiful; a perfect little girl. Thank you, thank you. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am I wasn’t here.’ Sitting down on the side of the bed, he cupped her face in his strong hands and scattered dozens of frantic kisses on her eyes, her brow, her nose, and finally he covered her mouth.
A slight cough broke them apart. Carmela said, ‘Congratulations, Kelly! She is perfect, and now I think I should leave you three alone to get used to being a family.’ And to Kelly’s surprise she actually bent down and kissed her cheek before departing.
‘You don’t mind she is not a boy?’ Kelly asked Gianfranco as he got up and went back to the crib, staring at his child as if he had never seen a baby before.
He turned his dark eyes gleaming with pride. ‘Of course not, cara.’ His firm lips turned back against brilliant white teeth in the most magnificent smile Kelly had ever seen. ‘The next one will probably be a boy.’ His comment gave Kelly pause for thought, but then the doctor arrived.
‘So how is the new mother now?’ Dr Credo asked jovially, standing by the bed. Taking Kelly’s wrist in his hand, he took her pulse.
‘Fine.’ She smiled up at him while the nurse deftly slipped another pillow behind her back.
‘Good. You gave us a bit of a scare earlier. Three weeks early—well, one week early really, as two weeks either side of the given date is acceptable. But I am happy to say the baby is perfect. You, on the other hand, are going to have to take care. You haemorrhaged a little after the birth, so we are going to keep you here for a week.’ Letting go of her wrist, he turned and took Gianfranco’s arm and led him to the far side of the room, talking softly.
Kelly heard the raised voice of her husband and glanced across at him. He was standing, broad shoulders taut, his hands curled into fists at his sides, his face grey beneath the tan, the strong features rigid with some intolerable emotion. His dark gaze moved back to her face, his eyes widening as though he had suddenly realised some great truth. He was a father, and the thought crossed her mind that he did not look particularly ecstatic, more shell-shocked, but she didn’t care, as the nurse handed her her baby.
She gazed down in awe at the beautiful, tiny face, the shock of bright red hair, and she was filled with an overwhelming love. She hugged the child to her breast, and pressed the lightest of kisses to the baby’s cheek. ‘Anna,’ she whispered. Then, with the assistance of the nurse, the baby was suckling at her breast.
When the doctor and nurse left, Gianfranco slowly returned to the bedside, his dark eyes narrowing intently. A lump rose in his throat; his lids came down over tear-filled dark eyes, hiding his thoughts.
‘Look, Gianfranco, she’s feeding,’ Kelly murmured, wanting to share the magic moment. ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’
He lifted his lashes, making no attempt to hide the moisture in his eyes. ‘Yes, you both are,’ he said huskily, and, sinking down on the bed beside Kelly, he reached out a
finger and gently traced the curve of the baby’s cheek, the curve of Kelly’s breast.
He watched mother and child, and silently thanked God for their safety. No thanks to him, he thought, for once in his life completely humbled. The information Dr Credo had revealed to him had shocked him to his soul. He had never known Kelly’s mother had died in childbirth, but then he had never asked, he castigated himself. Dr Credo had said she did not like talking about it. Apparently he had contacted her own doctor in England for her notes, and that was how he knew. He had assured Gianfranco it was not genetic. But it didn’t make Gianfranco feel any better.
‘Do you want to hold her?’ Kelly asked, pulling the soft cotton of her gown back over her luscious breast. She lifted her head, her eyes, glowing like sapphires, brimming with happiness, seeking his. She chuckled at the flicker of fear she saw in the dark depths that met hers.
‘Come on, she won’t bite,’ she said simply. Nothing could spoil her delight in her child, and she watched as Gianfranco very carefully took the child from her arms.
They looked good together: the broad-shouldered dark-haired father cuddling the infant in his strong arms, a totally besotted look on his handsome face as he stared down at the baby.
‘She has my father’s hair, but she definitely has your eyes,’ Kelly bubbled on. ‘I thought we might call her Anna Louise. You picked Alfredo for a boy and said I could choose if it was a girl. So what do you think? Anna after Anna, who has been a good friend to me, and was such a help last night, and Louise after my mother.’
‘Anna Louise is perfect,’ Gianfranco said quietly. He could hardly object to his child being named after a servant when the said servant was the only friend Kelly had made in their brief marriage. He had been partying the night away when Kelly had needed him. In all his thirty-one years he had never felt so inadequate—a new experience for him. But he made a silent vow that from now on his first priority was his wife and child.
The nurse entered and took the infant from Gianfranco and placed her in the crib.
‘Rest, Signora Maldini,’ she said, and, turning back to Kelly, gently eased out a pillow to allow Kelly to lie back down in the bed.
‘Yes,’ Kelly sighed. ‘I am rather tired.’ Her long lashes fluttered down. She smiled as she felt the soft brush of Gianfranco’s mouth against her own. ‘Nice,’ she murmured, and slept.
When Kelly awoke three hours later the first of the flowers were delivered, and by evening the nurse complained they were running out of vases. From Gianfranco came dozens of red roses; the card read simply ‘Thank you, my love’ and his name. From the staff, from friends…half from people Kelly didn’t know. But the headily scented blooms that filled the air completely eclipsed the faint hospital smell.
It was the best week of her life. Gianfranco visited morning and night, and he presented her with an exquisite diamond bracelet. For our daughter, he had said, and kissed her. He brought Anna with him one morning, which delighted Kelly, and on another Olivia, which did not. When Gianfranco was talking to the nurse Olivia got her dig in. ‘You couldn’t even do this right—we wanted a boy.’
Kelly ignored her; she was so happy. Judy Bertoni arrived, and let drop she was pregnant again, and the two girls arranged, with Gianfranco’s tacit agreement, to spend a few days’ shopping when the baby was a bit older.
Apart from the doctor, all the staff spoke only Italian, and much to Kelly’s satisfaction her own Italian had improved dramatically, thanks to her tapes.
The following Saturday it was mid-morning when Gianfranco strolled in. Casually dressed in beige trousers and shirt, with a lambswool sweater draped across his broad shoulders, he looked sensational.