I laugh. ‘Yes, how did that happen anyway?’
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I can look at my own blood and the blood of other men, but I can’t fucking see you spill blood. It just made my head spin, and before I knew it I was gone.’
‘Oh, Noah.’
He comes forward and kisses me gently. ‘You were just amazing. I’m so proud of you. I just can’t believe I missed it all.’
‘Never mind, next time—’
He frowns. ‘Next time? You want to go through this again?’ he asks incredulously.
‘Of course. Sergei needs brothers and sisters. I don’t want him to be an only child like me.’
‘No,’ he says decisively. ‘I think you suffered enough. I don’t think we will have any more kids. We can adopt. There are so many kids that need a good home.’
‘No way. We’re having at least four kids, maybe five, and if you want we can adopt a couple too, but the next time I go into labor you can stay close to my head.’
‘We’ll have to talk about this,’ he says darkly.
There is a knock on the door and Baba comes in holding a covered bowl of food. She frowns. ‘Why is that baby not swaddled?’ she demands immediately. ‘First you break custom by going out and buying clothes and toys for the child before it is born, now you don’t want to swaddle the baby?’ she tuts with displeasure.
I giggle. ‘Mama didn’t swaddle me and I turned out okay, didn’t I?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ she says, pretending to be sour but beaming with joy.
‘Where’s Mama anyway?’ I ask.
‘She’s coming. She met the doctor and decided to have a word with him.’
At that moment my mother comes into the room.
‘Oh darling, well done.’ She rushes to Noah’s side and peers at the baby.
‘Oh, my goodness me. He’s so beautiful.’
‘Yes, he is the most beautiful boy in the whole world.’
Epilogue
Noah Abramovich
Half A Century Later
How Long Will I love You?
I press the soil around the tomato seedling, water it, and sit back on my haunches. It’s mid-morning and the Sicilian sun is already hot on my back. I pull the cowboy hat low on my brow and stand. Straightening my aching back I start walking back towards the house. Tasha should be home soon. Ivan, our second son, came over to take her to the market to buy crabs for lunch.
I pass by the olive grove where all Tasha’s dogs are buried. Every single one and there have been many. Even Sergei. She had his body exhumed and brought it here to be buried close to her.
As I walk, I see our daughter, Tatiana — who should be in her own home today — running towards me, and I immediately freeze. Then I start running towards her too. We meet near the wooden swing that Tasha and I sit on to watch the sunset while we eat and drink vodka.
‘What’s the matter?’ I ask, catching her by her forearms. Her eyes are red. She has been crying.
‘It’s Mama,’ she pants breathlessly.
It feels as if my heart stops with fear.
‘What has happened?’ I demand.
‘Ivan has had to take her to the hospital. She slipped on a wet patch in the market and fell.’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, Papa, Ivan had to carry her because she couldn’t walk. He’s been trying to call you, Papa, but no one answered the phone.’
‘I was working on the land.’ I pull her along with me. ‘Come on, let’s get to the hospital now.’
‘Your hands, Papa.’
I look at my hands. They are streaked with soil. I wash my hands in the kitchen then we get into her car and she drives us. The hospital is nearly forty minutes away. I try to call Ivan repeatedly, but his phone is shut off.
‘They probably don’t allow phones at the hospital,’ Tatiana says.
‘Can’t you drive faster?’ I ask my daughter.
‘I’m going as fast as I can, Papa.’
Inside I am cold. I start praying. Please, don’t let her be in pain. Give me that pain. I can bear it better than her.
In thirty minutes we reach the hospital and rush in. We ask at reception and they point us to where Ivan and Tasha are. We rush to the emergency ward and I see her lying on a gurney. She looks so small and vulnerable. I rush to her and she smiles at me through the pain.
‘My life, my life,’ I whisper.
‘It’s only a sprain, but I was trying to persuade them to give me some morphine anyway,’ she says with a grin.
Tears of relief come to my eyes. Oh, God! I cannot even begin to imagine my life without my Tasha. She used to tease me by calling me the strong and silent type. I don’t mean to be quiet, but when I speak she stops talking, and my ears ache for the sound of her voice.