Accepting Fate - Book 2

Chapter 12 - In The Line Of Fire

Raffaele

Asimina speeds off, running to save the life of our son. I'm helplessly kneeling and dying inside; my body feels weak. I swear my heart has ceased to beat. The look in her eyes was that of pure overwhelming pain and sheer determination to bring our son and Bianca home.

That woman has more courage and bravery than anyone I have ever known. I pull out the photo from my pocket and stare; remaining on my knees. Will I ever hold my son? Will I ever look into Asimina's eyes again?

My father and Antonio stand next to me. I cry for the family I could lose. Forcing me to stand, they grab an arm each and pull me onto my feet. They force me towards the car, all my capos exit the house and join us.

"We are tracking her," Mariano advises. I gawk back at him.

"I'm doing it on our systems. It's more reliable," Matteo states. He hands me Asimina's phone, along with her note.

Unlocking the device, I head straight to the pictures. She has categorized everything in folders, from pregnancy, birth, and each month after. Clicking on the pregnancy folder, I see photos of each week's progression, how her belly grows slowly. She holds up a sign of how many weeks she is in each of those photos, meekly smiling. The last picture is at forty weeks, but her belly is not big. She is radiating, glowing, fuck! She's beautiful.

Her cousins stand next to me, staring at the pictures, each taking sorrowful breaths. I hate myself. The only person I never wanted to hurt was Asimina, yet she is the only person I burnt more than anything.

I press play on a video she has taken of her belly, as our son kicks. "You're active today," her sweet voice is heard; her belly moves like waves, placing her hand on the side of her stomach, at the bottom end of the ribs, I listen to her hiss. "Not there, move, baby."

"What's happening?" her friend asks in the background.

"I think it was an elbow to the ribs," Asimina laughs. Tears flow from my eyes, like never before, each moment precious, each moment I can't get back.

I move to his first night album. Photos of my son, just born. Blood still covering his head, wrapped in a white blanket every picture of the first night he's either held by Jaz, Stefano, or he's left sleeping down on the bed. Asimina is in none of them.

Clicking on the video dated two days after his birth. Asimina is sitting on the hospital bed as Jaz hands her Nathan. She holds him affectionately in her arms, caressing his cheek, as endless tears flow. "You're beautiful," she whimpers. Placing a kiss on his head, she continues to talk to our son, "You have no idea how much I love you already."

Her emotions choke her as she places her left hand over her mouth, sobbing into it, tightening her hold on our son with her right.

"You look like your daddy. You're just missing the slicked-back hair, and the perfectly trimmed beard."

I sorrowfully chuckle at her words.

Bringing her head down, she rests her cheek on his head carefully. "You are half leaning Tower of Pisa and half Acropolis."

Our son meekly cries, his voice barely audible. "Oh baby, don't worry, the Italian heritage isn't all that bad. Sure, they couldn't get a tower to stand straight, but there are many good things." She cracks a joke at our expense. It seems to settle our son.

"I'm going to teach Greek and the little Italian I know," wiping her tears, she's entirely focused on Nathan's little face. "You have a big Italian family, and aunts and uncles from my side too. I promise you. One day you will meet them all and your daddy too. For now, it's just us. I need that to be enough."