Scorned Vows: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Scorned Fate)

“Your vitals are good.” Doc Gleason folded away the blood pressure monitor. We were in Luca’s study. I was actually starving and wanted breakfast first, but the doc wanted to draw blood. When Luca and I walked in, I was surprised to see him unwrapping diagnostic instruments, and he already had a stethoscope around his neck.

“You sleep okay?” Doc asked.

“I did,” I replied from my position on the recliner. “And you? Did they treat you well?”

“You expect me to answer anything but yes?” He chuckled, glancing at Luca, who was leaning against his desk, observing us. He was still in a tee and sweatpants and dark sneakers. Somehow I got the impression those weren’t his usual attire.

“I assure you, tesoro, we did not keep the doc locked up in the basement.” He cast an amused glance at the doctor. “Please tell her you were in a room with amenities that could rival a five-star hotel.”

The doc shrugged. “Five-star living is pushing it, but it wasn’t bad. Good mattress, and Martha said if I didn’t give her any headaches, she’d give me a good breakfast.”

“Do I know her?” I asked Luca.

“Doesn’t ring any bells?”

“No.”

He exchanged a look with the doctor. “Are you done with her?”

“As much as I can do given the tools available.” He transferred the samples into a medical cooler.

“Kingsley would have been here if she didn’t have appointments this morning. She’ll pick those up this afternoon.”

“She and I had an interesting conversation this morning.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and split a look between the two. “And this Kingsley. I assume she’s a doctor too. Was she my doctor?”

Luca straightened and walked toward me. A guarded expression shuttered his face, and I wondered if this checkup was to make sure I could withstand the revelations of the day. Was he going to tell me I took part in the family business? Most of what I’d learned about organized crime was when I researched St. Louis gangs and from binge-watching The Sopranos. For the mafia, the women remained oblivious to the husband’s business and played up their social standing in charities and churches. Also, I woke up realizing I spoke Italian. It was part of my semantic memory. That would explain why I had a light foreign accent in the beginning. I wondered if I’d been in America illegally and why I was afraid to dig deeper about who I was and worked hard to give myself a Midwestern accent.

I straightened in my recliner while Luca crouched in front of me. “You know Martha and Rachel Kingsley very well. Martha has been the housekeeper here for thirty years. She was like a mother figure to me, and I believe to you too. Rachel was your doctor when you were pregnant.”

My heart pounded in my ears. “Were?” My throat constricted. I dragged the question out. “Did I lose the baby?”

Luca braced my knees and shook his head. “No. We have a son.” He smiled in a way that was both heartbreak and joy.

A son!

“Is he okay?” I croaked.

“He’s fine, Natalya.” For the first time since I’d met Luca, his eyes gleamed with tears. “He’s two.” His voice was ragged and full of an emotion I was waiting to come to me.

I waited to feel something other than shock and heartbreak over the lost years, but there was a feeling I couldn’t identify. Not sadness or joy. But something else.

The smile on Luca’s face faded and his eyes dimmed. “Say something.” The words cracked with desperation.

“I always wondered why I was sad whenever I saw children and pregnant women.” I glanced at my clenched fingers on my lap. “Was I a bad mother?” I looked up suddenly. “Please be honest. Because…” I beat on my chest with a fist, finally identifying the feeling inside me. “I feel undeserving.”

Shock met my eyes. “Natalya, you were a fantastic mother.” Luca slid his hands up my thighs to move closer. Then he lifted my chin with a finger. I didn’t realize I had lowered my eyes again. “You were going through postpartum difficulties, but never doubt that you were an excellent mother.”

“You’re not telling me that to make me feel better?” I asked. “Because if my memory comes back, and I find out you’ve been sparing my feelings, that’s going to be worse.”

“You were a wonderful mother to Elias.” The warmth in his eyes and tone eased the self-doubt, but something was still not adding up.

“He couldn’t be more than a few months old when I disappeared.”

“Eight weeks.”

“Did I breastfeed?” I didn’t know why my mind went to my breasts. “Because shouldn’t I be like…” I cupped my hands like I was holding melons in front of my chest.

“You did complain about breast tenderness,” Doc Gleason said. “I attributed it to hormonal changes from the trauma you experienced, but Doctor Kingsley and I talked about your health right before you disappeared and—”

Luca glanced sharply at the doctor. “I thought we weren’t overloading her?”

“She needs to see the big picture,” Doc told him before continuing. “She was sure you were heading into a state of postpartum depression and were feeling inadequate because you stopped producing breast milk.”

The doctor leaned against the overhang of the window. One arm wrapped around his torso. The other arm was cocked and resting on it. He was tapping a finger on his mouth and scrutinizing me like a specimen under a microscope.

Luca and I waited for him to say something until the man in front of me lost patience. “Is there something else you want to say before I introduce Natalya to our son? Is it the right time to do so?”

“You think after dropping that bombshell I can just forget you mentioned him?” I fired at him.

“I don’t want our son to be forced to acknowledge his mother either.”

I opened my mouth, but a searing pain in my heart caused me to clamp it shut. I didn’t know what Luca saw on my face, but I recognized remorse when I saw it.

“Natalya, I didn’t mean…” he started, but it was too late.

“Forget it,” I snapped. “Talk about the big picture. I’m seeing the state of our marriage.”

“That’s not fair,” he growled. “I just want what’s best for our son and for you.”

Pushing my bruised feelings aside because he was right, and acknowledging that his lack of sensitivity was part of his personality, I wondered who I was then. I angled my head toward the doc. “Any ideas? Are you seeing the bigger picture now? Why I still can’t remember who I was before I lost my memory because I sure as hell don’t think I like the person I was then.”

“Don’t say that.” Luca’s voice was hoarse. “You were perfect, very giving. I was the problem. I didn’t take care of you the way I should have.”

“So you’re admitting you could have caused me to run away?”

“I don’t think so,” he insisted. “But you were hiding things from me.”

“I’m so confused,” I said. “Did you think I left you on purpose or not?”

“Before I lose track of my deductions,” the doc interjected. “I’m thinking the amnesia is both physical and psychological. Doctor Kingsley indicated you had feelings of inadequacy as Elias’s mom. What could have happened that night must have worked with your feelings of inadequacy. Your mental state wasn’t at its best, and your mind disassociated from your current reality.”

“Being married to Luca and being a mother?” I clarified.

“Correct.”

“Will she be ready to meet Elias?” Luca asked.

“I met the kid. Cute boy.” Doc grinned in a way that, for the first time, excitement rather than dread took hold of me. “Go for it. It’s better than speculating on what did or didn’t happen in your marriage.” He looked pointedly at me while Luca typed something on his phone. “Your mind is in a vulnerable but open state right now. The right stimulus might trigger an avalanche of memories.”

Luca put the phone away. “Martha is bringing Elias.” He paced a figure eight before he smacked his forehead with his palm. “Fuck. We didn’t talk about how to introduce you.”

“I think it’s best if you just introduce me as a friend first?” I said. “That way less pressure on both of us.”

Luca scrubbed his face. “I didn’t think this through.”

“I’m not a child psychologist, but Martha and I discussed this briefly when I saw the boy,” Doc said.

“Martha is not a psychologist either,” Luca pointed out.

“Look, I’m just a doctor in a small town, but I’ve encountered situations like this regarding kids meeting new people. It’s nothing new. And since we’re not introducing Rayne as his mother, just behave like you would introducing other people. Elias, I presume, has strong attachments to you and Martha as his primary caregivers. The toughest part for kids that age is insecurity. As long as one of you is in the room, he’ll be fine.”

“Don’t force him to interact with me,” I said.

Luca wasn’t able to respond before the light knock came on the door. While holding my eyes, he called out, “Come in.”

The door opened. I held my breath. A toddler came barreling through and said in a lilting voice, “Dadda! Papà.”

The boy didn’t even notice me and went straight to Luca. He was beautiful, with a head of dark, bouncy curls. Luca caught him in his arms and lifted him. “How’s my bombolino?” He turned to face us. “Say hi to Papà’s friend.”

“Hi.” Elias stared at me for two seconds before cupping Luca’s face. “Waffles.”

“You hungry, sport?”

“Yas!”

Then Elias found Doc Gleason more interesting over Luca’s shoulders.

“He’s beautiful,” I breathed. I was still wrapping my mind around having a son. My arms itched to wrap around the wiggly bundle in Luca’s arms. Luca was staring at me while his son tried to reach over to grab the stethoscope around Doc’s neck.

“Give him time,” Luca said in a quiet voice.

“It’s totally fine. I just can’t believe…this.” No words would come.

“Natalya…” a tremulous voice said beside me.

I turned to see a woman in her late fifties or early sixties. I was so transfixed on Elias, I totally forgot there was another person in the room. A hopeful expression crossed her face and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I don’t know you.” My voice cracked as I rose to my feet. “But I guess, you’re Martha?”

She nodded vigorously and her mouth twisted, attempting to hold back a sob while forming words.

“Thank you for taking care of Elias.” I made a move toward her, unsure of myself, but Martha closed the distance and hugged me tight. Then she started sobbing.

“Nonna is crying,” Elias said in the garbled language of a toddler, but I had no trouble deciphering.

“She is because she’s happy,” Luca told him

I turned toward Elias. “Your nonna is my friend, too.”

The boy puckered his brows, and even if I wasn’t versed in toddler death glares, that laser suspicion was aimed at me.

“Martha,” Luca said, his tone firm, lowering our son. “Take Elias to the breakfast room.”

The older woman let go, dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. She went to Elias to guide him out.

It didn’t take a child expert to see that Elias had a different attachment to his dad.

The boy pouted. “Papà…eat?”

“Yes.” He smiled reassuringly. “We’ll follow.”

“K.”

Before leaving, Elias turned his little body my way and said, “Bye.”

“Bye, Elias. See you at breakfast.” He nodded like an adult before allowing himself to be led from the room.

Collective exhales signified how a toddler could cause so much tension.

“First hurdle over,” Doc commented.

“I pictured that encounter differently.” Luca scratched his brow, his shoulders sagging with the weight of disappointment.

“I think it went well,” I said. “I’d be worried if he took to a stranger quickly.”

Luca gave a shake of his head and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that was more self-mockery than cheer. His gaze fell to the desk, and he started to fiddle with the stacks of paper there. “He likes Tony and Rocco.”

I did not know why I felt the need to reassure him. “He is too young to remember me.”

“You don’t seem put out,” he said in a disgruntled tone that amused me rather than irritated me. “If my son treated me like chopped liver, I’d be very hurt.”

“Luca, goodness. This is new even for me. I can’t invent emotions that are not there.”

My reply didn’t appease him, and he continued to find the desk more interesting than the people around him. It gave me another perspective into Elias. He was interested in me, but he was uncertain about the situation, like his father was right now. I didn’t want to point it out because it was just my conclusion to what happened. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

“Baby steps,” the doctor punned, unhooking the stethoscope from his neck and putting it in the case. “And yes, where’s breakfast?”