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The labor was all-consuming and overwhelming. Valentina’s nails actually left marks in Luc's skin, she had held his hand so tightly. The pain was coming in waves, building and falling away building. He didn't gripe about the marks. He just sat there and held her hand and murmured support, but she saw the fear in his blue eyes behind a calm voice. He was frightened for her and for their daughters. She could feel it from the slight tremor in his hand.
Alecia walked the waiting room floor with Kennedy and Liv and Elena. Gave everything restlessly going back and forth, could not sit still for more than a moment. The hours pulled like taffy in two opposing directions. The morning became afternoon. Still no baby. Still no word. The silence was heavy and filled with meaning.
And then the doctor emerged from the delivery room looking somber. Valentina heard the phrases “heart rate drop” and “emergency C-section” and her fear turned to terror. Everything got really real, really fast. Luca heard them too. She felt his hand tighten around hers at once.
“They are fighters,” Valentina said, though her voice shook with fear and emotion. "They are survivors. Like us. Like our whole family. They will be okay. They have to be okay."
Luca pressed his lips to her forehead, then on her own. “They will be perfect. Just like their mother. I know it."
They rushed Valentina down to the operating room. Nurses were quick and professional. Luca was now put into a gown and taken to the sterile room with her. The lights were so bright they seemed almost blinding. She was trembling with the chill of the room. All of it seemed like it was moving both incredibly fast and slowly at the very same time.
Valentina felt the pressure but not any pain. The anesthetic had worked like a charm. She looked up at the lights and tried to breathe regularly and calmly. Lucas was by her, solid and safe.
Then she heard it. The first cry. Tiny and fierce and just absolutely beautiful. It was the most divine sound she ever heard in her entire life.
“First baby,” the doctor pronounced with satisfaction. "Girl. Five pounds three ounces. She is perfect."
Valentina began to cry immediately. The tears came without warning.
“Isabella Maria Caruso,” Lucas said, his voice choked with emotion and amazement.
The second baby they rushed along. Valentina felt more pressure, more tugging. This delivery was slower than the first. Everything seemed to take forever. Over and over she demanded, “Are they okay? Are they breathing properly? Is she healthy?"
“Both are completely good,” the doctor told her, but Valentina could sense the focus in her voice. The medical staff was intent and in a hurry.
Then the second cry came. More quiet than the first, but not less beautiful. It was like an angel singing.
“Second baby,” the doctor said, relieved. "Girl. Four pounds eleven ounces. Aurora’s here and she is perfect. Both babies are perfect."
“Aurora Grace Caruso,” Valentina said softly through her tears.
Both babies were transported to the NICU as a precaution since they were technically still premature. The protocol for hospital stay involved close monitoring for the early life days. Valentina was carefully stitched up. The world turned into a bluish blur of medical professionals and machinery, and the overwhelming sensation that she had just given birth to two human beings who were no longer part of her body. She was empty even as she was full.
In the recovery room, Luca stayed beside her and held her hand. They did not speak. They did not need to. It was too massive to put into words the magnitude of what had just taken place. It was too large for language to hold.
After Valentina was stable and resting, a nurse took her to the NICU in a wheelchair. Luca inched it back, his hand protectively placed on her shoulder. Together they made their way down through the silent hospital halls. They rounded a corner and came up against the huge window.
And there they were.
Isabella Maria was in the first incubator, tiny and perfect, a full head of dark hair just like Lucas. Aurora Grace was in the second, a little smaller with the same dark hair and the most serene expression on her small face.
Valentina broke down completely. She had cried a lot in her life due to trauma and pain and fear. But never like this. With never so much joy and thanks to receive it. These were the tears of a woman who had endured impossible things, and made it to the other side to bring new life into the world. Why, those were the tears of a mother seeing her daughters for the first time.
"They're perfect," Luca breathed out, his voice overcome. "Look at them. Just look at them."
The nurses let them hold the babies gingerly, under supervision. Valentina cradled Isabella against her breast. She was so tiny that she “fit in the palm of one hand. Luca carried Aurora as gently, and cradled her as if she were spun glass.
You’ve got a name coming from someone who loved so much, it hurt her. But you are stronger than she was. I promise you that. You will draw on her strength and her love, and you will nurture something beautiful and enduring.”
“My dawn,” Luca whispered to Aurora gently, “you are the dawn. The new beginning. The light after darkness. You will never understand the pain we came from. You will only know love and safety and light in all your days.”
Alecia was permitted to go inside and met her nieces there for the first time. She gazed at them with wonder and tears in her hazel eyes. She wept and held Aurora delicately, tears rolling softly across her cheeks.
"They've got your mother's eyes," she said in a hushed voice, staring at the small perfect face. “Oh, they have her eyes exactly. They are her legacy. They are the sum of all the good there was in her.”
That night, as Valentina slept sleepily in her hospital room, Lucas sat by himself in the NICU and watched his daughters sleeping peacefully in their incubators. He had been watching them for hours without taking his eyes off. He was scared that if he looked away they would vanish. That all of this could still be a dream.
A nurse came in stealthily, her feet patting softly on the tile. Lucas glanced up at her drowsily.
"Mr. Caruso?" she said carefully. "Someone wants to talk to you right away. “She says it’s for your wife’s safety.”
Lucas stiffened at once, all protective instincts coming to life. His hand automatically went to the spot where a gun would have been had he not turned his in. Old habits and old fears were tougher to shake.
"Who?" he shouted, voice suddenly icy and cutting. The old Luca. The dangerous Luca. The mafia lord.
The nurse appeared apprehensive and unsure of herself. She lowered her voice and looked around to see if anyone else was listening.
"A woman," she said quietly. "Bianca Santoro. She says she broke out of a prison and is here to tell you something vital that puts your wife’s life in jeopardy. She will, however, only speak to you directly about what she knows.”
Luca gazed at the nurse, astounded. Then, his gaze swept back to the daughters sleeping in the bed. Then he came to a decision that he knew would upend everything once more.
"Where is she?" he asked quietly.