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DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia by Zoey Parker (33)


 

Isabella

 

There was a field covered in snow, and I was running through it with my arms held loosely at my sides. Even though the world around me was covered in cold, stark white, I wasn’t cold. Rather, I felt warm. My whole body felt good, light, free. When I looked down, I saw my feet weren’t even touching the ground. My toes were barely skimming the surface of the snow, and I wasn’t leaving any footprints.

 

“This is amazing,” I said aloud. My voice sounded like bells and music. “How is this happening?”

 

“Mommy!” A little girl with blonde curls launched herself at me and wrapped her arms around my legs. “Mommy, you’re here!”

 

“Hi, baby. How are you? I missed you so much!” I didn’t know the words were true until I said them, but suddenly they were truer than anything had ever been in my life. This little girl was mine; she was my flesh and blood. I watched as her face took on a variety of expressions, from exasperated to happy.

 

“Mommy, I’ve been waiting for you,” she cried loudly. “And now you’re here! Forever!”

 

“That’s right, my darling,” I told her in a soothing voice as I stroked her silky blonde hair. “That’s right. Mommy’s here forever.”

 

“Mommy, I didn’t think you’d come,” she said in a soft voice. Then she took my hand, lacing my fingers through her small ones. When she looked up at me, I saw her skin was perfect, free of blemish. She had my blonde hair but Zane’s dark eyes, and her complexion was creamy but much tanner than mine had ever been, even as a little kid. There was laughter and love and light in her eyes.

 

“Darling, where are we?”

 

The little girl shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, grinning at me. “But it’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

 

I relaxed, taking a deep breath. I felt better than I ever had in my life. My body didn’t even feel real, like it wasn’t even connected to my head. My mind was free of worries, and everything I used to obsess over didn’t seem like nearly as big of a deal. Nothing mattered, only being with my little girl. “This is amazing,” I said. “I’m so sorry it took me a long time to get here.”

 

The little girl smiled at me and gave me a hug. Her hair smelled sweet, like strawberries. “Mommy, those bad men can’t hurt us anymore,” she said. “I promise we’re together now.”

 

“Is this whole place just a big field?”

 

The girl gave me a mysterious smile. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Mommy,” she said.

 

I closed my eyes, thinking of a log cabin I’d seen in pictures. It was where my mother and father spent their honeymoon, and it was a place I’d always wanted to visit. When I opened my eyes, the cabin was right in front of me. “Oh, my God,” I breathed. “That’s incredible.”

 

The little girl giggled. “Mommy! You made a house!” She grabbed my hand and ran forward in the snow. I was aware of my feet and ankles sinking into the white fluff, but it wasn’t cold. It felt soothing and relaxing, almost like getting a pedicure. As I followed my daughter into the cabin, I was astounded at the interior. It was covered in photos — photos of my parents, photos of Zane, photos of me and my little girl.

 

I gasped as she led me into the kitchen. It was fully stocked with copper cookware and every type of food I could imagine. There was a pot on the stove with something inside that smelled absolutely delicious, and a little familiar. I closed my eyes, racking my brain and trying to think of where I’d smelled that scent before. It was rich, tangy, a little spicy. I opened my eyes and leaned over the pot to see a rich, meaty gravy with chunks of vegetables and oil skimming the surface.

 

“I can’t believe this,” I murmured, reaching for a spoon and dipping it into the pot. Even though I knew it was too hot to eat, I eagerly took a bite of food. It was marvelously warm and salty, just like the stew my mother had made me when I was a little girl.

 

“Mommy, may I have some?” My daughter looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “I want to try some of Grandmother’s soup!”

 

“This is a special Italian recipe,” I told her. “This is something my mother used to make for holidays, and for funerals. She said it was the most comforting food on the planet, and I always had to agree with her. It’s really incredible. Taste all of the vegetables.”

 

“This is delicious, Mommy.” She smiled up at me and handed me the spoon, carefully making sure not to spill a drop.

 

“This is a miracle. I can’t believe it. Where are we?” I looked around the cabin, feeling more alive than I ever had in my entire life. This wasn’t even life; it was beyond life. It was like being in a lucid dream that I had no desire of ever waking from.

 

The little girl smiled up at me. “Heaven,” she said softly.

 

Suddenly, there was a dull ache in my chest. It was unexpected, and I cried out as I felt it spread to my limbs. She was watching me with a placid expression on her adorable face.

 

“Mommy, you have to go back now,” she said softly. “You have to go back. You can’t stay here.”

 

“I want to stay,” I pleaded. “Please, please let me stay!”

 

My daughter shook her head. “I’ll see you, soon, Mommy,” she said. It sounded like she was speaking through a wind tunnel; even though she was right in front of me, I could barely understand what she was saying.

 

“Help!” I said as a feeling of panic came over me. “Help!”

 

“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m right here,” said an unfamiliar, stern voice.

 

Everything in my body hurt, more than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t ever remember being in this much pain. I tried to lift my hand to my face and was shocked at how heavy it was. I could barely move; when I tried to, my body exploded with pain.

 

“Isabella? Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes,” the voice instructed. “I need you to open your eyes and count to ten, okay?”

 

With Herculean effort, I managed to open my eyelids. There was a figure in white leaning over me. But she wasn’t the perfect figure from my vision a few seconds ago; her skin was sallow and pockmarked, and her white uniform crudely pinched her body into some approximation of a figure. Her grey, straggly hair was held back with a white cap, and there was a stethoscope around her neck.

 

“There we are,” she said with a smile, mistaking my disgust for pain. “I know it hurts, but everything will get better.”

 

Slowly, I moved my head to the side and looked around. I was lying in a hospital bed, wearing a puce-colored cotton gown. There was a sheet pulled over my legs and my skin looked odd, kind of mottled, like I’d been out in the cold. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to me. I saw Zane rush into the room, his face shining with relief.

 

“Can I talk to her?” Zane turned towards the nurse. “Please? She’s awake,” he added, as if that was going to change anything.

 

The nurse gave me a sharp look. “Okay,” she said in a warning tone. “But keep it short. Your wife is still very weak. She was in a coma, and she’s going to need a lot of TLC over the next couple of weeks.”

 

Zane rushed to my side. At first, I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t notice how exhausted and horrible he looked. There were big dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked transparent, almost like paper.

 

“Isabella,” Zane said in a ragged voice. He reached for my hands and wrapped them with his. His touch felt rough, but it was warm. “Isabella, I thought you were a fuckin’ goner,” he said in a low tone, pushing his head close to mine. “I was so fuckin’ scared.”

 

I swallowed hard. “Water,” I managed to croak. It hit me that I was suddenly, desperately thirsty, thirstier than I’d ever been in my whole life. My throat felt like a dry tube of cardboard.

 

Zane handed me a paper cup and guided it to my mouth. I could feel water spilling and dribbling down my chin but I didn’t care; it was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

I moaned softly. “I feel horrible,” I admitted. “But you look worse.”

 

Zane actually grinned at me. “I can imagine,” he said roughly. “But seriously, Isabella, you’re a trooper,” he said, this time in a softer tone. He reached out and stroked my hair. “They say you and the baby are gonna be just fine.”

 

Oh, my God, the baby! “I can’t believe that,” I said softly. “I mean, I can. I had a crazy dream. I was in this field with our daughter.”

 

Zane looked at me and shook his head. “You are definitely not having a daughter,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “My first child is gonna be a son. I can tell.” He smiled proudly.

 

I shook my head. “No, it was a little girl,” I said. “She was blonde, like me, but she had your eyes. She was beautiful.” A tear came to my eye as I remembered the feeling of absolute, inescapable bliss that had come over me when I was frolicking with my daughter in a snowy field. “She was perfect.”

 

“I bet she was,” Zane said. He reached for my hand again and squeezed.

 

There was a horrible moment of silence between us. “If you’re here, what happened? What happened to Jake and Rico?”

 

Zane let out a long sigh, then stretched. He scratched the back of his neck, then returned his hand to my lap. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, to be honest,” he said with a guilty grin. “But I took care of them.”

 

I blinked at him. “What do you mean, you took care of them?”

 

Zane looked at me. “Do you really wanna hear this?”

 

I nodded. “Well, not really,” I admitted, twisting my face into a grimace. It hurt, everything still hurt. My whole body ached, but I realized I was at least starting to feel better. There was feeling in my fingers and toes again, and my skin was looking better by the minute. “But I have to,” I said firmly. “I have to know what happened. I want those guys gone,” I added in a soft voice. “They hurt me, and they tried to kill our daughter.”

 

Zane smiled again. “You mean our son,” he said gruffly. “But I get it.”

 

He lowered himself into a chair at my bedside, and began to tell me the whole story.