Page 11 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly. “I appreciate it.”

I appreciated her. I always had. She turned at the sound of my quavering voice and held her arms out wide. I stepped intothem, and she held me tightly, despite how frail she seemed lately. She was disappearing in front of my eyes, and I didn’t know how to keep her here with me.

“You never have to thank me, sweet Wren. Having you here all these years has given me something I thought was gone forever. A purpose. I appreciate you just as much. And I’ll adore these little ones too,” she said softly, cupping my stomach in her pale, crepey hands. “Now, you look like you want to lose your lunch, and I’d prefer you didn’t do that in my apartment. Come back down before seven.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I rushed out of her place, making it up the stairs and into my bathroom with moments to spare. As I hugged the toilet bowl, I cried. Not in self-pity—okay, a little in self-pity, but more in fear. And thankfulness. Thankful that I had Mrs. Byrne, but fearful that one day I was going to wake up and she’d be gone. The last anchor I had. The last person who cared about me.

Then who would I lean on?

Chapter 5

WREN

After two weeks of coming to terms with the fact I was going to be someone’s mother soon, life went on bizarrely like normal. As normal as it could be, considering I was knocked up, I was still seeing things that weren’t there, and the whole community had figured out I was pregnant.

It had started with Tammy at work, though I made her keep it quiet from Bob. He was pretty oblivious, and I was going to keep him in the dark as long as I could. Then Val at Rossi’s. Then my mailman. It was awkward as hell, but I settled on a lie and stuck to it. I’d had a secret boyfriend, and when he found out I was pregnant, he had run off. It garnered mostly sympathy, but a few dirty looks too. No one knew it was triplets, though, of course.

What I hadn’t really expected was the huge outpouring of help. Uncle Antonio had his grandson, Christos, start to deliver Mrs. Byrne’s groceries. He put extra vegetables on my hoagies. Zia Maria started knitting baby clothes at an alarming rate.

How she’d managed to knit twelve pairs of booties and a cardigan in two weeks was a marvel. I stood at the counter at Rossi’s and tried not to cry as Val put the knitted items into apaper bag for me, shaking her head. “Nonna has gone wild too. They’re lighting candles for you—because you’re pregnant out of wedlock, of course.” She rolled her eyes, making the sign of the cross sarcastically. “But the baby is going to have enough blankets and outfits to last until they’re five, now that she’s got her church group involved. Do you need anything else? A ride to any appointments?”

I shook my head. “Nate, my neighbor, is driving me to my OB-GYN appointment tomorrow.”

“Is he now? Does he want to roleplay as daddy?” The way she said it made it very clear she didn’t mean to the babies, but something infinitely dirtier.

“No, he’s just being a kind neighbor,” I grumbled, and Val laughed. Literally laughed in my face.

She dropped her voice conspiratorially low. “Girl, you’re so delusional. But hey, pregnant chicks are definitely some people’s kink, so I say if you can lock down that hunk, you should do it. Silver lining and all that,” she said with a wink.

Incorrigible.

Honestly, though, I hadn’t seen much of Nate since my breakdown on his couch. I’d run into him walking up the stairs once, and we’d made polite conversation. Somehow, my appointment had come up, and he’d offered to drive me. I didn’t really have the energy to turn him down. My feet hurt, and I was so goddamntiredall the time. Breathing made me feel exhausted, let alone working ten-hour shifts and walking home. Climbing the stairs some days seemed like divine torture.

So I’d take the help, just like he said.

I smiled as old Mr. Lunetta came up to pay for his groceries. He patted me gently on the back. I looked into his basket. “No tuna today, Mr. Lunetta?”

“Not today, girlie, but I got you this.” It was a wooden rattle that had three moons connecting together at a single point. Eachmoon was carefully carved with vines and words in… possibly Greek? Or Latin? It was gorgeous.

“Mr. Lunetta, I can’t accept this. It’s beautiful. You have to let me buy it from you,” I gasped. It looked completely hand carved.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. I make these to keep my fingers nimble. I have dozens lying around my house.” He gave me a shaky smile. “You’re a good girl. Consider it a thank you for your help reaching things on the bottom shelf.”

I felt like I was about to cry, but instead, I hugged him. Did he look a bit brighter today? I was thankful the golden lights were starting to fade slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Lunetta. I appreciate this.”

He mumbled something gruffly under his breath and patted my back three times in a clear dismissal of the hug. Swallowing down the emotion, I stepped back so he could grab his grocery bag.

“See you tomorrow,” he huffed at Val, lifting his chin at Uncle Antonio as he left.

Val and I watched him go. “What a sweet old man,” she sighed, and I nodded my agreement. She turned back to me. “Antonio Jr. says you can have any of the baby stuff you need from his garage. He got the snip, because he said six kids is enough. I say he should have stopped at two, but the man loves chaos. I bet Guilia is ecstatic; the poor woman’s been pregnant for like, a solid eight years.”

I talked with her for a little longer, resting my aching feet before I headed home, armed with Antonio Jr.’s phone number so I could come and collect his crib. I just needed two more now. The thought made me want to cry, again.

I went a couple of blocks out of my way to a baby store at the strip mall. I really needed to start pricing things so I knew how much to save. Hopefully I’d have enough so that the babies didn’t need to sleep in boxes.

Mentally, I began making a list. Cribs. Car seats, though I had no car. Hell, maybe I needed a car? A stroller as long as a bus. Clothes. Diapers. Holy shit, so many diapers. Blankets. Thermometer. Bottles. Formula.

The list kept going on and on and on. I sat down on a bench outside the mall and took out a notebook. Writing a list would make me feel better—there was something about putting things down in black and white that settled me when the world was chaotic.

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