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“Where to today?” asked Peeta as he set the blueberry crostata in front of Katniss. The best part of the day was the morning, regardless of which bed and breakfast they lodged in during their two week stay outside of Verona. Breakfast began with a cappuccino for Katniss, two or three pieces of crostata, or a kind of fruit tart. Peeta usually had an espresso macchiato, then a cappuccino with a fruit- or Nutella-filled cornetto, a kind of sweet, flaky croissant that was a specialty all though out Italy. If they were particularly famished, as they usually were after so many days of hiking, they added a boiled egg and yogurt to fuel their morning treks and tide them over to lunch.
Katniss and Peeta had decided on a hiking tour of the Verona wine regions as their summer holiday this year, for they were both passionate enthusiasts of both hiking and wine. It was at a wine tasting in Epcot’s Food and Wine Festival where they’d met and connected immediately over their passion for “the blood of life,” as Katniss called it.
They’d backpacked through the vineyards responsible for Chianti, Barolo, Bardolino and Amarone della Valpolicella wines, staying in the small agriturismi, or bed and breakfasts typical of the area. It was an enchanting vacation and everything was going flawlessly.
So it took Katniss by surprise when, after her preferred breakfast last week, she threw it all up not an hour later. Peeta was worried about food poisoning but Katniss seemed to have recovered soon after and they’d carried on with their day, convinced that whatever had disturbed her had passed. But two days later, it had happened again and this time, the feeling of malaise did not go away as quickly as it had earlier.
“Katniss, we have traveler’s insurance. We could go see a doctor if this keeps up. You barely ate anything today.” Peeta had been taken aback by the sight of his girlfriend, usually dynamic and full of energy, lying listless on the bed, watching an Italian variety program filled with showgirls.
“It’s nothing. Really! You’re being a worry wart. Why don’t you just come here next to me?” she said, sluggishly petting the spot next to her. “Look here! 90% of the world’s patrimony of art is concentrated in Italy and you’re missing the best part.” Katniss pointed at a voluptuous woman lip syncing to a Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance in an outfit that left nothing to the imagination.
Peeta shook his head. “I don’t think Sabrina Ferrilli was what the UN had in mind when they were establishing heritage sites,” he said wryly.
“I think Italian men everywhere would beg to differ,” she said as she snuggled into his side.
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The sight of the blackberry tart turned Katniss’ stomach. She groaned inwardly, thinking Not again. Peeta would force her to cancel today’s hike this time if he knew that she was ill so she took pains to eat the tart as naturally as possible, pretending to relish it. Instead of returning to the room, Katniss excused herself to go to the washroom in the ground floor and wretched again. Rinsing her face, she stared at her reflection, now pale and somewhat gaunt from the travails of her body.
Katniss started to make mental calculations and assess her physical condition. Her mother was a nurse so there were things she simply grew up knowing. Katniss felt the tenderness of her breasts, the nausea, the time of month and, if possible, grew paler from her suspicion.
“Peeta,” she said as she returned to the dining area. His lovely blond head was bent over a newspaper, and Katniss’ heart gave an involuntary lurch. In the year they’d been together, he’d become an indispensable part of her life. The thought that anything could change that made Katniss go weak with fear. “I think I should stop in at the pharmacy. I’ll meet you upstairs?”
Peeta looked up and made to stand. “I can go with you.”
“No!” she said with more vehemence than she intended. “I mean, you could get our backpacks ready so we don’t lose any more time. I just need some lady supplies - you know,” she blushed at her own half-lie. “There’s one just in the center. I’ll take a car out. I’ll be back with more than enough time to make Mrs. Minetti’s presentation.” Katniss looked at the time – they were but an hour’s hike.
Peeta was skeptical but agreed. Katniss, after all, would not take it well if he tried to coddle her too much. She was uber-independent and while he loved that about her, it sometimes made it difficult for him to take care of her. He made a mental note to give her 45 minutes before going into town after her because she looked somewhat pale again and he did not trust that she would tell him if she were ill. “I’ll get our packs ready then.”
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Katniss would never tire of these old north Italian towns, with the smell of the medieval, or older, attached to their every stone. Even in the small villages – or especially in the small villages - the square invariably featured a church, a fountain, and the requisite coffee bar with tables outside. She could not help to feel out of place, with her hiking shorts, boots and t-shirt in the midst of the bustle of fashionably dressed and coiffed natives. Nothing screamed American more than her outfit and, though there were bikers and runners moving about, there was an air of precise, casual elegance that she did not possess.
As she entered the shop, a very pretty auburn hair young lady served her. Between her broken Italian and the girl’s school English, she managed to make herself understood.
“C’I sono due,” the girl said, holding up her fingers to indicate the quantity of 2. Katniss looked at the illustration on the box and saw that it contained two applicators. “C’I vogliono ciqui minuti.” She pointed at her watch and raised five fingers.
Katniss nodded. She opened the box and was relieved to see that there was a page with instructions in multiple languages. But there was a universality to pregnany tests that required no elaboration. She paid for her purchase, blushing furiously at this point and utterly grateful that there were no customers to witness her embarrassment. She looked at her watch and headed directly to the plaza. She wished above all that Peeta was with her – he made everything better with his steady presence and uncanny ability to see the good in all things. But terror made her enter the bar alone and it would be in tiny washroom of the Bar Aulalia where fate would reveal itself to Katniss.
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Katniss and Peeta listened as the older woman, with the thick Italian accent and cadence of the Veronese dialect sneaking into her speech, explaining her philosophy about Valpolicella and wine in general.
“A grape as old as the Valpolicella does not need pretensions or elaborations. It should be easy to drink, even with the humblest foods. This is why I established one of the few organic vineyard in the region and use no artificial products in the cultivation of the grape.”
The interviewer continued to ask questions of the matronly older woman with the silver hair trimmed to shoulder length, her posture erect and composed. Yet she gave off the air of a favorite aunt. It would be difficult to believe that she was at the cutting edge of biodynamics in wine production, producing a much sought after product with no sulphites of any kind.
Peeta studied his surroundings. The interview was being held in the stone tasting room at the fore of the Minetti estate. They would soon tour the cantina to see this year’s yield. They had scored a visit to the acclaimed winery of Valentina Minetti in the wine region of Verona and he looked forward to savoring the direct, uncorrupted flavor of this wine.
But Katniss was not herself on this trip. She was physically in shape, hiking with ease through the vineyards, agriturismi (bed and breakfasts) and osterie (restaurants) of the lovely wine region that produced the famous Valpolicella, Barolo and Chianti wines that they loved so much. However, even though she wouldn’t tell him, he knew she’d become ill at breakfast, which almost prompted Peeta to cancel today’s visit altogether. But Katniss did not admit it and Peeta did not press the issue. Though somewhat pale when she’d returned from town, she’d managed the hike with steady determination to their destination and eventually kept her small lunch salad down.
“I don’t want to miss Mrs. Minetti’s presentation.” Katniss told him as she steadied herself. The middle-aged woman was a school teacher most of her life but when she retired, she opened a small vineyard and decided she wanted to go organic, which was a rarity in the universe of Italian Wines. Now she produced one of the most critically acclaimed Valpolicella’s in the region because of its purity of pallet. “I really want to attend the tasting!” she exclaimed tiredly.
Because Peeta found it virtually impossible to say no to Katniss, they ended up in this small, eight hectacre vineyard so she would finally have her chance to speak to the esteemed wine-maker. Peeta held her small hand, which was somewhat clammy and cold as the small audience broke up after the interview. They made her way to the front of the room to speak to the matronly older woman.
“Sra. Minetti, I just wanted to tell you how enthusiastic we are over the wine your vineyard produces.” Peeta said as they made their introductions.
“Are you Americani? Oh, that is exciting. My son, he spend six months in California. Also visit Sonoma Valley. Nice country.”
“Thank you,” said Katniss, whose olive skin seemed to have taken on a slight pallor but she continued to speak to the woman, asking her about her wine and her philosophy. They conversed easily until Peeta felt Katniss sway besides him.
“Katniss, are you okay?” he whispered as the older woman looked on worriedly.
“Just dizzy. I think I should have a seat,” she said as her eyes began to lose focus.
Mrs. Minetti went to the back of the counter where wines were displayed for the benefit of customers and enthusiasts. When she returned, she had a few slices of bread and cheese on a platter and a glass of sparkling water.
“Bevi.” She commanded and though Peeta’s Italian was not perfect, he understood that Katniss was being asked to drink.
Katniss reached out a shaky hand and took the glass, sipping it slowly, wrinkling her nose. Mrs. Minetti shook her head at her. “You must drink this. It will settle your stomach.”
Katniss nodded as Peeta sat next to her. “We won’t walk back to the bed and breakfast. We’ll take a car, okay?”
“I’m so sorry. I just really wanted to meet you!” said Katniss with a scowl.
Mrs. Minetti patted Katniss leg gently. “Capisco, but a woman in your condition cannot go hiking through the wine valley if you do not eat and drink also. You will make yourself and your baby very sick.” At that moment, a pretty young Italian woman called her over to a group of gentleman who had just arrived at the tasting center. “I’ll be back,” she said.
Peeta furrowed his brow. “That’s strange. She thinks you’re pregnant.” He chuckled with disbelief.
Katniss sat quietly, nibbling on the mild cheese. The silenced stretched infinitely between them
“Katniss?”
At that moment, a fat tear rolled down her face. Peeta got to his knees before her in a panic. “Honey, what’s wrong?” His eyes lit up with understanding. “Are you…?”
Katniss nodded her head quickly, the tears flowing freely now, prompting others in the room to cast looks of concern at the young couple.
Peeta processed her words, her illness of the last few days, her inability to really enjoy the wine and it all came together. “Of course!” he exclaimed. “But why are you crying?”
“Maybe it’s too soon,” she hiccupped. “…And I didn’t want to ruin our vacation…if…” she sniffed.
“You crazy, stubborn, hard-headed woman! How can I be upset? This is just…wow!” Peeta laughed happily and pulled her into his arms. “Katniss, holy shit! I’m going to be a dad! How could you think that would make me unhappy?”
“Well, it’s a wine tasting vacation, after all,” she said wryly, sniffling into her paper towel.
“So? I can drink for the both of us,” he said as he cupped her cheek and placed a gentle kiss there. “You didn’t ruin our vacation. We can hire a car to go to the different vineyards. You didn’t have to make yourself sick! You can’t do that anymore, okay?”
“Peeta! I just found out! It’s not like I got sick on purpose!” she said in frustration.
“Tutto a posto, now?” said the older woman when she returned to the couple. “Is she better?”
“Yes, thank you! It’s the baby but we’re going back to our rooms so she can rest.” Peeta’s eyes twinkled as he stared with reverence at Katniss’ belly.
Mrs. Minetti nodded her head gently. “I can tell from her bright eyes and skin that she is waiting a baby. Here,” the older woman pulled out a wine carrier. “This is the Noemo – the first wine of the season. One white wine and one red.” She winked at Katniss. “Don’t listen to people who say ‘Oh, no wine, oh no this, oh not that.’ No! If you want the baby to have good taste, you must have a little bit of everything. And a glass of wine every now and again will not hurt you.” She kissed both Katniss and Peeta on the cheeks.
“There is a car waiting for you as soon as you wish to leave, ragazzi!” she said happily. “Come back when your baby is born and we will make a special brindisi (toast)!” She exclaimed as she waved them off.
Peeta pulled Katniss close to him as they were seated in the car, laying his hand gently on her belly. “I’m always going to associate this valley with our baby.”
“You think we could get a wine named after her?” Katniss said dazedly, as she leaned against Peeta in exhaustion.
“That would be incredible,” smiled Peeta before pausing to look down at Katniss. “Wait, how do you know it will be a girl?”
But the only response he got was Katniss soft, even breathing.