“She came to me for help. The Church doesn’t seem concerned about the three children who are already born. Who will take care of them when their mother dies in childbirth? I’ve yet to see Don Giuseppe pushing a pram.”
“Signorina!”
“It’s the truth. Why does Monica’s fathead husband make the decisions when it comes to the children? Isn’t holding the purse, the property, the rights to the children, and any inheritance enough? Why does he also have a say over her health?”
“I made it clear she should not have another child. To Mironi, the priest, and the mayor.”
“Il sindaco? What business is it of his?”
“The law.”
“Bassini is a buffoon.”
“It doesn’t matter. He holds the law of this village in his tiny hands.”
“Three men against one woman? Her weak blood is a medical concern, is it not?”
Pretucci remained frustrated. “Yes, it is.”
“So tell them. Tell them the situation. Explain it to those dunces. Give them the pamphlets!”
“The pamphlets are for the sailors who dock here. We don’t want them spreading disease up and down the shore. I don’t give those pamphlets out to married couples.”
“You should! Those pamphlets can help women take care of themselves.”
“You humiliated Guido Mironi in a public forum.”
“Carnevale is not a forum, it’s an amusement. He was drunk.”
“It doesn’t matter! He is the head of his family!”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“But he is! His wife is his business.”
“She was afraid to tell him about the birth control. I could tell.”
“The solution to their family issues was not to teach the woman birth control. That falls outside your role as a nurse.”
“How? If I have learned something in school, am I not to apply it?”
“You can apply it, but you need to understand the scope of what you are saying to a patient.”
“I shouldn’t tell the truth?”
“You could leave that to me.”
“But you leave the women to me. I recommended, with your approval, a tincture of black cohosh to Signora Luccizi, who is going through the change of life. How is giving a mother of three a pamphlet going to hurt her?”
“In this instance, and you must listen to me, it’s because your honesty has become a problem. Signore Mironi went to the priest, who came to me. He demands your license.”
“He has no right in the matter.”
“The priest supports Mironi’s position. And so does the law. We have to be careful in the area of reproduction.”
Domenica felt a rage rise within her. “I have to be careful because I’m a woman.” She sat down on the stool next to the examining table and tried to think.
Pretucci leaned on the table. “I’m afraid they’re serious.”
“I will go and see the priest myself and explain.”
“Don’t. He’s angry. I can protect you if you leave Viareggio. I will be able to argue that I sent you away to teach you a lesson. There’s a hospital in Marseille.”
“France? My mother needs me here.”
“You must be practical, Signorina. You don’t want the priest to decide where to send you. You’ll end up at the bottom of the world somewhere. If you go, in time, they will forget this happened. Listen to your boss. Your friend.” Pretucci pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his eyeglasses. Dottore did this whenever he needed to think. “If you go to Marseille for a few months, in time, I’m sure this will blow over and you can return to your home and this position.”
Tears stung Domenica’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly. “Guido Mironi was a mean child and he’s grown up to be a cruel brute. I’m not sorry I told him off.”
Pretucci tried not to smile. He had heard, in a matter of hours, as gossip wended its way through the small village, the story of Domenica Cabrelli and Guido Mironi at Carnevale. The details had gone around more than once, each time embellished with more, but always with a narrative of begrudging respect for his nurse’s determination to stand up to a bully. “You said what you had to say.”
“It might not have been the best idea, but I had no choice. The people of the village need to understand that they can come to the clinic when they need help.”
“There’s only one thing you need to know. You may be right, and your position has merit. But that’s all it has. You will not win this point in Viareggio, not ever, even if the entire town agrees with you. The priest always has the last word.”