The Italian Villa: An emotional and absolutely gripping WW2 historical romance Page 10

  “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. Anyway, yes, I wanted to go to university, but my plans have changed now.” I was desperate to say: “Will you help? I’ll pay you everything back as soon as I can work!” But I couldn’t betray Mamma’s trust.

  “Yes, I was informed of that.” He turned away from me for a moment, and when he turned back he had an envelope in his hands. “This is for you,” he said, and handed it to me. Inside the envelope was more money than I’d ever seen in my life. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. I was sure I looked scarlet. As though this was a matter no more important than his daily market list, he continued, “You will receive one of these a year until you graduate.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t accept it.” I immediately returned the envelope… but oh, how desperately I wanted to take it!

  “Fine. Just give up on the whole thing, then. I suppose pride is worth a lifetime of frustration, isn’t it? I should know.”

  What had he given up out of pride?

  My mind was a battlefield. I knew I had to refuse, but I was desperate not to. Imagine… university. Days and weeks and months where all I had to do was learn. And one day, they would call me Dottor.

  “Take it, girl. To refuse it would be foolish.” Then he leaned a little closer, almost whispering the last words. “Your mother will understand.”

  I didn’t think on it again. I took it, stammering, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  The Conte shrugged. “Cure me when I get sick.” He smiled. I wanted to smile back, but I was too overwhelmed.

  “But… who told you?” I could only say.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me.”

  His face changed then, becoming a little harder, sadder. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.”

  “Another secret,” I said, and for a moment I was quite shocked at my boldness.

  “What do you mean, another secret?”

  When I replied, my voice was so low it was almost imperceptible. “I believe there is a big secret in our family.” I couldn’t hold back my thoughts anymore.

  “Elisa. I can only say I did my best to keep everyone happy. It didn’t always work.”

  I lowered my head. “I’m grateful for all you did for us. And for what you’re doing now.”

  The Conte smiled a smile full of sadness. “Vittoria couldn’t give me any children,” he said. Vittoria was his wife, the Contessa, who’d lived a short, painful life riddled with tuberculosis. “Now when I die, all of this will go to a distant cousin, who has nothing to do with this place.” He seemed bitter. “I’d like it to be different, but tradition and expectation are our rulers, not our hearts’ desires.” Then his eyes grew darker, warmer. “Please know that your mother, your aunt, your father, you and your brother; you’re all the family I have.”

  That was as far as he would go. I knew he wouldn’t say anything more.

  “Thank you,” I said simply.

  “Yes. Now go and make me proud.”

  I woke up to find that the light had changed, having darkened as the day went on. And then it came back to me… the dream I’d been having.

  In my dream, I stood on the terrace, just as I’d done on the night I’d arrived, but instead of watching the lightning, I saw a summer garden at night, everything lush and in bloom, the scent of flowers and greenery drenching the air. Little lights flew all around in the darkness – fireflies, like a mini-galaxy in my garden. It’d been such a magical dream, it took me a moment to swim back to the surface, back to reality.

  I rubbed my eyes. The fire was now just embers, glowing softly in the gloom. I laid my feet on the floor and sat up, peering at my watch. I’d slept for hours! It was time to go out. I was starving, and the idea of chocolate was a siren call.

  I put on the dress, almost reverently – though my reverence had to give way to some jumping and contorting of my body when I had to do the zip up by myself. Then I took some make-up from my bag; just some simple, barely-there make-up. I felt that very little would look better with a dress that was a statement in itself.

  As I looked at myself in the mirror, a sudden thought made its way into my mind: Kirsten was right, I had changed. I could see it in my eyes – it was almost imperceptible, and it would be impossible to notice for someone who didn’t know me well.

  I made my way out through the evening scents of the garden, two questions fighting for my attention: whether Flora would agree to come with me, and whether Tommaso would be there.

  7

  The night was chilly, and I shivered as I stood in front of Passiflora in my borrowed summer dress. I should have worn my jacket, but it just wouldn’t have looked right – and now I was paying for my vanity by having goosebumps all over. I was already halfway to regretting my decision to try to coax Flora out. I’d chosen to be a little pushy and direct, not accepting “no” for an answer, just as Paola had done.

  I knocked. “Flora! Are you there?”

  A voice came from behind the upstairs window, and her face appeared for a moment. “No!”

  I had to giggle.

  “I’m here to take you to the fair, Flora. Come on, get dressed.”

  “Flora? Why are you not calling me Auntie?” she called.

  I could hear a slur in her voice. Was she drunk?

  “Can I come in? I’ll make you some strong coffee.”

  “Leave me alone,” she said petulantly. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t need Marco. I don’t need anyone. I do perfectly well on my own!”

  “It doesn’t look like it to me, Flora.”

  “Sure. Nice of you to come here and judge me. You’re wearing the right dress to do that!”

  I sighed. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s Malva’s dress. Your mother’s. My sister’s. And judging me was her favorite hobby.”

  “I’m not judging you! And how dare you talk like that about Malva.” I’d never met Malva but protecting her felt like an instinct. I couldn’t bear for anyone to speak about her like that, especially someone who should have preserved her memory.

  “Go. Away.”

  “Look, Flora, let me come in. We’ll have coffee and a chat and then I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

  “I’ve managed up until now without you. Or anyone.” Her voice was getting louder.

  “Nobody has to manage alone,” I found myself saying, and wondered who I was talking about exactly – me, or her?

  “I said go away. You are nothing to me.”

  I groaned, “Fine!” and left that sad, angry house and the sad, angry woman inside it.

  My hands were shaking on the steering wheel as I drove, guided by the GPS, towards the community center. I was furious. And desperately worried for this aunt I’d just discovered I had. Did she not care at all that I was here? Did it really mean nothing to her to have a long-lost niece? It was as though she’d pushed me so far out of her memory that I had never existed. But then why would she care? I was just some stranger who had turned up on her doorstep, claiming to be her niece and to own the family house. Yes, I had the deeds, but surprisingly, she’d never asked to see them.

  No, I realized, she’d taken one look at me, heard my name, and accepted it. I was sure that when she’d seen me, she’d recognized me.

  Flora seemed so alone and lost. There was something desperately vulnerable about her. What had damaged her so much? The loss of our family? Something else?

  Before me, the community center was all lit up, with bright rectangular windows and a lilac sky behind it. Soaring above were the ever-present mountains. A lively song was seeping out of the building, and from the windows I could see the silhouettes of people dancing. The party had spilled outside, as you would imagine on such a beautiful spring night, and there were clusters of people of all ages everywhere, chatting, sipping wine and holding small plates with chocolate morsels on them. Children chased each other and ran around the small playground next door. There seemed to be fairy lights everywhere, inside
and outside.

  I made my way to the entrance, and was enveloped, instantly, in warmth, music, and wonderful smells. I looked around. There was an area where small stands were covered in goodies, all variations on the theme of chocolate; the bigger table display, complete with shelves and a whole stand, was Leone’s. The multicolored candies made me think of Elisa’s diary… There were also a few Century Cakes under glass domes, sold by the slice, all lined up like sweet full moons.

  A small band was playing in one corner, with an accordion player standing there as if his instrument weighed nothing. Some older people were dancing, and children were jumping around on the dance floor. Nonna Tina was there, dancing with an elderly gentleman, and Adriana, twirling away with a girl who looked like her daughter; clearly, she hadn’t managed to convince her husband to brave the dance floor. I waved, and they waved back. There was a family feeling here – everybody seemed connected to one other, like the whole village was a family in itself. I gazed around for a moment, just to take it all in – I wasn’t looking for Tommaso, of course not.

  A black-haired woman came to greet me with a smile – Paola, my aunt’s friend. “Hello! I’m so glad you’re here.” She took my arm gently and gazed at me. “Bellissima!”

  “You make us look so frumpy, though!” another woman chimed. She was holding a tray with chocolate truffles. “Want one?”

  “This is Michela, my sister,” Paola said. Michela didn’t look like Paola at all. She was wiry as Paola was soft, with bleached hair and way too much make-up.

  “Piacere. Oh, sì grazie!” I took a truffle then looked over my outfit. “I know, this dress is a bit over the top!”

  “It’s nice to dress up once in a while,” Michela said, but I detected a steely look in her eyes, that peculiar woman’s look when she sees someone she vaguely compares herself too, unfavorably.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Come, I’ll show you around,” Paola said. One hand gestured to the stalls set up around the room. “These are all local businesses. You see, there are lots of hazelnut woods around here, so we make this” – she stopped for a moment to grab a truffle from the tray – “special chocolate. It’s called gianduja and it has hazelnut paste in it. Try it.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. Popping the gianduja into my mouth, I was instantly blown away by how creamy, dense, and mouth-watering it was. “Oh my gosh. This is heavenly!”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said proudly. “Chocolate and wine are our specialties, though we produce a lot more good stuff. We even have a University of Taste, you know? People from all over the world come to attend it.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Come, I’ll show you my brother’s company. Here.”

  We reached a table covered in a lovely tablecloth, with baskets and small plates full of artisan chocolates in every flavor and shape I could imagine, all beautifully packaged in ribbon and lace. I had to take a picture of that for Kirsten.

  “And this is my brother, Alberto.” A man who looked like the male version of Paola stood behind the table. “Alberto, this is Callie.”

  He extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. You’re the American girl! Word travels fast.”

  I smiled. “Born and bred. But my birth mother was from here. I was adopted as a baby.”

  “Oh… who was your mum?” Paola asked.

  “Malva Stella.”

  “Oh, yes. She was my mamma’s friend. I’m so sorry… she died too soon. It was so sad.”

  “Thanks. Well, I never met her, and I only found out I was adopted a few days ago. It seems incredible to think, but it’s true.”

  “That must have been a shock,” Paola said. “Oh, and now you’re here all alone!”

  I shrugged. “Kind of used to it.”

  “No, wait,” she said, holding up a finger. “You’re not alone. Malva was Flora’s older sister, wasn’t sh— Oh.”

  “Yeah. We’re working on that.” I would not start complaining about Flora to a total stranger. Okay, technically, Flora was almost a total stranger too, but still.

  “Actually, believe it or not, Flora has a very sweet streak. She just… Well, she has demons.”

  I remembered the conversation with her earlier and nodded. “That she does. Anyway, I love this place. Alone or not, I’m having a great vacation, if you can call it that.”

  “I’m so glad! So that’s why you never visited before? Because you didn’t know—”

  Before I could reply, Michela leaned in to whisper something to Paola. Paola nodded, and allowed Michela to lead her away to another table.

  “Sorry, Callie! Work to do! Later,” she called over her shoulder.

  I liked Paola, but I was grateful not to continue that conversation. Alberto, who’d been quiet throughout our chat, gazed over the table he was manning. “You want to try something?”

  “Oh, yes, why not?” I said, looking for my wallet, but Alberto put a hand on mine and stopped me.

  “On me,” he said. “Choose whatever you like.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He smiled, patting my arm. “Of course! It’s a pleasure.”

  “Thank you!” I swept my gaze over the selection. “Wow. There’s so much! I couldn’t possibly choose!”

  “A bit of everything, then,” he said, and handed me a few small organza pouches, elegantly sealed with a ribbon and tiny flowers, full of chocolates.

  “Oh, my goodness! This will certainly keep me going for a while!”

  “When you try one, you’ll realize they won’t last a while.” He laughed. “Anyway, it seems you like it here.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s beautiful and so different to what I’m used to.”

  “Where are you from, exactly?”

  “Texas.”

  “Cowboy hats?” he said with a smile.

  “Of course! We all wear cowboy hats and line dance all day!” I rolled my eyes.

  “Just like we eat pizza and sing opera all day over here!” he said, laughing. “Well, maybe I could show you around a little?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said, and caught sight of Paola, who was busy at the next table, throwing furtive glances in our direction and smiling. Well, obviously she was smiling because we were at a party and all that – but it seemed to me that her expression was somehow linked to me and Alberto chatting. Was she hoping to set her brother up?

  I didn’t want to give him or Paola the wrong impression, so I turned to him quickly and said, “Well, actually, I’ll have a look around by myself. You take care of your stand! I’ll speak to you again later – and thanks for the chocolates.”

  He stammered a protest, but I didn’t reply. Instead, I made my escape as diplomatically as possible, choosing to go to another stand a few tables down.

  I was at a different table trying some incredible chocolate cream cakes, when I spotted Tommaso on the other side of the room.

  My heart smiled. And then I hastened to hide my delight – also, I probably had cream on my face!

  When he saw me, he raised a hand and gave me a shy smile. He didn’t come any closer, though. I remember how cold he’d suddenly been, earlier, and hesitated for a moment; but it was him who came to me. His mood seemed to have shifted again, thankfully.

  “Rissi.” The nickname he’d found for me made me smile. “You look beautiful.” Bellissima was the word he’d used, and for some reason it melted me. It sounded different to the way that Paola had said it. Maybe because Paola wasn’t a gorgeous six foot something black-haired man with the longest eyelashes…

  “Hey. Thank you. But it’s not me, really. It’s this dress.” I gave a little curtsy. “I found it in a closet at Firefly House. There’s lots of stuff that belonged to Malva and her – my – family. It looks almost untouched. Can you believe it?” I was rambling.

  “I beg to differ,” he said, and then he mumbled something else, something I couldn’t really make out.

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, I think it is you,” he mumbl
ed a bit more clearly, looking somewhere over my shoulder, out of the window, at his feet. One thing was sure: he was shy, just like Nonna Tina had said. And he wasn’t the only one… I was sure I was turning the color of a strawberry.

  “Oh. Well. Thanks. How did it go? The lawyer’s?”

  He shrugged. “No joy. Some key documents were destroyed, nothing we can do… surprise, surprise… I’m back to square one.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Mmmm. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You like cioccolata?”

  “I could live on it. Do you?”

  “Only dark and bitter.”

  “Like you,” I joked, and he hesitated for a moment, making me worry he’d taken what I’d said seriously, when I was just messing with him. But thankfully, he had a good sense of humor, as he’d proved already before.

  “Exactly.” He laughed. “Also, I never say no to a glass of wine and a little music.”

  I smiled. “Seconded.” He seemed to have thawed again. I wondered what had caused him being so offhand with me earlier. Probably just a moment.

  “Was Alberto flirting with you?” Tommaso asked suddenly.

  I shook my head. “Not really. He just offered to show me around. I bet he does that to all the tourists!”

  “Mmmm, well,” he said, and I followed his gaze across the room to the Alberto guy. He was still looking at me. He waved to Tommaso, and Tommaso waved back without much conviction; he leaned in and murmured, “Want to dance?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “The whole village will see us and talk about it.”

  “Well, let’s give them something to talk about!”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he took me by the waist. The touch of his fingers on my hips made me tingle. I was ready for him to step closer to me, to inhale his scent – smoky wood, I thought. His arms circled me and mine instinctively went around his neck. The music swirled about us, and then we began to move. He might have been a shy man in everyday life, but he wasn’t a shy dancer. I let myself get carried away by the swell of the song and the heady lure of this moment with Tommaso. I allowed myself be led by him, to respond to what moves he was making. I let all my tension go and dissolved into him. For a moment, my worries dissolved too, and nothing else seemed to matter except the two of us, there together on the dance floor.