“Try again.”
He tossed another ball. She drew her racket back and hit it. He pulled a face. “This won’t do.”
“You’re just a very good teacher.” He threw another ball, this time on her backhand. She missed.
“You haven’t taught me that stroke!”
“Rules are rules, and you have to forfeit a kiss!” Jubilantly, he jumped over the net and lifted her off her feet, pressing his lips to hers.
“If you do this every time I miss a ball, I’m never going to learn how to play,” she protested, coming up for air.
“That was never my intention.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No, I just wanted to get you on your own.”
“Aren’t there simpler ways of doing that?”
“I couldn’t think of one.”
“I can.” He put her down, and she took him by the hand. “Let’s take a walk.”
Down on the beach she knew so well, she led him to a little inlet sheltered from the wind. They sat together, watching the speed boats slicing through the water in the distance.
“Now I truly have you all to myself,” he said, drawing her into his arms. Floriana made no protest this time. She wrapped her arms around him and let him kiss her.
That evening, as Floriana and Costanza walked through the poppy field, Floriana’s happiness spilled over into her walk, causing her to bounce with each step. Her face glowed, and her arms swung freely at her sides. Every now and then she bent down to pick the wildflowers that grew among the long grasses.
Costanza was still distressed about the lost invitation. Could her mother really have been so devious? What harm could Floriana have done by turning up at a party? She didn’t understand, and yet, she felt desperately guilty, as if she had in some way conspired against her friend. She regretted her decision to let Floriana go and decided to make it up to her somehow, as soon as she was in a position to do so.
“I’m in love,” Floriana sighed, unable to keep her feelings secret.
“I know you are,” Costanza replied.
“And he loves me back.”
“Well, he’s very fond of you. I know that.”
“No, he loves me. He’s told me.”
Costanza stopped walking. “What? He’s told you he loves you?”
“Yes. Last night I came to spy on the wall, and he found me there. We walked and talked for hours and then …” She blushed, almost too afraid to articulate it. “He kissed me.”
Costanza was astonished. “He kissed you?”
“Yes. It was divine!” Floriana began to twirl round and round with her arms out. “God heard my prayers and answered them. I love Dante. I love him I love him I love him, and I don’t care who knows it.”
Infected by her friend’s exuberance, Costanza began to laugh. “I don’t believe it. But he’s so much older than you.”
“What does that matter? Love has no boundaries!”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. If he loves you back, then you will marry him. You’ll have a jewelry box much bigger than Mother’s.” That thought gave Costanza a strange sense of satisfaction.
“I don’t want a jewelry box. I just want him. I have nothing but love, and I’m the happiest girl in the world!”
Costanza took Floriana’s hand, and they ran down the field together. “Then you shall have him!” Costanza shouted, and they both laughed until they were out of breath and had to stop.
Costanza accompanied Floriana to church. Floriana wanted to light another candle, in gratitude, Costanza in remorse. She’d never betray her friend again, so help her God. Padre Ascanio was in the nave, preparing for Mass, shadowed by Father Severo, the sacristan. When he saw the girls, Padre Ascanio wandered over to greet them, his robes polishing the stone floor as he swept across it. He had always kept a close eye on Floriana, as was his duty as shepherd of his flock. He had listened to her in the confessional every week, pouring out her hopes and dreams, her little heart so full of faith, her spirit unshakable. Now she lit her candle with her eyes closed, a beatific expression on her face; he knew something good had happened.
“Hello, my children,” he said softly.
“Hello, Padre Ascanio,” said Costanza. She flushed guiltily and lowered her gaze, expecting the priest to know her innermost thoughts.
Floriana finished her prayer and opened her eyes. “Good evening, Father.”
“God is delighted by your happiness,” he said with a smile.
“I am happy, Father,” Floriana replied. “I’m grateful, too. He has answered my prayer.”
Father Ascanio frowned. Had her mother returned after all these years? Or had the young Dante Bonfanti reciprocated her love? Father Ascanio knew all the secrets in Herba—and Father Severo knew all Father Ascanio’s.