She sat on the bed and folded her arms. “All that matters is that I love you and our child.”
“But life is more complicated than that.”
“Only if you let it be.”
“I am my father’s heir.”
“Can’t you just walk away?”
“And what will we live on?”
“I’ve lived on nothing all my life, and I’ve been happy.”
“I have a responsibility to my parents. I am set to inherit my father’s company. I can’t throw it all away and ride off into the sunset. My father will disown me. My mother’s heart will break and I’ll have nothing. Don’t you see? I’ll lose everything.”
“You’ll only lose what doesn’t matter.”
Dante felt like a drowning man. He didn’t doubt his love for Floriana, but he did doubt his ability to stand up to his father. All his life he had done what was expected of him and earned Beppe’s love, which was entirely conditional. He held his father in the highest respect, but if he searched deep inside his soul where all truth lies hidden, he’d find the residue of fear that remained at the very bottom, left over from his boyhood, with the same old need to please. He cursed his weakness, but there was nothing he could do. Confiding in his father about Floriana was inconceivable. His mother would probably be more sympathetic, but even she, with her sentimental heart, could not condone marriage to Floriana, even if she were the right age.
Dante gave Floriana money to use the public telephone to call him, and promised that he would go away and think about how best to deal with the situation. However, he had no idea how he was going to resolve it. If only he could just turn his back on it all and return to his old life—but that possibility no longer existed. His love bound him to Floriana, and the knowledge that his child was growing inside her made walking away impossible. He was responsible for them both. Never before had he felt the weight of duty so heavily upon his shoulders.
He cursed himself for not having the courage to elope and start again in a new place. But marriage was impossible, whichever way he looked at it. He could set her up in a flat somewhere near Milan so she could give birth in secret, but then what? The future was grim for both of them. He stopped the car on the side of the road just outside Herba and put his head on the steering wheel, closing his eyes in desperation, wishing to lose himself. What had he been thinking? He should never have fallen in love with Floriana. It was doomed from the beginning. His mind whirred with images that grew large and distorted: the scandal, his father’s wrath, his mother’s disappointment, Floriana’s hopes dashed yet again. It was all too horrible to bear.
Then a tiny pinprick of hope glimmered through the darkness. He sat up and stared at it. The more he stared the bigger it got, until he was sure that light would show him the way. He turned the car round and drove back into Herba.
Father Ascanio was surprised to see Dante. The family had long gone back to Milan and didn’t usually return until the following summer. When he saw the young man’s stricken face, he was sure there had been a death in the family, and that Dante had come to inform him personally.
“My son, what has happened?”
“I need to speak with you urgently,” Dante replied.
“Of course. Please.” The priest led the way to the little chapel where, not so long ago, he had advised Floriana that nothing could come of her love. They sat down. Dante inhaled deeply. He noticed a faint smell of alcohol waft in from behind him and turned to make sure that they were alone. “How can I help you?” Father Ascanio asked, his tone soft and reassuring.
“I’m in terrible trouble, Father. I have sinned.” Dante put his head in his hands.
“Don’t be afraid. God forgives those who repent.”
“Oh, I do. I regret my transgression wholeheartedly.”
“Would you not prefer to use the confessional?”
He sat up and gazed at the priest in despair. “No. I need more practical help.”
“I see.”
“Father Ascanio, you have known me since I was a child.”
“I have.”
“And you have always guided me to the best of your ability, with the greatest wisdom and tact. Is that not so?”
“I have always done my best.”
“Well, I need your wisdom now, but I fear your judgment.”
“My son, I’m not here to judge you. That is not for me to do, but for God, in His wisdom. Tell me what troubles you have, and I will do my best to advise you.”
Dante swallowed hard. He could no longer look into the priest’s eyes and dropped his gaze onto the flagstone at his feet. “Floriana is pregnant.”