The Mermaid Garden(153)
“Costanza, a mother,” Marina said wistfully. “I’m happy for her. Whatever became of the countess?”
“The countess.” He grimaced. “I loathed her, until my loathing grew so great that I could no longer bear to be in the same room. Her husband worked for my father for a while, but he was useless, and finally, when my father retired, I cut him loose. I bailed them out a few times until I lost patience. They live with Costanza in Rome, and she takes care of them. But the countess is old and unhappy, and her disappointment has made her ugly in every way.”
“She was always going to be unhappy. Materialistic people are never satisfied.”
“Costanza talked of you constantly. She missed you. I could never let on the extent that I missed you, too. I had to hide my sorrow in my work. I thought if I worked every hour God gave me, there would be no room to think of you.”
“Oh, Dante.”
“Perhaps Costanza sensed it and talked about you in the hope of making me happy, but it only made it worse, like rubbing my wound with sandpaper.”
“The only thing wrong with Costanza was her mother. When I arrived in England, I had no one. I pined for her, too.”
“I could never have been happy with Costanza, Floriana. I married her to please my father and to maintain some sort of link with you. I’ll never love anyone else but you.” He smiled at her forlornly. “The only one who knew the secrets of my heart was Mother, although we never discussed it.”
“Violetta. Is she well?”
“Yes, but in a world of her own. She doesn’t come here any more. She lives in Milan and rarely goes out. Tell me, do you have children?”
“No.”
He frowned. “No?”
“God punished me for giving away the one entrusted to my care.”
“That’s not true.”
She lowered her eyes, ashamed. “I turned my back on God.”
“But Floriana, you had no choice.”
“I should have fought harder for him.”
“You were a child yourself.”
“I begged to be allowed to keep him. I loved him with all my heart.” Her shoulders began to shake. “So I put the bracelet your mother gave me, and the ring, along with a letter from me, in a box and …”
He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. We’ll find him.”
She gripped his shirt and gasped for air. “I’ve never told anyone.”
“Not even your husband?”
“No one. I couldn’t speak of it. I ran away from myself, Dante—from my guilt.”
He held her tightly, and she shut her eyes. She remembered the little baby she had nursed against her breasts. The new soul she had watched as he lay sleeping, humbled by the miracle of his birth. She tried to picture his face but she couldn’t. As much as she tried, his face was veiled in mist, which grew denser the more she tried to lift it.
As the shadows lengthened and the light grew dim, they talked. She told him about her life in England and how Grey had appeared like a guardian angel to lift her out of her dark pit with love and understanding.
“I’ve never told him about my past. He doesn’t even know I am Italian. I lived with a foster mother who taught me English and helped me build a new life. I set about learning the language with such dedication that by the time I met Grey, I spoke English so well that he never suspected I was in hiding. I tried to look forward and become a different person. I thought if I left Floriana behind in Italy, I’d leave her pain there, too. I tried to forget our son. I tried to forget you, too, Dante.” She closed her eyes. “But the heart can never forget, and wounds never really heal completely.”
“So, what made you come back? Why, after all these years, did you choose now to come home?”
“Because I need help. You always said I could turn to you, no matter what.”
“You still can, Floriana.” She took a deep breath. But then something stopped her before she could ask. “What is it you need?”
She wiped her eyes and smiled to herself. “Nothing,” she replied firmly. “I don’t need anything at all.”
He frowned at her quizzically. “Are you sure? You know I’d do anything for you.”
She had thought the Polzanze was her life, but suddenly, in that joyous moment of self-discovery, she realized that bricks and mortar could never be more than bricks and mortar. Material things were meaningless without their associations; hence, the Polzanze was nothing without her longing.
She took his hand and held his eyes in her gaze. “Find our son, Dante, wherever he is.”
As they walked back inside, Dante put his hand in the small of her back. “Floriana, this has been one of the happiest days of my life.”