The Mermaid Garden(156)

She gazed into the azure sky, where a bird of prey circled silently on the wind, and felt an expansion in her chest, a sense of something greater than herself: a sense of God. Closing her eyes again and feeling that warm presence on her face, she let Him back into her heart. And she sent up a prayer for the only thing that really mattered now: her child.

When she stepped out onto the terrace, she found Dante and Rafa already enjoying a hearty breakfast. They were chatting away like old friends. Rafa noticed at once the change in Marina. She had a lightness of being that made her look younger, almost girlish.

After breakfast they returned to the car. The butler had put their bags in the boot and now stood holding the passenger’s-side door open. Dante suggested they drive into Herba, but Marina refused. She had seen enough.

She took his hand and quietly, so Rafa couldn’t hear, she whispered to him softly, “I’m not that girl anymore, Dante.”

His eyes grew foggy, and he squeezed her fingers. “But I’m the same boy who loves you.”

Rafa watched them embrace. They held each other tightly and for a long time. He turned away and cast his gaze into the coppice of pine trees, where a couple of squirrels were chasing each other up a skinny trunk, disappearing into the thatch of green needles. He felt a stab of jealousy and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

Dante did not want to let her go. She still looked the same, in spite of her honey-colored hair. When she had stepped out that morning, he had caught his breath at the sight of her, and had gripped the table as he was suddenly whisked back forty years. He regretted not having the courage to elope when he had had the chance all those years ago, and he regretted not trying harder to find her. He watched her climb into the car and waved as it motored slowly down the drive. He could still smell her scent on his skin and feel her soft body in his arms, and his longing surprised him, for surely too many years had gone by for him to yearn for her in that way. Fate had intervened and taken her from him once; now it took her from him again. But this time she wasn’t lost—and they had a son. He rubbed his chin. How he had ached for a son.

With a purposeful stride he climbed back up the steps into the house. “Lavanti, I’m going back to Milan,” he shouted to his butler, then disappeared into his office.

Marina glanced back one final time as the car swept through the gates of La Magdalena. She watched them close behind her, shutting on the past, relegating it to the attic of her mind to be boxed up and put away with the rest of Floriana’s life.

“You seem happier today,” Rafa commented, a little bitterly.

“I am,” she sighed. Rafa chewed on her words pensively. “But I didn’t get what I came for. I never asked.” She looked out of the window, at a mother with two small children wandering slowly down the road. “If I lose the Polzanze, so be it. It is only a house. I can take all the important things with me.” Because all the important things have been within me all along.

“I don’t suppose Grey knows that you speak fluent Italian.”

“No, he doesn’t. I have a great deal of explaining to do.”

“I suppose it would be presumptuous to ask you to explain to me?”

“It would, Rafa.” She looked down at her ring. “It is only fair that I come clean with my husband first. Then, I will come clean with all of you. I don’t want to hide who I am anymore.”

He frowned at her, feeling an odd sense of rejection. After that, neither spoke. They both stared out of the window, alone with their thoughts.


They arrived back at the Polzanze that evening. Grey, Clementine, Jake, Harvey, and Mr. Potter were all waiting in the conservatory to hear whether she had saved the hotel. Marina suddenly felt the heavy weight of responsibility, as if she had just donned a cloak of lead. So many depended on her and the Polzanze, and she had failed them. She looked at their eager faces and was suddenly deflated.

“I need to talk to Grey,” she said.

“Did you get it?” Clementine asked, unable to contain her impatience.

“No, I didn’t,” she replied.

The air sank around them like damp snow. She wanted to reassure them that it didn’t matter. But it did matter. It mattered terribly, to them.

Clementine pulled a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be okay,” she said, fighting tears. She hadn’t realized until now how much the Polzanze meant to her. She looked at Rafa, but he was unable to meet her eye. He looked so sad, as if the night in Italy had piled on a decade. She wanted to shake him. Didn’t he know by now how much she loved him?

Marina looked at her husband. “Grey, will you walk with me? There’s something I need to tell you.”