Dante, who had been waiting for her, ran out of the house to meet her. When he saw her stricken face, he gathered her into his arms.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
Defeated by the strength of his concern, Floriana collapsed into sobs. She was too distraught to speak.
“Come, let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.” He led her through the trees and sat down beneath a tall umbrella pine. “Is it your father?”
Floriana shook her head. “I wish it was!”
“Then what is it?”
“Father Ascanio warned me that we have no future together.”
Dante was appalled. “He warned you what?”
“That we come from such different worlds, and I am so young, that it will end in September …”
“What does he know?” Dante was furious, which made Floriana feel a lot better.
“He said your father would never give us his blessing.”
Dante held her upper arms and looked deep into her eyes. “Listen to me, Floriana. No one is going to tear us apart. Do you understand? I love you. I’ll never love anyone else, ever. You leave my father to me. Don’t listen to Father Ascanio. He’s never been in love, so what does he know?” Floriana smiled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “There, that’s better. If he wasn’t a priest, I’d go and have it out with him in the square for meddling in what does not concern him.”
“He was only doing what he believed was right.”
“The world has changed. I can’t believe he thinks two people can’t be together because of their class. He’s an old fossil. Trust me, Floriana. You and I have a beautiful future together. So what if you’re young? You’ll grow up. It’s nearly your birthday.”
“The fourteenth of August.”
“How shall we celebrate?”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.” He got to his feet and pulled her up by the hand. “Come on. We’re getting out of here. I don’t want to see you sad again.”
“I’m better now.”
“Good. Don’t ever suffer alone, Floriana. Always come to me, because I’ll be here for you. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Now, where’s Good-Night? He’ll be very cross if we leave him behind.”
Floriana believed Dante when he said that they would always be together. If he loved her, then nothing could stand in their way, because Dante was the master of his own destiny. She pushed her fears to the back of her mind where they lay in shadow for the time being, ignored.
The sands of summer slowly seeped away with each hour, and Floriana and Dante spent as much time together as they could. When she met Costanza at La Magdalena, they’d sit and chat, and Floriana would share the details of her romance, which delighted Costanza, not least because she knew how much it would annoy her mother, were she to find out.
Costanza had won a few admirers of her own. There was tall, dark, brooding Eduardo from Rome; fair, blue-eyed Alessandro from Milan; and handsome Eugenio from Venice. But no one was quite good enough for the countess. She had her eye on the biggest prize of all. Because of this, Costanza couldn’t help but divulge the truth to her mother, although she knew that in so doing, she would put her friend’s romance at risk.
They were in the back of the car, returning home from a lunch party where Eugenio had taken Costanza into a corner and talked to her for most of the afternoon. Costanza rather liked Eugenio. He was quiet and intellectual, with a sweet smile. His family were well known and established, living in a beautiful palazzo in the center of Venice. But this did not seem enough for the countess.
“Mother, I’m very young,” Costanza said. “I have years ahead to meet the man I’m going to marry. Can’t I just have some fun like Floriana?”
The countess flinched at the mention of Floriana. “How is she having any fun?”
“Because she is in love with Dante.”
“Really, that’s absurd.” The countess laughed scornfully.
“Actually, you’re wrong. He’s in love with her, too.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I am very serious. They’ve been seeing each other all summer.”
“But she’s a child.”
“He’ll wait and marry her when she’s older.”
The countess gnawed at her thumbnail. “I’d have thought a young man like Dante would go for something a little more sophisticated than a local stray.”
“She’s pretty and funny. I’m not at all surprised that he loves her; everyone loves her but you.”
The countess was stunned by the aggression in her daughter’s voice. She had never dared speak out like this before. But the countess was a shrewd woman. She knew that fighting with Costanza would only push her away.
“Darling, I know she’s pretty and funny, and you’re wrong about me disliking her. I’m only protecting you, as any mother would do in the same circumstances. Look what fun you’ve had with Giovanna this summer. Do you think you would have enjoyed all those parties if you were still attached to Floriana? I don’t think so. You and Giovanna share a deep bond because you have so much in common. You have nothing in common with Floriana anymore, except memories, which you must treasure because they’re special. But you must also be savvy enough to look forward to your future. I like Eugenio very much. He’s a delightfully charming young man and a nice escort for you. If you want to be friends with him, you have my blessing. I only want your happiness.” She took Costanza’s hand. “And I only want you to have what you deserve and nothing less.”
Costanza was suitably wooed. “I know, Mamma, and I’m grateful.”
“I’m old now, I don’t have to think about myself. I wake up every morning and think, what can I do for Costanza today?”
“You’re very unselfish.”
“That’s what motherhood is all about: putting one’s children above oneself. So, this romance between Floriana and Dante—is it really that serious?”
“Well, they are joined at the hip. They spend every available moment together.”
“And what do Beppe and Violetta think about it?”
“Giovanna says that her mother loves Floriana very much, as a daughter even, but that her father barely notices her.”
“Beppe would never allow his son to marry a girl like Floriana.”
“Perhaps they’ll elope.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dante isn’t going to throw his inheritance away.”
“Giovanna says her brother is besotted.”
“Besotted he may be, but if his father is against the union, which I have no doubt he will be, then their plans are thwarted before they’ve even begun.”
“Poor Floriana,” Costanza sighed.
“It’s a beautiful love story, but it has an unhappy ending, as the best love stories do. She’ll get over it. She’s a strong girl. I suspect she’ll end up marrying someone in Herba and forgetting all about Dante. Really, it was a hopeless dream from the very beginning.”
“Can’t she go and live in Milan?”
“And do what? Stay with whom? Of course she can’t. I imagine that Dante will come to his senses once he is back in his world. Can you imagine Floriana in Milan? It’s unthinkable. No, this is a lovely summer romance, but it will end. It pains me to say it, really it does.” She put a hand on her heart and pulled a sad face. “I can’t bear to think of little Floriana suffering after all she has already been through, but it is inevitable. You would be a good friend to her if you were able to warn her.”
“I couldn’t do that!”
“Then leave it to Fate.” Or me, the countess thought maliciously.
When Dante told his mother that Floriana’s birthday was fast approaching, Violetta decided to throw her a surprise dinner party with the family. Beppe was conveniently in Milan, giving her free reign to spoil Floriana. The table was set up on the terrace with a silver balloon attached to the back of each chair. A cake was made in the image of Good-Night, and tall flutes were arranged for champagne. Violetta was sure
that Floriana had never been given a birthday party and wanted to make it special—overcompensating, perhaps, for the disappointment that would surely strike come September. She bought her a gold bracelet, which rattled with little charms, and took great care in wrapping it with pretty pink paper and ribbon. The chef cooked a buffet-style dinner that was laid out like a banquet.
Dante kept Floriana away, taking her down to the beach until it was time to return to the villa. She knew he had a surprise for her, and she was sure he was going to take her out to dinner at a fine restaurant. She had put on her best dress especially. But when they returned to La Magdalena, she realized that he had planned something else and hadn’t a clue what it could be.
They walked through the house hand in hand. As they entered the drawing room she saw the table and balloons through the French doors and put her hand to her mouth in astonishment. Outside, the family awaited her: Giovanna and Costanza, Damiana and her two best girl friends, Rosaria and Allegra, and Violetta, gift in hand and smile lighting up her delicate face.
Floriana’s fears were now swept away for good. Violetta could not have given her blessing more clearly had she voiced it out loud. With tears in her eyes and pink-cheeked with pleasure, Floriana approached the table. She noticed everything: the little flowers scattered over the tablecloth, the gifts piled onto her plate, beautifully wrapped with pretty paper and ribbons tied in bows, and the bounty of food. All for her.
Violetta embraced her affectionately and held out her gift. “Darling child,” she said, “you deserve this more than anyone I know. I wish you happiness and health and many fruitful years ahead.” She briefly touched Floriana’s cheek with the back of her hand, gazing onto her face as a mother to a daughter.
Floriana sat down and opened the gift. She pulled out the bracelet and stared at it in disbelief. Violetta attached it to her wrist. “I chose the charms individually. Look, here’s Good-Night, an F for your name, a bird, a cricket, a flower, a little house that opens to reveal two hearts, a church, and a cross.”
Floriana laughed through her tears and shook her head, and everyone laughed, too, realizing her emotions prevented her from speaking.
She opened her other gifts: a dress from Damiana, a necklace from Giovanna, a poetry book from Rosaria, and a bottle of Yves Saint-Laurent perfume from Allegra. The countess had taken Costanza shopping and bought Floriana a pretty leather handbag with a matching purse, leaving Costanza in no doubt that her mother was really very fond of her.
Drunk on happiness, Floriana sipped champagne and ate from the delicious spread of food. Dante sat beside her, squeezing her hand under the table every now and then to remind her that he loved her. As the light faded and the candlelight grew stronger, the chef stepped out of the house with the cake. The table cheered at the sight of Good-Night re-created in sponge and icing, and Floriana clapped her hands in delight. She blew out the sixteen candles and reluctantly plunged the knife into the dog’s paw, closing her eyes to make a wish.
Violetta knew what she was wishing for, and her pleasure was at once marred with apprehension. She wished this night could go on forever, then no one would get hurt.
But time ticked on without consideration for Violetta’s feelings, and at the end of the evening Dante drove Floriana home.
They stopped in a secluded place, overlooking the sea, and Dante pulled a little box out of his breast pocket. “And this is my gift to you,” he said, handing it to her.
“What is it?” she asked, turning it over.
“Open it and see.” Floriana did as she was told and carefully opened the wrapping. Inside was a little red box. With trembling fingers she lifted the lid to reveal an eternity ring glittering with white diamonds. Without a word he lifted it from the velvet cushion and took her hand in his. “We’re too young to marry, Floriana, but with this ring I promise you that I will love you for eternity.” He solemnly slipped it onto the third finger of her right hand.
Floriana gasped and watched it sparkle like little stars in the moonlight. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, it’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. “Thank you, Dante. I’ve had the most wonderful day. The best day I’ve ever had in my life. I won’t ever forget it.”
“This is only the beginning, piccolina. I’m going to have such pleasure in spoiling you.”
When Floriana returned home, there was no one to share her day with. Her father slept noisily in the room next door, and Signora Bruno’s apartment was dark. So, she sat by the window and gazed up at the stars. She wondered whether the same moon was shining down upon her mother and whether she ever looked up at it and thought of her.
“Mamma,” she said softly, “I’d like to tell you about Dante …”
26.
As September drew closer, like a river flowing inescapably towards a sharp waterfall, Dante began to feel the cold chill of the approaching descent. The summer had been a blissful plateau of long, lazy days in the sunshine, romantic drives through the Tuscan countryside, idle walks up and down the beach, and wishes tossed into the poppy fields like magical seeds to flower into happy endings. But now those poppies had withered back into the ground, and the last days of August finally drained away. Beppe summoned Dante to Milan.
Dante didn’t know how to say good-bye to Floriana. He loved her with all his heart and soul, but he hadn’t considered the practicalities of sustaining a long-distance relationship. He wished he could take her with him to Milan but that was as impossible as his father giving his consent to marry her. Until she was twenty-one they were bound by law to his command—and even then, he couldn’t imagine disobeying his father. In his daydreams, he swept her into his arms and ran off with her, to marry in some foreign country far away where no one could stop them. But they were only fantasies. The reality remained: Dante had to go to Milan to work with his father, and he loved his home and family too much to elope.
The day before his departure he found Floriana at home, alone. Her father was out, or slumped against a wall somewhere. Signora Bruno let him in and showed him up to her small apartment. At first Floriana was mortified that he had witnessed her poverty, but her mortification quickly dissolved when she realized he had come to say good-bye.
Fearful that her father might suddenly appear, she took him into her bedroom where they could speak in private. The room was small and simple, with a large cross on the white wall behind the bed and cool floor tiles beneath their feet. A chest of drawers stood opposite the iron bed, and the window was wide open, but neither was aware of the sounds of the town that blew in on the breeze.
They remained a moment staring at each other, suddenly daunted by the scale of all that stood between them. The languid summer days seemed far away now, gone with their carefree laughter and courageous dreams, and they searched each other’s eyes for confirmation that their love could be nurtured, like hands cupped around a fragile flame as the wind blows closer.
He pulled her into his arms and clung to her. “I’ll write and drive down as often as I can,” he explained, closing his eyes and savoring the vanilla scent of her skin with a sharp sense of longing for what was soon to be lost.
“I’ll wait for you, Dante,” she replied. “Whatever happens, I’ll wait.”
Those words “whatever happens” struck his heart with the full force of their implication, and he let his grief consume him. He no longer thought rationally. He imagined her alone in Herba, without anyone to protect her from the lurid intentions of malevolent men. The thought of her vulnerable to predators filled him with a raging jealousy and an unbearable sense of helplessness.
Dizzy with homesickness, he let his passion carry him away. He kissed her deeply, and she held him tighter than she had ever held him. A wild, uncontrollable desire overcame him, so that his instincts took over where his reason should have prevailed. He carried her onto the bed and lay down beside her. Floriana was
willing to give herself to Dante, to do whatever he wanted. Without a mother to guide her, she barely knew what was happening, aware only of the deliciously warm feeling that saturated her loins as he ran his hands over her dark and secret places. And then he was inside her, moaning as he moved rhythmically to his own escalating pleasure. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as he thrust deeper, claiming her for himself. Floriana bit her lip and withstood the initial discomfort, sure that this union would tie them together for all eternity.
When it was over, they lay entwined. Dante trembled with remorse, suddenly aware of what he had done. Floriana smiled in her ignorance, flushed with happiness, for now they really belonged to each other in all but name.
“This must remain a secret,” he said seriously. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“I’m glad you did, Dante. I gave myself to you willingly.”
“But you’re only sixteen. I could go to prison!”
“I won’t tell a soul. It’ll be our secret, I promise.”
Encouraged by her words, he kissed her forehead. “Now you’re really mine.”
“I always have been. From the moment you let me into your gardens, I was yours.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her again, pulling her closer.
“Don’t be sorry. Isn’t that the way it should be?”
Dante didn’t know, having never deflowered a woman before. As reality shone an unforgiving light onto his recklessness, he was left with the suffocating sense of having made a very deep commitment. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly and kissed her temple, whispering “I love you,” over and over again.
Then he was gone.
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