The Sunflower Girl

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “I probably should have let you drop me off farther back to avoid questions, but that’s okay. You can be the friend I’ve been telling them I’ve been going to see.”

  “Maybe I can meet your family someday—when you feel ready of course. I would love to meet your father. He sounds like someone I would get along with.”

  “I’ve thought that already as well.”

  Franco met Maria’s gaze. She waited. Was he, too, thinking that he didn’t want to part from her tonight? If only they could spend the entire night together.

  “I’ll wait until you step inside. Buona notte.”

  “Buona notte, Franco. Thank you for escorting me home—oh, and for the grappa.” She smiled.

  He stepped forward and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered back. She kissed him on the lips and didn’t care anymore if someone from her family was witnessing them from behind the window.

  She pulled away and began walking to her front door.

  “Maria?”

  She stopped walking and turned around. “Si?”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through what you went through today with that soldier. Again, if you change your mind about distributing the newspapers, I wouldn’t think less of you and neither would the others. I know I must be sounding like a parrot, but I really don’t want anything happening to you.”

  “Thank you for saying that, Franco. The feeling is mutual. I don’t want anything happening to you either. Promise me you’ll be careful, especially when you begin the more dangerous work.”

  Their eyes locked for a few seconds before Franco said, “I promise.”

  She waved again and walked to her front door. She could feel his eyes on her back up until she stepped inside, but she didn’t look at him again. Tears were now sliding down her face. The weight of all that had transpired today was too much for her. And the thought of something happening to Franco terrified her even more now that they had professed their love for each other. She walked over to the windows in her living room and peeked behind the sheer chiffon curtains. Franco wheeled her bicycle to the side of her house and perched it there. She realized she had forgotten to take the bike from him. He looked toward her house one last time. She stood to the side so he wouldn’t see she was spying on him. But she couldn’t help feeling as if he was looking right at her. He then walked away, whistling to himself as he placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. She waited until she could no longer hear his whistling, and then she went up to her bedroom.

  The deeper you enmesh yourself, the more there is no turning back.

  Once again, Michele’s words haunted her as she lay in bed. She couldn’t help thinking they applied not only to her Resistance work, but to her feelings for Franco as well.

  CHAPTER 23

  Anabella

  Pienza, 1970

  Anabella was sitting at her desk in her bedroom. She hadn’t sat at the desk since she was in high school. But it was no use lying in bed, waiting for sleep to overtake her. She had slept, at best, only a few hours each night since Mamma had forbidden her to see Dante again. Though only a couple of weeks had passed, to Anabella, it felt like months since she’d seen Dante. If only she could forget him and stop feeling this excruciating pain in her heart whenever she thought about him.

  Chiara had given Anabella a journal yesterday, telling her to use it to express her emotions. The day after the disastrous meeting between Dante and Mamma, Anabella had collapsed into Chiara’s arms when they were out tending to the roses.

  “I hate her! I hate her! She’s taken away from me the one person who has made me the happiest I’ve ever been.” Anabella was inconsolable as Chiara stroked her hair and back.

  “You don’t hate your mamma. She is just doing what she thinks is best for you. That has always been her intention where you are concerned.”

  Anabella furiously shook her head. “You know that’s not true. She is also thinking about herself. Mamma has never wanted me to have a life outside of the rose farm.” Anabella’s face twisted in disgust as she gestured toward the roses. “I used to think I was the luckiest person, living here surrounded by these beautiful gardens, but that was Mamma brainwashing me. She merely created a pretty prison for me, hoping I would never be curious about the world outside of our home. She wants me all to herself and always has. I see that so clearly now, Chiara. That is why she homeschooled me and didn’t let me interact with the children in town. Why she never encouraged me to take up a profession other than gardening or encouraged me to get married and have my own family. The only time she mentioned taking me somewhere to meet other people my age was a few weeks ago when she was getting suspicious as to why I’d lost interest in the farm and why my visits to Siena were taking longer than usual. She suggested I attend the dances the church holds every week.” Anabella laughed. “Again, her motivation wasn’t to help me meet other people, but rather it was to control me and ensure I wasn’t straying too far from her.”

  Chiara’s eyes met Anabella’s. She remained silent. Anabella knew Chiara agreed with her, but she was a good person and would not speak badly of her employer.

  “You must compose yourself, Anabella. Falling apart will do no one any good. Your mother just needs some time to get used to the fact that you are now a grown woman and can make your own decisions. You do know that, don’t you?” Chiara tilted Anabella’s chin up so that their gazes met again.

  “How can I make my own decisions? I have no skills to find work outside of here, thanks to Mamma. She provides for me.”

  “Maybe you just need to have a talk with her. Not now. Wait until she’s had some time to calm down. Your mother is a good woman despite her having sheltered you so much. And if you really want to find work outside of the farm, it’s not too late. You can go to school, learn a trade. You are still so young and have your entire life ahead of you.”

  “I don’t know, Chiara. It all feels so hopeless. But I will think more about what you’ve said.”

  As Anabella’s thoughts returned to the present, she tapped her pen against her journal. She decided to write to Dante so she could tell him fully how she felt about him and how much she missed him.

  Dear Dante,

  I wanted to tell you again, if only just on paper, I love you. These past couple of weeks that we’ve been apart have only reaffirmed my feelings for you. It has been sheer torture not seeing you . . . not posing for you and seeing the wonderful paintings you create . . . not being in your arms. Is this really the end?

  We should have waited before talking to my mother. Still, after her reaction that day, I don’t see how she would have ever given us her blessing. Have you forgotten about me already, Dante? Was I just a passing fancy? Do you still dream about me at night? Or has another woman entered your dreams, making you forget all about me? Do you feel foolish for having ever loved me—a naïve woman who has seen so little of the world?

  I’ve wanted to call you, to hear your voice again. But I’m too afraid of Mamma finding out. I feel her eyes on me more now, and I can barely stand being in the same room with her. My anger toward her seems to grow each day. The meals we share are excruciating. I can barely swallow my food. Although she has tried to make conversation with me, I refuse to engage with her. I have never been so upset with Mamma, and this hurts me greatly, too. Why can’t I have all of the people I love in my life?

  I will never forget you, Dante. But I understand if you have chosen to move on without me.

  Love,

  Anabella

  She reread the letter three times. Each time, she felt an overwhelming urge to rip the page out and mail the letter to Dante. Why should she keep it hidden in her journal? She could give the letter to Chiara and ask her to mail it for her.

  A light beaming from outside of Anabella’s window startled her. The light flashed a few times through her window. She stood up and walked over to the window, staying to the side so she wouldn’t be seen. Her heart
raced as she noticed the outline of a figure down below aiming what looked to be a flashlight at her window. Was it a thief? She had to warn Mamma. But just as she was about to hurry away from the window, the light flickered on the figure’s face.

  Anabella gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. She pressed her face up against the glass to be sure. It was Dante!

  She opened her window. He smiled at her and waved, holding his index finger up against his lips.

  She smiled back, but was terrified. If Bruno was outside he would start barking once he noticed Dante’s presence. She couldn’t remember if she had let Bruno in before she went to bed. Some nights, he preferred to sleep on their porch.

  “Stay where you are. I’ll come out. I don’t want my dog to see you if he is outside,” she whispered as loudly as possible, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to reach her mother’s bedroom, which was down the hall.

  Putting her robe on, she remained barefoot as she quietly tiptoed down to the first floor. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Bruno was deep in sleep in his basket by the fireplace. Her heart was racing as she made her way to the door that led out to the back of the house.

  Dante had turned the flashlight off and was pacing back and forth. When he saw Anabella, he walked quickly to her.

  “Anabella,” he whispered before taking her in his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  She closed her eyes, taking comfort in being in Dante’s arms again as she hugged him back tightly. They remained like that for a few moments before Anabella pulled back.

  “I can’t stay out here too long in case Mamma wakes.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to give you any more trouble than I already have, but I had to see you.”

  “No, I’m glad you came. I wanted to call you, but was too afraid.”

  “I sensed that. So you are happy to see me?”

  “Of course. I even wrote a letter to you, just a few moments before I noticed your flashlight beaming through my window. But I wasn’t sure if I was going to have Chiara mail it for me.”

  “Why not?”

  Anabella shrugged her shoulders. “I was afraid you had already forgotten about me and . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Dante lifted the tip of her chin with his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. “And what?”

  “And met someone else.” Anabella lowered her face as she blushed. She was grateful it was dark and he couldn’t see the flush in her cheeks.

  “Are you crazy? I told you I loved you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. How could I just forget you like that? Have I come across as a reckless scoundrel to you? Do you think this was just some game for me?” Dante sounded hurt.

  “No, of course not. You have been the utmost gentleman with me.” She smiled.

  Dante’s face relaxed. “How I’ve missed seeing your smile.”

  “You took a chance coming here, and what were you thinking flashing that light in my window? You didn’t know which was my bedroom. You could’ve flashed it in my mother’s bedroom.”

  “I did know which was your bedroom.”

  Anabella frowned.

  “I’ve come by a few times early in the morning. I was watching through a clearing in the ivy that covers the fence to the back of the rose gardens. You must think I’m a creep, but you have to understand, Anabella, I was going crazy not seeing you. Part of me hoped I could get your attention and talk to you, but when I did see you, I was terrified of creating more problems between you and your mother. Guilt has wracked me that I didn’t listen to you when you warned me that it was too soon to meet your mother. I’m sorry.”

  Anabella reached up and placed her hand on Dante’s cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I gave in after all and brought you here. Besides, eventually I would have had to tell her about us. We couldn’t keep sneaking around. She would have had the same reaction even if I brought you months later. Mamma has always been afraid of losing me. I see that clearly now. She has always acted as if everything she does is in my best interests, but it’s only in her best interests.”

  “You don’t truly believe that. Your mother does love you, and she has provided for you all these years and on her own. That was not easy. I know from my own experience with my mother having to raise me alone, although it was a bit easier for her because she had my grandmother to help her. But your mother had no one. I’m sure your mother has her reasons for sheltering you so much.”

  “You are too kind, Dante. Most other people would be mad at her for how she treated you when you first met her.”

  “Naturally, I was upset that she didn’t give us a chance and that she immediately asked me to stop seeing you. But I don’t hate her. How could I? After all, she raised you into the beautiful, caring woman you are. And you must give her credit as well.”

  “I suppose.” Anabella nodded somberly.

  “Is there somewhere we can go, away from the house, just for a few minutes so we don’t have to whisper?”

  Anabella glanced up nervously at the second-story windows.

  “All right, but again, we mustn’t be too long.”

  “Is your mother a light sleeper?”

  “No, but still, we must be careful.”

  She took Dante by the hand and led him away from the house. Soon they were walking through the rose gardens with only the moonlight and a few lights that were posted along the property. Dante inhaled deeply the sweet perfume of the roses. This was an idyllic place. He could see why Anabella had loved growing up here. But he sensed that, now that she had discovered more of a world outside the farm, she was becoming weary of her home. Sadness filled him for a moment. He didn’t want her to have bad memories of her childhood sanctuary or of her mother. But he could hear the disdain in Anabella’s voice when she had spoken about her mother’s selfishness. Time was what Signora Ferraro needed. He didn’t know her, but surely she could not be mad at her daughter forever. Anabella was her only relative. No wonder she had protected her so fiercely and was so fearful of Anabella’s having more of her own life. It was very clear now to him that Signora Ferraro was deeply terrified of losing her only child. Guilt began to gnaw at him, giving him doubts as to his motives for coming here tonight. But he saw how happy Anabella was to see him, and she, too, had expressed to him how she’d missed him. How could he deny himself her love? And was it fair for Anabella to deny herself a chance at happiness and love all because of her mother?

  Anabella stopped in front of a pagoda. A semicircular bench was housed inside of it, and a rose trellis wove throughout the wooden structure.

  “We can talk here.” She stepped inside the pagoda and sat on the bench. Dante joined her.

  “This is nice.”

  “Chiara suggested it to my mother a couple of years ago. We are getting more requests from the locals who get married and want to have their photographs taken on the rose farm. Chiara thought this would be a nice addition and would encourage more of our buyers who purchase their wedding flowers from us to also have their photos taken here. We charge them a small fee for doing so if they have also purchased their roses here. But we also get couples who do not buy our flowers for their wedding, yet want to use the property for photos. We charge them more than the customers who buy our flowers. Chiara has a good head for business.”

  “That is smart. You are close to her despite the age difference.”

  “You can tell?”

  “I observed the two of you when I was spying through the fence. You seem more like a pair of close confidantes rather than colleagues.”

  “You know I sort of felt as if I was being watched on one of those mornings. If only I had known you were on the other side of the fence.”

  “Believe me, it was killing me, not letting my presence be known to you, as was the thought of having you so close but not being able to kiss or touch you. I knew I couldn’t act impulsively and needed to figure out first what to do about our situation. That is why I am here.”

  Dante stood up. He paus
ed for a moment before dropping to his knee and taking Anabella’s hand. Before Anabella could ask him what he was doing, she felt something cold being slipped onto her finger. It felt like a ring. Had he bought her a gift? They were farther away from where the lights shone on the property and were more cloaked in darkness now.

  “Anabella, will you marry me?”

  She gasped as it finally dawned on her why he had slipped a ring onto her finger. How naïve was she? She had read books and seen old movies in which men proposed to the women they loved by getting down on their knees. It was just that she was shocked. Perhaps because she had never thought marriage would be part of her life or that she would even meet someone whom she would fall in love with. Tears came to her eyes as she realized once again how much she’d been sheltered and how she had never imagined a life outside of her home and away from her mother. She became so overcome with her emotions that her tears turned into sobs.

  “Please, Anabella. Stop crying. It is all right if you are not ready. We can take our time.”

  She shook her head, doing her best to compose herself. Through her tears, she managed to choke out, “I do want to marry you.”

  Dante dropped her hand and sighed deeply. He looked off to the side as he took a deep breath.

  “Are you sure?” His voice cracked, and Anabella wondered if he were also about to cry.

  “Si. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. It’s just I was stunned. Never in my dreams did I think I would meet someone like you and that I would have the chance to get married. You see, Dante, I never really have made dreams for myself.”

  “I know. I sensed that from what you said during one of our early conversations. But you can dream now—all you want. In fact, I want to show you more of what is out there beyond Pienza and even Siena. Come with me to Florence. An art dealer has expressed interest in my work—actually, my paintings and drawings of you—and he is going to give me an exhibit in one of the galleries in Florence. We can get married in Florence—or even in Venice. It’s just a few hours away by train.”