I shake my head, disgusted with myself. I’m being silly. Carlo loves me. I have never been surer of anything in my life.
Then why can’t I stop thinking about the gorgeous blonde whose room is right next to the one where Carlo will be spending the night?
The following morning, a small group surrounds Nonna Lucia’s bed as the local priest administers last rites. Carlo is much the way I left him last night, sitting beside Nonna and holding her hand. He looks at her desperately, as if he is willing her to wake up and see that he has finally come back home. But I fear she will not do so before she dies.
Signore Conti stands next to Carlo. His face looks very grave. Gaetano and Grazia are also there. Not surprisingly, Nonna Lucia was a favorite with several of the employees at the Villa Carlotta. Grazia keeps dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. A few of Carlo’s cousins are also present as well as a couple of neighbors. Of course, Gemma is there. Her head is bowed solemnly, and her hands are crossed in prayer. I can see her lips moving silently.
I should be praying for Nonna Lucia’s soul as well instead of glowering at Gemma. But every time I try to redirect my thoughts, they just return to Gemma.
After the priest finishes performing the last rites, everyone leaves except for Carlo, Signore Conti, Gemma, and me. Gemma starts telling funny anecdotes about Nonna from when she and Carlo were children. So they’ve known each other that long, I note to myself. Carlo laughs. Signore Conti joins in with favorite memories he has of Nonna. I feel very awkward, as if I’m intruding on their private moment. They don’t even seem to notice I’m standing there. I leave the room and go outside, taking a walk through the hotel’s gardens.
I see clusters of lavender and chamomile growing in abundance. Looking over my shoulder, I walk over and pull a bunch of the herbs so I can make my healing salve. Hiding the herbs in my bra, I smile, feeling a small sense of satisfaction that I am taking something from Signore Conti.
“Buongiorno.”
I start at the sound of the voice. Turning around, I relax when I see it’s only Teresa, the singer.
“Buongiorno.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“That’s all right.”
“Your secret is safe with me. I’ve been guilty of not only taking some of the chamomile to make my tea, but also a few of the flowers. They’re my weakness.” Teresa smiles.
“I love flowers, too.”
“I saw you watching me last night during my performance. You should come by tonight.”
“I’ll try, but I might not be able to get away.”
“Nonna Lucia. I know. Where are my manners? My name is Teresa. And you must be Sarina, my predecessor.” Teresa holds her hand out, and I shake it.
“I only sang here for a short time.”
“Yes, but you left quite an impression. All of the hotel employees told me about you and your singing. I’d love to hear you sing some time. Maybe if you stop by tonight, you can perform a song or two.”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate, but thank you.”
“You’re afraid of Signore Conti, aren’t you?” Teresa’s left eyebrow arches, and a look of scorn crosses her face. Has she already formed a low opinion of Signore Conti?
“I no longer work for him. I don’t think he would take too kindly to my singing.”
“What can he do? Fire you?” Teresa laughs.
“It’s a bit more complicated.”
“His son. I know all about it.”
“Who has been telling you so much about me?”
“I’m sorry. But you know how it is. People gossip. Don’t be upset. Grazia told me how much all the hotel employees loved you. Everyone guessed that Carlo left to be with you. I’m sure it is no surprise to you that the employees detest Signore Conti. But everyone has spoken highly of his son and how well he treated them while he was here.”
I nod my head. “I noticed when I was working here that Signore Conti didn’t treat his employees well. For the most part, I managed to escape his temper because I brought in a large crowd due to my singing, and I also offered tarot card readings. So I made a lot of money for him. The only thing he did that made me feel slightly uncomfortable was to change my wardrobe and ask that I wear a Sicilian folk costume. I didn’t mind that much. It was a beautiful outfit. But Carlo became livid and felt that his father was pulling my strings and trying to put me in my place, since we know Signore Conti suspected we were romantically involved.”
“And Carlo was right. There is nothing wrong with wearing the clothes of our ancestors, especially since I have heard you also sing beautiful folk songs. But Signore Conti was trying to show you that you were nothing more than a peasant and needed to be grateful that he was employing you. He wanted you to feel lower and perhaps make you question being with Carlo.”
Teresa’s words sting, though I know they are true, especially in light of my confrontation with Signore Conti last night. He wasted no time before reminding me I was beneath his son by saying I was a gypsy.
“You love Carlo very much. I see how pained you are over this talk of his father.”
My eyes fill with tears. I fight them back.
Teresa walks over and places her hand around my shoulders.
“You must be strong, no matter what happens. Don’t let that wicked man get to you. And don’t abandon your singing.”
“How long have you been singing?”
“Just for the past ten years since my husband died. Well, at least singing in public. I’ve sung since I was a little girl.”
“So have I. When I got the job singing at the Villa Carlotta, I couldn’t believe it. I miss it so much.”
“Where are you living now?” Teresa asks me.
“Lipari.”
“Surely, they must need singers in Lipari with all the restaurants and wealthy tourists who want entertainment?”
“I have had a hard time finding work as a singer there. I’m beginning to think they’re just interested in hiring male performers. When Carlo and I return to Lipari, he will ask his boss if I can sing for free. It would be a way to continue singing until I can find someone who will employ me again.”
“That is good. But remember why you first began to sing. Remember the troubles that led you to find solace in your singing. Something tells me you have not been singing at all recently, even when you are just alone taking a bath or going about your daily routine.”
“Are you a clairvoyant?” I laugh.
“I have been down a very similar road to yours, Sarina. I, too, came from a very humble background. I also ran away from home, but I was a few years older than you. When I married and had children, I sang to them. Then when my husband died unexpectedly, I sang on the street. A nightclub owner saw me and offered me work.”
I’m still amazed at how much Grazia told Teresa about my life. I should be mad at Grazia for gossiping about me behind my back, but part of me is glad Teresa knows what I’ve been through and to hear we have so much in common.
“Thank you for your kind words.”
“Non è niente. It’s nothing. Now if you want to grab anything else from the garden, I suggest you do it now while I keep an eye out for the ogre.”
“You’re too much. I think I have everything I need for now.”
We head back indoors, and I agree to have an espresso with Teresa at the bar. After all, no one is looking for me—not even Carlo.
A week has passed since Carlo and I returned to Taormina. It has been grueling to say the least. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate Signore Conti’s glares and comments toward me, or watching Gemma spend so much time with Carlo as they tend to Nonna Lucia. Much to everyone’s surprise, Nonna Lucia is still hanging on.
Finally, this evening Carlo has agreed to let his father sit with Nonna Lucia. I know he has been fearful to leave his grandmother’s side lest she pass away, but getting little sleep and nursing her round the clock is beginning to take its toll on him.
When we are done eating, I manage to convince him to take a walk with me on the beach. We hold hands as we stroll along the shoreline, watching the sun sink lower and lower. I can feel Carlo finally relaxing.
“I’m sorry, Sarina. I know I’ve been neglecting you since we’ve arrived.”
“Shhh! No need to apologize. Your grandmother needs you now.”
Carlo brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.
“I promise I will make it up to you once we are back in Lipari.”
My spirits surge upon hearing this. I don’t know why I had begun fearing he would not want to return to Lipari. Being around Signore Conti has just made me insecure.
I swallow hard and wait a moment before I ask him what I’ve been dying to ask since our first night here.
“Carlo, I know you said Gemma was a family friend, and I gather you’ve known each other since you were children. But how exactly did your family become friends with her?”
Carlo’s eyes get a serious look. He shrugs his shoulders.
“Signore Maio, Gemma’s father, is good friends with my father. He owns several wineries throughout Sicily and is quite wealthy. He supplies our hotel with his wine. That is how my father met him and how they struck up their friendship. Since Gemma and I were both only children, we loved visiting each other’s houses and playing together. We were close like brother and sister, and we became even closer after her mother died. Gemma was only twelve. Since I had grown up without a mother, I could somewhat empathize with her, although I always felt it was harder for her since she had gotten to know her mother and felt the loss even more. I, at least, had Nonna Lucia, who had become a surrogate mother for me. Gemma’s grandmothers had both died when she was a baby. Her maternal grandfather died when Gemma was six years old. So their family is now just made up of Gemma, her father, and her paternal grandfather, who lives with them.”
“She mentioned the other night that Nonna Lucia was as much her grandmother as yours.”
“Si. Nonna would sew dresses for her and do other things that her mother would have done for her if she had been alive. They became extremely close, and Gemma called her Nonna, too. That is why Gemma thinks of Nonna Lucia as her own grandmother.”
“Gemma has been through a lot.”
“She has. Sarina, I don’t want to keep any secrets from you. My relationship with Gemma became a romantic one about a year and a half ago. But I ended it a few months before I met you.”
“She still has feelings for you, Carlo.”
“You’re mistaking her affection for me as a good friend. I made it clear to her when I ended our relationship that we would always be in each other’s lives as friends, but nothing more.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, Carlo. My intuition is telling me she is still in love with you. And I see the way she looks at you. I know because it’s the same way I look at you, and I’m madly in love with you.”
Carlo stops walking. “Sarina, I have no desire to be with Gemma. I was never in love with her. It was a mistake. I should have respected our long friendship and not crossed the line by getting romantically involved with her. I think I mistook our friendship for something more. And now I know it was a mistake. The love I have with you is so much stronger than what I had with Gemma. You have to believe me.”
“I do. I’m sorry. It’s just you have such a long history with Gemma. That’s powerful.”
“Not as powerful as what I have with you.”
Carlo strokes my face with his hands before pulling me toward him. He hugs me tightly, and we stand on the beach for what feels like forever. I wish it were just him and me alone here, just as it often was when we explored the Aeolian Islands. But for now, I let myself be comforted in his warm embrace, the cool breeze kicking up from the ocean, and his assurances that I am the only woman he loves.
Nonna Lucia died earlier this morning. Unable to sleep, I woke up very early, just as the sun was beginning to rise. I was sitting in the bar area, writing in my diary, when Grazia came over to tell me. Carlo had spent the night, sitting up with Nonna Lucia. I found out later that she had woken up a few minutes before she died. At least she saw Carlo one last time.
Rushing up to Nonna Lucia’s room, I hear crying. Slowly I walk over, not sure if I should be here just yet. I want to give Carlo and his father privacy. But I also want to be there if Carlo needs me. I place my hands on the wall next to Nonna Lucia’s door and peek. My heart drops to my stomach as I see Carlo sitting on Nonna’s bed, crying hysterically. But he is not alone. Gemma sits beside him as she consoles Carlo, who has all but collapsed in her arms. Gemma is stroking Carlo’s hair and telling him it will be all right.
My head is telling me I should interrupt them, but my limbs remain paralyzed even as my blood simmers because this woman is caressing my lover. I want to scream at her, but no, this is not the time or place. I should burst in and push her out of the way and take Carlo into my arms, but I don’t.
Someone taps my shoulder lightly. Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away. Signore Conti.
“Please, Sarina, come with me,” Signore Conti whispers, and before I can respond, he leads me away by my arm. I let him. I don’t care.
My chest feels like it’s been stabbed with knives. The image of the Three of Swords tarot card comes to mind. Frantic thoughts race through my mind. Reason is warring with my insecure feelings over what I saw. Reason is telling me it was natural for Gemma to be consoling Carlo after he lost his grandmother. It means nothing. But my insecurity tells me perhaps Carlo still has feelings for Gemma.
I don’t realize that Signore Conti has led me outside until the sound of birds’ chirping startles me from my thoughts.
“Sarina, despite what you think, I do like you. That is why I am going to be honest with you.”
Naturally, I don’t believe him for a moment. But I remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Sarina, it’s no use. This thing that you and Carlo have will not work out. You are from entirely different worlds. But more important, Carlo and Gemma have loved each other since they were children. They are soul mates.”
I curl my hands into fists. What does he know about soul mates? And I can’t believe he is having this conversation with me now, just minutes after his mother died. Shouldn’t he be up in Nonna Lucia’s room, consoling his son?
“Carlo and Gemma used to tell me when they were children that they would get married when they grew up. In fact, they were seeing each other not too long ago.”
“I know. Carlo told me. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” The anger is quite apparent in my tone.
Signore Conti smirks at my last line. “So you think. Men are never fully open with their women.”
Ignoring his obvious intention to rile me, I say, “Carlo assured me that while he cares about Gemma and respects her, he thinks of her as merely a good friend. Nothing more. I believe him.”
“Sarina, do you ever wonder why Carlo fell for you, especially since you come from such opposite backgrounds? I mean, after all, what could my son have in common with you? He was just dazzled by your beauty. I should have known you would be trouble when I saw that red hair on you. But I am straying from my point. Carlo was taken with your looks and your singing. He was probably even charmed by your fortune-telling. How could he not be when all the locals and tourists who visited the beach talked about your beauty and the special readings you gave them?”
Of course, I don’t miss the emphasis Signore Conti places on “special,” and I know what he is implying. I want to defend myself, but then my pride takes hold. I do not need to explain myself or my virtue to him.
“There is something intriguing about a gypsy, I give you that. But no man from Carlo’s fine background wants a gypsy for a wife.”
“I am not a gypsy. There are no gypsies i
n my family. I just read the tarot when I first came here to support myself until I could find other work.”
“Gypsies might not be in your family, but you became one when you decided to leave your father’s household, live with a ring of gypsies on the beach, and swindle people out of their money by professing to know their future.”
“You didn’t have a problem with my reading the tarot when it made you money.”
Signore Conti glowers at me, but I keep my gaze firmly fixed on his.
“I am not going to argue with you. If it makes you feel better to think you are not a gypsy, fine. Keep deluding yourself. Everyone else knows the truth about you. I’m sure you thought, once I employed you as a singer here, that set you on a higher pedestal. It didn’t. I will never give Carlo my blessing to marry you. And if he does marry you against my wishes, I will not waste a second before disowning and disinheriting him. In fact, even if he runs off with you again, I will cut him off from his inheritance. And you can trust I am a man of my word, Sarina.”
“So you would disown your only child? You have no remorse about that?”
I know the answer, but I’m so disgusted by his behavior that I can’t refrain from asking the obvious.
“He is not my child if he disobeys me and takes up with the likes of you. I don’t know what he was thinking, running off to Lipari to manage another man’s hotel when he owns his own hotel.”
“You knew where we were the entire time?”
“Of course I knew. You forget how influential I am, not just in Taormina. I also know he was traipsing around the islands with you and acting as if you were already his wife.”
I blush, giving away that Carlo and I have been intimate, just as Signore Conti suspects.
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