“Took off where?” Hazel asked.
She was so intent on her mother’s story she had forgotten that Stefano was seated beside her. “To my mother,” he said.
Indigo humphed and reached for more tea. “Now that was a piece of news I could have done without.”
Realization dawned on Hazel. “Wait, Stefano. I know why you’re here. You’re here because you thought this house would go to you as your father’s son. You’re my brother. And you didn’t even know we existed, did you?”
“No. But I’m very glad you exist,” he smiled at Hazel, and although there was a note of sadness in his eyes, she felt warmed. He was glad, and so was she. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Welcome home, bro.” She said and gave him the same sad smile in return.
“When I first arrived and Indigo told me the house was left to her, she showed me the papers.” He turned to Indigo, “I told you I was her nephew because once I saw those papers I knew you must be a good friend of my grandmother’s. My grandmother didn’t want to know I existed. I said I was her nephew so I could think. And then you said I could stay. And then I didn't want to leave. Or make trouble.”
Indigo jumped up from the table and crossed to Stefano’s chair, pulling him into a hug, “Now Stefano, I knew Maria well and I know it couldn't be true that she didn't want to know about you. It’s more likely that Roberto didn’t tell her about you at all and just told your Mother she didn't want to know. She was already so angry with him for leaving me. And so angry that I kept giving him money. She would have told me if she'd known about you. She would have known that information would have made me stop giving him money.”
“My mother thought he was good at his gambling,” Stefano said, shaking his head. “He would go away for long times and she would be sad but then he would come back with money. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. He told her he won it on the horses.”
“Horses, my ass!” Indigo stood and paced the kitchen. “I’m such an idiot!”
Hazel realized her mother must have loved him, or at least the man she knew all those years ago. “You kept giving him money, didn’t you, Mother? All these years when you told me you needed money for some crazy scheme or other, or for rent, or for car repairs. You were sending money to him.”
Indigo moved to Hazel, unfolded her tense arms and took her hands. “We have so much to talk about sweetie. I’ve been an idiot, and I hope you can forgive me. I felt responsible for him but I also loved him. I probably love him still. He just couldn’t seem to do life by himself. I enabled him, and it was wrong and you probably can’t understand loving someone so much that even though you know they will throw the money away, you can’t help giving it to them.”
Hazel smiled at the irony. “Oh, but I can, Mother. I understand it one hundred percent. I think there's someone in this room that maybe I’ve done the same for.” At least her mother had the decency to blush.
“That’s why I brought you here, sweetie. Maria didn’t want Roberto to have this house or the money. She knew he would drink it, or gamble it away. She wanted to pay me back for everything I tried to do, and I wanted to pay you back. I made you grow up way too fast, but trust me, it was better growing up fast with a perfect father in your head, than growing up fast with a drunk father in real life.”
“Don’t worry Mom. I forgive you. I have lots of questions and a huge loss to grieve but I think I know why you did it, and as always, you meant well.” Hazel stood up and stretched her arms over her head yawning. “Now we need to decide what to do, and Stefano you're a big part of that decision. But we’ll need to talk about it later because I need a nap to escape from this trauma. My head’s about to explode, I think.” Hazel headed toward the stairs, already picturing her head hitting the pillow.
“Sweetie?”
Hazel stopped.
“I was angry out there and I lashed out at Atillio. It wasn’t fair. The town is what it is, and I knew I couldn’t come back here and shield you from the gossip forever. I’ll go up and soothe his ruffled feathers later today, but Dean… Dean must have had a reason for not telling you, and I'll bet it was a good one. I don’t think he’s the lying type."
An image of Isabella’s perfect lips pressed against his flashed in Hazel’s brain. “Oh, believe me Mother, he is.”
“Well, don’t you think you should talk to him first? Before he leaves? Are you just going to cut him off? It doesn’t seem like you.”
Hazel sighed deeply, her disappointment sitting right in the middle of her chest. “No I’m not going to talk to him first. I'm afraid he is cut off.”
She headed to her bed. She wouldn't think about Dean. She couldn't think about Dean.
47
Hazel
The sweat was pouring from Hazel's face as she knelt in front of the marble fireplace. It was way too hot for a fire, and she'd taken a huge risk lighting one in her bedroom fireplace. Who knew what state the chimney was in? But the smoke seemed to go where it was supposed to go and she kept the little pile of sticks small. A shoebox filled with letters sat at her knees. She only had the most recent letters here with her in Borgotaro, the other shoe boxes were stashed in her closet in Jax, but this would be a start. She would have a similar ceremony when she went home.
The first letter she threw on the flames burst into a fury of red and blue flames and the flakes of ash floated up the chimney. How long had she known she wasn't really writing to her father? A long time. This was her way of saying goodbye to the Dad created out of thin air. She didn't need him. She needed Indigo, her friends and her little sister. She needed Dean too - but he'd left the day of the incident. She'd have to find a way past Dean as she was finding a way past the breakup with her non-existent Dad.
The past few days had been some of the most difficult of Hazel’s life. Right now all thoughts of the house renovation were off. A kind of lethargy had come over her. She'd spent hours sitting with Indigo and a cup of tea, reconstructing her childhood and her memories. She found that she did remember a father, a kind of ghostly presence in the back of her mind which tried to creep forward but got pushed back by a wave of anxiety. They were not good memories, so perhaps she would just ignore them.
She was grieving too. Grieving for the father she'd never known, and, in fact, who had never existed. It was hard to let go of him, but Hazel realized it was time. He'd been a crutch for her all these years. Her focus on work, her ambition and drive, had been a way to excuse herself from engaging fully with the world. She was learning a lot about herself, and she wasn’t enjoying everything she discovered. Even the job she'd chosen was for him, more than for her. She hadn’t loved the business of marketing and public relations. She'd endured it. That job had given her the excuse to work so hard that she could avoid participating fully in a life of her own. She made all of these decisions with the justification that it’s what her father would have expected. Now when she took stock she realized she’d made a mistake. She had one friend, Liz, her mother and sister, who had no choice, and only one real boyfriend since she was sixteen.
After her burning ceremony she’d tiptoed downstairs carefully so as not to wake Indigo. She needed a cup of coffee. She was pouring herself a mug when there was a gentle knock on the back door and a soft voice called, “Permesso.” It was only eight a.m. Her mother was still in bed, but even Stefano, the early riser, hadn’t shown his face yet. He'd been despondent to hear that Hazel and Indigo were leaving, even though they had told him he could stay in the house until they made a decision together on what to do with it. He’d begged them to stay, but they'd booked their flights for a week from now, loading up Hazel’s credit card with debt she couldn’t afford. She needed to get on with her new life. Hazel would have left sooner but Atillio had asked them to stay in case the police needed any more help in the investigation against Roberto. Indigo had filed the Italian equivalent of a restraining order against him. She'd admitted to Hazel that it was time to let him go, along with her romantic notion that
she could save him.
She called, “come in,” and walked back over to the sink to get a second mug for her guest. They had four more days in Borgotaro but she was already feeling pangs of distress at leaving the house and town she loved. The white porcelain sink brought tears to her eyes. Get over yourself, she thought, and wiped her leaking eyes.
The door opened and Sara entered. Hazel had met her briefly during the joyful days she’d been with Dean, but they had been so caught up in each other they hadn’t had time for anyone else.
“Hi,” she said gently, and gave Hazel a tentative smile.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I hope you don’t mind me coming by.”
“No problem. Have a seat. Would you like coffee?”
“Yes, please. That’d be great, thank you.” Sara pulled out a chair and sat down. She took a minute to stare around the cavernous kitchen and even leaned back in her seat to peek into the living room. “I’ve always loved this house.”
Hazel poured the coffee from the large carafe she'd made that morning and swallowed the catch in her throat. “Me too,” she said. “I’m going to miss it.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. But I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to tell you a few things about Dean.”
Hazel’s hand shook as she handed Sara her coffee. Dean was the one subject she'd yet to fully confront, and she hadn’t planned on doing it this morning.
“Okay.” She sat carefully and ran her hands through her hair. Deep breath. You can do this.
“I wanted to tell you he wasn’t kissing Isabella. He would have never stayed with Isabella even if he hadn’t met you. Isabella was… is, sleeping with my husband.”
Hazel didn’t know what to say. She fumbled out the words, “I’m sorry,” but then got stuck.
“It’s fine,” said Sara. “You know, I don’t think I ever loved him anyway? I loved the idea of him; the glamour and the money and the Hollywood life.” She laughed at herself and shook her head. “I was so young when I got to LA. I worked for him, did you know that?” Hazel shook her head. “Yeah, I was his assistant. A distant cousin got me the job to improve my English. I’d just graduated from University and the English language was my passion. I loved everything about America and was desperate to go. Then I got a job with a famous Hollywood manager. I thought my life had changed forever.”
“And had it?”
“Yes,” Sara took a sip of her steaming coffee and then smiled at Hazel. It was a smile of satisfaction, of contentment. “Adam may have not given me much, but he gave me my son. And my son has changed me. The moment I saw him I knew marrying Adam had been a huge mistake. He wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in arm candy, an exotic Italian woman. And he wasn’t interested in baby Andrew, not from the beginning. I saw that, and I knew I had to go home. So I did.”
“That was incredibly brave of you.” Sara's honesty and strength drew Hazel in. She could learn a lot from her. It occurred to her that if she wasn’t leaving Borgotaro she could see herself and Sara becoming good friends.
“I lied and said I was only coming for a week or two. To show my family the baby. When Adam realized that I wasn’t coming back, he just cut us off. Would you like to know what worried me most about leaving?”
“Yes. I would.”
“Dean.” Sara went silent and gazed at her and she blushed under her scrutiny. “Dean didn’t belong there. Adam knew Dean was naïve and trusting and he took advantage of that. Dean’s not stupid, you know that, but he had a rough past. You know he was a foster kid, right?”
Hazel nodded. “He told me some of it. I suspect there’s a lot more.”
“You know those panic attacks he was having? I think that was his heart trying to tell his brain something he'd known all along. He didn’t belong in Hollywood, but he couldn’t accept it. All Dean ever wanted to do was belong, and if he didn’t belong there, then where was home for him? You know where I think that is?” Hazel knew what she would say but shook her head, she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t handle this right now. Not with everything else going on. “I think his home is with you. Wherever you are.”
Hazel felt the tears spring to her eyes and grabbed her napkin to pat at her eyes. How embarrassing. “But he’s gone now, he’s back in LA. His life is there, his movies, his fans, I can’t compete with that.”
Sara stood up and took her cup to the sink. “Maybe,” she said over the sound of the running water. She shut off the faucet and turned to Hazel. “Just promise me that if he ever wants to talk, you’ll give him the chance.”
48
Hazel
If she didn't get out of this house Hazel thought she might dissolve into a puddle of tears. She hadn’t left the property in days. If she wasn't crying in her room, she was trying to help Stefano pull the house together as best they could without putting any more money into it. Hazel wasn't sure what they would do with the house, but at this point it was the least of her worries. Thankfully, they had Stefano to take care of it, and he loved it as much as they did. Plus, now he had a little helper.
Yesterday Indigo had arrived home with a box tucked under her arm. She walked triumphantly into the kitchen and placed the box at Stefano's feet. It was making little mewing noises, and frantic scratching sounds were coming from inside.
“It’s a peace offering,” Indigo said.
Stefano reached for the box with a curious crinkle of his forehead. “A peace offering for what?”
“I haven’t been having very Christian thoughts about your mother. I thought I should apologize.”
Hazel was in her robe and making herself a cup of hot chocolate. It was only 9:00 p.m. but early bedtimes had become her way of dealing with the stress. She laughed, “You didn’t have to tell him that, Mother.”
“Yes, I did. Stefano’s family now and you tell family everything. I tell you everything, don’t I?”
“Um, no, Mother, no you don’t. Remember?”
“Oh that,” she waved her hand in the air as if there were a fly in the room. “That doesn’t count. All that was for your protection.” Indigo had spent a few days in deep heart to hearts with Hazel. They'd hashed through her entire childhood, all of their regrets and grudges. That morning Indigo had woken up and had been her old self again, all the pain of the last few days washed away. She wished she could be as carefree as her mother.
Hazel shook her head and turned to Stefano. “Well, open it then.”
Stefano pried open the lid of the box and the tips of two, tiny, furry ears poked over the top of the cardboard. The mewing was full on meowing now. He reached in and pulled out the tiny calico kitten who crawled out of his hands, up to his shoulder and started sucking on his earlobe. Stefano looked like he might cry. “She’s beautiful,” he said.
“Her name’s Marbles,” Indigo said, reaching forward and scratching under her tiny chin. “Figured you’d need the company of a good woman when we’re gone.”
“You can’t name his pet, Mother. He has to do that himself.”
“No,” Stefano looked up at Hazel. He looked like a five-year-old at Christmas sitting there cross-legged on the floor. “Marbles is perfect,” he said.
Hazel smiled as she walked along Via Nationale with her menta gelato from Gio’s. Stefano was a good egg. At least something good had come of this nightmare of a trip. She’d gotten a brother. When she reached the end of the street, she crossed to the place she'd known she was headed since she left the house only ten minutes before. She stood in front of the old Roma, once more admiring her graceful windows, her wide front patio.
Oh, the hours she'd spent fantasizing about this place. The months of hard work and probable frustration she would face with a renovation hadn't even scared her. After all, she'd have Dean by her side. Together they could have brought this queen back to her original beauty. All the love they'd felt for each other would've been poured into these old bricks and she would have burst with the joy of being alive again. Haz
el peeked through the window and imagined herself standing at a huge oak counter in the foyer, welcoming guests, giving them her insights on what to do and where to go in this part of the country. Dean would take their bags and then they'd walk them out to the patio where they'd introduce them to the other guests enjoying the Borgotaro air. They'd hand them a glass of Prosecco and get them started on the vacation of their lives.
“Everything’s better with Prosecco,” she would say with a smile.
What a crazy dream. She turned back toward the house and her packing. What kind of crazy person would run away from their life and start over? Not a person like her, that was for sure. Plus, she could never do it without Dean. His ghost would follow her everywhere. The hotel would whisper his name to her as though she were a spurned lover too. No. Her time for dreaming was up. It was time to go back to Jax and face the music. And it would be crappy music.
49
Hazel
“Mother, just go okay? It’s easier to have you out of here while I get everything organized. Atillio is picking us up in an hour so just don’t get so busy gossiping that you forget we’re leaving.” Hazel was trying to get all the last minute packing and prepping done while Indigo had spent the morning wandering around crying. She was being so dramatic about this departure. It wasn't like they would never come back. Sara had already begged her to come and spend a few weeks in the fall but Hazel wasn't in the position to make any promises.
“Oh sweetie, did you have to remind me?” Indigo starting crying again.
Stefano implored, “Please don’t cry, Indigo. You will come back soon. Spero. Marbles will be sad if you are gone too long.” Marbles had mewed her way into Stefano's heart. He went everywhere with that damn kitten in his arms. Hazel liked cats, but this obsession was worrying.
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