Rom folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe you should. Maybe we should all sit down and discuss this ridiculous marriage. Get everything into the open.”
She gave a short, impatient laugh. “That wouldn’t end well for you, I’m afraid.”
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
She studied him closely, and a curious expression bloomed across her face. “You really love her, don’t you?”
Was she kidding? “Of course I love her. What the hell did you think?”
“That you were trying to seduce your best friend’s bride.”
“That would be dishonorable,” Rom said stiffly. Then, realizing the absurdity of his words, he blew out a sigh. “I wish to marry your sister, not seduce her. And though some might find that a somewhat dubious distinction, I consider it an important one.”
“Does Julietta feel the same way?” Serena demanded. “She wishes to marry you, too? This isn’t some sort of game the two of you are playing?”
“This isn’t a game. Your sister also wants to marry me. Or she did, until today. At least, I thought she did.” He frowned, his gaze sharpening. “Do you know what happened to change her mind?”
Serena hesitated, and he could tell she was weighing her options. “Mamma told her if she doesn’t marry Tito, we’ll be destitute,” she admitted candidly. “Even when they marry, what he pays for the vineyard will only relieve my parents of their debt. He’ll still end up supporting my entire family.”
“Is Tito aware of this?”
He caught a spark of anger in her stance. “No.”
Rom shook his head in disgust. “Poor Tito. Of all of us, he’s the true victim.”
He’d surprised her. “Do you truly believe that?”
He nodded. “I realize you don’t hold a high opinion of me. And I understand why. I don’t like deception, and yet, that’s exactly what I’ve done. Deceived the people who mean the most to me and Julietta. I would prefer to court your sister openly, to prove my worth and the sincerity of my love for your sister.”
“Very noble,” she said, a hint of mockery belying her words. “Why don’t you do that? I’m sure everyone will be delighted with the match. Tito will gladly relinquish his bride. My parents will be thrilled to welcome you as the perfect son-in-law. And you and Julietta will live happily ever after.”
Anger ripped through him. “Then what do you suggest? Do you believe your sister should marry a man whose touch repels her? Sacrifice herself for the benefit of her family? Destroy everyone’s lives? Because that’s what will happen if she marries Tito.”
He caught the flinch Serena couldn’t quite suppress at the mention of Tito’s name, and intuition created an unexpected connection. “You don’t want Tito to marry Julietta, do you?”
“No,” she confessed.
He’d found the lever he needed, and he used it ruthlessly. “You realize Tito is the one who will suffer the most,” he hammered at her. “All he wants is a damn vineyard. Instead, he’s saddled with a responsibility he knows nothing about—and won’t know about until it’s too late to make an informed choice. And then he’ll find himself in a loveless marriage with a wife he’ll come to despise and a family he’ll need to support. How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” she agreed. “There… there might be a way out, if you’re willing.”
“Tell me.”
“It isn’t the most honorable solution,” she equivocated.
“I’m still listening.”
“I suggest you steal Julietta away right before the wedding ceremony.”
For a moment Rom said nothing, then he laughed. Unbelievable. “Just out of curiosity, have you been talking to my grandfather?”
Serena blinked in surprise. “Signore Dante suggested this, as well?”
“Perhaps the three of us should get together.”
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe we should.”
Julietta sat beside her youngest sisters, putting the final stitches in the dresses they’d wear to her wedding. The three of them, ranging from six to ten, were curled up together in bed, sleeping the sleep of the innocent, the soft glow from the bedside light not enough to disturb their slumber.
The past few days had been the most difficult of Julietta’s life, the pull of The Inferno a constant ache. Would she always feel the burn, even when Rom lived half a world away? She paused to rub at the itch in her palm. She suspected she would. Maybe, in time, it would bring her comfort, knowing that, once upon a time, she’d known true love, even if only for a moment.
She paused in her sewing to study her sisters. At least by marrying Tito she’d ensure their future. Someday they’d fall in love, too, and her decision would allow them to marry their Romeos instead of more practical suitors. It was worth the sacrifice, she struggled to convince herself. It would have to be, since she’d have precious little else to give her comfort over the coming years.
“Julietta?” Serena stood in the doorway.
Setting aside her sewing, she tiptoed from the room. “What’s wrong?”
A flash of compassion slipped across her sister’s expression, surprising Julietta. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said gently. “Mamma would like you to try on your gown so we can make any final adjustments.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need to try it on again.”
“Julietta—”
“Please…” Her voice broke, and she struggled to control it, to attain the sort of serenity her mother and sister seemed able to adopt with such ease. No doubt she’d have years of practice after her marriage. “Don’t ask me to try it on again.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Julietta gathered her composure. “Nothing, grazie.” She forced a smile and managed to smooth the rough edges tearing at her words. “Tell Mamma the gown fits beautifully. There will be time before we leave for the church for any final alterations.”
“You don’t have to go through with this.” Serena spoke with uncharacteristic urgency.
“Wouldn’t you, if you were in my position?”
“Yes, but—”
“Because you couldn’t bear to see your family destitute any more than I can.”
Serena started to speak, then closed her mouth. “Julietta… when the time comes, I hope you’ll choose the right path.”
Julietta closed her eyes, seeing again the dream, the diverging road with the left-hand path leading to Rom. The “right” path, her sister had said. Sadly, that was the one that led to Tito. “I think the right path already chose me.”
“Is everything set?” Rom asked.
Nonno inclined his head. “I have spoken to the priest and he has agreed to marry you, even without the banns being read.”
Serena frowned. “Does il sacerdote realize they’ll be eloping?”
“Of course, though he pretends otherwise.”
“And he doesn’t have a problem with that?”
Nonno shrugged. “He is an old friend. He will look the other way.” He patted his various pockets until he found the cigar he’d been searching for and took a moment to light it. A ring of smoke encircled his snowy head, and he stabbed the cigar in Rom’s direction. “We won’t mention my little lapse to your mamma, no?”
“She’ll smell it on you.”
He gave a fatalistic shrug. “A bridge to cross when I find it beneath my feet.” His brow furrowed in thought, and he clamped the cigar between his teeth, speaking around it. “Now. The motociclo is in my gardening shed covered with a tarp. It may be old, but it is trustworthy. If there weren’t an ocean or two in the way, you could ride it straight to America.”
Rom grinned. “Since I can’t, I purchased tickets for our passage to New York, as well as for the train from Florence to Rome.”
“They will be looking for you in Florence,” Nonno warned.
“If they find us, it will be too late. By then, it will be done. Julietta will be my wife in name and in fact. An annulment will not be possible.”
>
“Shall we finalize our plans?” Serena spoke up again. “The walk to the church from the Rossi villa takes forty minutes. We’re supposed to leave right at four. When we arrive at the church, Tito will go inside and I’ll take Julietta to the prayer garden in order to put the final touches on her dress and hair. Join us there, and you’ll have the opportunity you need to whisk her away.”
Rom’s frown mirrored his grandfather’s. “That could prove problematic. What if she fights me? I’m riding a motorcycle. It’s not like I can throw her over my lap and ride off with her.”
“I guess you’ll have to find a way to convince her.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Either she loves you and is willing to elope with you, or she isn’t. I refuse to sway her. She must choose to go with you.”
“And if she has second thoughts, afterward? If she refuses to marry me when we reach the church?”
“Now that, I can help with.” Serena held out a thin envelope. “Give her this and all will be well.”
Rom eyed it dubiously. “You’re sure? It doesn’t look like you wrote very much.”
“Just three words,” Serena said with a laugh. “Trust me. I know my sister. Those three words are all the ones you’ll need.”
The next few days crept by. And though Rom attempted to visit Julietta, she refused to see him. From the few glimpses he caught of her, she appeared pale and drawn, her attitude one of such sad determination he found it painful to observe.
Tito didn’t appear any better. In fact, his friend’s expression mirrored his bride’s. Were a bunch of grapes truly worth such misery? Rom didn’t understand it. But, it filled him with a determination of his own, to change the course of all of their fortunes—for the better, even if it wouldn’t initially seem that way.
Much to Rom’s relief, the morning of the wedding dawned clear and cooler than normal for early June. The entire day assumed a ritualistic feeling. Every action—even one as habitual as his morning shower—was done with care and attention to detail, knowing he performed each task with Julietta’s pleasure in mind.
An hour before the start of the procession, Rom dressed in the suit he’d bought to wear at Tito’s marriage, never imagining he’d end up wearing it for his own. He checked his watch and took a deep breath. This was it. It was time.
His mother and stepbrothers were nowhere in sight—no doubt already on their way to the Rossis’ villa. But Luigi lingered in the kitchen. He glanced up at Rom’s entrance. Without Nicci’s presence to temper his attitude, the mask of politeness slipped for an instant, and a wealth of anger and resentment showed through. Then it vanished, and he gestured in the direction of the root cellar.
“Bring up a couple of bottles of wine before you leave. The Trebbiano. Your mamma forgot to do it.”
Relieved that Luigi didn’t plan a confrontation, Rom nodded. “Sure. I’ll get them right now.”
“Some beer, as well.”
Rom opened the heavy wooden door and pulled the chain connected to the overhead light bulb. Steep, narrow steps plummeted downward into a small cellar that stored the produce his mother canned throughout the summer and fall, select bottles of Ranieri wine, and the butter beer Nonno put up each year. Halfway down the steps, the door slammed behind him, and he heard the ancient iron key turn in the lock.
“Luigi?” He turned and ran back up the steps. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t disgrace me.” Luigi’s muffled voice penetrated the thick wood, the sound filled with rage. “Do you think I don’t know what goes on under my own roof? Mi fai schifo. You disgust me. I know what you have planned, and I won’t let you dishonor my family with your disgraceful behavior.”
Rom pounded on the door. “You don’t understand. Julietta loves me. And I love her.”
“You’re cursed. Just as your mother was cursed. Once Tito takes the woman for his wife, the curse will end. Make yourself comfortable, faccia di stronzo.” He seemed to relish the epithet. “This will be your home until tomorrow.”
Rom had no idea how long he pounded on the door. He only stopped when his hands, battered and bloody from his repeated attacks on the impervious wood, turned numb. He dropped on to the top step, exhausted.
How long? How long before Julietta became Tito’s wife? Half an hour? Or mere minutes from now. Or maybe she’d already spoken her vows. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.
“Julietta,” he whispered. “Believe in me. Believe in The Inferno. Don’t do it. I beg of you. Don’t marry Tito.”
Chapter Seven
Julietta stood in front of the mirror while her mother put the finishing touches on her upswept hair. “You look beautiful,” Maria said with a sigh.
Her sisters floated around her in a rainbow swirl of pretty gowns. “Beautiful,” they all echoed.
Julietta glanced in the small mirror positioned over a simple dresser. She didn’t look the least beautiful. She looked tired. And sad. She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips, not allowing herself to play the part of the martyr. She’d chosen to marry Tito, and she refused to make everyone around her pay for that choice. Not her family. Least of all her soon-to-be husband.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t wear my wedding dress,” Maria fussed.
Julietta shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but no one wears a black wedding dress anymore, Mamma.”
“It had the prettiest white hat to go with it.” She tilted her head to one side. “Still, this gown is also pretty, even if it’s not traditional.”
And it wasn’t. In fact, the strapless gown, a gift from her aunt, had initially shocked her mother. The ruched bodice was gathered to one side, accented with crystals and pearls that trailed from breast to hips in a long, fitted line. For the sake of propriety—and much to her mother’s relief—it also came with a long-sleeved, bolero jacket that fastened just beneath her breasts, to be worn in church during the ceremony. The satin skirt was covered in several cascading layers of tulle and belled outward at her hips, ending in a modest train that she could manipulate without assistance.
Serena approached and helped with the veil, a waterfall of tulle that matched Julietta’s gown, anchoring it to her sister’s upswept curls with a handful of pins. “Don’t forget, you need to rip the corner for luck before you walk down the aisle.”
“I’ll remember.” Maybe. Not that it mattered. Nothing about this day would bring her luck. If anyone deserved luck, it was the poor bridegroom.
“Come, girls,” Maria announced. “We better leave now if we’re going to arrive on time.”
The procession for the walk to the church gathered in the road just outside the Rossi villa, everyone in their Sunday best, many carrying wildflowers to scatter ahead of the “happy” couple. Tito stood with his family, his expression set in grim and stoic lines. Had there ever been a gloomier bride and groom? Julietta crossed to his side, and he presented her with a bouquet of pungent herbs and orange blossoms, tied with a white ribbon.
“Thank you, it’s beautiful.”
He offered a strained smile. “Not as beautiful as my bride.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Tito,” she whispered. “What are we doing?”
“What we must to get what we each want.”
She bowed her head. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
“Time will tell.”
The street leading to town was lined with well-wishers, and, in keeping with tradition, they put various obstacles in the path of the approaching couple—a broom Julietta needed to pick up to show she’d be a good housekeeper, a crying child to see if the couple would offer comfort and prove themselves good parents. Every step of the way, Julietta wished with all her heart it was Rom at her side, instead of Tito. No doubt Tito wished for a different bride, as well, someone who’d give him the passion she couldn’t.
At one point, he lifted her hand and studied her engagement ring. “I see Rom adjusted it.”
“Yes. H
e gave it to my mother last night.” She pretended to glance around. “I don’t see him. Where is he?”
“His stepfather told me he isn’t well. He sent his apologies.”
“I see.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she forced them back. What did she expect? She’d asked him to stay away, hadn’t she? And he’d granted her wish. Besides, how could she possibly say her vows to Tito while Rom watched? Could she do it if their situation was reversed and he was marrying another? No, never!
Eventually, the procession wound its way into Santa Lucia to the front of the church. Tito paused long enough to kiss Julietta’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” For an instant, his gaze lingered on Serena, and then he spun around and disappeared into the cool, dark interior of the vestibule.
Julietta fought to breathe. This was a mistake. A hideous mistake. How could she bear to spend the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love? A kind man, but one whose touch repulsed her? She desperately wanted to save her family, to be an obedient and dutiful daughter. But to spend the next fifty years or more trapped in a loveless marriage? To bring children into this world that were a result of such a union?
“Serena, please,” she whispered, fighting to draw air into her lungs. “I need to sit for a moment.”
Over her sister’s shoulder, Julietta could see their mother looking on in concern. Serena waved off the cluster of family members. “Go on in. We have to make a few final adjustments to her hair and gown before the ceremony.”
Everyone slowly filtered into the church, and Serena smiled sympathetically, wrapping an arm around Julietta’s waist and drawing her toward a shady prayer garden on one side of the church. “It’s okay. We’re alone. You can relax now.”
They crossed to a bench positioned beneath a widespread oak, and Julietta sank on to the wrought-iron seat. “Thank you.”
“Would you like some water?”
“Please. And tell Mamma everything will be fine. I’ll be along in a few minutes. I just have to catch my breath after the walk into town.”
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