Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella)

by Leclaire, Day

  “I’ll be right back.” Then she did something she’d never done before. She stooped in front of the bench and gathered Julietta close. “Someday I hope this will all come full circle. Until then, know that I love you and only want what’s best for you.”

  She left the garden before Julietta could ask what she meant. But her words lingered, as though they were part of some greater message. In the distance, she heard her father call to one of her younger sisters, and aware her time alone wouldn’t last much longer, she closed her eyes. “Rom,” she whispered, rubbing the deep, burning itch centered in her palm. “Please, forgive me. I love you. I do. I wish there were another way, but there isn’t.”

  With all her heart, she prayed some other solution would present itself in the next few minutes and she’d escape her fate. That a miracle would happen and Rom would ride up and carry her off, and yet her family would still somehow be saved.

  But miracles weren’t meant for her.

  Rom leaned his head against the heavy wooden door and closed his eyes, rubbing the deep, burning itch centered in his palm. He wished with all his heart for a miracle. That somehow he’d be able to escape from the cellar and get to Julietta before time ran out.

  As though in answer to his prayer, he heard the key turn in the lock. He leapt to his feet, and the door opened, bright light streaming in and momentarily blinding him. “Romero?”

  “Mamma?”

  “There isn’t much time,” she whispered. “Tito and Julietta will be at the church soon, if they’re not there already.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for letting me out.”

  She cupped his face and kissed him. “I’m sorry, figlio mio. When I married Luigi, I thought I was protecting you. Protecting us both. But he’s never forgiven me for loving your father.”

  Rom skimmed his palm with his thumbnail. “It doesn’t go away, does it?”

  Nicci shook her head. “No. Che Dio mi perdoni. May God forgive me, I love your father still. I will always love him, just as you will always love Julietta.” Her hands covered his, Dante to Dante, Inferno to Inferno. “But maybe my curse will be your blessing.”

  “You can come with us.”

  She shook her head again. “I made my choice a long time ago. My place is here.” She stepped aside. “Go. Quickly, Romero. Before Luigi realizes what I’ve done.”

  He didn’t waste any time. He darted from the house and ran flat out for the garden shed. Just as his grandfather had promised, the motorcycle waited beneath the tarp. It only took an instant to start it. The motor roared to life beneath him, rumbling between his legs. He revved the engine and kicked it into gear.

  And then he flew.

  Julietta didn’t know what distracted her from her revelry. A noise. A low-level hum that grew steadily louder, until it seemed to roar through her veins. She stood and left the small courtyard garden. Only a few stragglers lingered outside the church. Serena was nowhere to be seen, probably in search of the water she’d promised. Julietta glanced toward the doorway leading into the vestibule. Her father hovered there, talking to her sisters. None of them seemed to hear the noise that had captured her attention.

  She shaded her eyes and gazed across the piazza, toward the road leading to the Rossis’ villa. A plume of dust rose in the distance, rolling rapidly toward her like a turbulent storm cloud. At the center of the angry cloud she saw something black and shiny, shooting toward the town like a bullet. It hit the edges of the piazza, the roar of its engine finally reaching her, and she realized it was a motorcycle.

  It barely slowed as it entered the town, hurtling toward the central fountain and around it, pigeons exploding into the air like an advance guard. The rider angled the motorcycle so low into the turn he nearly scraped his shoulder against the dark gray paving stones. Just when she was certain he’d spin out, he righted the machine and flew straight toward her.

  It was then she knew.

  Her prayers had been answered.

  Her miracle had arrived.

  Rom skidded to a stop, directly in front of Julietta. “Come with me,” he called over the roar of the motorcycle.

  He saw the yearning in her gaze, as well as the hesitation. He held out his hand. It was bruised and bloodied, crusted with dirt. She stared at it in shock, tears filling her eyes. She said his name, although the sound didn’t reach him over the engine noise. In the midst of all the chaos, time suddenly slowed, just as it had the moment he’d first seen her.

  The late afternoon sunshine slanted between the cluster of buildings, casting a soft, golden glaze on their surroundings. In the distance, he sensed sound and movement all around them. A man running from the doorway of the church. People in the square pointing and shouting. A flock of pigeons circling chaotically around the fountain. But in the nexus of it all, he and Julietta were alone, in a world apart.

  Everything around him faded to sepia, and all he saw was the woman he loved. Her glorious hazel eyes glittered with brilliant green highlights, and a rosy flush of pleasure bloomed across the high sweep of aristocratic cheekbones. Her sweet mouth slowly curved into a smile, and words trembled on her lips.

  “Thank you.”

  Even so, she made no move to join him. In that instant, he understood she was thanking him for loving her, not thanking him for rescuing her. He continued to offer his hand, their entire future teetering in the balance. Then the oddest thing happened.

  He suddenly saw two versions of himself, one on each of a pair of diverging roads. On the shadow-darkened right-hand path he traveled alone, achieving accolades and acclaim, but never having anyone to share his success with. On the left path, Julietta walked at his side along a road lined with heavily laden fruit trees. There were dark spots along the way, but most of the path contained sunshine, the journey bright and colorful and crowded with others, their faces and shapes not quite in focus, as though they were a promise awaiting fulfillment.

  “Trust me,” he called to her. And still she hesitated. Forever afterward, he never knew where the words came from, whether borne of desperation or love or instinct. Maybe all of those things. Or perhaps The Inferno guided him, whispering the only words that would get through to her. He lifted his voice to a demanding shout. “Take the left path, Julietta!”

  She stared in disbelief, and the bouquet of herbs she clutched tumbled to her feet. She held out a hand, one that still bore the ring he’d designed for Tito. It trembled for an instant, a panicked glitter of diamonds and sapphires, then became rock-steady. Her hand linked with his, Inferno melding with Inferno, and time jolted into motion once again. He pulled the ring from her finger with one hand, and with the other swept her on to the motorcycle behind him.

  “Hold on tight,” he called over his shoulder.

  He spun the bike in a swift circle and flipped the ring in the direction of the man running toward them—Julietta’s father, if Rom didn’t miss his guess. And then he gunned the engine. The back tire skidded on the paving stones before catching, and he shot back across the piazza toward the road leading to Florence.

  What had she done? What had she done? What had she done?

  Julietta buried her face against Rom’s broad back, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. By choosing love, she’d just ruined her family. How could she possibly live with the guilt? How could she create a successful future with Rom when it would always be tainted by the price her family had paid for her happiness?

  She had no idea how long they rode. It seemed like hours before they reached a fork in the road. A sign pointed toward Florence to the right. No doubt he intended to take her to his Dante relatives. Maybe they’d talk some common sense into Rom. Maybe they’d help straighten out this mess. Her arms tightened around Rom. Or maybe they’d offer words of wisdom that would allow her to pretend that what she’d done would work out.

  To her surprise, he flew past the turn toward Florence. Her veil ripped away at the juncture, floating high in the air before settling on the signpost and her
hair loosened. It tumbled free about her shoulders, flying behind her like a flag of freedom. Julietta couldn’t help herself. She laughed, even though there really wasn’t anything the least bit funny about the situation. A ripped wedding veil was supposed to be lucky. Was it also lucky to have her veil ripped completely away? Or a figurative signpost pointing toward disaster?

  Rom continued farther down the road, turning on to a small, narrow lane to their left. He slowed to avoid an obstacle course of ruts and stones. A short time later he idled to a stop outside of a small church. It had seen better days, but someone had made an effort to decorate for a wedding. Flower petals created a path to the doorway of the vestibule, and pretty bows hung above the threshold. Nonno sat on the steps waiting for them.

  “I’d begun to worry,” he said, slowly standing. He eyed his grandson’s hands and raised an eyebrow.

  “Small delay,” Rom replied briefly. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “If you say so.” Nonno gave a fatalistic shrug. “The important thing is you’re here.”

  Rom helped Julietta off the motorcycle and swept her into his arms, kissing her with a passion that left her breathless, her guilt vying with a shattering joy. “I don’t suppose there’s someplace we can freshen up before the ceremony?” he asked his grandfather. He continued to hold her in a close embrace, as though unwilling to break contact with her ever again. “We’re a little the worse for wear.”

  Julietta touched his arm. “Rom…”

  He glanced down at her and smiled sympathetically. “You’re having second thoughts.” It wasn’t a question.

  “And third and fourth,” she confessed. “It’s not because of you.”

  He nodded in perfect understanding. “It’s because of your parents and their debt.”

  She stared in shock. “You know about that?”

  He released her with notable reluctance. “Serena told me.” He patted his trouser pockets and removed a crumpled envelope. “She also asked me to give this to you. It’s supposed to explain everything, to reassure you somehow, though I’m not certain how that’s possible considering she wrote only three words.”

  Julietta accepted the envelope and turned it over, carefully unsealing it. Inside she found a single piece of paper, and as Rom warned, three brief words scrawled in her sister’s handwriting. She closed her eyes, tears pressing for release.

  “What does it say?” Rom asked.

  Nonno nodded. “I must admit. I am curious about this, too.”

  Julietta fought for control. “It says… I love him.”

  It took a moment for Rom to make the connection. “Tito? She loves Tito?” His amazement faded, and certain key puzzle pieces clicked into place. “I guess it makes as much sense as anything we’ve experienced over the past few days. Perhaps she’s hoping to become his bride in your place.”

  “Knowing Serena, she’ll handle the situation quite differently.”

  Rom gathered Julietta’s hands in his. “Does this help, amata mia? Can you enter into our marriage without guilt weighting your heart?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I suspect we’ll always experience a certain amount of guilt. It’s only natural.”

  He nodded, lifting her hands and kissing them. “We’ve hurt our families, even if everything works out for them in the end. We weren’t able to fall in love and marry in as honorable a way as we would have chosen.” Regret tarnished his gaze. “Unfortunately, we weren’t given much choice. There was no way to convince your family I would make you an acceptable husband.”

  “Just as there was no way to convince your family that The Inferno is a blessing.” She fought to come to terms with a decision she could no longer change and which she wished had never been forced upon her. “We did the best we could, and now we live with the consequences of our actions, for better and worse.”

  Rom grinned. “I’ve seen the consequences. I think they’ll mostly be for the better.”

  His words came back to her, the words that had ultimately convinced her to take his hand and make a leap of faith. “I thought I was the one with the ‘eye.’ How did you know about the left-hand road?”

  He shook his head, his amusement fading. “It just appeared in front of me. Two roads, one leading to a life of joy and abundance—”

  “—the other to loneliness,” she finished for him. “I saw it, too.”

  “Then you know we’ve chosen the right road. Are you ready, my love?” he asked tenderly. “Are you willing to take the first step toward joy?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his. “We’ve already taken the first step. Now we take all the steps that come after.”

  Tito sat on a wrought-iron bench in the prayer garden alongside the church, relieved everyone had finally taken their pity and left him in peace. He stared moodily at the stone statues placed at strategic points along the various pathways. No doubt they were meant to inspire calm and serenity. They weren’t working.

  He’d never seen it coming. Never for a moment believed his best friend would steal away his bride. Well, Rom was welcome to her. May he find joy in her cold arms and their even colder marital bed.

  The clanking of a nearby gate captured his attention, and he glanced up to see Serena enter the garden. Anger shot through him. Great. Just what he needed. Another Bianchi woman. Just perfect. “Are you here to apologize for Julietta?” he demanded at her approach. “For your family?”

  For some reason, she didn’t look the least apologetic. Instead, she confronted him with a lifted eyebrow. “Apologize for what?” she had the nerve to ask. “In my opinion, you had a lucky escape. You should be grateful my sister left you for Romero, not angry.”

  “Then why are you here, if not to beg my pardon?” He glared at her. “Perhaps your parents think I’d accept you in place of Julietta. Is that why you’re here, as some poor substitute?”

  Her anger rose to meet his. “First, I’m no one’s substitute. Any man would be lucky to have me, Tito Rossi. Even you. Especially you. And second, you can’t have me that easily.”

  What the hell? “Who said I want you?”

  She eyed him boldly. “I say. You’ve wanted me from the start, just as I’ve wanted you. Deny it, and I’ll know I’ve given my heart to a liar.”

  She’d shocked him and he slowly stood. “Your heart?”

  She tossed back her hair, long, straight hair as inky as the nighttime sky and as different from her sister’s as midnight from midday. “Do you think I’m an easy woman?” she demanded, her gypsy-dark eyes flashing with disdain. “That I’d kiss my sister’s fiancé just for fun? That I’d risk hurting her, unless I had strong feelings for the man involved? That I’d go against my parents’ plans for me on a whim?”

  Memories of their kiss crowded in, rushing though him in a molten stream. She’d tasted so sweet, so earthy and ripe. And they’d fit together as perfectly as he and Julietta had fit together imperfectly. He also remembered his parting words to her, “It should have been you.” He’d been more right than he’d realized. “Are you saying you love me?” he asked abruptly.

  “I do if you’re the man I believe you to be,” she stunned him by replying. “Shall we find out?”

  “How?”

  She closed the distance between them, stopping him when he’d have taken her into his arms. “First, we need honesty between us.”

  He thrust a hand through his hair and eyed her grimly. “It would make for a pleasant change.”

  “I agree. And part of that honesty means telling you that I encouraged my sister to run away with Rom. That I helped her, though my parents knew nothing about it.”

  Anger ripped through him. “Why would you do that?”

  She vacillated, clearly hesitant to confess the full extent of her crimes, despite her desire for honesty. “I wish I could say I did it for altruistic reasons, that Julietta’s happiness meant more to me than any other consideration.”

  “But that would be a lie.” He was
learning to read her.

  She bowed her head. “Yes. I didn’t want her to marry you. Not after what happened between us the night of your engagement party. You were wrong for each other. But we—” She looked at him, and her heart crept into her gaze. “We were right. So very right.”

  He couldn’t deny it. “And now you expect me to marry you in her place?”

  To his surprise, Serena shook her head. “No. Not until we’re certain it’s what we both want. And not until my parents agree that I’m not meant for the convent and my sister Rosa should take my place.”

  “What about the vineyard?”

  She took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something, something that will change everything between us.”

  Suspicion filled him. “Go on.”

  “My parents borrowed money against the vineyards. That money comes due soon. If they can’t pay it, we’ll lose our home, and you’ll be able to purchase the vineyard for far less than what my parents are asking—and without having to marry in order to own it.”

  “What?”

  She faced him, her shoulders squared, her rounded chin set at a combative angle. For some peculiar reason, it made her even more appealing. A rebellious hen defying the cocky rooster. “We’ll lose everything. We’ll be destitute. But you’ll own your precious vineyards.”

  He should have been happy with the news. Why wasn’t he happy? Why wasn’t he shoving past her and celebrating his narrow escape? Instead, he found himself rooted in place. “Or?” he found himself prompting.

  She took a deep breath. “Or you can court me. Properly. Though not with the ring meant for my sister. Allow me some pride. Once you’re certain I’ll make you a suitable wife—and I will—you can pay off my parents’ debt.” Her mouth curved into a wry smile. “No doubt you’ll pay far more than that since my parents will have nothing but a rich son-in-law to provide for them and my sisters.”

  “And why would I do that?”