by Dana Faletti
Her memory rested for a moment on the image of the light bulb that hung, uncovered, in Maxime’s makeshift wine cellar, the semi-darkness in which she’d revealed herself. Tate rolled her fingers into themselves, remembering how she’d rolled them into another hand that very night.
One touch was all it took. The first taste of forbidden wine was too sweet for just a sip. She’d had to stay and drink, even at the risk of becoming intoxicated with passion and alive with fantasy.
That summer with Michel had saved her life. She’d gone from being a frightened, frozen woman, too afraid of loss to even dream of letting anyone in, to being open to love again. Now, her life overflowed with the blessings of family and commitment that would never have been possible had she not traveled to Europe five years ago. True, the metamorphosis had not been easy. For a long time, she’d felt as if her very heart was missing from her body.
Pieces of it were missing still.
But at least she knew the one who held those pieces.
There were no more tears to cry now. She’d chosen, and here she was, staring out at the horizon and seeing nothing but a pair of eyes, blue like the sea and rising right up from the water. Suddenly interrupting her memory of Michel, an identical pair of eyes, shiny with water and red from salt, peered into Tate’s own.
“Mommy, look! There’s fish everywhere down there!” Isabella grabbed Tate’s hand, pulling her upright and down to the shoreline. “Come in the ocean with me!”
Tate watched her four-year-old daughter run on tiptoes to the shore, her blonde curls bouncing and wet on the ends. Isabella looked nothing like her mother. Her fair freckled skin, now bronzed by the sun, and her honey-colored hair told the story of her father. It was an epic tale for Tate, and its mysteries continued to unravel every time she was faced with the calm blue sea of Isabella’s gaze.
Squatting in the low tide next to her daughter, Tate showed her how to dig for mollusks, the miniature pastel creatures that wash onto the shore, even on the small waves. “You have to wait until the water flows back out. Then just start scooping sand, like this.”
Isabella looked up at her mother, and Tate bent to kiss her sticky forehead, staring into eyes that were the reason for her every breath, every smile. Although they held a secret within them that few would ever know, they were Tate’s affirmation to the world that she had chosen her path. They gave her strength and purpose and bound her to a promise she would never break—that she would do right by this child and any children who might follow her. Even as they flew her to the sanctuary of a mountain lit by stars, a beach bungalow at the foot of a smoldering volcano, a convent of silent gray walls that spoke volumes of true commitment, Isabella’s eyes grounded her.
Within them, she saw the eyes of the one whose arms had held her tightly enough to finally set her free.
“You know what, Bella?” Tate asked her daughter.
“What, Mommy?” Isabella was too busy digging in the sand to face her mother.
“Your cousins are at the condo, eating up all of Nana’s yummy lunch. We’d better go get some before it’s all gone.” Tate scooped the sandy Isabella into her arms and then, as she always did, kissed her open palm and blew it toward the water.
“Mommy, why are you always blowing kisses to the ocean?”
“Ah, Bella, I’m not blowing kisses to the ocean, silly.”
“Then what the heck are you doing?” she asked, her face all scrunched up like an overripe plum.
“I’m blowing kisses to my dreams,” Tate told her. “Something my Nana taught me to do.”
“But how’d your dreams get out there in the sea?”
Tilting her head down and touching noses with her daughter, Tate smiled wistfully. “Well, love, that’s where I left them.”
Tate fingered the wooden beads that encircled Isabella’s tiny neck, remembering the feel of the hands that had carved them.
“Why’d you do that, Mommy? Why’d you leave your dreams in the sea?”
Tate sighed and closed her eyes, seeing the deep creases of her Nana’s face behind them, feeling the strength of her grandmother’s will bearing upon her like the slow but unstoppable tide. “Because I love you, Bella.” She looked once more into the blue of her daughter’s eyes, still touching the strand of weathered wooden beads around her little neck, and smiled. “I love you so much.”
Acknowledgements
I would like to first thank the Pandamoon Publishing staff for being nothing less than amazing to work with. Zara Kramer – for taking a chance on Beautiful Secret, Matthew Kramer – for endless encouragement and positivity, Elgon Williams and Christine Gabriel for shamelessly plugging the book, Ayush Pokharel for his hard work on cover design, Allan Kramer for interior design, and last but far from least, my editor Rachel Schoenbauer – for putting the utmost care into every editorial comment and making my book so much better than it was. Thank you to all of my Gamma Pandas for reading Beautiful Secret and supporting me through this journey. I am lucky to call all of you my colleagues and friends.
I am so grateful to my husband Bobby, and our daughters – Shaia, Sofia, and Saraya – for giving me the time and space I needed to let this story bleed out of me. I’m grateful for Aunt Lina, Aunt Micky, Uncle Anthony, and Benoit for reading Beautiful Secret before it ever went into the world. Also, for all of my friends who read it and talked it up to their book clubs and girlfriends, especially Jeni, Denise, and Kathleen, I’m so thankful.
Thank you critique partners of The North Pittsburgh Writers Critique Group- Cara, Carolyn, Kim, Lori, and Nancy – you were my first editors and my cheerleaders. Thanks to my beta readers who provided me with amazing feedback and brought about some of the first big changes in the plot!
Thank you Zio and Zia, Nicole, Domique, Candide, Jean-Luc, and Sandra for giving me so many wonderful memories. Thank you Julia for being my cover model and Ettore for providing the photos. Thank you Benoit for helping me map out Tate’s journey from Revin to Valanidi and for all of the help you provided with vocabulary, names, places, and culture.
Huge thanks to my parents – Dom and Jackie – for taking me to Europe and changing the course of my life. You pried opened the gates and pushed me out into the world, and my life is so much fuller because you did. Immense gratitude to my Battaglia family in France and Italy. All of you have touched my life so deeply. You’ve welcomed me into your homes and your hearts and reinforced the values that my beloved Nana taught by example. Family is sacred. I love you all from afar, every single day. This book is a tribute to her and also a tribute to you and to Italy – the home of my most precious heartbeats.
About the Author
Dana Faletti is a novelist with Pandamoon Publishing. She is the author of The Whisper Trilogy, a young adult paranormal romance and Beautiful Secret, a sweeping drama of family secrets and forbidden love. Dana blogs about whatever inspires her at www.danafaletti.blogspot.com, writes poetry as a survival skill, and loves to connect with other writers both online and in person. When she’s not writing, Dana can be found reading on her Kindle, cooking something delicious, or daydreaming about her upcoming travel destinations. She lives in in a suburb of Pittsburgh with her husband, three young daughters, and two snarky Shichons called Dolce and Vita.
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