Anina pulled a sheet of tinfoil off the roll. She peered into the oven. The chicken thigh, wing, and breast were browned and cooking on a bed of rice, seasoned with fresh garlic and mushrooms. She opened the oven and tucked the tinfoil over the top of the chicken and rice. She lowered the heat on the oven. She set the fresh greens off to the side and set the small table outside the kitchenette for one. Anina returned to the kitchen and dressed the salad. Anina heard the key in the lock; her stomach fluttered from nerves.
“You cooked?” Paolo stood in the doorway. He took in Anina, who looked lovely.
She nodded. “I made you dinner.”
Paolo looked at the table set for one. “Are you going out?”
“No.”
“You’re dressed to go out.”
“I’m leaving you.” Anina walked to the bedroom and opened the door. He could see her suitcases on the bed. “I put my engagement ring in the box on the dresser. I was going to write you a note, but I thought that was cowardly, so I waited.”
“You’re serious.” Paolo sat down as though he had been shoved into the chair.
“I think it’s important to say what you mean in person,” she said softly.
“Okay.”
“We have control over nothing except the way we want to live. And I don’t choose to live like this anymore.”
“We’re going through a rough patch, Nina. It’s all getting real.” Paolo looked down at his hands.
“Isn’t it?” Anina thought to say, It’s been real for me all along, but she resisted the urge to start another fight. She was tired of arguing with him. Instead she went into the bedroom and picked up her suitcases. She dragged them to the front door. She slipped into her boots.
“It’s raining,” he said.
“I know.”
Anina pulled on her raincoat. Paolo went to her. “Don’t do this. Please. Stay with me.”
“This is about me.” She smiled. “I know this is what other people say when they’re breaking up, but in this instance, it happens to be entirely true.”
“You can’t forgive me.”
“I have forgiven you. Once I did, I found out the job wasn’t done.”
Paolo was confused. Anina was calm.
“I had to forgive myself. And when I did, I found the guts to try and make something out of myself outside of the person I am with you. I was wrong to try and make you my purpose in life. That wasn’t fair.”
“I know we fight too much, but we love each other.” Paolo took her hands into his own.
Anina loved Paolo, but she couldn’t stay, because there was someone who needed her more. “Forgive me,” she said as she opened the door, picked up her suitcases, and walked out into the storm.
* * *
The hospital elevator was filled with young residents in scrubs when the doors opened to reveal Anina carrying two cups of tea and a carton of soup for her grandmother. “I’ll wait for the next one,” Anina said cheerfully.
A handsome resident looked at her appreciatively and said, “We’ll make room.”
Anina squeezed onto the elevator. The resident held the door open as she disembarked moments later. She smiled to herself as she walked down the corridor to her grandmother’s room.
Anina placed her purse on the chair and kissed Matelda.
“You don’t have to come to the hospital every day.”
“I want to.”
“Nonno said you’re watering my plants. How’s the hibiscus tree?”
“It blooms big red blossoms when the sun is out.”
“It’s supposed to.”
“It’s peaceful in your home.”
“Stay as long as you want. Sometimes you need a little distance,” Matelda said. “And then you get it, and with it comes perspective, and you can find a way to work things out.”
“Maybe,” Anina said. “I’m just happy that I have a chance to spend more time with you.”
Anina pulled the chair close to her grandmother’s bed. “I want to hear what happened when your mother went to Scotland.”
“You need to hear a story about a woman who survives losing the man she loves?”
“I guess I do, Nonna.” Anina handed her grandmother a cup of tea. She took the lid off the other cup and settled into the chair.
Matelda raised the headboard on her bed to a sitting position. She smoothed the top blanket over the sheet. She closed her eyes and conjured the first home she ever knew in a place that lived in her dreams.
CHAPTER 26
Dumbarton, Scotland
AUTUMN 1939
The Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur ran a school in an old castle overlooking the river Clyde. Their convent and school were situated north of Glasgow at the point where the Clyde widened out at Havoc. The swell and expanse of the river at that point meant that the nuns were the first to observe the daily flotilla of new carriers, ships, and barges for use in the impending war. The nuns were confident that the war could be won based upon the display of might they observed from their turret, but they said a daily rosary for victory to hedge their bets.
The flower gardens of Notre Dame were set like jewels in the rolling fields around the convent. They also planted corn, green beans, lettuce, cucumbers, and potatoes in the field behind the convent. There was a grove of fruit trees along the path to the river. Their simple dairy operation housed cows in a working barn, providing milk and cream on a daily basis and cured meats on a seasonal one.
The school year had begun as scheduled; by 5 September 1939, every room in the residence was filled. As staff, Domenica was given a room off the main hall. A curtain separated her small office from her living quarters—a cell with a window, a bed, and a wash basin. If Domenica had wanted to contemplate life as a nun, her current position would have been good practice. The only difference between the good nuns and her was her freedom on her days off. Instead of spending the day in cloistered prayer, Domenica went into Glasgow.
Domenica picked up her mail in the welcome house on Saturday morning. She smiled as she walked back to the main house, shuffling the envelopes with return addresses from Indiana, USA, to Paris, France. She recognized Mary Gay’s scrawl on a blue envelope forwarded from Saint Joseph’s. Her heart raced when she saw the sender’s address typed in the corner. The letter itself was typed on pale blue stationery with the crest of the merchant navy at the top. Domenica’s hand shook as she opened the envelope. It was postmarked 10 August 1939. She was lucky the letter had reached her at all.
Dear Domenica,