Silvio held Domenica tightly until her feet left the ground as he lifted her to kiss her ear, her neck, and her cheek. The warmth of his touch in the cold night air made her feel that she belonged, something she hadn’t felt since John died. Domenica rested her face on Silvio’s shoulder; his neck had the scent of sweet pine, like the forest above the village at the end of summer. When they were children, they hiked those trails, drank from the stream, and sat under the shade of the trees, eating bread and butter. Silvio Birtolini was an important part of her childhood. His friendship was the beginning of a lifelong love that would heal her.
Silvio had spent years hoping Domenica Cabrelli would wait for him. The daydream took on different aspects as he grew older, but the end of the story was always the same. She would love him as he loved her. When Silvio’s lips found hers again, the sweetness remembered from a night long ago filled him with desire. He had not forgotten her; in fact, he had spent his life holding on to the feelings of that first kiss goodbye. As he kissed her face, he tasted her tears, which reminded him of the salty waves of the sea. Domenica had returned to him from the same sea that had kept them apart.
“I have a secret,” he whispered as he took her face into his hands. “I came back because of you.”
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I didn’t.” His eyes scanned the beach behind them. “This is the place of my deepest pain and highest dream. Both live in me, but I’ve learned that the love is greater than any hurt.”
* * *
Domenica sat in the dark in her bedroom. Matelda and her parents were asleep. She couldn’t rest—her mind was on fire after walking with Silvio. His kiss still made her tremble. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid or jubilant. Domenica’s heart raced with the revelation that she had found love again. How could this have happened? Two great loves in a lifetime when one love is not guaranteed.
Domenica pulled her jewelry case from the dresser drawer and carried it downstairs to the parlor. The fire was dying, orange embers twinkling in the grate above the powdery ash. She turned on the reading lamp. She sat for a while with the velvet box on her lap before opening it. She lifted the watch John had given her for their engagement. She hadn’t worn it or wound it since he died. She held the cool green stone in her hand, turned it over, and ran her finger over the engraved initials. She was five years older now and had taken to wearing a wristwatch after the war. The watch fob had become too heavy to wear on her nurse’s uniform. It was of another time.
Domenica sorted through the religious medals that represented the sacraments she had taken in her youth. Her wedding band from Mattiuzzi’s Jewelers lay at the bottom of the box. She twisted the gold band between her thumb and forefinger. The gold was smooth and held the same shine it had when it was first placed on her hand. There were no nicks, scratches, or dents on the gold because the metal had never been tested.
Domenica put the ring back in the box. She would save it for Matelda.
Domenica wanted Matelda to know the father she had never met, but she didn’t know how to keep his memory alive without the pain. As a nurse, she trusted the power of healing, but as a woman, she wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER 36
Viareggio
NOW
Open the windows, Anina.” Matelda was propped up in her bed.
“I don’t think the night air is good for you, Nonna.”
“Do you want me to sleep? I can’t sleep without fresh air.”
Anina did as she was told. She slipped her shoes off and sat at the bottom of Matelda’s bed.
“What’s the matter, Anina?”
“I’m thinking about the Mattiuzzi family.”
“It wasn’t all tragic. Piccolo married Margaret Mary. My mother stayed in touch with them. They were the last link to that time in her life. And then there was Savattini the ma?tre d’.”
“Did he die on the ship?”
“He survived. By clinging to a tabletop from a stateroom. He broke his leg when he jumped, but he didn’t know it until he was rescued. He was placed in a hospital in Liverpool, where he hatched a scheme to escape back to London instead of getting onboard another ship as a prisoner. The plot worked. They hid him in the kitchen at the Savoy until the war ended. When the Mattiuzzis went to London on their honeymoon, they had tea at the Savoy. Piccolo thought he saw a ghost when he saw Savattini cross the dining room in his tuxedo. They had quite a reunion.”
“What happened to the Franzetti boys? The family that had the pizza parlor?”
“They were interned in Australia. They ended up staying there after the war ended. I understand the grandsons are still there operating a chain of pizzerias.” Matelda threw the coverlet across Anina. “You’re really interested in the Scottish side of the family, aren’t you?”
“It explains some things.” Anina pulled the coverlet around her. “When you talk about Scotland, I feel like I’ve been there.”
“I hope you will visit someday.”
“You’ll go with me.”
“We’ll see.” Matelda smiled. “I’ve never gone back to Scotland. When I was a little girl, I promised myself that when I grew up, I would live there again. But it remained a childhood dream, which was for the best. You see, I couldn’t hurt my mother. Scotland had caused my mother pain. She had endured enough of the ugly aspects of life, and I vowed not to make things worse or remind her of them. As time went on, living anywhere but here felt like a betrayal. Whenever I traveled with your grandfather, about three days in, I’d get antsy and start badgering him to come home. I missed my family, this house, and the ocean. I traveled a lot with your grandfather, and a few times we were close to the Lowlands. He’d say, Let’s go. I was tempted but didn’t follow through. Too many ghosts.”
“I wish I had a hundred years with you, Nonna. Ghosts and all. I like how you lived in the old days. All the families together in one house.”
“And we didn’t kill each other. That’s the miracle.” Matelda chuckled. “After my uncle Aldo died in the war, and we returned to Viareggio, we lived with my grandparents. My mother decided to stay with her parents after she married Silvio, and he was happy to do so. And I was happy too. I had a father.”
“Even though Netta didn’t like Silvio?”