"A few more minutes, signorina," Officer Zambelli said. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. "Please take this. If you happen to remember anything else, call me."
I took the card and watched as he joined his colleagues. They spoke to one another and sent more glances our way. I pulled Isaia onto my lap again, more for my comfort than for his. I prayed for Elda to arrive. I had called her immediately after stepping out of the tabacchi. My hoarse voice had probably done more to freak her out than my actual words. I’d tried to downplay the level of danger we’d been in, but she’d interrupted, saying she was on her way.
A younger version of the elderly man had appeared at his side. The younger man wore a business suit and tie. They spoke, and the younger Fantelli looked my way. I dropped my lips to Isaia's head and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.
A moment later, "Excuse me. What's your name, Miss?" His words were softly accented.
I looked up to see the younger Fantelli standing at my elbow. The elder stood behind him, peering at me. I set Isaia on the bench and stood, feeling a little dizzy. I was very distracted by the new and mostly unpleasant sensation of fire inside my pelvis.
"Saxony," I croaked, and managed a smile for him. "How is your... father?"
"My Uncle, actually. He has a broken bone in his wrist, but he'll be okay. We want to say thank you for what you did." He held out his hand and I took it. He shook it warmly in a two-handed clasp. He pulled me forward and kissed my right cheek, then my left. His eyes were lined with moisture. "Really, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there. We are so much grateful."
I blushed. "It's nothing. Anyone would have done it."
"No, they wouldn't."
Signor Fantelli stepped closer. He took my hand in his good one, kissed my right cheek, then my left, then my right again. "Grazie. Grazie voi. Grazie mille. Bella angelo." Tears glistened in his eyes.
I swallowed my own tears back at the look on his face. My emotions were already riding too close to the surface. "Prego," I rasped.
Elda appeared on the other side of the courtyard, her eyes scanned the courtyard frantically. I waved at her. She began to run, the sound of her heels on the stone echoed across the courtyard. She was halted by an officer and the two exchanged words. He looked over at us and let her go.
"What were you thinking?" Elda hissed as she took Isaia in her arms. She was visibly shaking. Her chin wobbled and her eyes flashed. The whites of her eyes were visible.
I took an involuntary step back, stung. Rationally, I understood her fear, but after everything I had just been through, my self-control was already stretched thin. My face flushed with heat. My body stiffened and I closed my eyes and visualized my brother. Don’t say or do anything you’ll regret. I took a deep breath.
The two Fantelli men stared at Elda, wide-eyed. The sweetness of our interaction had been swallowed up by awkwardness and embarrassment.
Elda ignored them. "You entered the scene of a crime?" she cried, her voice sharp. "For all you knew the... the... the criminals could still have been inside, and you thought it was a good idea to take my son in there?" She wrapped her arms around Isaia and squeezed him so hard, he squirmed.
I opened my mouth but I was too stunned for words. She was right, actually. I had exposed Isaia to danger. My vision wavered, like I was looking at her from across the top of a bonfire.
"This girl is a hero, signora," said the younger Fantelli, his voice soft. "She may have saved my uncle's life."
"She may have," said Elda, rounding on him. "But it could have been at the expense of my son."
Mr. Fantelli took a step back at the venom in her voice and put up his palms. He looked at me with sympathy and put an arm around his uncle. Fantelli senior was staring at Elda, his brow wrinkled. He pulled away from his nephew and directed a stream of angry Italians at her. He gestured emphatically toward me and then toward the burnt out tabacchi shop, clearly defending me.
Elda spouted angry Italian back at him, her voice growing louder. Spectators began to look our direction. An officer started to walk our way.
My focus passed back and forth between Elda and the elderly man. My mind whirled. I needed them to stop fighting. Black spots appeared in my vision and their voices blurred together. I reached a hand out for something to hold on to, but there was nothing. My hand patted the air uselessly. The world turned sideways. Everything went black.
Thirteen
Voices argued. My head throbbed. I opened my eyes and my vision swam, so I squeezed them shut again.
"Miss? Can you hear me?"
I forced my eyes open. "I can hear you."
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
I looked at the medic’s gloved hand. "Quattro. Do I get double points for answering in Italian?"
She smiled and took my pulse, then listened to my heart with a stethoscope.
I tried to lift my head.
"Stay down, please. You fainted. We'll take you to the hospital soon, but emergency is backed up so it'll be a wait."
My heart began to pound along with my head. The last thing I wanted was to go to the hospital. Anxiety swamped my stomach at the very thought of it. "That won't be necessary. I'm feeling much better. I'm just tired. I didn't sleep last night," I lied. "I hate hospitals, so taking me there will only stress me out further. Please, just send me home to rest."
The medic frowned and spoke to a nearby colleague. I understood the words for 'delay' and 'four hours.' It sounded like if they sent me to hospital I would just be sitting around a waiting room for a long time.
"Really, I'm okay." I sat up slowly and she didn't prevent me. "May I have some water, please?"
Someone handed me a bottle of cold water and I drank it. I smiled at the medic, "See? Just a fainting spell. I have low blood pressure. Sometimes it happens."
She didn't look happy, but Elda, who was carrying Isaia, spoke to her in Italian and the medic finally agreed to let me go.
We were released from the courtyard and as soon as we were out of view of everyone, I leaned against the calle wall. Shock made my legs weak.
"Saxony?" It seemed Elda had passed over the worst of her anger.
"I just have a headache," I rasped. "I'm okay." The fire flickered in my belly, reminding me of its presence.
"Your voice sounds terrible." She put a hand to my head. Her eyebrows shot up. "You're feverish. Can you make it home? Maybe we should go to hospital after all? We need to call your parents."
"I will," I said. "The hospital is not necessary, though. I just need to rest." My head pounded and thoughts of my bed beckoned. I walked toward home. Elda and Isaia followed. If Elda was still upset, I couldn't tell. I couldn't pay attention to anything other than putting one foot after the other.
Once we'd arrived home, Elda forced me to lie on her bed where she could keep an eye on me. I collapsed, not caring which bed I was in. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Fourteen
It was the fire that woke me—it licked at the insides of my ribcage. I winced. My mouth and eyes felt hot and dry. I sat up on my elbow and took a drink from the glass of water on the beside table. Instantly, it took the edge off the pain. I spotted the digital thermometer sitting there and frowned. I brought it to my ear and pressed the button. When it beeped, I watched the screen.
85.
I no longer thought the thermometer was broken. I really was that hot. Any normal person would be dead by now.
There was a knock on the door and Elda poked her head in. "Saxony?" she whispered.
"I'm awake."
"How do you feel?" She approached the bed.
"You know that saying death warmed over?" I gave a rough, dry laugh and pushed myself upright.
"No, what does it mean?"
"Never mind. I'm okay." I wasn't, but I wasn't going to admit that. "How is Isaia?" I dropped my legs over the side of the bed.