Dishonorable

I felt like two boulders pushed at me from either side, squeezing the life out of me. All while I held Sofia, trying to keep her from getting crushed.

I got up out of bed.

Sofia stirred but settled quickly. I covered her with the blanket and slipped on a pair of jeans, then, from my closet, I retrieved the soiled sheet Maria had folded and placed there on my instruction while I’d washed Sofia. I took it downstairs, into the living room. There, I lit a fire in the fireplace and watched it take, watched the kindling burn, watched it set the wood aflame. I studied that fire for a long while. I don’t even think I consciously decided. I set the sheet in the flames, destroying it, watching it burn, all evidence of our wedding night turning to ash.

In a way, it was symbolic because inside, I too was ash.

Chapter Fifteen

Sofia

The next morning when I woke, Raphael was gone. I wondered if he slept, how many hours he slept. Last night, after making love to me—and he had made love to me—he’d washed me so tenderly, so carefully, it surprised me. Although maybe it shouldn’t have. Maybe duality was the norm with him. Maybe knowing he had a capacity to be tender would make a difference, would make tolerating him when he was terrible bearable. Because I also knew he would be terrible.

Or maybe that knowledge would only make those moments that much harder.

After the night in Civitella in Val di Chiana, I didn’t know how I’d be able to go through with the wedding. The wedding night. But then he’d told me why. My grandfather had used Lina like a pawn. He’d seen a window, my weakness, and had used it against Raphael.

I needed to talk to my grandfather. I needed to confront him and hear from him his side of the story, about the stealing, about his agreement with Raphael. But I wasn’t fool enough to think he’d tell me the truth. At least not all of it. But there were two sides to every story, and he had raised me. The man had given us shelter, if not love, for thirteen years. He’d given us the best that money could buy. He couldn’t hate us.

He sold you out.

Literally.

Yes, he had. But if I were honest with myself, the way he felt about me wasn’t the same as what he felt for Lina. Maybe it was because she was younger. Maybe it was her nature, that she forced some affection, even if it was the slightest bit of it from him?

Lina aside, though, I couldn’t forget or deny that he had gone against me. And if what Raphael said was true, that he was stealing from me, from Lina—he had to be stopped.

But he was still my grandfather.

I rubbed my neck, trying to alieve the headache that was forming.

Another thing had been niggling in the back of my mind for a few days. Ever since the flight to Italy. I was eighteen now. I was married. Together with Raphael, I was capable of supporting my sister.

Could I request and be granted guardianship of her? Could I bring Lina here to live with us? If my grandfather didn’t allow it, which I felt would be his response, would I fight him in court? Could I? How public would I be willing to go—if what Raphael said was true? How much would it hurt Lina? Her relationship with him was different. They lived in the same house. I’d been gone for four years.

But there was another question too. Would Raphael allow it?

He’d given me the gift of time with her. He knew how much she meant to me. But to bring her here to live with us?

Would Lina even want to? She’d have to leave everything behind. How would she feel about leaving our grandfather alone? And could I cast doubt on her faith in Grandfather, when I wasn’t sure myself what was true?

It was a lot to think about. I climbed out of bed, then remembered that when Raphael had been bathing me, someone had come into the bedroom to change the sheets. My face heated at the thought of it, of someone—Maria, I would guess—knowing. Is that where he was now? Showing them to my grandfather?

I shook my head, forcing that thought away. I wouldn’t think of it. I couldn’t. It was too terrible. And as much as I didn’t want to, I knew I had to talk to my grandfather this week before he returned home.

I picked up my cell phone and found his number, but I put it away again. I wouldn’t call or make an appointment. I would show up at his hotel. Surprise him. Maybe catch him off guard.

Besides, I had more important things to do today.