Or feel it.
I sighed, pointing to two overturned crates. “Here we are.” I motioned for her to take a seat and I took the one next to her.
The silence was welcome after being surrounded by family since we arrived. When I had come to live here, sometimes I’d walk the groves to be alone. I’d sit on a crate and clear my mind from all thoughts. After, I did my best scheming.
“Is something wrong, Capo?”
I realized she’d been talking. She was looking at me, waiting for me to reply.
“No. It’s peaceful here. I’m content.”
“Okay,” she whispered. She looked down at her hands, and I set mine over hers, making her look at me again.
“I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone. I wanted to give you this in private.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out a rosary made from real pearls. The spacers were made with sapphires. The cross was gold. I opened her palm and set it in the center, closing her hand around it. “That was your mother’s. I thought you’d like to have it. You can carry it tomorrow, if you want. Something old.”
“My mother’s.” Her voice was soft as she opened her palm, as though I had given her an invaluable treasure. “Where did you get it?” Her fingers gently caressed the beads, maybe trying to find a connection, trying to remember something. When she came across a blood spot, she tried to wipe it clean but it was stained for good.
“You,” I said. “Your mom prayed with you every night before bed. You’d recite the rosary with her in Italian. The night I took you with me, it was near your coloring books, and you handed it to me.”
“You kept it.”
“Close,” I said.
After a few minutes, she placed the rosary down on her legs, putting a hand behind her back. She lifted a small box toward me. “When you told me we were taking a walk, I decided to give you what I had, too. If not, I would’ve had to send it with someone tomorrow. Tonight feels right.”
I grinned at the fact that she had tucked the box in the soft wraps of her dress without me noticing. This small girl could’ve brought a knife and stabbed me in the back with it and I wouldn’t have had a clue until it stuck in my flesh. I realized in that moment how much I trusted her. It might have been foolish, but since I was running a race on uncharacteristic decisions when it came to Mariposa, why not add one more to the list?
The grin slipped from my face when I opened her gift.
“Your family jeweler probably hates me because I didn’t think of it until we got here, and he had to rush the order again. I thought…I thought you’d like to carry a piece of your mom on…our wedding day. This felt like a clever way to do it. You have so many of them at home.”
She had given me cufflinks, cufflinks that had a picture of my mother on each one.
“Mariposa—” I started but couldn’t finish.
“Remember our deal,” she whispered. “I do for you. You do for me. You do for me. I do for you. We’re even.”
Far from it, but I didn’t respond.
“She’s so beautiful,” she said, looking over at the cufflinks. “You look a lot like her, just a manly version.”
I grinned. “My grandfather,” I said. “She looked like him, just more feminine. She had his features, but the blue eyes are from my grandmother’s side. So technically I look like him when he was younger.”
“Either way,” she said. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”
I thought so too, until I looked at you,I went to say, but then stopped myself. I cleared my throat, closed the box, and then stood. I gave her my hand. “Time to go, Butterfly. We have a long day tomorrow.”
17
Mariposa
“Stop fidgeting.” I repeated the words like a mantra. Over and over and over. The words were almost a chant underneath my breath. I peeked inside of the church for the tenth time. It was filled to capacity. All of the voices were at low volume, but it almost sounded like the hum of bees, and it made goosebumps rise on my arms.
I took a step back. “Agitarsi. Stopfidgeting, Mari.” I couldn’t shake my nerves today. They clung to me. The New York wedding seemed simple, over and done, final in minutes, but this one? This one had meaning.
Nonnosat at the front of the church, talking to friends and family, and the day was doing him good. He looked…healthy. He kept smiling, laughing, and he waved everyone off when they went to help him. He wasn’t just surviving; he was living. It gave me hope for the future. If he could keep having days like this one, maybe they could do something to help him.
Happiness was the best medicine, right?
