Some of the wind seemed to be knocked out of Charlotte’s sails. She looked to the left and to the right, her cheeks glowing as hotly as her sister’s. She opened her mouth and then closed it.
She had expected a fight, to feel superior, because she never could before. Scarlett didn’t give it to her. Now she was at a loss.
Scarlett took slow, careful steps down, coming to stand beside me. She took my hand in hers. Her skin was clammy; bubbles of sweat rose above her lip.
“If you have something to say to me, say it.” Scarlett narrowed her eyes against her sister’s. “You are, after all, more of a woman than I am.”
“Well!” her sister huffed. “You allow all of these—”
Scarlett smiled, and there was something wild about it. It wasn’t a true smile but a viscous sneer. In the glow of the fire, she was all lit up, the wickedness in her sister coming out in her. “You seem to love that word.Well,” she mocked her sister’s tone, “isn’t that a brilliant coincidence—”
“Scarlett,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t say something that she would regret.
“—because that’s just whatyouare,” Scarlett said, ignoring my warning. She looked at her mother. “You too. And me. And so was Elliott.”
“What are you talking about?” Pnina asked Scarlett the question, but she looked at me. She thought Scarlett had gone mad. She had given me that look on more than one occasion.
I used my free hand to wipe my face, feeling like sweat was coating my skin. It wasn’t. It was leftover rain from the trip outside.
“Mati,” Scarlett said sweetly, and for the briefest of seconds I could see the madness, the cornered animal finally reaching her breaking point after being poked too hard and too often. “It seems our dear Maja had a secret. I found it. Matteo was not only her lover, but also your father. Maja named you Pnina after his mamma.” She turned from her mother, an even wider smile on her face as she found Charlotte. Charlotte swallowed hard and took a step back. “What was it that you called my husband?Italian?” She used that same insulting tone, and then cocked up her brow. “Well, it takes one to know one, am I right, sister?”
My wife threw her head back and laughed. The fire rose up, twisted colored tongues licking the stone black. The room grew even hotter, turning my wet clothes dry.
* * *
After my wife had let the secret loose, she collapsed against me, but not in such a way that her sister noticed. I didn’t have to wait long to pick her up. Charlotte had barreled past us, rushing to her room, and Pnina but a second after. Scarlett said nothing as I carried her up the stairs and put her back in our bed. She sighed before she drifted to sleep, leaving me alone once again.
A branch, or some other object that seemed to have claws, hit against the shutters, scratching against the wood before being snatched by the ferocious power of the wind. The storm was only growing meaner.
It was hard to hear her faint breathing over the roar of the storm, but she sighed again, and I felt myself go slack. My wife was bundled up, except for one foot that stuck out of the covers, bones as prominent as a skeleton’s close to the surface of her skin. She had to be cold.
She had refused to allow Rocco to light the fireplace in our room earlier, but with the sharp chill and the air full of moisture, dampness started to creep in. During warmer months, the villa was the perfect temperature, but during winter months, the stone seemed to cling to the season. The house reflected that. More clothes were necessary, and the fires burned all day to ward off the iciness.
“No,” she said, hearing me fooling around with the logs. I heard the shiver in her voice, her teeth almost chattering. “I don’t want it.”
“You’ll catch pneumonia. It’s freezing in here.” I went forward with the task, not caring if she wanted it or not. The tiny spark grew into a leap; not long after, flames rose to meet the open mouth of the chimney, emitting enough warmth that I knew she’d be able to feel it.
“Fine,” she said, with a bit of snap. “Do what you want.”
“If I did whatever I wanted, I’d be in bed with you. Warming you myself.”
She said nothing, turning over, giving me her back. I watched her as I listened to the soft murmurs floating up from below, the comforting pop of the fire filling the empty pauses in conversation.
If love wasn’t powerful enough to bring a man to his knees, and didn’t serve as a spiritual experience, it didn’t seem like love to me—only infatuation.Amore rinascimentale,Luca used to call it.Renaissance love. This woman—she was my spiritual experience in all ways. Her love became the heaven I strived to reach. And if she turned on me, locked me out of her gates, I’d be sentenced to hell by her refusal alone.
“Have mercy on me,” I whispered as a log snapped. A twirl of sparks flew up and disappeared.
I didn’t expect a reaction, but she gave me one nonetheless. She turned, meeting my eyes until I knew she couldn’t hold hers open any longer, and she fell asleep. I went to take my place outside the door when Mitch stopped me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him. It felt like years.
“Go take your shower, man.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I got this under control out here. I won’t let the monsters in.” He coughed out “Charlotte.”
Yeah, I fucking needed one.
Another thing about the Tuscan way of life—the water was as valued as gold. The shower Scarlett had taken our first day home had been a blessing. The hot water ran out quickly on me now, and I found myself standing under a spray of ice, letting it fall down my back like rain. I barely noticed, not until my skin started to contract on its own and my hands and feet started to turn blue.
Mitch leaned against the railing when I found him, looking over at the children sleeping not too far from the fire, all wrapped up in thick blankets. His sleeping bag was not too far from theirs.
A noise like a transformer blowing made us look at each other. The windows rattled, the stone seemed to crack, and the entire foundation seemed to shift. Thunder must have been directly over the house, a strike of lightning hitting something outside.
