When we arrived at the villa in Tuscany, she said, “At least it’s hot.” And then sighed deep and long.
Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola made a slow walk of it, pausing at the door before they took the plunge. Scarlett and I stood outside, staring up at the place we had called home for a while.
“Before we go in, I’d like to visit the rose garden,” she whispered finally. “Matteo’s garden.”
I took her hand, squeezing.
Spring had turned into summer, but the wildflowers hadn’t received the message. The hills were covered in lingering vibrant colors. My heart stopped and then my stomach lurched at the view. I wondered if I’d ever see them without remembering. Using my free hand, I rubbed at my chest.
“Oh!” Pnina said, standing from the bench in front of the roses. “I didn’t realize you two were home.”
“We just got in,” I said, since Scarlett hadn’t said anything.
She stood there, staring at her mother. I let go of her hand, turning toward the gold marker in the garden.
“What is it,hci?”
I knew enough Slovenian to know thathcimeantdaughter.
“N-nothing,” Scarlett stammered.
Her mother had been on her mind lately. Wondering how she had survived Elliott’s death without the support of the other half that created him. I caught a flash and turned in time to see Scarlett smack into the shocked woman, awkwardly hugging her. Their hands didn’t know where to go, though Scarlett’s arms were around her.
Finally, after the shock wore off, Pnina stroked her head, whispering things in Slovenian that I didn’t understand, but they sounded tender.
Scarlett took a step back. “I am better,mati.” She sniffed. “But not whole.”
“No,hci,” Pnina said, understanding in her voice. “You will never be. The absence never leaves. It is a constant companion. It will sit next to you, follow you around. But you will learn to live with it.”
“You?” Scarlett said, more tenderness in her voice than I had ever heard toward her mother.
Pnina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I can still breathe, though some hours his absence suffocates me.”
“I—” I nodded toward the house. “I’ll be inside.”
“No—”
“No—”
Both women said at once. I looked between them, getting the distinct feeling that neither one wanted to be left alone with the other.
“I was just going in,” Pnina said, straightening up. “We must pack. Charlotte is—” Pnina paused. “Close. We will be leaving tomorrow.”
Scarlett nodded, standing taller. “I’d like to spend some time out here with my husband.”
There it was again, whatever blocked them from mending their relationship. It seemed too complicated for me to even consider, so I said nothing, hoping the awkward moment would pass in a rush, for their sakes.
It did, with Pnina rushing past the two of us, her perfume lingering behind.
“Scarlett,” I said.
“Don’t,” she said, falling to her knees next to the marker. She ran a hand over it. It had been kept clean, roses and wildflowers placed around it.
Scarlett dug in her bag and took out the hibiscus she brought from Fiji, resting it next to the other flowers. She looked up at me, giving me her hand. I came down next to her, and she leaned against me, her free hand fiddling with the cross around her neck.
“I tried,” she whispered. “But there’s something there—something we can’t get past. Do you think it’s possible to love someone but be content not to be close to them? Or does that make me a horrible person? She’s my mother.”
“You’re not a horrible person, baby. I think—” I didn’t know what to think. Maggie Beautiful and I did our own thing, but whatever lay between us just was. It didn’t stop me, nor did it egg me on. It was easy to compare Maggie Beautiful to a mystery ride. Get in her way and she’d plow you down. Get on her ride and there’d be hell to pay—extreme sickness. It was best to watch her from a distance. Luca, on the other hand, was more complicated but somehow simpler—depending on the way I looked at it. “What you did today—maybe it’s a start.”
