“I c-can’t do this! Tell my grandparents to go…I don’t think that’s why…I think they’re worried about the both of us.”
“Why?”
“Oh, well, let me count the issues…”
I squeezed her and she did emit a quiet squeak. Sarcasm had no place in this conversation.
“Brando, have you ever thought that we’re surrounded by loved ones who have gone ahead of us all the time? But only some of us can feel them? I’m missings-somethingthat stops me from f-feeling them so close.”
“I don’t know,” I said, eyes scanning the darkness, on high alert. “If that’s true, why are you scared now?”
“I didn’t say it was always pleasant. It can be unnerving. I don’t feel it all of the time, just when I’m in a spot that held significance, or intense feelings, it seems. Perhaps they’re not worried about us. Perhaps that’s howtheyfelt here. I have no book to guide me! And Eva dreams, that’s different!”
“Huh,” I said, trying to absorb all of this. It was hard to get past the fact that I wanted the other side to keep away from my wife. I felt defensive, almost mad to protect her from the unknown. Death had tried to lure her once.
At the sound of footsteps, Scarlett jumped clear off the ground. I put a firm arm around her to keep her from falling when she came down. Guido made a garbled noise at the sight of us. The fright of it made him stumble and he fell flat on his back.
“Mio Dio!” he groaned. “I thought you were ghosts!”
“No, man,” I said in Italian, giving him a hand up. “It’s just us.”
“I did not see you here. Before.” He dusted off his pants. “It is known that this place has its share offantasmi. It cannot be escaped in a stone book of history. I apologize for the scare, Scarlett.” He tipped his head to her.
She made a funny noise with her mouth (pfff!)—compliments of the strawberry champagne, I was sure—and waved a hand. Her face was pale, her body trembling. “It’s f-fine, G-Guido. I’m s-sorry we s-scared you.”
“Ah, is your wifeva bene?” he asked me.
The look on her face made it clear that she wondered why he didn’t askher, but she kept silent.
“She feels the history here,” I said to him. “Thefantasmi.”
“Is this because of her grandparents?” He thought about this for a moment. “I overhear things at the party. They took refuge here, for a time. Perhaps they like it here. Perhaps it holds a special place for them. Not all ghosts arewheeeee,” he attempted to make a frightening ghost sound.
Scarlett and I looked at each other at the same time.
“A castle isromantico, no?” Guido lifted a brow. “The ghosts might be more inclined to goahhhhhhh.”
“What is all the fuss about?” Rocco appeared, followed by an entourage.
Scarlett and I looked at each other again, this time both of her brows came up. I knew what she asked silently—did he come to see Monica? Rosaria wasn’t with him. Dario, Carmen, Romeo, Violet, Mick, Lola, and Tito surrounded him, along with more than a few men from the villa.
The two women who had passed us earlier were back, whispering about quadruplets. Romeo gave them a sly look, his eyes following their retreating forms until they fizzled into part of the night.
“Monica called me,” Rocco said, putting to rest any doubt. “It has been a long time since I have seen her.”
“How long?” Scarlett said. The way she spoke made it obvious that she bubbled with the champagne still in her veins.
I didn’t care for the way Rocco searched her face, curious to know if she knew about him and Monica. Curious to know how she felt about it. I could tell him how she felt about it—she loathed the idea that he came here to commit adultery. Or had done so after he was married.
If Rocco were to tell her yes—and he would, if it was the truth—I’d feel it later. The trust she had in me would be stretched because it brought her father’s affairs to the forefront of her mind. The fact that we looked so much alike seemed to upset her even more, like it was me telling her I was off to have an affair.
“Ah,” Tito interrupted. “I have not seen her in some time. Lola gets along splendidly with Sibilla. We thought we should come and see how things were going.” His spectacles reflected the surrounding torches, small fires burning in the depths of his narrow eyes. Glancing from me to Scarlett, his mouth pinched when he was able to get a good look at her. “What is amiss, nephew? Your wife is the color of pale milk. Has she taken sick?”
I didn’t think she meant to, but she squeezed my arm at this. Another man asking me what was wrong with her. This time I could sense that Tito thought I caused it. His tone was accusing, and so were his beady eyes.
“It’s this place.” I motioned with my hands. “The history.”
“Ahhuh,” he said, as though he listened to a medical case that needed a fast diagnosis. He stepped forward and touched Scarlett’s cheek in a tender embrace. “Are you afraid,piccola colomba?”
