“This woman sees him in her dreams,” she said. “Ettore told me when she did. He knew it for my truth.”
“Why—I mean, I don’t understand. He left you because you told him the truth?” I asked.
“A man does not like to hear these things. A man wants to live forever. Ettore was a proud man. Too proud. He was jealous of this one’s father—” she nodded at Brando “—but he also loved him more than his own life. Would do anything he asked to be in his good graces. This is why Luca appointed him the godfather.”
“He’s my godfather?” Brando paused. “Was?”
Though she couldn’t speak English, she seemed to understand. “Sì.”
“What a godfather,” I muttered. “He tried to kill you.”
Brando didn’t acknowledge my comment. He was too busy absorbing the turn of events. Parts of Brando’s life had been hidden from him. From the time he could understand, he knew who he was, who his father was, but I doubted he ever imagined his roots being this embedded, and the story of him so complex.
“No surprise to me when he attempted to rid you of this one—” She nodded at me. Then she met my eye. “You are a version of me. Still, he loved me. I loved him. We did not have a traditional union. He came and went at his own leisure—my blood, the tears I cried when he left, staining his white sleeve. He killed every one of my lovers—the men brave enough to touch me despite the name. Lonely. I was very lonely without him.”
Her eyes seemed to become vacant then, seeing something that was not there. I didn’t want to a judge her, but a feeling came over me when she mentioned that he’d killed all of her lovers. There was no doubt that it was a pleased feeling. Tormenting him with her lovers had given her a temporary respite against the hurt he’d caused her. Perhaps she’d used them to make him jealous, knowing she used these “lovers” as bait.
Brando seemed to sense it too. There was something a bit off about her, and not only her peculiar nature.
Clearing his throat, Brando put a hand to my back. “We are sorry for your loss,” he said. “In time, may you find comfort.”
“Comfort.” She laughed bitterly. “Never. Not without him.”
Brando nodded once and turned me, more than ready to go.
“You are curious!”she called after me.
Brando pushed me to go, but I held firm. Turning, I nodded to her.
“I have seen nothing,” she said, “of either of you.” She studied me for what seemed like a lifetime. “Love. That is all I am able to see when the two of you are together.” She hesitated but then went on. “That is good.”
Brando came close to bodily removing me from the situation this time, so instead of giving him more grief, I went along with him. Whether it was the fact that she was touched too, or that she knew what I was capable of and had hidden from me, I couldn’t get a good read on her. It was all at once frustrating and a novelty.
“Scarlett.”
“Yes?”
“What is it with you? If insanity or danger exists, it undoubtedly finds you, no matter how far.”
“She’s not insane, Brando. She’s touched.”
“In the head.”
“Your wife is touched too,” I reminded him. Though I doubted that he ever forgot.
“Not in the head.”
I sighed, getting frustrated.
“Did you see the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned how he killed her lovers?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t lie. I had seen it.
There was no telling, though, what Ettore had put her through. He had accused me time and time again of being astrega.
How would I feel if Brando accused me of the same thing? Leaving me because he was afraid of who I was deep down? It was all too easy to see how Ettore had thought she’d bewitched him, and each time he left her because of it, he would come back for the same reason. Not for love, but because of a curse he believed she’d cast on him.
It was in Ettore’s nature to believe the hype, then turn around and use it for his benefit. There was no doubt in my mind that he went back to her for more than conjugal visits.
