CHAPTER NINE #2
She sucked in a sharp breath through her mouth at the same time her eyes went wide. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
I nodded stiffly. “Huntington’s disease, twelve years ago.”
“Oh goodness. That is …” Sadness creased her pretty features, “how sad for all of you.”
“Guiseppe has taken the genetic testing, and he is not a carrier. So we do not have to worry about him getting it.”
“That’s good.”
“This land belongs to my son. But he does not want to live here. This sanctuary was his mother’s dream, and after her parents died, my son offered me the opportunity to come here and fulfill her dream. Fulfill our dream. This was going to be where we retired. With animals and peace.”
“With animals and peace,” she echoed. “So you’re doing that now. Only … alone.”
“Si. I am alone, but I am okay with that.” Now. I’d been without Erin for twelve years, but I had Guiseppe to raise, so I wasn’t entirely alone. Now that he was in his twenties and living his own life, I had to find my own way to live mine as well.
“How old is Guiseppe?” she asked.
“He is twenty-three. I played football for three more years after his mother died, but a knee injury forced me to retire. I tried coaching, but it was not for me. So I just raised my son. I was fortunate to have the money to do so and not work.”
“Single parenting is not for the faint of heart; I know that. I’ve raised Sam on my own since the day she was born.”
I was glad to be offered the opportunity to move away from the topic of my life and family. I jumped at the segue. “Where is her father?”
“Prison,” she said without hesitation. “He was—is—a terrible man. Gabrielle caught him, her husband, and her husband’s brother molesting her husband’s brother’s three young nieces. We’re talking children. Toddlers. She reported them, and they have been in prison ever since.”
My blood bubbled hot in my veins at the mere thought of children being hurt in any way—let alone that way. “They should have been killed.”
She nodded. “I agree. But that’s not how the system works, unfortunately.
We were raised in a very … cult-like environment.
Christian fundamentalists, if you know what that is.
Men held all the power; women held none.
We were married off to men far older than us, who joined the organization looking for submissive young wives.
I had no choice in who my husband was. My father chose him for me.
And he was abusive and awful. All four of us—my cousins and me—were raised in that life and escaped. ”
“How did you escape?” I’d never heard such a story in my life, and this woman seemed willing to tell it. So I poured her more orzo solubile and handed it to her, letting her continue.
“Our aunt. Gabrielle’s dad, my dad, Naomi’s dad, and Raina’s dad were all brothers.
They had one sister—Dolores. She escaped the cult after she miscarried a child with her abusive husband.
She literally left the hospital and never went home.
She reached out to us as teenagers through the town librarian and said that if we ever wanted out, she would be there on the outside to help us. ”
“And you did.”
“Not right away. Not soon enough. But then again,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t have Sam if I had gotten out sooner.
So,” her one-shoulder shrug caused the blanket to slip off her shoulder, and I reached over to tug it back around her.
Her smile warmed me. “I got out when I could. Aunt Dolores was the one who owned the winery actually. She left it to us to run when she passed. None of us would have this second chance if it weren’t for her.
So we’re doing everything we can to keep her legacy alive. ”
“Do the children know about their past? About their fathers?”
“They know some. As they get older, they’re asking more questions.
Becoming more forceful with us to explain to them about their fathers.
It’s not easy. It’s dredging up a lot for all of us.
And earlier this year, Marco—Raina’s son—was kidnapped by his father’s brother who wanted Marco to be his heir since he had only daughters. ”
“I heard about that. Cameron called me and told me to be on the lookout on the island. That a child had been kidnapped. I had no idea it was your nephew.”
“Yeah. He’s still dealing with some emotions and fear following all of that. But he’s doing great. It was pretty traumatic for the poor kid.”
“Children are resilient. But they shouldn’t have to be.”
The poignant look in her eyes said she agreed unequivocally. A heavy silence fell between us. One I felt deep in my chest. I focused on the ground in front of me.
“I’m really sorry about your wife,” she said after several heartbeats. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
I swallowed and nodded gently. “Grazie. It was a long time ago, but … I feel close to her when I am here. Where she grew up. Fulfilling her dream.”
She took a sip of the barley coffee, then offered the cup to me since I’d only packed the thermos with the lid for a cup. I accepted it, nodding before bringing the steaming brew to my lips and taking a generous sip.
“It’s not just the barley coffee in there, is it?”
I swallowed. “No. I add a spot of milk and some honey. I take my regular coffee black though.”
“I’m a vanilla soy girl.” Her cheeks grew a little pink.
“I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee before I escaped.
Only warm water with lemon was allowed by my husband.
He said women drinking caffeine was a sin.
So when I finally got out, I wanted something decadent in my first ever coffee, and someone offered me vanilla soy, and it was one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted. I never turned back.”
“Life is too short not to take our coffee the way we like it. If you want to drink it standing on your head, then do that. If it makes you happy.”
Her giggle sent a very pleasant warmth through me, and I itched to move closer to her. Midnight’s head flopped away, his eyes closed with a small trickle of milk escaping his mouth.
“He is drunk.” I shook my head. “What do you say in English? Lightweight?”
She giggled again. “Yes. That’s what we say. He’s a total lightweight when it comes to milk. We should move him with his mama.”
It was easier for me to scoop up the little foal and settle him beside his mother than it was for Danica. So I carefully gathered Midnight into my arms, the backs of my hands grazing the tops of her thighs as I did.
Angel was asleep again, but roused enough to lick her son affectionately.
I sat back against the wall and tilted my chin toward the rafters, closing my eyes.
Maybe Angel would rally and find the strength she needed to be there for her son, but I knew better than to have false hope, especially when it came to ill mothers.
Angel was doing everything she could to stay alive for her son, but even with that, she very well might not.
A mother’s love was unmatched and held no bounds, but their life was just as fragile as the rest of ours.
Danica mimicked my movements and, sighing, leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.
I drifted to sleep as soon as my eyes closed.
I didn’t know how long I’d slept for before I woke.
Uncomfortable and achy from the horrible position, I groaned as the rustling sound of straw and hooves on concrete pulled me from a dream I immediately couldn’t remember.
Danica’s head was on my shoulder, and while I didn’t want to wake her, I also needed to see what was going on.
I gently pried myself out from under her head and leaned forward.
When I first heard the sounds but hadn’t opened my eyes, I thought maybe Angel was trying to get up, but after a quick second of collecting my surroundings, I realized it was Midnight.
He was up on his feet and nudging his mother with his nose.
A yawn and movement beside me alerted me to Danica being awake. “What time is it?” she asked, glancing at her watch. “Oh, it’s two in the morning. We must have fallen asleep. Is he hungry again?”
I wasn’t sure. Was the foal nudging his mother because he wanted to nurse, or just because he wanted her attention?
On my knees, I inched toward Angel, leaning down to press my face to her nose to feel her breath.
There was none.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I pressed my forehead to hers and said a soft prayer—even though I wasn’t a religious man—to San Francesco d’Assisi, the patron saint of animals, asking him to protect this mother in the afterlife, and protect her son here on earth.
“She’s gone?” Danica asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
I nodded, lifting my head only to have a wide awake and ready to play colt chewing on my shirtsleeve. “She has left us.”
Midnight was relentless now, demanding attention, and possibly food too.
“I’ll go warm up another bottle,” she said with sleep and grief in her voice as she used the stall wall to help herself to her feet.
My head bobbed, and I turned to the young horse to give him all my attention.
“Sei un monello tenero, ma adesso ci sono io per te.” I said to him, petting him but not for long, since he jumped out of the way.
“You’re a little rascal, but now I’m here for you.
” He continued to nudge and headbutt his mother, not understanding why she wasn’t reacting.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and emotion grew thick and heavy in my throat. Just like I had to with my own son, I needed to figure out a way to be both mother and father to this little boy. To help him with his grief while battling my own.
He approached me again, this time stepping close enough to nudge my shoulder with his head. I gently stroked between his ears. I’d pay whatever I had to for goats’ milk for him, but what he really needed was a mother. His mother. But since she was no longer with us, a nurse mare would have to do.
Hopefully, my contact on the mainland would come through.
Otherwise, I had no idea how little Midnight was going to cope.