Chapter 15 La Vendemmia #2
I shook my head. “I have some Italian, but I’m not fluent.”
Her eyes stilled on mine, and I thought I caught a glimpse of concern there before she shook her head and waved her hand. “This article is from World War II. The Faustis, even people who were connected through marriage, preserved a lot of things—most of these things are in safes all over Italy.
“Grazia, Brando and Rocco’s grandmother, the famous Italian starlet, well, her sister married a Fausti too, and this was their land.
Anyway, I’m sure you know that, but…not many people preserve things the way that the Fausti family does.
This article is about an air raid in Naples that killed quite a few people during the war. ”
She looked it over again, then she set it reverently on the desk, her hand lingering on it before she completely pulled away and began rummaging through others on the floor. She was reading over them out loud, then stacking them in a neat pile.
I opened a small wooden box that hadn’t been damaged in the fall and looked inside.
The sun illuminated dark velvet lining, and dust motes danced in the golden air above it.
The inside of the box smelled old, and for reasons I couldn’t comprehend, my mind automatically thought…
this was what that era smelled like. Romance, uncertainty, destruction, starvation, the meaning of family, and then hope for a more peaceful and prosperous future.
A hint of gold glinted from deep inside the box.
I pulled out a long chain with a dainty cross on the end.
It was simple and traditional. My fingers reverently caressed the cross, the solid gold feeling warm and comforting against my skin.
I felt Scarlett at my shoulder, but it was hard for me to turn away from the piece of jewelry in my hand.
It had been symbolic to someone once upon a time. Judging by how dainty it was, a woman.
“I bet you’re wondering who owned this? Was it some young lady who became a woman here?
Perhaps she raised her children in the Piemonte light.
Perhaps she grew old with her husband, watching the stars every night.
Was she a woman who, during every season of her life, wore her faith proudly around her neck? ”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I am. It’s all I can do.” I turned my eyes up to meet hers, but she was staring at the cross while her own was between her fingers. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t seen her wearing it. Sometimes she’d wear a key underneath it.
“I found this cross,” she whispered, lifting it from over her heart. “It was dangling from our bed in dare alla luce.”
Dare alla luce. Their place in Tuscany.
“At the time,” she continued, “I didn’t know the place had belonged to Grazia’s family.
Later, I found out Grazia had loved the home for the memories she and her family had made there, and she wanted the same for her children with Marzio.
One of those sons being Luca.” Her powerful green eyes met mine.
“The necklace I’m wearing belonged to her, and it’ll belong to my daughter after me, and hers after her.
From what I’ve been told, though, Grazia and her sisters each had their own. ”
“Do you think this belonged to Grazia’s sister?”
“I’m not sure. Luca would know for sure. Do you mind?” She held her hand out for the cross.
I couldn’t even put into words why I hesitated. All I knew was that the necklace felt like mine from the moment I saw it. But I trusted Scarlett and handed it to her. She commented on how beautiful it was, then turned it over.
Her fingers caressed engraved initials that I hadn’t noticed.
AMS
“This didn’t belong to Grazia’s sister. Her name was Lucrezia.
She was named after the noblewoman Lucrezia Borgia, from the House of Borgia, who the family claims they descended from.
Grazia’s sister, Lucrezia, had all sons, so it didn’t belong to any daughters.
” She stared at the initials, then looked at me.
“What was your great-aunt’s name? The one you inherited the dress you wore to church on the island from?
The burgundy one with the precious flower print. ”
My hand went to the spot where the cross should be, but all I found was my own skin, and that made me uneasy for some reason.
Even though I wore the necklace Rocco had gifted me with on the island.
The lion, the Fausti family insignia, with Rocco’s own blood marking the gold.
I felt his heart was mine to protect, though.
The cross would protect me and my family.
A place to draw strength from so I could be strong.
My hand slid down, away from my chest, directing my thoughts in a different direction. The dress she was referring to was hanging in our bedroom closet. It had survived the war, even though my great-aunt had not. The lightweight fabric was burgundy with a delicate white flower print.
“Avelina Maria Simonetti. My grandmother’s family was from Southern Italy. My grandfather’s side was a mix of northern—my grandfather used to say we had Etruscan blood—and southern. My mom’s family has northern and southern too.”
She smiled at me, as warm as the sun. “The Fausti family is known to say…we are Italia,” she said with an Italian accent. “You are too.”
I returned the smile and hopefully the warmth. “Yeah, I am.”
“Avelina Maria Simonetti,” she whispered.
“Avelina has multiple origins, but I think it prominently means desired or wished for. If we’re talking about its Germanic roots, hazelnut.
Such a beautiful word, and it reflects what it is.
Rich and warm. Makes the best desserts, in my humble opinion.
I get that from you too.” She laughed, and it was like bells chimed.
“In Latin and Spanish it would be…little bird.” She flapped her arms gently, and then she sighed.
“Your great-aunt’s initials are the same as the ones engraved in the gold. ”
“This can’t—” I took the cross from her, tracing the engraving.
I stopped myself from finishing with that can’t be, but it could be.
I brought up Marzio’s brothers, Ricco and Francesco, both in love with my great-aunt.
I wondered out loud how the house we were in had come to have this piece of my history.
Scarlett shrugged. “Maybe one of the brothers brought Avelina here? Since Lucrezia was married to…” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Rocco remembers so much about this family. He could’ve been a historian.”
“He does.” I laughed. “And I’m pretty sure whatever interests these men they excel at.”
She snapped her fingers and said, “Leonardo! Lucrezia and Leonardo. That was his name!”
“That makes things much easier for embroidering. L & L.”
We both cracked up for a moment.
She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure it would be so amazing for you to find out how your great-aunt’s cross got here. I had a mystery to solve in my family too.”
She told me all about her famous ballerina grandmother, and how she’d had an affair with a famous Italian painter of the time, and the affair had produced her mother, the famed clothing designer.
Her mother had no idea the painter was her father until Scarlett did some digging, and Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola had confided in her that they had all been friends.
Scarlett was interesting on her own, her career, but I was realizing she went much deeper than that when it came to stories that sucked you in.
I was realizing that my family had mysteries and stories of their own, and I found myself getting sucked into a past that didn’t belong to me but was tied to me too.
“Somehow, it feels like my life and my great-aunt’s life are twisting somehow. Connecting.” I set the necklace back in the box, but for some reason, it bothered me to do so.
I longed to feel the warmth of it against my skin. I longed to wear a symbol of my faith around my neck. To take inspiration from the women who came before me and turn it into strength and courage. I picked the necklace back up and held on to it.
“Francesco the younger and his line isn’t going to let…whatever this is go.”
Scarlett shook her head. “I don’t even need my instincts to tell me that. History schooled me well. This is too great a chance for them to challenge the current line over a feud that never truly died.”
“Even though my great-aunt did.”
“In an air-raid.”
I nodded, and when she became quiet, I gave her a few moments before I asked in a whisper, “What is it, Scarlett?”
It took her another few moments before she picked up the laminated article from the desk and handed it to me. “Was it in Naples? The air-raid?”
“My Nonna didn’t give specifics. She had a hard time with it all.”
“She blamed the Fausti family.”
I thought back on how she’d reacted to being so close to them when Scarlett had invited her husband’s family to stay at her parents’ house in the Quarter.
“I didn’t think too deep on it back then, probably because the family was never on my radar, but now that I know things I didn’t before… yeah, I can see that.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is indifferent to them. It’s one way or another.”
“Love or hate.”
“Appreciation or resentment.”
“But no indifference.”
“No, none of that.”
I thought about my sister-in-law’s words and had to agree.
The Fausti family would never accept that kind of reaction.
No matter how they made a person feel—whether you loved or hated them—they would make him or her feel something.
They would make an impression that could be felt until someone’s dying breath.
Because no one ever forgot someone they either loved or hated.
Scarlett repeated the words that had just been rattling inside of my head, and we looked at each other, both coming to terms that we could read each other, then I sighed and took a seat, setting the cross back where I’d found it.