Chapter 41
Hanna
We've long left behind the gentle hills of Tuscany. When we departed from the estate, Vico's VW van was nowhere in sight. Perhaps it's for the best.
What else would we have said to each other?
It is what it is, and there's no point in dwelling on it any longer. We are both on our way back to our good old lives.
The mountains rise beside the highway as Florian and I drive toward Tyrol together. Leaning my head against the window, I gaze up at the sky, where the moon is already visible, even though the sun hasn't fully set yet.
Florian reaches for my hand and squeezes it tightly. "Are you tired?"
"Yes," I reply, feeling at least a little bit free. Finally, I manage to openly express how I feel and what's going on inside me. I turn to him. "When will we return to Collina da sogno to get my car?"
Focused on the road, he shrugs. "With your broken arm, you can't drive anyway. So there's no rush."
I hum in agreement, as he is right. Nonetheless, it feels strange to know that my car is in Italy, and I'll now be dependent on someone else to take me where I need to go for weeks. "But you'll have to go back to Tuscany soon for the contract signing, right?"
He takes his hand off the steering wheel, giving me a gentle pat on the thigh. "Mm-hmm."
Something in his expression puzzles me, but I can't put my finger on it. It's probably just my own tiredness, making me see things that aren't there. "Look." He nods toward the road sign right in front of us.
Semmtal.
"Welcome home," Florian says affectionately, but all I can do is stare at the letters on the sign, unable to grasp that I'm actually back. I should be happy, but that feeling eludes me.
"Thank you," I whisper absentmindedly, stroking Florian's hand. I don't need to look to feel the ring on my finger. We haven't discussed a date yet, but it'll probably happen next year, at the latest.
Does Vico know about our engagement?
Is that why he fled without saying goodbye?
Stop. I shouldn't even be asking myself these questions.
We pass through the entrance of the village, and I focus on the world outside our car. Since my departure, a lot has changed. Spring has transformed the village into a blooming oasis.
The flower decorations on the quaint houses add wonderful accents to the dark-painted wooden windows with their red, pink, and yellow spots. The meadows are so lush green that they glow even in the twilight. I crack open the car window, and the spicy scent of the alpine meadows fills my nose.
"Are you happy to be back?" Florian signals and turns the car into a side street.
"It feels strange. Foreign and familiar at the same time." Once again, I speak exactly what's on my mind. "And that's even though I've only been away for a few weeks. Crazy, right?"
His mouth curls upward. "Soon you'll have two places where you feel at home. Semmtal and Collina da sogno."
And two places where I'll have trouble keeping up with work. One of them now comes into my view. "We'll need staff. Maybe we can hire Natalie permanently after she finishes the school year. She's proven herself, hasn't she?" I ask, as I can't possibly manage to run both inns alone. And that's independent of my illness, which Florian still knows nothing about.
He needs to know. Best now, right away.
"No worries, I've already calculated everything. We'll manage without Natalie," he replies in his businesslike tone, slows down the car, and parks under the carport next to the woodpile.
The way he talks about her is odd. "Has something happened?" I unfasten my seat belt and extricate myself from the seat. The long drive has made my legs stiff, and he seems sluggish as he exits the car.
For a split second, he looks at me over the car roof with an expressionless face, but then he shakes his head.
"She quit the internship. But I'll tell you about it later. Right now, something else is much more important."
When did this happen? Why did she leave? And why hasn't he told me anything about it until now?
Several instances in the past few weeks when he sounded odd on the phone immediately come to my mind. Could Natalie's departure be the reason for that?
I scrutinize him intently, but his expression gives nothing away. "I'm curious," I say pensively, deferring not only this conversation but also the talk about my epilepsy for later. I follow him into the house, where he leads me directly to his study and grabs a large roll of paper.
"Are you ready?" His expectant gaze makes me smile. "I present to you…" He almost ceremoniously unrolls the paper, revealing the content.
It's a drawing. A plan of the estate.
"… our future." He raises his eyebrows, his eyes shining.
I step closer to study the plan. But Florian seems so excited that he can't give me a second to process it.
"Okay, let me explain. Up here in the front, we're putting in a completely new pool. We'll build one of those super chic stainless-steel pools. Surround it with black granite. The sun loungers will be white. Everything will be luxurious. And modern," he gushes.
Luxurious? Modern? That doesn't fit the estate at all.
"This way, we can charge even more for nightly stays than if we just had standard accommodations like everyone else in the area," he says, his cheeks glowing with enthusiasm. "I've already spoken to the pool company and placed the order. They have long lead times, so I didn't want to wait." His index finger moves on the plan. "See this? It will be a bar. We'll pave this area, and in the center, we'll have a fan palm. And we'll get cool orange lounge furniture. You know, the ones without cushions."
Cool lounge furniture? "You mean the plastic ones?" I ask, dismayed. He can't be serious.
He nods eagerly. "Exactly. The guests will love it. And that ugly patch of grass in the back will be gone too. We're building a golf course there; that'll attract wealthy customers as well."
The area he refers to as an ugly patch of grass is my poppy field. The place where I envisioned a winding gravel path and a romantic pavilion in my mind. But that's not all. Frowning, I look up from the drawing to him. "It was supposed to be an inn, not a luxury hotel for the rich and famous."
"The plans have changed," he dismisses my objection as if he didn't want to hear it. "This is better, I promise. It will help us reach our goal much faster." He spreads his arms wide. "This old inn here isn't prestigious enough. We'll sell it off once the estate starts running."
"What?" I'm so taken aback that I can barely sort my thoughts. We're going to emigrate? He can't decide that without me.
As if he expected a completely different reaction from me, he lowers the plan with a disappointed expression. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?" He sounds offended.
"I don't like it at all!" I reply in horror.
A mixture of disbelief and anger spreads across his face. "I thought you'd be happy." He sounds hurt.
Immediately, I bite my tongue. Have I hurt him with my words? Should I have been more careful? Pondering, I step closer to him and place my hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry," I say conciliatory. "It's just…"
He backs away as if he doesn't want my proximity. "What?" he asks.
Automatically, I lower my gaze. I feel small. It's the exact feeling I've carried within me all my life and had long accepted as a part of me. Until Vico showed me that I don't have to. That what I have to say is valuable. That my opinion matters. And so do my desires—in all their colors.
I won't let this feeling take hold of me again. Not after I now know how life can feel.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and gaze firmly into Florian's eyes. "I, too, have been thinking about how the estate could look after the renovation," I say resolutely.
A steep furrow forms between his eyebrows. "Why on earth would you do that?" His words carry bewilderment.
Of course, he doesn't understand. How could he, when he doesn't know the new Hanna yet? The one who is aware of her worth. The one who knows what she wants. "I let my imagination roam," I can barely believe I just said that. At the same time, I'm filled with pride that thanks to everything I experienced in Tuscany, I can finally embrace my artistic soul and no longer be ashamed of it.
"Pfff," he scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You and your daydreams."
Now, it's me who takes a disappointed step back. "Just listen to it before you judge." My voice is firm, just like my gaze.
"Come on, Hanna Daydreamer," he spits out the words like spoiled milk. Did he really call me that? Even though I've always tried not to show him this side of me?
Since when has he been like this?
"Weren't you listening to me earlier? I've already set everything in motion. I had drawings made, made down payments, and placed orders. The look of the estate has already been decided," he snaps at me.
I can hardly organize my thoughts.
Why did he do this? Just because he's the sole borrower, he thinks he can decide everything without me? Who does he think he is? And who does he think I am? His obedient servant?
The estate hasn't even been sold yet! Who knows, maybe Vico…
"Don't look at me like that. Of course, I've taken care of everything," he rants, waving his hands in the air. "I've always made the decisions. Why should that change now?" There's a hint of because you're not capable of doing it anyway in his words.
"What other decisions have you made without me?" I ask with growing unease. He's hiding something from me, I'm sure of it. Stoically crossing my arms over my chest, as much as I can with the cast, I observe how his movements become more and more agitated. "Out with it."
He swallows hard, then turns away. "It's for our own good," he says. Upset, he paces back and forth. "You have to understand, I've done everything to ensure we have a secure future. For you, Hanna. Only for you!" He stops by the window, turns around, and presses his fingertips together, forming a triangle with his hands. "That's what you always wanted. Nothing was more important to you than that."
Perhaps he expects me to approach him now. To thank him for taking such good care of me and to be happy that he's willing to shoulder this burden for me.
But it can't go on like this. I've let him have his way for years, forgetting about myself in the process. That has to stop now.
"That's true. However, you can't decide over my head about the path we're going to take together," I reply.
With a frosty expression, he approaches me. "Now suddenly you have a problem with that?" His voice almost breaks. "What's wrong with you, Hanna? Did that gigolo put these ideas into your head?"
Gigolo?
No. This won't work. I know exactly what he's trying to do here, but it won't work. Not today.
"Don't try to deflect from the topic. I asked you something, and I want to hear the answer. Right now," I say firmly, not allowing myself to look away. "What other decision have you made?"
He snorts disdainfully. "I used the bed-and-breakfast as collateral for the loan. I had to do it. Otherwise, I would never have gotten so much money from the bank."
Wait a minute. He mortgaged our bed-and-breakfast to take out a loan in his name? The place he only refers to as the bed-and-breakfast instead of our bed-and-breakfast even though I've invested thousands of unpaid working hours and the little money I had from selling the family jewelry into its renovation?
If all this is dissolved, he will ultimately have enriched himself through me!
"You can't do that!" I gasp, but words fail me.
He shakes his head in incomprehension. "Of course, I can do that. The bed-and-breakfast is mine. Have you forgotten?"
"On paper, maybe. But when I sold my father's ring to invest in the roof repairs, you promised me that…" I can't continue. Because I hear how naive I sound. Tears well up in my eyes.
Now of all times, his expression softens. He comes closer and gently takes hold of my upper arms. "Why are you making a big deal out of nothing? We're getting married, Hanna. Then everything will be ours together," he says in a soft voice. "Can't you see that you're being unfair to me right now?"
Is that the truth? Am I being unfair to him? Or is it the other way around?
I sob, not knowing what to think anymore. I've never once stood in the way of Florian's plans.
He was the focused doer. I was the useless daydreamer.
Who are we today?
Are we still the same?
And if we are, is that right?
In his eyes, I search for answers to my questions.
"Wasn't I always there for you?" he asks, so full of disappointment that my heart tightens painfully. "Didn't I always give you what you needed? First a job, then a home. And now even the prospect of a financially secure future."
"You did," I acknowledge, and everything he says is true. Yet deep inside me, I feel that beneath this logical surface, another truth is simmering. "But every coin has two sides, and you've always made sure I only see the one that benefits you," I say, surprising myself with my words. My tears suddenly cease. I lock eyes with him. "Did you ever truly care about me?"
He tilts his head. "Of course."
"Then why did you never ask for my opinion?" I clench my fists, sweat forming in my palms. "Why did you dictate the course of our lives as if mine belonged exclusively to you?"
Actually, I can answer the question myself. Because I allowed it. It was just as much my fault as his. He was the absolutist doer. I was the silent order follower.
I press my lips together, so he won't see how much they tremble. We are closer to the core of our relationship than ever before. And I know it's time to reveal the essence.
I lock eyes with him. "Do you love me?" I ask intently.
Without a moment's hesitation, he nods vigorously. Before he can reply any further, I raise my hand.
"Me, Florian. Not the diligent Hanna who bakes you bread, cleans the huts without complaining, and always strives to please you," I pause for a moment to emphasize my words. "But the person I am in here." I place my hand over my heart. "With all my dreams, strengths, and weaknesses."
At first, I see confusion in his eyes, but then his facial muscles slowly soften. His mouth opens, but he says nothing.
"You can't answer the question, can you? Because you don't really know who I am," I realize. He has never been interested in my thoughts. And a few moments ago, I understood why.
To him, too, I was always just Hanna Daydreamer.
"I…" He begins.
Shaking my head, I look down at my engagement ring. I gaze at it for a few seconds, then I exhale deeply and lift my gaze to meet Florian's. "Sometimes you have to leave old paths to grow on new ones," I say in a choked voice. Slowly, I remove the ring from my finger, feeling as if I'm freeing myself from a shackle.