The Tuscan Sister

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

CASALTA, 16 APRIL 1985

LUCREZIA

It was as if a weight had been lifted from us all, a weight we didn’t know we were carrying, because in the morning everyone looked lighter. Even Nora, who was composed, serene, like someone after a good, liberating cry.

It was a moment of calm before the storm, as we sat together on the patio, looking out to the rose garden. Matilde laid out croissants and pastries she’d brought from the bakery, and a wonderful smell filled the air. Bianca followed with a tray of espressos and Mia with a fragrant teapot and a jug of milk.

Today we were all to attend the reading of Father’s will. I hoped this would be the last dreg of the past, and then we could all put my father’s affairs behind us and get on with our lives. Whatever that might mean for me.

‘Lulu?’ Bianca asked.

I realised that I’d been staring at her. Today was also the day I’d ask about the Orafi. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

‘Sorry,’ I mouthed, and waved my hand to signal nothing was up.

I looked around the table and considered how different us sisters were. But there was a red thread that ran through us, a subtle likeness. A stranger would have been able to tell that we were siblings.

I wore my red dress and drank black, bitter coffee. Bianca wore a flowery dress, her hair half up, half down, strawberry blonde curls escaping like wispy clouds around her face. She was drinking a cup of tea and eating a small pastry.

Nora stood leaning against one of the stone pillars, munching on her second croissant and downing cold milk. Her T-shirt and rolled-up cargo trousers told me she intended to spend the day at the stables, even if she had to drag herself away to come to the reading of the will with us.

Mia sat beside Bianca, looking half-gothic princess, half childish in a long dress, dangling earrings and bare feet – her skin was sun-kissed too, her unique eyes, one blue, one brown, resembling those of a cat, much like her demeanour.

Nobody wanted to move, hypnotised as we were by the golden sun and the perfume of the roses, but we had to. We helped Matilde clean up; Nora went to see to the horses – ‘Can Matteo not do it? You’re always hairy and smelly every time we have to do something formal,’ Bianca protested, to no avail.

‘Why were you staring at me?’ Bianca whispered as we washed dishes.

‘I—’

At that moment, Mia and Gabriella stepped in with stray cups, and we were interrupted.

‘I’ll just put some make-up on, and I’m ready to go,’ I said, and made my way upstairs.

Sitting in front of the mirror, I considered the practicalities of our situation, maybe for the first time. The question that’d made an arc across my mind while sitting in the church – who will get Casalta – now sat a little heavier on my heart. Was there a chance that my sisters couldn’t live in Casalta any longer? The thought was terrifying for their sakes, and yet…

Could there be a world where we’d be free of this place, heavy with memories, the place that had seen our mother’s demise?

All of the answers would come this morning.

My foot was on the first step, when I froze – there were male voices coming from downstairs and something in that sound made my heart beat double time. Emotion overwhelmed me and I found myself sitting on the step.

I knew who that voice belonged to…

The Orafi brothers were here, at Casalta.

I laid a hand on my chest, trying to calm my heart – I was about to see Vanni again – the Orafi were here, they were not allowed, they’d get in trouble, my father would be angry – but no, my father was gone – what were they doing here, anyway? I’m about to see Vanni again! My head spun, and I almost hid behind the banister. Lucrezia, nobody will get in trouble, you’re not a child any more, and this is a courtesy visit .

It’d been instilled into us that the Orafi were our sworn enemies, even if we didn’t know why, and now they were here.

Of all the swirling thoughts in my mind, the loudest was : I’m about to see Vanni!

Who was he, now? So much time had passed, so many things had happened. I wasn’t that wild little girl any more, climbing trees and hanging upside down from their branches, and he wasn’t the sweet, quiet boy who listened to me and sat beside me with that steady energy, capable of calming me down. Our paths had split, and we didn’t really know each other any more.

There was no reason to be nervous now, when I was simply about to meet a stranger, was there? No reason at all. I was a woman now, not a child. I’d learned to be in control of my emotions.

I took a deep breath and retreated into myself, behind my safe, unconquerable walls – only then, when I felt detached enough, did I get up and make my way downstairs.

Bianca was greeting the two brothers at the front door, but the morning sun shone in such a way that the glare almost blinded me – I could see only their silhouettes, black against the light. One stood tall, the other half his height – was he seated?

A tall and broad-shouldered man stepped in and kissed Bianca on both cheeks.

‘We came to pay our respects.’ His voice was gentle, but somehow imperious, even if it seems contradictory that it could be both. It was the voice of a man used to having authority.

Bianca took his hand. ‘Thank you. I didn’t expect you to come, but… thank you.’

I was confused, and I had to blink once, twice against the glare, until the two men came into view, and I realised what I was seeing.

Lorenzo Orafi, the older brother, was the one who’d just spoken and kissed Bianca. Vanni was sitting in a wheelchair. I grasped the banister with both hands. In a second, the wall I’d retreated behind crumbled and lay in ruins. My heart was exposed, raw and fragile, and I wanted only to run to him.

Just before I was sent away, I’d seen the tanned, scrawny boy morphing into a quiet teenager who spoke with his eyes more than with words; but I hadn’t been there to see the teenager turn into a man.

Now his lithe, long frame was folded in the chair, his legs covered by a blanket. He still had a head of unruly chestnut curls, and a dimple on his right cheek… He’d changed, and yet, he was the same. I could see the wheelchair, yet it wasn’t there – it didn’t matter, it didn’t exist.

After the first shock, all I could see was him: Vanni.

My Vanni.

He greeted Bianca, and she leaned over to kiss him on both cheeks; when she straightened, there were no more obstacles in our line of view.

He saw me.

We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity – it seemed like neither of us could look away. I knew immediately that he had not forgotten me.

On a summer evening long ago, I’d slipped out of the house to go see Vanni at our treehouse. We’d never met in the evenings before – he and his brothers were allowed to play outside until late, being boys, but us girls had to stay home. I was excited, and scared, and then excited again to be out when I wasn’t supposed to, and when darkness was falling! By the time I arrived at the hazelnut tree, the sky was deep blue, stars dotted here and there. We sat together in silence, holding hands, too young and innocent for even just a kiss – and before we knew it, there was perfect darkness. The sky was ink black and covered in stars, stars like silver dust. We lay back on the blankets we kept there to make the treehouse more comfortable, and it was like falling upwards, falling in the Milky Way. I could hear him breathing beside me, feel the warmth of his body and my hand in his, and the sky above us was like a blanket, a blessing.

Looking back, I think that was the purest moment of my life.

Now, it seemed to me that the starry sky was above me again, that the silence of night enveloped us as if there were only the two of us in the world.

He was staring at me with those hazel eyes I knew so well, his chin a little raised. For a moment, those eyes belonged to the child I used to know – but then I blinked, and I saw they had hardened a little, as if the child inside had pulled back, and left his place to an adult who knew diffidence, who knew disappointment. The Milky Way dissolved, and silence gave way to words that broke the spell.

Step after step, I went down the stairs and stood in front of Vanni, Lorenzo on one side of me and Bianca on the other.

‘Hello, Lucrezia,’ Vanni said. His voice was deeper than I remembered. The voice of a grown man, of course – but still Vanni’s voice, the voice I knew so well. He opened his hands ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly – but I noticed. It seemed to me like he was gesturing to his chair, as if to say: this is me, now . His aura appeared slowly as if he’d been struggling to contain it – the scarlet of anger, the light blue of sweetness and a touch of silver. The strange mixture of colours betrayed the contrast of his emotions, and flustered me even more.

Oh, Vanni, what happened to you?

A million questions crowded in my mind, too many to ask them all now, with Lorenzo and Bianca standing there. I was trying, and failing, to look away from Vanni, to raise my defences again.

‘I’m glad to see the family reunited,’ Lorenzo said towards me, and then kissed me on both cheeks, the customary way. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit, and his demeanour was smooth, calm. He seemed in control, while Bianca and I were flustered, Vanni unreadable, a dance of colours around his head like northern lights. His aura hit me intensely, more intensely than any other’s. I thought that if I’d extended my hand, I would touch solid colour.

Everyone had greeted each other formally, the Italian way, except Vanni and me. I bent down so that my cheek would touch his, and then the other side, and his aura enveloped me, the red weakening and the blue intensifying, ripples of silver wrapping themselves around me.

When what I really wanted was to hold him against me, and say how sorry I was, how desperately sorry, that I had disappeared without saying goodbye, that I had left him there alone at the treehouse, waiting for me…

‘Thank you.’ Bianca mercifully spoke for me. ‘Please, come in.’

We were almost in the living room when Mia’s voice piped up, calm, even. She’d been there all along, but she could be so still and silent, she almost merged with the house. Whenever we played hide and seek, even when she was so little, she always won. We looked for her for hours and then she materialised from somewhere, having forgotten we were playing at all.

‘They want our house,’ she said now.

Just like that.

Everyone froze. The embarrassment that filled the room after Mia’s candid words could be cut with a knife. Mia seemed to have this effect on people – she stripped away the artificial layers, the social conventions and polite lies, added a touch of that unearthly clairvoyance she had, and unsettled everyone.

I loved it.

‘Mia! Please, come in, sit down,’ Bianca said after the longest pause. Her cheeks were suffused with pink, and, I guessed, so were mine.

I felt as if I was hovering above the sofa, instead of sitting on it. I had to make an effort to stop myself from staring at Vanni, striving to absorb the changes of twelve years of life in a few minutes, to reconcile the memory of the running, jumping boy with the man in the wheelchair. The northern lights of his aura had diffused a little, now.

‘Let me get some refreshments,’ Bianca offered.

‘We don’t want to put you out…’ Lorenzo began, merely as a formality, because he knew that it’d be impossible to come as a guest to an Italian home and not be offered food or drink.

‘Please, it’s really no bother,’ Bianca insisted. ‘Coffee? Wine? I’ll get both. Mia, come with me ,’ she added in a clipped tone, and Mia followed, meekly. I was left alone with the brothers.

‘Thank you for welcoming us so kindly. Considering the history between our families,’ Lorenzo began. ‘Your father was a man with many friends… We thought you’d be overwhelmed with visits, and that it would best to wait until after the funeral before coming to pay our respects.’ He spoke slowly, enunciating every word. He reminded me a little of a feline, the way they move slowly and lie about, perfectly relaxed, only to pounce fast and suddenly.

‘We chose to keep it all private. For everyone’s sake, really,’ I said. My voice was a little shaky, and I hoped they wouldn’t notice. I could feel Vanni’s presence with every fibre of my body, and I almost didn’t know what I was saying. It was like hearing someone else talking, but that someone was me.

‘I understand,’ he said, but his expression told me the opposite. He didn’t understand, and he was surprised – or should I say, intrigued – by the deserted house and the small funeral. Because of course he knew about that – in Casalta, not many secrets could be kept.

‘You said my father was a man with many friends. He was also a man with many enemies… but none of them are ours. We make our own choices.’

‘That is good to know.’ A brief smile.

I thought of what Mia had blurted out, that they wanted our house. Why would we give Casalta away? The thought of what would happen after had brushed me, but the idea of Casalta not being in the family any more was so remote as to be almost impossible. It took my breath away with both desire and dread: the release would be immense, for me. All those memories gone. But my sisters would never want to do that. And even I… even I would feel the ground rumble under my feet. Being in Casalta, dreaming of Casalta, hating Casalta – the house was a part of me.

I saw no reason to even think about such a thing. Mia’s words were mysterious indeed. But why were the Orafi here at all? When I’d been growing up, having them or any of their men here would have been like having a dragon rampaging in our corridors. Instead, here we were, sitting civilly like our parents hadn’t hated each other with a vengeance for years.

Bianca and Matilde came carrying a tray each with coffee, sweet wine and biscotti. Lorenzo accepted a glass of sweet wine and a biscuit, while Vanni lifted a cup of black espresso. Vanni’s hand was shaking – I had to hold mine in my lap, to stop them from trembling as well.

‘They tell me that your little business is doing well,’ Lorenzo said. ‘How nice.’ He seemed sincere, like he wasn’t actively trying to be demeaning, but he managed anyway.

Bianca was unfazed. ‘It’s not a business, it’s a co-op. We don’t make a profit; we try to help people in need.’ Lorenzo looked at her as if she came from another planet. Bianca’s generosity wasn’t something he’d be familiar with; maybe he believed such people couldn’t even exist. There had to be something behind any act of kindness.

‘Very noble.’

I took a sharp intake of breath. There was something about him, something in his tone… it was hate.

He hated our family, after all this time.

And there it was, the black aura appearing around him like smoke.

Bianca looked at me for a moment – she must have sensed my distress. ‘And how are the Signora and Signor Orafi?’ she asked quickly.

Small talk: Bianca’s work, their parents’ health, exchanging pleasantries.

But Lorenzo was oozing hate .

And Vanni was in a wheelchair , and there was no polite way to ask directly what had happened. Had Bianca known all along, but never told me? There was turmoil beneath the surface; beneath every word spoken there were another thousand that wouldn’t be.

‘Our parents are divorced, as you most likely know already…’

‘I didn’t,’ Bianca said. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Mum lives at our seaside home, now. And Father is not keeping well, unfortunately.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ Bianca repeated.

Gherardo Orafi, the head of the Orafi clan: I remembered him as a man my father’s age, therefore, to my eyes, an old man. But when I left, he must have been just middle-aged. These Titans that had ruled our lives were now being shrunk to human size…

Once, Gherardo Orafi met my eyes on the church steps, and I’d trembled in terror. The Orafi patriarch was our archenemy, and I’d expected lightning and hellfire to shoot from his eyes. Instead, he’d smiled a kind smile, and this had taken me so much by surprise that I hadn’t been able to look away. His aura began to appear around his body, and as a child I rarely saw auras: only when the strength of someone’s feelings met my readiness to perceive them. When us daughters stepped out of the church door with our mother, Gherardo’s aura had shone gold . I’d never seen such an aura before, and never have again.

Lorenzo laid the cup back on its plate. ‘After the accident, he was never the same.’

The accident.

‘What happened?’ I asked in a small voice.

Lorenzo looked at me, and he seemed to truly see me for the first time. Surprise filled his face for a moment, and then amusement, bitter amusement. ‘You don’t know?’

‘She’s been away for years,’ Vanni said, and there was reproach in his tone. As if it’d been my choice.

I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I searched for something to say. I was sent to boarding school would be a neutral, shallow, polite reply. But it got stuck in my throat. How much did he know? How much had Bianca told him? I knew they’d met up while I was away, but how frequently, and how important these meetings were for them, I had no idea… and I was afraid to ask. Because it was Lorenzo’s picture hanging on her desk. Not Vanni’s.

And what happened to them? What accident?

I was desperate to tell Vanni everything that had happened, maybe all of it, maybe even what I hadn’t told my sisters, apologise for my silence, tell him he’d been in my thoughts always, always.

I was desperate to ask him what had happened to him, about this accident that seemed to be part of everyone’s knowledge except mine.

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. I took a sip of sweet wine, my cheeks hot. If Claude and the people I worked with had seen me now, they wouldn’t have recognised me. The composed ice maiden who never smiled and never cried was left behind, and this woman whose hands were shaking around her glass was left in her place… Bianca came to my rescue.

‘Lulu, I believe Vanni has never seen our gardens. And it’s such a beautiful day,’ she said gently. Had I been a little less flustered, I would have thought it funny: Bianca and Lorenzo, the older ones, were sending the children out to play and letting the adults discuss things.

My eyes met Vanni’s again, and I searched for an answer. It was clear how angry he was with me; there was no need to see the scarlet film of his aura to know that. But he laid his hands on the sides of his chair, ready to move. He followed me to the French doors, the same ones I’d gone through, literally, that day twelve years ago, and the rose garden seemed to welcome us. Maybe the sweet scent of the roses, maybe the sunshine, unknotted us a little. The suffocating atmosphere of the living room and all its formalities was behind us, together with Lorenzo’s disquieting gaze.

‘The red roses,’ Vanni said as we moved along the path, his strong arms pushing the wheelchair forward. ‘You told me years ago.’ He turned around and stopped in front of me, and I sat on the bench across from him, among the rose bushes and all their thorns.

‘I remember.’ I was tormenting the hem of my blouse with my fingers, and Vanni’s hands were flexing on his knee.

There was more silence than words in our conversation, and so much unspoken. We were like two people on different sides of a rushing, deep, bridgeless river, trying to find somewhere to cross and meet. I tried to summon the other me, the icy woman I was in Paris, the person I’d become, but seeing Vanni had turned me back into the girl I was before, open and vulnerable.

‘You never said goodbye,’ he blurted out suddenly, and it felt like he’d wanted to speak those words for a long, long time.

‘I couldn’t. It was all so sudden—’ I began, but Vanni exploded.

‘Where were you, Lucrezia? One day you were here, and the next… you were gone . I couldn’t speak to your sisters; I wasn’t allowed. It was months before I caught Bianca alone in the panetteria when I was buying bread, and she said you’d been sent to boarding school, but never told me why. Was that true, were you in boarding school? Or is this another one of the Falconeri’s secrets?’

Not my sisters, not even Bianca, had suspected that there had been something more than a boarding school. Something worse, that I had never been able to put into words. But Vanni had come close to the truth.

‘Had it not been for Bianca, I wouldn’t have had any idea of?—’

‘Well, I’m glad Bianca kept you informed!’

A pause. ‘For real?’ he said slowly.

I looked down. Whenever I mentioned Vanni, Bianca had changed the subject; even after all these years apart, I could feel there was something she couldn’t or didn’t want to put into words. And yet now, under Vanni’s open, honest gaze, it all seemed like petty jealousy on my part.

‘Lucrezia. Please, tell me. I need to know. Why did you leave? ’

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about seeing my mother in that very same garden, and all that had happened after.

‘My father sent me away because I wasn’t… obedient .’

It was a child’s answer. It was all I could give now.

‘I don’t understand. Was it because of me, because you were seeing me…?’

‘No, no. It’s hard to explain.’

‘Well, try ! I waited for you at the treehouse, for hours, every day. You vanished, from one day to the next. I know you couldn’t help your father’s decision. But why not write to me? Especially when this happened…’ He looked down at his legs, at the chair.

‘I didn’t know! I sent you a note, but it never got to you, my sisters didn’t get my letters either, someone made them disappear… I’m sorry…’

All the anger seemed to flow out of me, leaving me deflated. Added to the mixture was guilt, and floating thoughts of Claude – because I knew very well that the storm of emotion between Vanni and me, right now, shouldn’t be happening, wouldn’t be happening if my heart fully belonged to Claude.

Why, why had I rocked my tidy little life, why had I come back to Casalta?

‘Oh no, I made you cry. I… Lucrezia, I’m sorry…’

‘I’m so sorry too…’

He touched my cheek and, with that, he dried my tears. I held onto his hand and kept it against my face, my eyes closed. When I opened them again, the scarlet hue had gone from his aura, replaced by blue.

‘Lucrezia…’

‘Vanni… What happened?’ I asked, dreading the answer.

‘We were in a car accident, a few years ago. My mother, Lorenzo and our driver were unscathed, thank God. My dad was in recovery for a long time. And I ended up like this. Our car just swerved off the hill and all the way down the terraces. By itself.’ He opened his hands, letting go of mine. I knew he had more to say. I knew there was more. ‘Our driver, Maurizio… he’s been with us for a long time. In fact, he still is. He swore on his family that he always made sure everything was in perfect order. But that morning, there was something wrong with the car.’

I took a breath, inhaling the fragrance of roses and the fragrance of him. Dots were connecting in my mind, and I didn’t like the picture they made.

‘We have no proof,’ he said, tentatively. ‘And I know you couldn’t believe such a thing of your father, but…’ He searched my face.

‘I could.’

He waited.

‘Believe me, I could,’ I continued. ‘The reason I was sent away… It was about my mother. Her death was an accident too, as you know.’

It was time to give a shape to all our ghosts. I hung my head, and felt his warm hand entwine with mine again. Our hands, his square, tanned one, and my smaller, freckled one, rested together on his wheelchair.

‘Do you believe your father was involved?’

‘He said so. To Bianca. Do you really believe my father tampered with your car?’

‘I don’t know for sure; it could be a coincidence. But Lorenzo is adamant. He’s convinced that Fosco Falconeri almost killed us, and put me in this wheelchair. We’ll never know the truth, probably.’

‘Only my father knew the truth, and he carried it to the grave with him. But not before confessing to Bianca what he did to my mum.’

‘That is awful. And me, sulking because you went away without a word… when you were facing all that, living through all that. I’m so sorry.’

‘No, no. Please, enough apologies. We all need to move on, I suppose. In one way or another.’

‘Where do you live, Lucrezia? Do you work? Are you married?’ Was it just my impression, or did his voice come out with a little crease when he asked me that question?

‘I live in Paris. I’m a personal assistant to a chef. I’m not married. Me and Claude… the chef… are together, though. We’ve lived together for about a year, now. You?’ I tried to keep a nonchalant tone, but mentioning Claude in our conversation seemed so wrong. For Claude, and for Vanni. Like two magnets meeting each other on the wrong side – not meant to come close.

His hands left mine.

‘Well, I live in Biancamura as always. I saw someone for a while, but it didn’t work out. I…’ He shrugged. ‘I try to help the family business, workwise, but Lorenzo is very… protective. Of both me and the business.’

It wasn’t difficult, to read between the lines. To me, he seemed a little lost. I suppose some hide it better than others – my life was outwardly sorted, but inside… not so much. He looked away – and then threw a glance towards the glass doors.

‘What your sister said, that we want Casalta…’ he continued in a low voice. ‘Well, I don’t, but my brother does. He says our families’ feud died with your father, but he doesn’t really believe that. You need to watch yourself around him. Lorenzo does want Casalta, just like your sister said.’

‘Would it be such a terrible thing? If we sold Casalta? It would be a fresh start for everyone,’ I said. I was sounding it out to myself too, in a way. It seemed impossible, a world without Casalta. And yet…

The memories held by this ancient house wouldn’t be ours any more; our shoulders would not be burdened by all that had happened; the thickness and heaviness of events that had almost destroyed us would be dissolved. My father’s study, and the spirit of him with it. The rose garden where I’d seen my mother would be someone else’s garden. The bedrooms where we’d cried after the accident, the kitchen where we’d waited in vain for her to come home, someone else’s spaces.

All that would be gone.

But my mother’s murals, different for each of us, each painted with her magic, and her love, and her wish for happiness; the stairs where we sat and watched the stars, snuggling in our nighties; Mia’s studio and her incredible frescoes; the stables that Nora treated like a second home…

And what about our vineyards, our olive trees?

‘I suspect you’re the only one of your sisters who’d think of losing this house as a fresh start. I know little about your family – I mean, really know, beyond the fa?ade – but I believe that Bianca and your youngest sisters would be heartbroken if they lost this place. I might be wrong.’

‘You’re right. It might not be our choice, though. Maybe my father left everything to Gabriella, his widow. In that case, she’d be the one who makes the decision.’

‘You don’t know yet?’

‘The reading of the will is later today.’

The moment I’d told him about Claude, the conversation had turned more formal, more distant. It was inevitable.

‘What a way to find each other again,’ he said and smiled for the first time. I had a million memories of that smile. ‘Conspiracies and testaments.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember our picnics at the treehouse? I know it was a long time ago…’

I smiled too. ‘If I remember ? I remember our picnics as if they were yesterday!’ We used to save the mid-morning snacks we were given at school to eat at the treehouse, our private little banquets. Sometimes we raided our respective kitchens and brought something more: bread and apples, cake, the exquisite jams that Matilde made. ‘It was the best time of my life.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘Mine too… and it’s finished. Now I can’t even get there, let alone climb a tree.’

‘We don’t need a treehouse to eat together,’ I said, then hesitated.

‘Vanni? Are you ready to go?’ Lorenzo appeared on the doorstep.

‘You don’t have to go so soon,’ I heard Bianca saying behind him, but I knew she didn’t mean it. We had to be at the notary’s in a short while. All these reciprocal courtesies, painted over a boiling pot of resentment on Lorenzo’s part and mistrust on ours…

As for me, I wanted to spend more time with Vanni. To kick my shoes off and be at the treehouse and be a child again, and savour the sweetest mixture of an innocent friendship and a first crush like I hadn’t been allowed to do back then, because my life was interrupted and my world turned upside down.

But all that was gone, and it would never return. We were two different people now.

We were on our way to the door when Vanni whispered, ‘By the way, you’re right.’

‘About what?’

‘We don’t need a treehouse to eat together,’ he said, and the old spontaneous, natural connection passed between us once again, warming my very soul.

My heart lifted and soared up and up and up, over the hills of home.