The House by the Cypress Trees

by Elena Mikalsen

  “It all makes you sick, right? You can ask me anything you like. I explain,” Alessandra said.

  Is that what it was like having a sister? She could read Julia’s thoughts?

  “How old are you?” Julia asked, lifting her head slowly. She took a few tentative breaths through her nose. Her stomach was slowly settling down.

  “Twenty-four. What about you?”

  “Thirty-four,” Julia said. “Much older.”

  “I like that I have an older sister now. I have a fiancé,” Alessandra said, taking out her phone. “His name is Antonio. We’re getting married in six months.” She showed Julia a picture on her phone. “Isn’t he handsome? And very rich.” She winked at Julia. “I introduce you later?”

  “I would like that.”

  “Are you married? Or do you have a fiancé?” Alessandra asked.

  “Neither. I was taking care of my mother when she was sick. I had a boyfriend for a few years, but that’s over now.” Julia hesitated. How much did you tell a sister? “He didn’t want to stay with me because I was always with my mother.”

  “What an asshole. Family is everything.”

  “Maybe here in Italy it is. Not in America.”

  “That’s not very wise. You stay here in Italy, and we find you a nice man.”

  Julia bit her lip as her eyes watered. “I need to be on my own for a while.”

  “No, no beautiful woman needs to be on her own.”

  Julia blushed. “Beautiful? Compared to you, I’m an ugly duckling.”

  “I like having a sister. You always tell me compliments, okay?” Alessandra laughed.

  “Okay.” Julia got up and looked around the room, searching for any paintings similar to hers. “Was my mother an artist?”

  “Not at all. Your father, Nico, is an artist. He gave her this painting of her house, and she always loved it.”

  “Nico,” Julia said her father’s name with pleasure. It sounded marvelous to her. “What does Solo Noi on the painting mean?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.” Alessandra shook her head.

  Julia turned to her sister. “Are there any photos of my mother? I don’t even know what she looks like. Looked like.”

  “Of course.” Alessandra placed her wine glass on a side table and went to a small bookshelf by the window. “I have several.” She took out two small leather albums and brought them to the couch. “Here, let me show you.” She sat down next to Julia and flipped the pages slowly, pointing at people in the pictures. “This is our mother when she was just a little girl, with her brothers and sisters. Your uncles and aunts, right?”

  “I have uncles and aunts?” Her jaw dropped.

  “Si. And cousins. So many cousins.” Alessandra rolled her eyes. “Wait until you have to celebrate Easter with them all.”

  “Where do they all live? Near here?”

  “Oh, no, all over Italy. Some in Roma, some in Milan, some in Lucca. You meet everyone some day. I make phone calls. Here is your grandmother and grandfather. Your Nona Gina lives with your aunt Adriana in Lucca. Your grandfather died a long time ago. Here is your mother as a young girl in school. Here they’re all on the beach.” She turned the page. “This, I don’t know who this is.” She pulled the photo from its plastic sleeve.

  Julia looked closer. “It’s my mom.” She took the picture from Alessandra. “My adoptive mother, Barbara.” It still felt so wrong for her to mouth that word adoptive. “She looks so young. Both look so young. I never saw this picture. It’s by the Alamo in San Antonio, an old fort. Are there any others of my American parents?”

  Alessandra flipped the pages. “No, just Mamma in the school and university. Here she is with Papy. And here is me when I was born. More of me. My parents always took too many photos.”

  “Wait.” Julia placed her hand on the page to stop it from turning. “This is me.”

  “What?”

  “This picture. Here. On a swing. It’s me.”

  “No, that’s me. See, these curls are just like the curls on this photo here.”

  “No, no, I have a picture back at home just like this. And I know the playground where this was taken. It’s at the park by the elementary school I went to.”

  Alessandra looked closer. “I can’t tell. Babies all look the same to me. Maybe you are right. How did our mother get this? I thought you didn’t know where she lived.”

  “Maybe she wrote to Barbara and asked for a picture. She clearly had our address. My parents hid this whole story from me, so they wouldn’t have told me about this, either. I’m so angry with them.”

  “Oh, no, don’t be angry. They tried to protect you. When you love your child, you do what you think is best, right?” Alessandra asked.

  “But to hide my mother? And my father? And now I will never get to meet her.” She felt the sting of hot tears on her cheeks.

  “I told you, you would be too late even if you came right away. Listen, you grew up with two parents who loved you. Cry if you need. Pray you have a family one day, but don’t be angry about your life.”

  Julia wiped her tears. “I need time. It’s been a hard day.”

  “Enough photos, then. We go walk and have dinner. I show you Malcesine, and we learn about each other, right?”

  Julia nodded. “Walking and food sounds good.”

  Chapter 28

  Daniel remembered about Mother as he approached La Casa delle Nuvole. They’d have to avoid her tonight as he took Julia out to dinner. At least she would be housed at the guest house. Mandy wished they had a better relationship, but he was past wishing for that. Mandy could keep her. He hoped she hadn’t made Julia miserable while he was gone. It had only been a day. Surely she hadn’t had enough time to harm her.

  His anxiety rose as he walked up the driveway. It had been a full day. He should have called Julia and checked what she’d been doing and how she had managed to stay away from his mother. It wouldn’t be the first time Mother had interfered in his relationships.

  He opened the front door with a loud bang.

  “Julia,” he called out.

  Mandy ran down the steps into the hallway. “Daniel, you are back!”

  “Yes, all set in Rome. Just tired and hungry. Where is Julia? Did you keep her away from Mum?”

  Mandy bit her lip. She looked guilty instantly. Something was wrong. They didn’t protect Julia as he’d asked. “Bloody hell, Mandy. What did she say to Julia?” He raised his voice.

  “I have no idea. I swear I don’t.” Mandy shook her head, backing away.

  “Where is Julia? I must talk to her. I’ll deal with all of you later,” he thundered.

  “Julia is gone,” Aunt Louisa said, appearing from the outside. “It’s not Amanda’s fault.”

  “What?”

  “She left this morning. Vittorio drove her somewhere. Francesca arranged it,” Mandy explained, biting her lip.

  “What do you mean she left? She wasn’t planning to leave. What’s happened?” He rubbed his forehead trying to comprehend.

  “Brother, I don’t know. You should talk to Francesca. She’s been furious and refused to make supper, hiding in the garden all afternoon,” Mandy said.

  “Someone find Mother for me. I’ll be right back,” Daniel ordered and stormed out to look for Francesca.

  The sun was still high, and he was sweating in minutes as he searched through the olive grove. Francesca loved her olives.

  “Francesca!” he called out. No answer. “Francesca! Cara mia!” No answer. He scoured the neat rows of olive trees, but there was no trace of her anywhere.

  He rolled up his sleeves and tucked his tie into his pocket. He’d have to keep looking. Eggplants and tomatoes, maybe? No, not a good place to hide from everyone. Fruit trees? Vineyard? Drenched in sweat, he found her an hour later trimming the rose bushes at the side of the house, cursing at the thorns stuck in her gloves.

  “Francesca, what’s happened to Julia?”

  “Nothing happened to Julia. W
as time to go, for Signorina Julia. She can’t stay, help here, forever.”

  “Francesca. You know she didn’t want to leave. I saw her this morning, and she very much planned to stay longer.”

  The old woman raised her brows. “Yes, I know how you saw her. I understand how you treat her. She doesn’t want you. Julia is a smart girl. She go to find her mother.”

  Daniel folded his hands in prayer. “Francesca, I beg you, tell me what’s going on. This morning, I left Julia happy and excited to spend more time here. I come back, and everyone is in uproar and won’t tell me what’s happened, and Julia is gone. All I understand is my mum showed up. Was it my mother?”

  “Do not say ill words about your mother.” Francesca pointed her index finger at him.

  “You know she is evil. She always causes trouble here when she comes.”

  “I know, but you must respect her.”

  “Look, what do I have to do to get information out of you? Mandy said Vittorio drove Julia somewhere. Where did he drive her to?”

  “It is no important.” Francesca collected the trimmings into a large pile.

  “I’m going to lose my mind,” Daniel said. “What have I done to deserve this? I thought we were friends.”

  Francesca snorted and waved him away.

  Daniel paced in frustration, trying to think of a new strategy. What could he say to get the truth? Why was Francesca so upset? Then he decided he might be better off inquiring from Vittorio.

  “Fine, I’m going,” he said, nodding his head. “You are sure you have nothing to tell me? Last chance.”

  She remained quiet.

  He walked away, to the house, looking out for his mother, thinking she’d better not get in his way this minute. He ran to Vittorio’s rooms upstairs. Fiorina, Vittorio’s wife, was giving their twins a bath.

  “Fiorina, dov’è Vittorio?”

  She shook her head.

  “He took Julia somewhere, Fiorina. Mandy said he drove her. Where did they go? What town?” he repeated, in case she didn’t understand.

  “I don’t know. Vittorio didn’t tell me. He said he don’t come back until tomorrow. He stay to do business in Milan.”

  “So somewhere near Milan? All right, that helps.” Daniel ran downstairs and poured himself a glass of water.

  He needed to think before he ran into Mother. He should’ve listened to Julia better. She was looking for her mum, who had sent her the painting. Of course she would go there next. What did Julia say about what was on the painting? Something about a lake. Could be any lake north of Milan—Lake Como, Lake Garda…what other lake was there? Would she visit Milan or go straight to her mum’s?

  Daniel changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Francesca knew exactly where, and he needed to convince the stubborn woman to tell him. There had to be a way. Something must have gone wrong between her and Mother. He threw water on his face and stormed out of his room.

  He didn’t have to search long. Mother was in the kitchen, giving instructions to Aunt Louisa about the best way to cook a chicken.

  “Mother, you have never cooked a chicken in your life,” he said, exasperated.

  She gave him an icy look. “How would you know? You only visit me on holidays.”

  “You understand it’s best we spend as little time in each other’s company as possible. What have you said to Julia?”

  “Who?”

  “You know exactly who I mean.”

  “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting your American girlfriend. Louisa tells me she left earlier today.”

  Aunt Louisa touched his arm. “Daniel, Julia left before Margaret met her.”

  “How is that possible? Might you explain to me why she left and where in God’s name she went?”

  “Are you blaming me for her leaving, Daniel?” Mother asked. “Is there anything else you’d like to blame me for? Didn’t I tell you this morning you made a wrong choice, as always? I warned you.” Mother’s words followed him as he stormed out of the kitchen.

  He would find Francesca and make her tell him. The woman who last night passionately made love to him did not just pick up and leave in secret. He refused to believe it. Julia loved him. Something had happened. Perhaps he had overestimated his sister’s kindness. Maybe for Mandy it wasn’t enough for Julia to help Mandy’s child. Once his sister made up her mind, it had always been quite difficult to change it. And no one stood a chance against his sister and his mother.

  “You are not going anywhere until you tell me what happened,” he said as he found Francesca walking up the path toward the house.

  The old woman glared at him. He took her by the shoulders and kneeled on the ground. “Francesca, I’m begging you. No one but you would be kind enough to tell me what happened. I will lose my mind if I don’t find Julia. I can’t live without her.”

  “Stop,” she said, pulling him up. She led him to the table on the terrace and pulled up a chair for herself. “Get me some wine, and maybe I talk to you,” she ordered.

  He ran to the kitchen and obediently grabbed a bottle and a couple of glasses. He was sure he’d need some also. Francesca had lit a cigarette while he was gone, and he cringed at the smell of tobacco. But he said nothing as he poured her a glass of wine.

  “Sit down, Daniel, and listen,” Francesca began. “When I was young, just like Julia, so long ago, a man said he loved me. He make love to me a lot, under olive trees. We drink wine and make love. Then I hear him say to his friend he only make love to me because he want my father’s olive farm. I send him away. So he marry my friend with a bigger olive farm. My heart”—she pointed to her chest—“forever broke. We women give our hearts, but sometimes we make a mistake. Julia is just like me. She give her heart to you, and she make a mistake.”

  Daniel’s head began to spin. “Wait, what are you saying? Julia gave me her heart? Julia told you she loves me?”

  “She loves you. Si. But you break her heart.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “How, Francesca? How did I break her heart? I don’t understand what I’ve done! Help me.”

  “You say you only want il cane.”

  “The dog? I said nothing like that to her.”

  “She hear you.” Francesca pointed to her ear. “You say to Lady Margaret that you only want Julia because of dog.”

  Daniel gasped and covered his face with his hands. “No! She heard that?”

  “Si.”

  “I didn’t mean that, Francesca. I was arguing with my mum this morning. I was angry and trying to get her to leave me alone.” He looked up. “You have to believe me. I never cared about her dog. I mean, I like her dog. But none of this has anything to do with her dog. The truth is—” He took a gulp of wine and stood up, running a hand through his hair again. “The truth is—I love her. I love Julia. And I’m going mad now she’s gone. Can you understand that?”

  The old lady took a sip of her wine and inspected him with narrowed eyes, examining.

  It was dark now, and the cicadas began their evening song. He wished they’d shut up. He needed peace to think.

  Bugger. What was he going to do? He’d fucked up. Julia had left because of him. She heard him say he only cared about Lizzy. He would never see her again. He’d promised her she could trust him, and she did. And now she thought he had lied to her about everything. His heart was going to explode in pain, and he nearly doubled over as he realized it.

  He collapsed on the ground, head on his knees. “She’ll never have me now. I’ve ruined everything. I’m such a hopeless git.”

  He felt Francesca’s fingers on his shoulder.

  “You were right not to tell me where she is, Francesca. I don’t deserve her. She is so much better than me. She rescues dogs, helps children, is kind to everyone. No wonder you all love her so much.”

  “Daniel, you a good boy.” Francesca’s voice was kinder now.

  “You’ve always been kind to me. But I hurt her, Francesca. I can’t forgive myself for hurting Julia.”
r />   “Here.” Francesca lifted his face, took her apron, and wiped his tears. “Go find her. Tell her you love her, make it better.”

  “How can I do that? I don’t know where she is. I don’t even have her phone number.”

  “How do you not have her number?”

  “I didn’t need it. She was right here. I didn’t expect to chase her away. I planned to take her for a romantic evening tonight and tell her I was in love with her.” Daniel buried his face in his hands.

  Francesca stroked his hair. “It’s okay, Daniel. I tell you where she is.”

  He lifted his head. “You will? I thought you didn’t want to tell me.”

  “I tell you now.” She shrugged.

  “What if she doesn’t want to ever talk to me again?”

  “You find a way. You love her, you fix it.”

  “Where did she go?” He stood up.

  “Malcesine. Lake Garda. That’s where her painting is from.”

  He hit his forehead with a palm of his hand. “I should’ve known that’s where she’d go. Of course. She told me. Lake Garda. Malcesine.” He kissed and hugged the kind woman. “I must go now, okay?”

  Francesca wiped a tear on her cheek. “You go get your love, Daniel. Bring her back here. I make you a wedding cake.”

  He laughed and ran to pack. He would leave first thing in the morning.

  Chapter 29

  Like anywhere in Italy, the life in the small medieval town of Malcesine took place mainly in the narrow streets and round piazzas, with couples taking their evening passeggiata, children chasing each other on bicycles, and cars and scooters engaging in a never-ending fight at intersections.

  Julia was glad they walked. She needed the adrenaline release, and it was a lovely summer evening, with just a bit of a chill in the air coming off the mountains.

  “Have you always lived here?” she asked her sister.

  “I only grew up here. I went to study at the university in Milan, and I started working there. I’m a finance manager for a hotel.”

  “So why are you here in Malcesine?”

  Alessandra hesitated a moment. “The house has been sold, I’m sorry to tell you. I was here to sign the contract for the sale.”