The Sunflower Girl

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  Dante took her hand away from his mouth. He propped himself up on his elbow and lowered his head, kissing Anabella. She wrapped her arms around his head and whispered, “Take me back to your room.”

  A soft growl slipped from Dante’s lips, and he kissed her more deeply. Anabella reached her hands inside the opening of his button-down shirt. His skin was very warm. She breathed in his scent. Dante placed his hand over hers and pulled it off his chest. He stopped kissing her and sighed.

  Anabella frowned. “Don’t you want to be with me—that way?”

  “Of course I do. But I promised myself and you that I would never take advantage of you. I love you too much.”

  “But I am giving you my permission. You are not taking advantage of me. We love each other. What harm can there be?”

  “You know what could possibly happen once we cross that road, Anabella? What if you became pregnant? How would you ever explain that to your mother? No, it must be right. We haven’t even told your mother about us. I am content just being with you and holding you and kissing you. I can wait.”

  “The waiting is beginning to kill me.” Anabella surprised herself with this admission as much as she could see it surprised Dante. Though initially she had thought she wanted to wait until she married—that is, if she and Dante ever married—her feelings had quickly changed; she wanted to feel closer to him in every possible way.

  He laughed. “Patience. We have all the time in the world. Let us just savor each moment.”

  Anabella snuggled closer to him as he took her in his arms. They lay silently for a few minutes.

  “So you never answered my question. Are you ready to take me home to your mother?”

  Anabella exhaled deeply. It was time she stopped being a coward. “Let’s do it. We will deal with whatever consequences might arise. All that matters is that we love each other.”

  As Dante hugged her, she silently prayed she was making the right decision. But the queasy feeling in her stomach was all but guaranteeing the meeting with her mother would not go smoothly at all.

  CHAPTER 18

  Signora Ferraro

  Pienza, 1970

  Signora Ferraro was walking through one of her rose gardens, inspecting each of the roses. She couldn’t believe they were in mid-August, and soon summer would be over. The roses remained in bloom from May until well into autumn here in Italy. When the roses began to die, Signora Ferraro felt her spirits sink, and her mood remained low throughout the winter and early spring months until the roses returned.

  Though she had a large greenhouse on the property where she also grew roses so that she could continue to sell them during the winter months, it wasn’t the same for her as seeing the flowers that grew in the gardens. She didn’t know how to explain it. But at least she could continue to nurture and admire the roses that grew in the greenhouse. Not seeing roses at all would’ve been quite devastating for her.

  She was so engrossed in inspecting the roses that she hadn’t noticed the two figures approaching her until she heard “Mamma” in a voice so soft she could’ve sworn she’d imagined it. When she looked up, she was startled not only to see Anabella standing nearby, but also a young man. Perhaps he was a new customer. Sometimes the customers came to her farm, especially if they had large orders they were looking to fill.

  “Anabella, you gave me a slight start. You could’ve announced yourself.”

  Signora Ferraro saw the young man frown slightly at her comment. She then noticed Anabella was staring at her sandals, a childhood habit she had never outgrown. She also saw her daughter looked pale.

  “Buongiorno. I am Signora Ferraro.” She quickly wiped her hands on her gardening apron and offered one to the man in greeting. He looked surprised, but stepped forward and shook her hand.

  “Piacere, signora. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He glanced nervously at Anabella and waited, as if he were hoping she would say something.

  “Are you here to view our gardens? Where did you hear about us? I can assure you that you won’t be disappointed with our roses. I’m sorry. I don’t believe you gave me your name.”

  “Dante. Dante Galletti. And no, I’m afraid I am not here to view your gardens or buy any roses—although they are beyond gorgeous. You have a stunning property.”

  “Grazie. So how may I help you?”

  Once more he glanced at Anabella. Signora Ferraro knew her daughter was beautiful. This was not the first time she’d noticed a young man eying her. Ever since Anabella had turned sixteen, Signora Ferraro had seen how men stared at her whenever she and Anabella were in town or at the piazza. And now that Anabella was in her mid-twenties, she seemed to be at the pinnacle of her beauty. When Signora Ferraro had first noticed all the attention her daughter received from men whenever they were out in public, she had felt nervous. But there was nothing she could’ve done about it. She couldn’t deny that her daughter had quickly become a stunning woman. Still, Signora Ferraro hadn’t wanted to think about the day that Anabella would leave her. Even though she was twenty-six years old, Anabella had yet to express an interest in any young man and never talked about marrying someday. While Signora Ferraro realized this was the course many young women took, she didn’t believe that marriage had to be an absolute rule for everyone to follow. After all, for a time when she was in her twenties, she hadn’t thought she would get married. But then she’d met Franco, and her whole world had changed. Sometimes she still wondered how her life would have turned out if she’d never met and fallen in love with him. Then regret would fill her for having such thoughts. It was just that Signora Ferraro couldn’t help wondering if she would’ve been spared much of the pain she’d suffered if she had never met him. But then Anabella wouldn’t have existed, and she could not imagine her daughter being absent from her life.

  “Mamma, Dante is a friend of mine.” Anabella finally spoke.

  As realization slowly sank into Signora Ferraro, she looked from Anabella to Dante.

  “Da vero? Really? For how long?”

  Anabella blushed deeply as she stammered, “A f-f-few weeks.”

  “Few weeks?” Signora Ferraro all but yelled out her response.

  Her pulse quickened and her head throbbed as she began to feel a headache coming on. Signora Ferraro’s mind raced as she remembered how strangely Anabella had been acting recently. And then there were all the times she’d come home late from the piazza or even whenever she ran out to run an errand. Although Signora Ferraro had been suspicious and had resumed accompanying her daughter to sell the roses to the flower vendors at the Piazza del Campo, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during their visits. There was no handsome young man whom Anabella was stealing glances at. No one seemed to be taking an extra-special interest in her daughter other than a few passersby who had stared at her for a few moments. But again, Signora Ferraro was accustomed to people noticing her daughter’s beauty. Then recently, Anabella had begun to seem more like herself again at home. So Signora Ferraro had stopped going with her to the piazza. She’d felt foolish for doubting Anabella in the first place. Anabella would never lie to her or betray her in any way. She had finally resolved that in her mind. Now she saw she’d been very wrong. Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back.

  “Signora Ferraro, can we please go sit somewhere and talk?”

  The young man seemed to be silently pleading with his eyes. Maybe he was just a friend and nothing more.

  “We can talk here. Whatever you have to tell me won’t be different if we sit down.”

  Her clipped tone seemed to take the young man aback, but he merely nodded.

  “Va bene. As you wish. Your daughter and I met at the Piazza del Campo. We have become friends, and I have come here today to ask you if you will . . .”—he cleared his throat before continuing—“. . . if you will allow me to court her.”

  Signora Ferraro’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. It was just as she’d feared. So they had been secretly s
eeing each other behind her back whenever she hadn’t gone with Anabella to the piazza. And of course whenever Anabella was out doing her errands and returning home late. She shook her head as her gaze landed on Anabella, whose eyes quickly averted from her mother’s disapproving stare.

  “Is what this young man says true, Anabella?”

  Anabella nodded, but continued to look down at her sandals.

  “Look at me, Anabella!” Signora Ferraro’s voice rose, causing her daughter to immediately shoot her head up. Tears quickly filled Anabella’s eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you remember what I told you when you were a little girl? Do you?”

  “Si, Mamma. You told me I was never to lie to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You are hurting yourself, my dear child, whenever you lie to me or deceive me in any way. Remember that.”

  “Signora Ferraro, please. Do not be upset with Anabella. We do not mean to disrespect you. That is why I have come here today. We want to do right by you, and we regret that we didn’t tell you sooner that we have been seeing each other.”

  “You should have thought about respecting me when you first had the audacity to approach my daughter. I know she would never have approached you first. It is not in her nature. If you really wanted to do the right thing, you would have come here immediately after you met her rather than waiting several months to introduce yourself and express your interest in my daughter. Instead, you snuck around like nothing more than a snake!”

  “Mamma, please, don’t say that! Dante is a kind person!” Anabella’s voice went up a few octaves, eliciting shocked looks from both Signora Ferraro and Dante.

  Signora Ferraro could not believe her daughter was raising her voice to her own mother and for what? For this fool standing beside her?

  “Anabella, do not speak to me like that!”

  “Signora, please. I will come here if that is what you want so you can get to know me better. And I promise not to see Anabella any longer without your consent. We care about each other very much. I have nothing but the most honorable intentions toward her.”

  Signora Ferraro’s lips were pursed tightly together. She waited a few moments to collect herself before her rage boiled completely out of control. Taking a deep breath, she said in a firm voice, “Signore Galletti, please leave my home. I do not give you my consent to see my daughter, and if you go against my wishes, I will have you arrested.”

  “But Anabella is a grown woman. She can do as she pleases and see whomever she wants. There is no crime in that.”

  “You are not welcome here. If you do not leave immediately, I will have you arrested for trespassing. Now, please leave.” Signora Ferraro pointed to the driveway.

  Dante narrowed his gaze in her direction and looked as if he were about to say something, but thought better of it.

  “Ciao, Anabella. I am sorry for having gotten you in trouble. You were right. I should have listened to you.” He waited for a moment to get a response from Anabella, but she merely stood with her arms crossed against her chest. Tears slid down her face. Finally, he turned around and walked off of the property. His head hung low, but when he reached the gate that led to the farm’s entrance, he looked at Anabella one last time.

  “Anabella, let us go inside. We need to talk.” Signora Ferraro stormed off toward their house, not looking to see if her daughter followed her.

  Once they were indoors, Signora Ferraro poured a glass of rose water for herself. She took a sip, but it did little to calm her nerves. She went to the pantry closet and took out a bottle of grappa. She rarely drank grappa, but at one time in her life, it had helped her greatly. Her hand shook as she poured the grappa about a quarter of the way up her glass. With a quick toss, she downed the liquor, closing her eyes as she let its sting soothe her nerves. When she opened her eyes, Anabella was looking at her with surprise etched all over her features.

  “Anabella, sit down.” Signora Ferraro gestured toward the kitchen table. Anabella pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. She kept her gaze averted from her mother’s.

  “From now on, you are only to go out with me. Is that understood?”

  Anabella nodded.

  “No one else is to accompany you. Not even Chiara.”

  “Chiara didn’t know,” Anabella said in a very low voice.

  “Hmmm. It would not be the first time she has gone against my wishes.” Signora Ferraro thought back to the time Chiara had given sunflowers to her daughter. In all fairness, Chiara had not known about Signora Ferraro’s aversion to sunflowers, but still. And then there were the magazines. Signora Ferraro had found them under Anabella’s bed when she was a teenager. She had had a few words with Chiara and asked her never to give her daughter anything without her consent. She’d never said anything to Anabella, and she had returned the magazines to their hiding place. It was no use taking them away from her since Anabella had already read them. After Signora Ferraro had seen the magazines, she had understood why her daughter had wanted the fitted, more stylish dress that year for Easter. She could not have her daughter corrupted by outside influences.

  “Also, going forward, we will no longer sell our roses at the Piazza del Campo.”

  “But Mamma, we will lose out on quite a bit of money.” Anabella finally looked up at her mother.

  Signora Ferraro held up her hand to silence her daughter.

  “We will be fine. As you know, that is not our only source of income. I cannot encourage that young man, and it won’t do either of you good to see each other even if I am present. You are to forget he even exists.”

  “Mamma, what is the harm in us getting to know each other? Don’t you want me to get married someday and start my own family?”

  Signora Ferraro froze. So Anabella did want to leave her. The admission was too much for her. She felt her legs go weak, but she refused to sit down and show her daughter how hurt she was feeling right now.

  “Anabella, he is not the right man for you. That is all I will say on this subject. I repeat my wishes that you are to go out only with me by your side. Now go upstairs to your room. I will call you when dinner is ready.”

  Anabella stood up. Anger was etched all over her features, but she didn’t utter a word as she turned around and left the kitchen.

  As soon as she was gone, Signora Ferraro poured more grappa into her glass and gulped it down. She then sat down on one of the kitchen table chairs. Anabella’s angry face haunted her. Never had she seen her daughter look at her in such a way. Even when she was a toddler, she’d never been upset with her mother. She had been such a happy baby and child—the model child. Signora Ferraro had always counted herself lucky that Anabella had never gone through a rebellious stage as so many other children did once they reached adolescence. Signora Ferraro thought she had escaped all of that now that her daughter was in her mid-twenties. Then again, Anabella had seemed to mature more slowly than the other girls in Pienza. So it should’ve come as no surprise to her that Anabella was reaching this stage later in her life.

  She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing. “My daughter. My daughter,” she mumbled over and over to herself. Although she had forbidden Anabella to leave the house without her and to see Dante Galletti again, she knew deep down she had already begun to lose her child.

  CHAPTER 19

  Anabella

  Pienza, 1970

  Anabella was walking purposefully, taking long strides and holding her hands clenched in fists by her sides. Tears stung her eyes and her breathing was coming in rapid, short bursts. When she was satisfied she had gone far enough from her house, she stopped, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one, especially her mother, had followed her. She paced to and fro. Anger surged through her, but she was doing her best to contain it.

  Oh, how she wanted to scream, but she was afraid someone might hear her. Clutching at the collar of her blouse, she undid the three little buttons. Her skin felt hot as if she had a fever. It
was no use. No matter how many deep breaths she tried to take, she could not calm down. And her rage was only increasing.

  How dare her mother treat Dante so terribly! Anabella was mortified at her mamma’s rude behavior. True, Mamma was angry at them for going behind her back, but that was no excuse for treating Dante the way she had. She could have at least been civil. But what had Anabella expected? She knew her mother would be upset when she met Dante and learned that Anabella and Dante wanted to see each other. Naturally, most parents would be upset to find out their daughter had been secretly seeing a man they’d never met. She couldn’t necessarily blame her for that. What angered Anabella was that she sensed her mother was angry because Anabella had for once exerted independence and not consulted her or asked for her permission to do something she wanted.

  Lately, ever since she’d begun seeing Dante, Anabella had reflected more on her childhood and her life on the rose farm. She’d realized just how much her mother had sheltered her. Mamma just wanted Anabella to obey her every command and agree with her on everything. It was rare that Anabella had a say in choosing something she wanted. Like on that Easter when Mamma had finally relented and let Anabella choose the lemon-colored dress she had fallen in love with.

  The image of Mamma’s face after Anabella had asked her if she wanted her to marry came back to her. She had looked horrified. And in that moment, Anabella knew her mother’s answer. She didn’t want her to marry—not ever. She could also tell her mother had never even considered it for her daughter. Although her mamma had said in response that Dante wasn’t the right man for her, Anabella knew those were just words. In Mamma’s eyes, no man would ever be right for her daughter. And why would Mamma want her to marry? That would mean Anabella would have to leave the farm, and then Mamma would not be able to control her.