A star slips from the sky. “Make a wish!” Poppy cries. “Ask for it, whatever it is your heart desires.”
Tonight, my cousin doesn’t argue. She lifts her face to the sky and closes her eyes.
I make my wish for Poppy and Rico. And then, for the first time, I make a wish for myself, too.
Later, when we’re sipping sweet iced wine, I whisper to Lucy in the moonlight, “What did you wish for, on the falling star?”
She pretends not to hear.
Chapter 30
Emilia
Day Five
Trespiano
I wake Friday morning, surprised to see Lucy pulling a shirt over her head. She looks especially pretty this morning, with her hair gathered in one of my clips. Her face, barren of makeup, shines.
“You’re up early,” I say.
“Why waste the day?”
She disappears into the tiny bathroom and I burrow beneath the covers, expecting she’ll spend the next thirty minutes applying makeup. I’m stunned when she slips from the room two minutes later with only a touch of gloss on her lips, smelling of toothpaste.
“See you downstairs,” she says. Just before the door closes, she pokes her head into the room. “And don’t touch that braid. It looks even better with all those loose hairs around your face.”
After a long and luxurious bath, I wrap myself in a towel and scan the blouses hanging in the tiny closet. My clothes look dated and dull, like Nonna’s faded wallpaper. When I get home, I’ll buy something new. It won’t be a short skirt or a see-through blouse, but something fun and stylish, something that reflects who I want to be. This morning I opt for a pair of black leggings and a white blouse that hits just below my hips, my only decent option.
I dry my toothbrush and place it in a cup. From the vanity, Lucy’s makeup bag taunts me. I hesitate, then reach inside. Carefully, I open a compact. I take a deep breath and fish a long-handled makeup brush from the bag. Using the slightest touch, I dip the brush into the powder. I lean into the mirror and stroke crystals of copper across my cheeks and nose. Instantly, I look sun-kissed and healthy.
My gaze zeros in on the scar below my lip. I reach for my cover stick but stop myself. The jagged blue line isn’t telling me I’m ugly and unworthy anymore. It’s telling me I’m brave. I dab my lips with gloss, place my new glasses on my face, and step back.
“Warmer,” I whisper to my reflection. “You’re getting warmer.”
I rush downstairs and throw open the French doors. Thick white clouds muddle the sky, and I breathe in the fresh Tuscan air. Poppy sits on the patio looking like a little girl at the grown-ups’ table. A bowl of fresh fruit sits untouched as she works a crossword puzzle.
“Good morning.” I kiss her soft cheek, surprised by the heat of her skin. “How do you feel today?”
“Peachy,” she says and gives me a once-over. “Aren’t you fetching!”
I smile. At the last minute, I swapped my bra for a black tank, and left my blouse unbuttoned an extra two inches. “Really? I look okay?”
“A-OK.” She pulls a bright pink scarf from her neck. “Bend down, dear.”
“No. I can’t take your scarf.”
“Please. It’s making me claustrophobic today.”
I lean in and she snakes the scarf into a casual coil. “There you go.”
I touch her forehead, once more alarmed by how warm she feels. “We should visit a doctor today.”
She cocks her head. “You’re feeling ill?” I give her a look and she bats her hand. “A doctor would only confirm what I already know. Who needs that?” She returns to her puzzle, end of discussion.
I should insist we go to a doctor, but she’ll never allow it. I squeeze her shoulder as I step away.
A flagstone path leads me to the terrace, where Lucy and Sofia sit on chaise lounges. Sofia wears a long flowing skirt and a denim blouse tied at the waist. Her short hair is pulled away from her face with a headband, revealing a trio of earrings in each lobe. She smiles when she sees me.
“Emilia! Join us.”
I perch on the side of Lucy’s chaise and sip my coffee, listening as they resume their conversation.
“We—” Sofia looks at me and quickly fills me in. “My ex and I—split two months after Dante was born. My brother invited us to live here, with him, so he could be part of his nephews’ lives.”
“Do you work?” Lucy asks.
She shakes her head. “Our father made sure my brother and I were well provided for in our adulthood, perhaps to atone for his absenteeism in our youth.” She shrugs. “That is a story for another day. But for now, I enjoy the freedom of raising my boys. And during the busy season, I help Gabriele with the cooking.” She tips her head. “How about you?”
Lucy tells Sofia about waiting tables at Rulli’s. “It’s a job,” she says. “Not exactly a career. Someday I’d like a place of my own, a business I can pass on, you know, to my kids or whatever.” Her cheeks turn pink, as if she’s embarrassed to have shared her dream, and I’ve never loved my cousin more. Is that what she wished for on the falling star?
At the far side of the lawn, the door to the guest cottage pushes open. Little Dante appears in his pajamas, followed by Franco. They look in both directions until they spot Sofia.
“Mamma!” they cry, charging toward her.
Sofia leaps from the chaise and meets them in the soft grass. She squats down and they fall into her open arms.
“My little men!” she says, kissing them both.
Lucy and I watch as the two boys climb atop their mother like she’s their jungle gym. She topples over and the three of them scream with laughter.
“That,” Lucy whispers to me, keeping her eyes on the trio. “That’s what I wished for.”
My throat seizes.
“That’s a lovely wish, Luciana.” I turn to see Aunt Poppy coming up behind us. “I wonder what it is that’s keeping you from it.”
Lucy’s eyes meet Poppy’s, and I’m guessing she’s got a dozen blazing replies at the ready. I haven’t found a boyfriend, never mind a husband. Thanks to Em, I’m still in the dating trenches. Perhaps if you’d break the damn curse, I’d have a chance!
But Lucy seems to be pondering the question in earnest. “I’m a single waitress. Not exactly mom material.”
“What you do isn’t important,” Poppy says. “It’s what you’re going to do that matters.” She takes Lucy by the shoulders and gently pivots her toward Sofia’s little family. “Believe in your dream, my dear. It’s possible.”
After a lunch of Caprese sandwiches—crusty bread topped with fresh mozzarella, juicy tomatoes, and basil—I gently suggest that Poppy take a nap. She huffs, as if the notion of a siesta were ludicrous. “Why lie in a bedroom when you can sit in the park?” I can’t help but notice how raspy her voice sounds. “Nature is the best healer, don’t you agree?”
Gabriele grins. “Okay, stubborn one.” He grabs his car keys from the counter. “We will go to my favorite park—the Bardini Garden. You will love it.” He glances over at me. “I believe you will, too, Emilia.”
My heart does a little jig.
“Sounds like a plan,” Lucy says, coming up beside me.
“I must get sunscreen for the boys,” Sofia says.
Twenty minutes later, all seven of us pile into Gabe’s SUV and head to Florence. This time, Lucy sits up front with Gabriele. I have to tamp down a flicker of jealousy.
We enter the bustling city, where buses and taxis and cars jockey with scooters and bicycles. “The statues in the park are magnificent,” Gabe says. “And you will notice all kinds of birds—rock pigeons, wood pigeons, blackbirds.”
“Any rides?” Lucy asks. “Ferris wheels? Roller coasters?”
He laughs, as if she were joking. “No, Lucy. It is not Disneyland.”
We cross the Arno River, where a single rower sweeps the sleepy water with his oar. The city quiets. Gabe parks along a wide boulevard. Poppy leans against me as we walk toward the
park entrance. Despite the day’s warm temperature, she’s wearing her bulkiest sweater, and still her hand is like ice in mine. Fear prickles my skin. Earlier, she felt too warm.
Sofia and Lucy stroll ahead of us, trying to keep up with Franco and Dante. “Slow down, little men,” Sofia calls. They don’t listen. Franco runs full force, his shoelace trailing behind him. Seconds later, he’s planted facedown on the pavement, wailing.
“You are okay,” Sofia says, examining his bloody knee. But Franco isn’t convinced. His cries grow louder, and soon Dante joins in.
“Ah, not you, too, Dante,” Gabe says, bending down. “What have I told you? Vernasco men do not cry.”
Lucy huffs and elbows her way to Dante. “Don’t worry,” she says, squatting down beside the boy. “Your brother is okay.” She turns to Sofia. “You go ahead. I’ll hang with these two.”
Sofia looks at Lucy as if she’d just offered to donate a kidney. “You would do that?”
“I’m not a huge fan of statues and birds.” She tousles Dante’s hair. “And I’m dying for some gelato. How about you?”
Dante squeals. Franco jumps to his feet, his knee miraculously healed. “Me, too?”
Lucy slaps him a high five. “Absolutely!”
Sofia crosses her arms. For the longest time, she simply smiles at Lucy and the boys. Finally, she turns to Gabe. “Shall we meet back here at four?”
“You are not coming inside? You love the Bardini.”
My cousin shoos her away. “Go. Have fun. I’ve got this.”
Sofia shakes her head. “Today, I prefer gelato.”
I watch, curious, as my cousin and her new friend Sofia disappear down the street alongside the boys. She’s passing up a day with Gabriele?
“Your cousin is very sweet,” Gabe says, his eyes lingering on the happy quartet.
Cute, yes. Funny, definitely. But sweet is not an adjective I’d typically use to describe Luciana Fontana. An uncharitable thought strikes me before I can extinguish it. Might my cousin be trying to win over the boys, in hopes that she’ll also win over their uncle?
Gabe and I escort Poppy up a cobblestone walk, where young couples stroll hand in hand and children race across the perfectly manicured lawns. I smile at a group of elderly gentlemen playing bocce ball. Poppy clutches my arm, and every now and then I hear her wheeze.
“Shall we rest for a bit?” Gabriele asks her.
“Why? Are you tired?”
He catches my eye and we smile.
We arrive at a lush green garden adorned with flowers and fountains and gorgeous sculptures.
“Belvedere Terrace,” Gabriele says. “My favorite spot.”
Ancient oaks and cypress trees dapple the sunlight. Overhead, blackbirds and robins and pigeons chatter. Poppy clasps her hands. “The majesty of Mamma Nature!” She lifts her face and inhales deeply. “However did I miss this place?”
“It is a hidden gem, sì?” We settle Poppy onto a concrete bench overlooking her beloved city. Below, the Arno River swirls like a serpent. Red clay rooftops pepper the landscape. I spy the massive cupola of the Florence Cathedral, or Duomo, alongside Giotto’s famous bell tower. With Poppy snuggled between us, Gabe begins to tell of the garden’s history. “This place was once a private estate. These gardens only opened to the public in 2005.”
Before he finishes the sentence, Poppy’s head drops onto her chest. He steals a glance at me. “I must learn to be more engaging.”
I smile, certain that would be impossible. “She should be in bed,” I whisper.
“She refuses to miss a moment. I suspect we could all learn from her joie de vivre, as the French say. Her joy of life.”
Together we admire the city. Gone is the traffic and other noise—save for the birds, chirping in the distance. I rise and shield my eyes from the afternoon sun, admiring a breathtaking view of the Florentine cityscape. Gabe comes up beside me and places a hand on my back. A shiver runs through me.
“This place is magical,” I say.
“I was hoping you would like it. I find the gardens here very romantic. Much quieter than the more popular parks.” His eyes find mine. “But that is just me. I prefer understated.”
My face heats, and I can think of no reply. He meanders onto the lawn and lowers himself onto the soft grass. “Come,” he says, patting a spot beside him. “Sit with me.”
My heart pounds in my ears. As I sink onto the grass, I lose my balance and nearly crush his thigh on my landing. “Sorry,” I say, horrified. I scoot over. “I’m not the most graceful.”
He spreads his long legs out in front of him and leans back on his elbows, his eyes twinkling with humor. “You, Emilia, are what I call easeful.”
“Easeful? Like peaceful?”
“Much the same, sì. On the other hand, there is Lucy.” He chuckles. “I sense she can be very … turbulent.”
I pluck a blade of grass and gaze out at the city. “It’s not her fault. She’s the second daughter, like me.” Without intending to, I divulge the Fontana Second-Daughter Curse.
“So you see, our ridiculous family myth is making her crazy. All she really wants is a husband and a family, and she’s terrified it’ll never happen.”
“And you?” he asks. “Do you believe you are cursed?”
“Cursed?” I give him a smart-aleck grin. “You think I’m that naïve?”
He doesn’t laugh. His dark eyes bore into mine, seeking the truth. My breath catches. This is where I say, No, of course I don’t believe. Never did. I wrap my arms around my knees and stare off into the distance.
“I didn’t believe at first. Not for a long time.”
“And then?” His gentle voice acts as truth serum.
“And then something happened with this guy I was seeing in college, the first real boyfriend I’d ever had.”
He gives me a knowing smile. “Your first heartbreak. That will make anyone feel cursed.”
“We’d both gone home at winter break. Liam invited me to Delaware for New Year’s Eve. His best friend was throwing a big party. My nonna forbade me to go, but I snuck out while she was at work. New Castle was a two-hour drive from Bensonhurst, a straight shot down I-95. Daria loaned me her car—a cool red Jeep she called Rita.
“I was excited—and super nervous—to meet his parents and his little sister. But they were really great. Anyway, that night, as Liam and I set out for the party, the rain was changing to ice. His mom freaked out about us driving in the weather, but Liam was determined to go. We decided I’d drive—Daria’s Jeep had better tires than Liam’s car.”
I raise my head to the sky. A puffy white cloud skates past.
“I never saw it coming. One moment we were laughing and singing along with Rihanna, the next minute the car was spinning, swerving wildly. I couldn’t control the steering wheel. We were skidding into the other lane. And then nothing.”
My heart is hammering now. Gabriele’s hand closes over mine.
“I woke when the paramedics were loading Liam onto the ambulance. I tried to call his name, but my voice was this pathetic little croak. I turned to the medic who was examining my leg. He shook his head, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Say your prayers,’ he said.”
Gabe runs a hand over his face. “Oh, cara mia. I am so sorry.”
I take a deep breath, images I’ve tried to forget coming back to me now. The blood on the Jeep’s dashboard. The sight of Liam’s lifeless hand, dangling from the gurney.
“He suffered massive internal injuries. His family arrived at the hospital. I swear his mom had aged ten years. While Liam was in surgery, I called Daria. I was crying so hard, I could barely speak. When she finally figured out what had happened, she let out a wail. I’ll never forget it. She sounded like a wild animal. ‘That fucking curse!’
“My sister’s no saint, but it was the only time I’ve heard her use the f-word. At first, I didn’t understand. But then it hit me. Daria, my biggest cheerleader, the one person who had always promised me there was
no curse, actually believed in it.”
I close my eyes, a chill coming over me, just as it did eleven years ago, when the cause and effect of my cursed state settled in. “Until Daria said that, it never occurred to me that Liam’s near-death condition had anything to do with my curse. He and I had gotten too close, and the curse was determined to stop us. Just as it had done for centuries.”
Gabe’s arms encircle me. “Carissima, surely you were not responsible for his accident.”
“Over the next four days, Liam grew weaker. He was unresponsive. His organs were shutting down. On the fifth day, I went to the hospital chapel. I got down on my knees and begged God to let Liam live. I swore that if he spared Liam’s life, I’d break off the relationship. I promised I’d never see him again.”
“But Emilia, this makes no sense.”
“The very next day, Liam opened his eyes. By the weekend, he was answering questions by squeezing our hands. Ten days later, he was breathing on his own.
“As soon as he was well enough, I broke up with him in the gentlest of ways.”
Gabriele shakes his head. “Even though you loved this young man.”
I watch a robin circle an oak tree. “Which is why I couldn’t continue the relationship. The risk was too great. He was a beautiful person. I could’ve killed him.”
“But you broke his heart.”
“He was very civil about the whole thing. We would have fizzled out sooner or later anyway. My uncle Bruno got sick, and I ended up transferring to Brooklyn College so I could help at the store.”
“And of course your friend lived?”
I nod. “He made a full recovery. We talked and sent text messages for a while. But I kept my promise. I never saw him again.”
Gabe takes my head in his hands and gently smooths my hair. “It is simply coincidenza. This accident—his recovery—these had nothing to do with that preposterous curse.”
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