Her Double Punishment

by Daniella Wright

“About three hours drive,” she says. “Further North. If we leave soon, we’ll be there before ten o’clock.”

  She moves around the table to give Rosa a kiss on the temple. “Thank you for dinner, Mamma, but I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

  Rosa waves her hand. “Leave it. We’ll sort it out. You get up to your dear Mamma.”

  Anna gives a weak smile, and she and Alessandro leave the room.

  “I hope Nonno is going to be okay,” Stella says glumly.

  “I’m sure she will be,” Stefano puts a hand over his niece’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Your Nonno is pretty tough. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Dinner is finished quickly, and the brothers do the dishes, while I take the girls upstairs to get ready for bed. Rosa climbs the stairs behind me, and I realize she has a bit of a limp.

  “It’s nothing,” she says. “My hip doesn’t like to lift my leg so high anymore. Doesn’t mean I can’t do things, just that I’m a bit slower than usual.”

  She gives me the rundown of the girls’ routine, bath and stories before bed, and then I’ll need to make them breakfast the next morning.

  “Everything you need is in the kitchen, though if you want a hand, do hesitate to call out.” Rosa gives my hand a squeeze. “I really appreciate this, my dear.”

  I smile. “No worries, at all.”

  I run the bath for the girls, making sure the water is not too hot, the last thing I want is to have the girls scalded in the first half hour I’m caring for them.

  They climb into the bath, and Rosa leads me to the spare room, where she helps me make the bed with clean sheets and blankets.

  “There is a bathroom through here. And the girls’ rooms are just across the hall,” she says, giving me a tour of the upstairs part of the house.

  We head back to the bathroom to find the girls trying to use the bath as a waterslide and the floor covered in water.

  “Che macello! Girls! What are you doing?” Rosa throws her arms up in the air.

  “We’re swimming, Nonna,” Sophia says, her eyes bright.

  “And look at all this mess you’ve made. Oh well,” Rosa glances at me. “At least it will give the floor a wash!”

  She pulls some old towels from a cupboard and drops them on the floor, using her feet to push them around the tiles and dry them.

  “Let me do that.” I take over, dropping to my knees to dry the rest of the floor.

  While I do that, Rosa pulls the plug, wraps a towel around Sophia and scoops her out of the bath, and onto a very soggy bath mat.

  “Where are your pajamas?” Rosa asks.

  “Mamma usually gets them for us,” Stella says, and I feel a stab of guilt that I should have thought of that. Oh well, something to remember for tomorrow night.

  Sophia wriggles out of the towel with a giggle and races up to her bedroom. Stella wraps herself in a towel and heads up to her own room, and I tidy up the bathroom.

  When I head back up the hall Rosa is reading a story to Stella and Sophia, who are both curled up on Sophia’s bed.

  I stand in the doorway and watch.

  It’s in Italian, so I have no idea what the story is about, but the girls are engrossed. When Rosa gets to the end of the chapter she closes the book, and sets it down.

  She gives them each a kiss on the head, and ushers Stella out the door to her own room.

  “They do have a couple of books in English,” Rosa says. “Ask them to pick one out for you to read. It’s lights out now, and they have an alarm set for seven o’clock in the morning so that they can get up and ready for school on time. You should probably set your alarm, too. They’ll be awake for a little while, you can expect requests for drinks, and numerous toilet breaks. They do have a glass of water each by their bed, so don’t let them trick you with that one, and once they’ve been to the toilet just usher them back to bed. They’ll be asleep by around eight thirty, nine o’clock.”

  I nod, trying to remember everything.

  Rosa smiles, and reaches out to give my hand a squeeze.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “You’ll be fine. And Giovanni and I are just across the way, in our own little cottage. Come and fetch me, if you need help with anything.”

  I force a smile, and reach out to give Rosa a hug.

  “Thank you. For everything. I’ll try not to disturb you, if I can help it.”

  We reach the stairs, and I hold out my arm to help Rosa down them.

  “You’re a good girl,” she says, patting my hand. “Always ready to help, and a hard worker too. I wish my boys could find someone like you.”

  Her words give me pause, and I have to force myself to continue on like there’s nothing strange in what she’s said.

  “Surely there’s plenty of women around for your sons.”

  She shakes her head. “They’re picky, those two. Have an idea in their mind of what they want, and refuse to settle down until they find her. I swear they’re of one and the same mind. Would be nice though, to have a female touch over there. Too much of a bachelor pad, if you ask me.”

  I frown. “Don’t they usually have female workers stay with them?”

  Rosa looks at me in surprise, then bursts out laughing.

  “Female workers? Dio mio! No, no, no. The female workers sleep here, in the house. Stefano insisted your father told him to look after you, and he wanted to do just that. He felt that housing you here was passing on the responsibility to Alessandro and Anna, and he promised your father he would look after you, and so he did.”

  “Oh.”

  I can’t ask the next question burning the tip of my tongue. If the female workers slept here, does that mean they didn’t have ‘fun’ with Marco and Stefano?

  I say goodnight to Rosa at the door, and head back to the kitchen with a sigh.

  What does it even matter that the brothers didn’t sleep with other workers, like I suspected they might have? They both made it clear that this was to be a bit of fun while I’m here. They aren’t intending for it to last any longer than my visit.

  I reach the kitchen and rest my head against the fridge. I should have listened to my earlier fears. Of course sex is going to ruin everything. I thought I could do fun, one night stands. And maybe I could, if they were actual one night stands. But this isn’t: this is a series of one night stands with two gorgeous men who I’m falling more deeply for, with every conversation we’ve had.

  I’ll just have to tell them, and hope that we can all survive the rest of this year together.

  The next morning, I wake to my alarm, disoriented for a moment as I try to remember where I am. As soon as I do I’m out of bed, over to wake the girls who frown and grumble as they climb out of bed, and then downstairs to start on breakfast.

  There’s a single red rose in a vase in the kitchen, with a small note.

  Sei bella. M.

  I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. No more wooing. I have to stop this. Today.

  I pull out the croissants and cereal Rosa told me made up the girls’ breakfast, and then head back upstairs to find Sophia has crawled back into bed, and Stella is half dressed in her school uniform, and is drawing pictures.

  “Girls, what are you doing?”

  “I was tired,” Sophia says, as I pull back the covers and help her to sit. “I’m worried about Nonno.”

  I pause, and take a deep breath.

  “I’m sure your Nonno will be fine,” I say, sitting on the bed beside her. “If he wasn’t, wouldn’t your Mamma and Papa have taken you to see him.”

  Sophia shrugs, but lets me help her into her school uniform.

  “I’ve got out your breakfast,” I say when she’s dressed, and she heads down stairs to the kitchen.

  When I reach her door Stella is finally dressed, though she’s drawing, again, and I hurry her downstairs, all too aware of the bus they need to catch.

  Downstairs Sophia has eaten her croissant, but won’t touch her cereal.

  “It’s too soggy,”
she says, pushing the bowl away. “Mamma only pours the milk when we’re ready to eat it.”

  I take a deep breath, and retrieve another bowl from the cupboard, and pour a fresh lot of cereal for both the girls, when I turn around Stella is happily eating her cereal.

  “I like soggy cereal,” she says, finishing her bowl, and reaching out for Sophia’s. “It’s tastier this way.”

  I resist the urge to sigh, and instead swallow my irritation and force a smile.

  “Great,” I say, passing Sophia both bowls of cereal.

  Sophia takes two bites of her own breakfast, and pushes the bowl away again.

  “I don’t really want cereal this morning,” she says. “I’m not hungry.”

  I don’t roll my eyes, and instead just gather up the dishes and empty the contents into the compost bucket, ready to empty into the compost bin in the garden later.

  Rosa is at the door before too long.

  “I’ll walk the girls to the bus stop,” she says. “Let you have a shower.”

  I realize with a start that I haven’t even brushed my hair this morning, and give Rosa an impromptu hug.

  “Thank you. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

  “Off you go,” she says. “They’re harder work than they look, children. But well worth the effort.” She beams at her granddaughters, and ushers them out the door.

  I slump against the kitchen bench. I haven’t eaten either, and my stomach is growling.

  While I’m standing there, Marco appears from nowhere, and I jump.

  “Hey, sorry for scaring you,” he says, “I just thought you might want some clean clothes?”

  He holds out the clothes I left on the washing line yesterday.

  “Ah, thanks.”

  He scans the room. “Did you get my flower?”

  I cringe. I want to say yes, and throw my arms around him and kiss him, but then I think of the future, and how hard it will be to say goodbye at the end of the twelve months.

  “I think we should probably stop the wooing,” I say, taking a deep breath.

  “You don’t like being wooed?” He’s frowning.

  I shrug. “Wooing is fine. I just… I think it should probably come from someone who wants to woo me. Not someone who’s wooing me because I asked them to.”

  Marco’s frown deepens. “But I do want to woo you, Savannah.”

  I shake my head. “I have to go home at the end of this year.”

  “Yes.” Marco speaks the word slowly. “But we were having fun though, weren’t we? Wasn’t that the idea, to have fun? To make the most of opportunities?”

  Tears threaten behind my eyes, and I close them so the tears can’t fall. “I don’t think I want to have fun anymore, Marco.”

  “You ready?” Stefano’s voice echoes through the house, moments before I hear his footsteps on the kitchen tiles.

  There’s an awkward silence, where I imagine the brothers looking at each other.

  “Everything alright?” Stefano asks.

  “Savannah doesn’t want to have fun anymore,” Marco replies.

  “Savannah?”

  I can’t open my eyes, I know I’ll cry, and how silly will I look then? Instead I take a deep breath, and shake my head.

  “Right,” Stefano says, his voice gruff. “Well, we don’t have to have any more fun. But we do have to work. You’ve got five minutes, Savannah. Better hurry up and get dressed.”

  They both leave the room, their footsteps audible on the tiles, followed by the bang of the door. I get changed where I’m standing, while I grab some fruit from the fruit bowl, and a bread roll from the bread bin. My water bottle is still in the brothers’ house, so I won’t have time to grab that. Instead I rush out the door and jump into the jeep.

  “Your water bottle,” Marco says as I climb in, handing it over.

  “Oh, thank you!” I catch his eye, hoping to show my appreciation, but he frowns and looks away.

  “It’s fine.”

  The day is awful. I skip morning tea, and only take half the lunch break we normally have, just so I don’t have to face either Marco or Stefano. Rosa asks me if I’m alright, and I tell her I’m working harder to make up for the fact that Alessandro and Anna aren’t here.

  “Ah, you’re a good help,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “Don’t know what we’ll do next year, when you go home.”

  The thought of leaving here brings a pang to my chest and I force a smile.

  “Plenty of workers about,” I say.

  Rosa laughs. “Si. So there are. Still you’ve wormed your way into my heart. I’ll miss you when you go.”

  I give her a hug. “Same.”

  Dinner is quiet. Neither Marco or Stefano meet my eye, though Giovanni seems to think it’s because they are worried about the harvest.

  “We’ll get the olives in,” he says to Stefano. “We’ve got a few good days before the bad weather sets in.”

  Stefano nods. “It’ll just be tight, Papa,” he says, watching me. “Won’t be as easy as it might’ve been.”

  In the end, it takes us almost a week to finish the last of the harvest.

  I stay with the girls each night, and soon have their routines down pat.

  Neither Marco or Stefano talk to me except when absolutely necessary, which I try to tell myself is exactly what I wanted, while inside I’m crying over the lost connection and friendship I had with them.

  The weekend rolls around, and with it, we’re back in the mill, processing the last lot of olives for the season.

  I wonder what I’ll have to do for the rest of the year. And how I’ll manage to avoid the brothers if we’re all working together on other projects.

  As with every day spent processing the olives, we celebrate with a first tasting of the fresh oil.

  But tonight doesn’t feel like a celebration.

  Without Anna and Alessandro, the room feels empty.

  And Marco and Stefano are not very talkative.

  “A few days, and we’ll not have this fresh tasting again,” Rosa says indicating the diminishing stack of crates against the wall.

  She pulls out a bottle from among the first that I helped to process.

  “Here,” she says. “Try this. See the difference?”

  I taste it, and I can. It’s already mellowed out noticeably.

  “Wow.” I force the enthusiasm. “That really is different.”

  Rosa nods. “You see why we enjoy every opportunity we have to taste the fresh oil,” she says. “We can dream about it for the rest of the year, but only now, in harvest season, can we taste it.” Her gaze catches mine and she watches me, intently. “And yet, even if we could never taste it again, imagine how much less our lives would be, if we’d never tasted it in the first place.”

  I glance up at Marco, who’s currently tipping back a large glass of wine.

  Does it matter if I fall in love, and then have to say goodbye? What is worse? A broken heart or a missed opportunity?

  Chapter 11

  I can’t sleep for pondering the idea.

  Have I ruined my chance with Marco and Stefano over foolish fears? A year is a long time. I may have got sick of them after a while, fallen out of love with them.

  I roll over in bed, trying to find a position to help me get to sleep, when I hear a bang downstairs.

  My heart leaps in my chest, and I push myself up to a sitting position, holding my breath as I listen intently.

  Nothing.

  Maybe I just imagined it. Maybe it was the bed moving as I rolled over, and I just thought the sound came from downstairs.

  I lay back down, but then I hear a shuffling on the stairs, then a muffled mumbling.

  I’m up and out of bed before I know it. I’ve got nothing to use as a weapon so I flick on the hall light, hoping it will be enough to scare the intruder away.

  I don’t want to wake up the girls unnecessarily.

  I don’t want to scare them.

  The shuffling continues, and I cr
eep towards the stairs, crouching as I get closer so I can peek around the bannister.

  “Marco.”

  He’s looking up at me, blinking against the glare.

  “Savannah.”

  He sways a bit, and I realize he’s had a little too much to drink.

  “Savannah,” he says again, then continues to speak in a string of garbled Italian.

  I head down the stairs to meet him, then take him by the elbow and guide him carefully back to the ground floor.

  “Mi amore,” he says. “Sei la mia vita.” He sways a bit, as I lead him through to the kitchen. “Ti adoro.”

  He’s grasping at my arm, his breath reeking of wine, and I help him to sit.

  “How am I going to get you back to your place?” I wonder aloud.

  “No, Savannah. No. Ti amo.”

  I sigh. He looks so bereft, sitting there, so lost.

  The garden door slides open, and Stefano appears.

  “Did he wake you?” he says.

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Sorry. I was sitting with him, but then I had to use the toilet, and when I got back he’d vanished.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Stefano gives me a funny look. “Time heals all wounds,” he says, hooking an arm around Marco’s back, and pulling him to stand.

  I want to say something. To apologize. But Stefano is struggling with the door so instead I help him open it and watch him as half-carries Marco back to their own little space.

  It still takes me a long time to fall asleep, and when the alarm rings the following morning I’m certain I only just drifted off.

  I pull myself out of bed, and stagger to the kitchen.

  Marco is sitting by the bench, his head in his hand.

  When I enter he glances up.

  “Savannah,” he says.

  “Good morning Marco.”

  “Stefano says I came here last night.”

  I nod.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s not. Stefano said I said some things.”

  “It was all in Italian,” I say. “I didn’t understand a word of it.” There was no ‘sei, bella’ anyway. I would’ve understood that. Maybe he was cursing me.