Lost in the City of Flowers (The Histories of Idan Book 1) (24 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The Carpenter

“Francesco,” said the bearded man before kissing my hand. “I am Leonardo’s
zio
. This is my mother, Caterina.” He presented the elderly woman with the youthful spirit.

“I am Leo’s
nonna
.”

“Very nice to meet you both.” I nodded.

“Well, let us not stand about around here! Come inside and sit,” said Nonna.

Margherita was making smacking noises with her lips. Ducking under the low doorframe, we entered the house. Inside it was wonderfully open and bright. Windows pocketed the painted walls. There were no partitions breaking up the space so every part of the room fused together.

“Please sit and make yourself at home,” Nonna said, motioning towards a comfortable corner toppling with books and mismatched chairs.

I chose one with a worn green cushion. While the others arranged themselves, I let Margherita’s weight fall in my lap. My neck was sore from the sling and the load that swayed with Rosa’s stride. Margherita looked up at me with eyes that shifted in color.

“Ana, please prepare some hot cider for our guests,” said Nonna to the woman who was working on mincing a large pile of turnips and garlic.

Ana had a petite frame but her face was past its blossom. It was plain and not remarkable nor unpleasant. Nonna strolled back to the corner where we sat. I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a dress but a long tunic with tights.

“You must excuse my dress,” she said noticing my gaze. “I was not expecting company.”

“I think it’s grand.” I smiled.

“I agree,” seconded Leonardo.

“I do not,” laughed Zio, “but I have learned that subject to be a lost battle.”

“Indeed it is,” she said. “You speak from lack of experience. When you try on one of my gowns and work the field in it, then we can discuss the matter.”

“Work in the fields? Last time I checked, Uncle never left this corner except to relieve himself,” said Leonardo.

“Take care, nephew … such wit will scare off our guest.” Ana served the cider on a low wooden table covered with what were probably Leonardo’s doodles. The mugs were of all different designs. I cupped one glazed with orange and green.

“These cups are really nice,” I said.

“Thank you, dear, it is something I enjoy doing.” The fumes from the cider revealed the cloves and cinnamon.

“I hope you do not find me nosy, but could you tell us whose baby that is if it is not your own?” asked the uncle, who had settled himself in an odd chair that leaned back.

“Well that is what we are here to find out,” answered Leonardo.

“Pardon?”

“Her mother used to work in Verrocchio’s workshop with us.”

“And where is she now?” asked Nonna.

“Dead.”

“She died from childbirth,” I said.

“The same way …” said Leonardo, his words failing.

“I promised her mother I would find a home for her,” I said.

“Don’t they have an excellent orphanage in Florence?” asked Francesco.

“Yes, that is what they say,” I said, peering down at Margherita.

“Why not let them take this burden from you?”

“The same reason you did not take me to an orphanage,” said Leonardo bluntly. “We want her to be loved, not just cared for.”

“It is a noble cause,” said Nonna. “How can we help?” she asked, taking a long sip from her cup.

“We were told a married couple lived in Vinci … their names are Antonio and Ginerva,” I said.

“The carpenter?” asked Zio.

“I think so,” I said, trying to recall if Zia had said anything about his profession.

“They live closer to town but he runs a shop in Vinci. A good man: he made me this chair. The best one I have ever sat in, and as Leonardo told you, I rarely leave this nook.”

“Right, well, we will need to go right away,” said Leonardo.

“What will you do if they refuse?” asked Nonna.

“I haven’t even thought about the possibility,” I admitted. “I have money to pay for a wet nurse but I—”

“
Scusi
, Signora Caterina?” said Ana, the housemaid.

“
Si
?”

“Might I offer to take care of the babe for now? You know my little Teresa is weaning. I could use the extra money.”

“Thank you, Ana. That is a most generous offer … Well, you will stay the night of course?”

“Ask the maestro,” said Leonardo, pointing to me.

“That would be very kind,” I said, thinking more of my chafed thighs than anything else.

“Of course, but supper will not be served for some time.”

“That’s all right, we should go now anyway.”

“Ana, would you mind washing our little guest for her outing?” asked Nonna.

“Not at all, signora,” she said, rushing over to our corner. I handed over Margherita, who immediately began to cry. It took a few moments, but Ana’s experienced arms lulled her back to bliss.

“You may use the lavender water.”

“Very well, ma’am.”

Once Ana had left with Margherita, there was a long pause. Those still moments were a needed reprise from the responsibility that had been temporarily lifted from me.

“How is your Ser Piero?” asked Nonna.

“He is fine,” said Leonardo.

“And your stepmother?”

“She is still my father’s wife.”

“Leonardo, you must accept and forgive. Spite does not suit you.”

“He could have waited … my real stepmother was barely cold in her grave before he remarried.”

“He is just anxious to have children,” said Nonna.

“Because I am not enough,” snapped Leonardo.

“It is a peculiar situation, and I do see your point,” she said, imploring Francesco to participate with her eyes.

“Do not look at me that way. I quite agree with Leonardo. I do not really understand Piero’s ambitious motives,” he said.

“Yes … Well, would you please excuse me? I have to finish something by the kiln,” said Nonna before walking outside. Leonardo and I did not stand up until we heard Ana walking towards us with Margherita.

“I am going into town with the cart if you three want to ride in the back. I’ll drop you off in the piazza,” offered Zio.

“That would be great,” I said, wrapping the sling over the fresh shoulder.

Once Zio parked the cart at the front of the house, Leonardo and I stepped up on the back and settled ourselves between clumps of hay. As we drove down the hillside, I closed my eyes. Even with my lids shut, I could feel the brightness and see the dark shadows of the branches. I had dozed off underneath the sun’s snug blanket. The cart jerked me awake.

We had stopped in front of an old church with a pointed bell tower. “Antonio’s shop is right over there,” said Zio, pointing to an open door opposite the church.

“Thank you, Signore Francesco!”

“
Prego
… Take your time. I came to get away, so I am not in a rush.” He kicked up his feet onto the cart railing. Leonardo helped Margherita and I get down from the cart.

“I will wait for you here,” said Leonardo.

“You’re not coming?” I asked nervously.

“I think it would be better if you went in alone … It is such a sensitive situation that I think the fewer people involved the better it will turn out.”

“Maybe.”

“Do not look so nervous! You will do great.” I sighed before walking towards the carpenter’s shop.

“You must be on your best behavior,” I whispered to Margherita as we approached the shop. “They will fall in love with you. I am sure of it.”

No noise came from within the tiny studio. Tools hung on the walls in neat rows. A hint of sawdust flew about in spite of the owner’s meticulously clean workshop. At the entrance, there were a few furniture samples for the eyes to rest on.

“Hello?” I called out to the empty room.

“
Scusi
!” A man of thirty years came rushing in from across the street. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, signora.”

“It’s
miss
,” I corrected. He glanced at the baby.

“Forgive me,” he said politely. I could see why Ginerva had fallen for him as he combed the cluster of gray hair back into his black ponytail.

“How may I help you?”

“Well, I’m here on a more personal matter.” I gently rocked Margherita. He looked surprised but waited for me to continue. “I hope you don’t think me rude, but I need to know if your wife’s name is Ginerva.”

“It is.” He crossed his arms.

“Is she well?”

“Who would like to know?” It was clear from the crow’s feet that spread from his dark green eyes that he had a kind disposition, but his defensive demeanor made me wary.

“Her mother, Signora Cioni.”

“She is well,” he said curtly, rolling up his white sleeve. He walked past me and further into the workshop at a loss of what to say. “Was there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, pulling on his gnarled work gloves.

“Yes, I have something for you.” I paused as an idea struck me. “Would you help me to get it out?” He stood up from his workbench. “Could you hold her a moment while I grab something in my satchel?” I asked, already leaning her up against his chest.

Shocked by the brevity of the whole transaction, he had no time to object. For a few minutes, I pretended I didn’t know where the letter was. While I searched I stole a look at the two. He smiled when Margherita’s eyes widened at him. She took a deep breath and leaned her round cheek against his arm. “Here it is! Sorry about that,” I said, placing the letter on the work table. “I can take her now.”

“She is lovely,” he said, gently holding her out to me.

“And as sweet as her mama was,” I said, sweeping her back into my arms.

“Was?”

“Yes, her mother died a few days ago, right after the baby was born.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” He frowned. “You must be her aunt?”

“No, I’m just a friend. The letter on the table should explain the whole situation.” He looked confused. “I’ll be waiting for your answer at Signore Francesco’s house right outside of town. I believe he bought one of your chairs … Please come as soon as you can, I am leaving in the morning for Florence.”

“I have no knowledge of the letter’s contents, but if it is from Signora Cioni, I can tell you that my wife has not spoken to her mother for five years. I would not like you to wait for a reply that may very likely never come.”

The prospect that the plan might fail angered me beyond reason. “You mean she wouldn’t read it?”

“It is possible … she has not read any of her past letters.”

“That’s so cruel!”

“Excuse me?” said Antonio, raising his eyebrows. “My wife has been through a lot.”

“I know … Zia told me.”

“You mean she gave you her version.”

“I can promise you that she didn’t paint a pretty picture of herself,” I snapped. “She helped you deliver your notes to Ginerva … Have you forgotten that?” I probed angrily.

“I haven’t, but I also remember that she did not stop that wedding. Instead, she told me to hide like a coward.”

“What could she do when in this place women have no rights, no social standing? When they are given away like objects for sale? She was trying to spare your feelings and her own! It broke her heart to see your suffering.” He said nothing but just blinked at me as if I were a hallucination—a vision of a strange teenage girl with an even stranger accent yelling at him about women’s rights and digging out the skeletons in his closet. “I brought Margherita to you because I wanted her to grow up with a happy family that wouldn’t hold her back.”

“Who is Margherita?”

“She was a kind soul who was tricked by a little devil, a girl who died wanting only a new beginning for her baby.” Still he said nothing. “You have the day to talk it over with Ginerva. You know where I am staying,” I said before turning out of the studio. As I crossed the street towards the cart, I breathed a little easier.

“How did it go?” asked Leonardo, tossing back a handful of pickled olives.

“I’m not sure.”

“How can you not know?”

“Well, I think at one point I was yelling at him,” I said.

Zio chuckled. “That is a good sign,” he said, stroking his beard. “All men like to be yelled at by a woman now and again, even if they do not know it. It makes them realize how human they are.”

“I do not like to be yelled at by anyone. Least of all by women,” said Leonardo.

“Like I said...” Zio spit out pits onto the packed dirt floor. “...even if they don’t know it. Does he know where to find you?”

“
Si
.”

“Then let us get going.” Once we resumed our ascent, Margherita began to whimper again.

“Unreal!” I said, looking up at the clouds rolling past.

“What happened?”

“I think Margherita can sense when I’m worried.”

“Give her to me then,” said Leonardo sitting up. “I’m never worried.” I passed her to Leonardo. Immediately, she quieted.

“See! She knows.”

“She might,” he agreed.

It felt good to stretch my aching arms out over my legs that dangled off the cart. The chilly wind picked up. It pushed around the cart’s edges and breathed against our few patches of bare skin.

“What will I do if they don’t come?” I asked, rubbing my sore shoulders.

“You have done your best.”

“Have I?”

“I think so and I am a tough judge,” said Leonardo. “Her mother would have wanted you to look after yourself now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come tomorrow, you will not have time to worry about Margherita because of the Medici.” 

“
Si
, you’re right … I’m totally screwed.” I leaned back on the pillow of hay. “Maybe that’s why I am so focused on this. There is a big elephant in the room and it looks like Lorenzo Medici.”

“Elephant?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Have you thought of a plan yet?” 

“No,” I said, fidgeting with Idan’s chain. I opened its case and brought it up to face. My heart sank into my empty belly. “Oh no!”

“What is it?”

“I have less than two days left!”

“For what?”

“To get back to the metal door.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

I sat up to show him Idan’s face. “That number there...” I pointed to the window where the countdown appeared “... it keeps changing. I should have checked on it sooner.”

“Are you sure it is not just broken?”

“Stop it with that.” I elbowed him. “Just because you don’t believe in it does not mean it’s broken, and it’s also not a free pass to dissect it.”

“For the record, I hope you are just delusional.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you, Leonardo.”

“No, I mean it.”