Sea of Lost Love (35 page)

With a sigh of desperation, she began to look through the drawers of the dressing table. Each drawer was filled to the brim with more beads and necklaces and rings and other knickknacks she had collected from her travels. Celestria's heart sank.

She couldn't confront Federica without the box because she had promised not to bring Daphne's name into it. She searched the wardrobes and the cupboards in the bathroom adjoining. Then she sat on the bed, her shoulders hunched, certain that she was going to have to leave without it.

Suddenly, she heard Federica's voice in the courtyard below, talking to Luigi. She peeped out of the window to see her laughing, bending down to pat the dogs, the basket she carried over her shoulder full of shopping. She must have changed her plans. Celestria felt her frustration mount. As she turned to leave, her eye caught a familiar red box partly hidden in one of the bowls full of crystals on the center table. She shoved her hand in and pulled it out victoriously, pressing it to her nose with delight. She was sure she could smell the scent of tuberose. There, glittering in the light, two diamond stars twinkled at her. Her mother's missing stars. The stars her father had given her, then stolen so ruthlessly.

She closed the box and returned to the bed, where she sat down and waited for Federica to appear. Her heart was hopping about in her chest like a cricket, but Celestria had never shirked confrontation. Perhaps now she would learn the whole truth, and even discover where her father was. She watched the door without blinking until her eyes stung. Finally, the sound of footsteps and the rapid panting of dogs invaded the silence. Federica opened the door and stepped inside, giving a start when she saw Celestria sitting calmly on her bed, holding in her hands the little red box.

The dogs followed her inside, dispersing to different parts of the room. Federica closed the door, put down her bag, and turned to face Celestria. She didn't seem angry at finding the girl in her room, nor was she defensive: she just looked sad.

“Papa gave this to my mother,” said Celestria angrily. “He said he had to find stars big enough to outshine the stars in her eyes. This is how I saw my parents, like two glittering stars. But to him, their marriage meant nothing.”

“I'm sorry,” Federica said, taking the place beside her on the bed. “I didn't know.” As much as Celestria wanted to hate her, she couldn't.

“So, tell me, how much
did
you know?”

“Almost as little as you. Only that he wasn't dead. Forgive me.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because he told me not to tell anyone that I had seen him. My loyalty will always be to him, because I love him.” She took Celestria's hand. Celestria let her take it, but it lay limply in the older woman's palm. “When you arrived and told me he was dead, I was so torn. I didn't know how to handle it, so I did the best I could. It was the hardest act I've ever put on. Then when you announced that you were here to discover the truth, I was given a window of opportunity. I took it. I encouraged you because I was unable to tell you myself. I thought perhaps the truth would bring him back.”

“Nothing can bring him back—least of all the truth.”

“I hoped,” she said hoarsely.

“Anyway, I don't want him back.”

“Celestria. In spite of all that he has done, he is still your father. His life is in danger. He had to run away. He got himself into trouble.”

“Before or after he married Armel?” Federica flinched. He was indefensible. “So you told no one?” Celestria continued.

“No one.”

“Not even Gaitano?”

“Not even him.”

Celestria swallowed hard. “And Hamish. Did he know?”

“No.”

The knot in Celestria's stomach released. “That is at least something. So where is he now?”

“I don't know. I haven't heard from him since, and I don't expect to.”

“Was he your lover? Did he jilt you?”

Federica laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Of course not! I'm almost old enough to be his mother. No, I love him like a son, Celestria. I'm not saying that if I wasn't younger I wouldn't fall in love with him. But I'm old and married, and I know my limitations. We have an understanding that transcends words.”

“That's what they all say. You know you're only one of a large number of women who believe he loves them.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “It doesn't matter. He brought happiness into the Convento. After our daughter died I was lost. With your father's help I found myself again. I learned to love her memory and let her go.” Shame Hamish can't do the same, Celestria thought, feeling miserable again.

“He's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Two people. One who spreads happiness wherever he goes, the other who lies and deceives and spreads pain.”

“Your father is a charming, charismatic man. But he is also deeply flawed. He cannot help but try to please everyone. He wants to be Mr. Wonderful to everyone he meets. Of course, it is impossible to be everything to everyone. Not even Monty can do that. In trying, he has created all these different worlds in which he is always at the center.” She looked at Celestria with tenderness. “For a while he was in the center of my world, too. I can only guess at the others. There may be many. Too many to control. Your father is not a good man, Celestria. But I love him in spite of all his faults.”

“Why is he so flawed? Uncle Archie and Aunt Penelope are normal! Where did their parents go wrong?”

“Sometimes people are born flawed. I don't think your grandparents are to blame. However, from what he has told me, I know that his mother put a great deal of pressure on him to excel. He was her golden boy, but her love came at a price. It was conditional. He was the magnificent Monty, yet inside he felt inadequate and undeserving and guilty.”

“Guilty? What of?”

“Of resenting his family.”

“He resented us?”

“He resented the expectation everyone placed upon him. It was too much to bear.”

“So he started another family because he was sick of the old one?”

“I don't know.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about him,” said Celestria grudgingly.

“I was like a mother to him. Someone he could talk to. Someone who thought the world of him, without strings.”

“I despise him,” she replied.

“Don't hate him. Pity him.”

“I pity myself. The more I try to remember him as he was before he disappeared, the less I trust my memories. Everything I have learned about him undermines the father he was to me. He was my papa for twenty-one years, and yet who was he? He loved Mama, and yet he gave you the stars he bought for her, the gift from him that she cherished. His heart is empty.”

“Or perhaps it is too full. Take the stars back to your mother,” said Federica sadly, handing her the box. “Tell her you found them under the bed. Don't tell her the truth. As you have realized yourself, the truth is far worse than the lie.”

Celestria closed the box and stood up. “We have all been betrayed,” she said.

“But we have found one another.”

“Yes, we have,” she replied, thinking of Hamish. “And I found Marelatte.”

Back in the solitude of her bedroom, she wrote to her grandfather, telling him everything she had discovered. He had trusted her instincts. He had supported her need to get away, to learn the truth. Now she needed his advice. Was she a fool to love Hamish?

T
hat afternoon, Celestria found Mrs. Waynebridge in the garden. She was sitting in the sunshine, talking to Daphne. They were both laughing beneath their sunhats. When they saw her, Mrs. Waynebridge waved and Daphne got up stiffly. “I'll leave you two together,” she said, picking up her crocheted bag where she kept her book and reading glasses. “I must go and do some painting before the light goes.” Celestria sat down in Daphne's chair.

“I've hardly seen you, Waynie,” she said, regretfully. She was on the point of telling her about the diamonds when she realized that Mrs. Waynebridge was no longer interested. The housekeeper had a faraway look in her eyes.

“Nuzzo has asked me to marry him,” she said finally.

“How did he do that? Playing charades?” Celestria hadn't meant to sound unkind. “Or has he taught you some Italian?” she added more gently, hoping she hadn't taken offense.

“We understand each other perfectly,” replied Mrs. Waynebridge, lifting her chin proudly.

“Did you say yes?”

“I did.”

“Waynie, I'm so thrilled for you!” She leaned across and hugged her.

“Are you really?” Mrs. Waynebridge had been worried about telling her. She didn't like to think of Celestria traveling back to England on her own.

Celestria tried to look happy. “I really am,” she said, but then the tears spilled over and she could no longer hide her feelings. “I'm sorry. I'm so selfish. You've found happiness with Nuzzo in this beautiful place, and all I can think about is myself.”

“Don't be sorry. I understand. Remember, I've known you since you were a baby.”

“It's been an awful week. I came out to find Papa, but I found love instead.”

“You've found love?” Mrs. Waynebridge had been so distracted by her own inflating heart that she hadn't noticed Celestria's. “Who with?”

Celestria looked sheepish. “Hamish.”

“I thought you didn't like him?”

“I changed my mind. I like him very much.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I got to know him.” Her face flushed, setting her eyes alight. “It was all a misunderstanding, Waynie. But we're past that now. Mrs. Halifax was right: he's charming and intelligent and funny, too. When we finally talked, we clicked together like an engine and carriage that were made for each other. When I'm with him, it feels right. I feel safe with him.” She sighed. “I really love him, Waynie. I don't yearn to return home to London. I want the simple life here with him. I want to walk up the beach holding hands, dance in the moonlight, watch him paint. I want to play the piano and sing, work my way through Gaitano's library, and give Hamish children who'll love the simple things, like we do. I want to make him happy.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Celestria wiped away a tear. “Because I don't know what to do. Do I stay here? Do I go home? I haven't had a marriage proposal.”

“Give him time; you've only just met.”

“What if he's still in love with his dead wife?”

“That won't get him anywhere.”

“Gaitano says he feels guilty because he was there when she fell off the cliff. He thinks it was his fault. He won't stop blaming himself.”

“Time will heal, love.”

“He's had three years! How much longer will it take?”

“He's only just met you.”

“But I'm here. I'm a living, breathing person, loving him. Natalia can't love him from where she is.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. There's nothing to keep me here now. Do I stay, or do I go?”

“You stay, Celestria, and you fight for what you want,” the older woman replied fiercely.

“Perhaps I don't belong here. I should return to London and marry Aidan and forget that I ever met Hamish.”

“Then you'll live half a life.”

“No, I'd live half a life here with Hamish. Natalia would have the other half.”

 

The decision, however, was taken out of her hands by a telegram that arrived as hers was sent to Scotland. It was from her mother. Celestria read it. Then she read it again. She tried to read it a third time, but her eyes had blurred with tears: “
YOUR GRANDFATHER PASSED AWAY THIS MORNING STOP COME HOME STOP
.”

She sank onto the cushions beneath the cloister, pulling Primo and Maialino onto her lap for comfort. Hamish sat beside her and took the telegram from her trembling fingers. “God,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You loved him like a father, didn't you?” She nodded but couldn't speak. They sat there, in the shade, for a long while. Primo and Maialino sensed unhappiness. Finally, she drew away and folded up the telegram.

“I have to go home,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I'm going to be here when you come back.”

“Do you want me to?” She looked at him with a frown, longing to be certain of his affection. Wanting to have it all for herself.

“Yes.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips, taking his time. “I want you to come back very, very much.”

 

Mrs. Waynebridge was brokenhearted for Celestria. “She has lost not only her father, but her grandfather, too, who she loved more than anyone else in the world, even her mother. Which isn't really surprising, if you know her mother,” she told Federica and Daphne.

“But what about Hamish?” said Daphne, recalling their morning conversation.

“I'm hoping she'll come back,” replied Federica. “He needs her, and they could be so happy together.”

“She'll come back,” said Waynie, with a knowing smile. “A woman is never the same after experiencing Italy.”

 

That night Hamish made love to Celestria beside the old fortress. There were no stars, and the moon was hidden behind thick clouds and mist that hung low over the sea. The air was strangely warm and humid. A storm was brewing. They lay on a rug and loved each other, their hearts heavy with melancholy, unsure of what the future held for them.

 

In the morning Celestria packed her suitcases and waited in the courtyard for Gaitano, who was going to take her to Spongano. It was raining. Large drops fell onto the paving stones and dripped off the arches of the cloister, where the dogs lay. Mrs. Waynebridge and Daphne had said good-bye to her in the dining room, both too emotional to watch her drive away. Hamish was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly Federica appeared in a flurry, wringing her hands. “Hamish told me to tell you he's in the cemetery. He wants you to go and see him before you leave.” She looked anxious. “He says it's important.”

Celestria ran across the road, the rain drenching her dress and shoes and flattening her hair against her face. A couple of black cats had taken shelter in the entrance of the cemetery, huddled together to keep dry. She hurried through the gates, into the city of the dead, where the rain had fallen on the warm earth in the little park and filled the air with the sweet scent of damp pine. Birdsong resounded up and down the little avenues as the birds fluttered about to find shelter, and the heady smell of lilies emanated from the little mausoleums mingled with the smell of candle wax. She reached Natalia's crypt and climbed the steps. Inside, Hamish stood with his hands on her tomb, staring at the floor. When she entered, he looked up. His face was ashen, his eyes red rimmed. For a moment she thought he was going to shout at her.

“I'm letting her go,” he said. “I want to make a commitment to you. But first I want you to know everything. I should have shown you earlier.”

Without saying another word, he led her outside. The rain had become a light drizzle. He took her down the little path towards the old fortress. He walked with his stick, but his limp was less noticeable. Instead of turning right to the fort, he turned left and led her along the cliff top. Her sodden dress clung to her legs like seaweed, and her canvas shoes squelched with each step. After a few hundred yards, he stopped.

“This is where she died,” he said, dropping his stick and taking her by the shoulders.

Celestria looked down. It was a long way. Natalia hadn't stood a chance; she would have been broken on the rocks before she had known what had hit her. He looked at her intensely, his eyes full of pain.

“She was having an affair, Celestria. She was in love with another man.” His tone was brittle, like the scrunching of fragmented glass. “I found out and confronted her. She accused me of being moody and self-obsessed and claimed I had driven her to it. We had a fight. She was as volatile as me. We were like two sparks in a fire, maddened with anger and hurt. I told her she had to choose between me and him. But she couldn't choose. She loved him, even though she knew he would break her heart. Perhaps he had broken it already.” He inhaled as if he needed to find the courage to continue. Then he gripped her shoulders and said: “The other man, Celestria, was your father.”

Celestria was horrified. She recoiled, catching her breath as if she had been winded. “My father?”

“I should have told you.”

“My father? Having an affair with your wife?” She took a step back. “It's not possible.”

“I'm afraid it is.”

She took a moment to digest the awful truth. “That's why you hated me. Because I was his daughter. It makes perfect sense.”

“But I fell in love with you.” He gazed at her in desperation.

“But you lied.”

“No. I never lied. I just didn't tell you the whole truth.”

“So why are you telling me now? When I'm on the point of leaving?”

“Because when you come back, I want to start with a clean slate. I want to put it all behind us: Natalia, your father. I want us to begin our life together untarnished by the past. You're the only person who will know the truth. But there's more.”

“More?” Celestria's features were contorted with pain.

“Natalia claimed she was unable to choose between me and Robert because she was carrying a child. She didn't know whose child it was.” His eyes filled with tears. Celestria felt her own tears gathering, ready to unite with the rain that trickled down her face. “She was carrying a life inside her, Celestria. It could have been mine. How could she not know? I lost my mind. I shouted at her, and she just looked at me, full of defiance, as if relishing the power she had over me. She showed not a grain of remorse. How closely related are love and hate. In that moment I loved her so much I hated her. The next thing I knew was that she slipped and fell. I didn't push her. I swear to God, I didn't push her. But I don't remember clearly. It's all a blur. Could I have pushed her when she was carrying a child?”

“So you haven't only been mourning Natalia, but the child who might have been yours.”

Hamish nodded. Celestria's heart buckled.

“Oh, Hamish, I'm so sorry.” She wound her arms around him and held him close. “I don't doubt you,” she whispered.

 

Celestria sat on the train in the dry clothes she had changed into before she left. Now she watched the Italian countryside flash past her window. In her bag she carried the diamond stars she would return to her mother. She wouldn't tell. She would keep it all to herself, a more generous act than her father deserved. Pamela would never know the truth. She would believe he had only ever loved her. Harry would grow up with happy memories of his father building him traps in the woods above Pendrift, constructing sand castles on the beach, and taking him out in his little boat to play pirates. By not telling them the truth she would safeguard their past and protect their future. It was the right thing to do.

She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. She saw her grandfather's large face and twinkling eyes. She could almost run her fingers over the deep lines in his skin and over his knobbly nose. How she loved him. He had been such a strong presence in her life. Just knowing he was there gave her an immense sense of security. Now he was gone, she felt alone.

She realized now that he had been the only man in her life to love her honestly. While her father had breezed in and out, armed with presents and compliments, her grandfather had taken a deeper interest. She had never penetrated her father, but he, in turn, had never penetrated her. It was her grandfather who had made it his business to know and understand her. He had encouraged her as a little girl, and it was in the small things that he had shown he cared. While her boyfriends had celebrated her beauty, her grandfather had been proud of her spirit, her intelligence, and her wit. After her father's disappearance, his had been the only arms she had wanted to hold her. How she wished she could have shared with him her experience of Italy. He would have admired her courage in discovering the truth about her father's fake suicide, and comforted her when her past had unraveled like a ball of pretty ribbon to reveal the ugly truth within. Now he would never know, and she'd never again feel his reassurance.