The Gilder (34 page)

“Is she mad at you now?”

Marina hesitated, then said, “She’s pretty upset.”

“Now she probably hates me.”

“Zoe, sweetheart, she doesn’t hate you. How could she hate you? You are everything that was good about Thomas. It’s me she’s mad at, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“So, you aren’t friends anymore?”

“Not right now, we’re not.”

“She might forgive you, Mom.”

Marina didn’t think that was likely. How could anyone forgive a betrayal of such magnitude? What Marina wanted to know was if Zoe would ever be able to forgive her, but it was a question she would save until they were face-to-face. Although she was thrilled that Zoe was talking to her again and seemed eager for her to come home, Marina had no illusions about everything being forgiven. She recalled a conversation they’d had when Zoe was eight or nine, after Sasha had broken Zoe’s favorite china doll. Marina had tried to make Zoe understand that it was okay to be angry and sad, but if she didn’t forgive Sasha and kept holding on to her angry feelings every time she saw her, she, not Sasha, would be the one who suffered. It was a hard concept for anyone to grasp, let alone a child who wanted revenge, but Zoe had found a way to forgive her friend, and Marina hoped that she would somehow, someday, find a way to forgive her mother.

Marina woke at dawn and lay in bed watching the windowpanes turn from gray to lavender to pink. She felt surprisingly calm and well rested. After ordering coffee, she got out of bed to retrieve her lecture notes from the dresser. The room was chilly and she pulled on the plush hotel robe before getting back in the bed and setting the folder on her lap. Her dream that the pages were blank came back to her in a flash, but her words were right where she’d left them. She began to read about the history of gilding and the fifteenth-century techniques that had been passed down through the generations, and which she had been fortunate enough to learn from Sauro. She wondered if Josh had invited Sauro but wasn’t sure they’d stayed in touch after Josh stopped coming to Italy on business. She could have tracked him down herself, but with everything that had gone on in the past few days, she hadn’t given him a thought until now. Shortly after her return to the States, Marina had written a note to Sauro to let him know that she wouldn’t be returning, and she wasn’t surprised when she received no reply. He was a simple man whose life revolved around his family and his work, and she’d never known him to express any interest in a world beyond Florence.

The coffee arrived, and Marina read through her lecture one last time, pleased to see it was better than she remembered and relieved it would soon be over. Even though she’d written the speech herself, when she read about the evolution of her career, she was genuinely surprised by all she’d accomplished, and allowed herself a moment’s pride. There had been people along the way, mainly Josh and Lydia, who reminded her from time to time of her achievements, but for the most part, she had simply kept her head down and done the next task in front of her. She’d approached single-parenthood in much the same way, and couldn’t remember ever feeling sorry for herself or complaining about the work and responsibility of raising a child alone. Even in the early days after Zoe’s birth, when she fantasized about a life with Sarah, it had not been because she was afraid to go it alone. The thought of Sarah pierced her reminiscence, and like an arrow to the heart, she felt a sharp stab of regret. How could something that had once been so fresh and exciting have gone so terribly wrong? She gathered her papers together. No, now was not the time to go down that road. She had the rest of her life to look back on what had happened. Right now she needed to keep moving forward.

An hour later, she was showered, coiffed, made-up, and dressed. Her bags were packed, and after she left them with the porter, she’d be ready to meet Josh for breakfast. At the front desk, the receptionist took her key and handed her a copy of the bill, then asked her to wait while he retrieved an envelope from his desk. Marina’s heart stopped as he walked toward her with the white envelope. Her hand shook slightly as she took it from him, and she turned her back before looking at it. Her full name was typed across the front, and the logo of the car service that would take her to the airport was stamped in the upper-left corner. Her heartbeat returned to normal, and as she crossed the lobby, she glanced one last time at the chair under the palm, but it was empty.

Outside, people were heading to work or their second cup of coffee while children trudged toward school, the hems of their blue smocks peeking from beneath their jackets. Marina inhaled the morning scent of the city, with its undertone of wet stone and exhaust, and overtones of sweet yeast and dark coffee. She turned toward the Ponte Vecchio, wanting one more glimpse of the Arno before she met Josh at Rivoire. When the conference ended at midday, there would be just enough time to get back to the hotel before the car arrived to take her to the airport.

The day was gray, like so many during the winter she’d lived there. The Arno’s ashen waters barely reflected the storm clouds overhead, and Marina was sorry not to have a sunnier memory to take away with her. She walked along the bridge past the little shops, their gems and jewels hidden behind shutters and padlocks, and wondered when she might return. No doubt Florence would be high on her daughter’s list of places to go, as it had been on hers when she was Zoe’s age. When she thought about being in Florence with Zoe, she imagined it would mean showing her Thomas’s world, and realized that in order to do justice to his memory, which was part of Zoe’s history, she would have to find a way to forgive him. She looked upriver in the direction from where the floodwaters had tumbled all those years ago, precipitating her journey that was now coming to a close. Crossing to the other side of the bridge, Marina watched the water flow downriver, away from her and toward its uncertain but inevitable fate.

The half-hour Marina spent with Josh over a cappuccino and brioche at Café Rivoire held her in good stead as she waited her turn at the podium. Josh had been both reassuring and encouraging, talking to her in a soft, rhythmic voice until, by the end of their breakfast, she felt focused and calm. He had walked her across the piazza, his hand on her elbow, and guided her into the Palazzo Vecchio and up the stairs to the Salone dei Cinquecento. She listened attentively from the front row as he gave her an eloquent introduction, and was surprised when he referred to her as courageous.

Marina had never thought of herself as courageous, but if what he said was true, she hoped it would surface in time to get her through her lecture. It was difficult not to feel insignificant, considering the grandeur of the room and the amazing artwork that surrounded her. She looked at the massive painting on the wall to her right, where a melee of charging horses, tangled bodies, and sharp weapons illustrated brave men defending their history. Marina thought about her own history and the mistake she’d made that had changed her life forever and hurt two people she cared about deeply. But must she continue on a path determined by five minutes sixteen years ago? Hadn’t she now changed the course of her future? Perhaps she couldn’t expect Sarah, or even Zoe, to forgive her, but couldn’t she choose to forgive herself and move on? She wasn’t sure exactly how she would accomplish this, but as Josh had said in his introduction, she wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. For the first time in a long time, Marina felt the thrill she’d felt so many years ago upon her arrival in Florence, the thrill of possibility, the possibility of a new life.

At Josh’s signal, Marina approached the podium, looked out over the audience, and was surprised to find that the dimensions of the hall inspired her. She squared her shoulders and heard her voice ring strong and clear as she thanked her hosts for their kind invitation and began her story.

“My thanks would not be complete without thanking my eighth-grade teacher, Mrs. Casey, for assigning the term paper ‘An International Catastrophe,’ and my mother for handing me the
Life
magazine with its coverage of the 1966 flood that devastated this city. From that point on, my sights were set on one thing and one thing only: coming to Florence. Little did I know where it would lead, or that I would one day have the honor of recounting my story in this great hall.”

Any lingering doubts Marina might have had were dislodged and washed away in her flow of words.

CHAPTER 18

M
arina gave the small frame one final caress with the polishing cloth and set it on her workbench. She’d purchased the engraving for Zoe on her dash back to the hotel following her presentation. The final morning of the conference had gone like clockwork, and she had more than enough time to retrieve her bags from the hotel and make it to the airport in time for her flight, but with her lecture behind her, her only thoughts were of getting home to Zoe. The engraving of the Piazzale Donatello had caught her eye in a shop window as she hurried by, and she’d been at the counter asking to see it before she had time to hesitate. The store was empty, and the saleswoman had been quick and efficient in packaging it when Marina explained she had a plane to catch.

It felt good to be home. Billie Holiday wound her voice around the refrain of “Easy Living” as Marina stretched her back, then moved to look out the window. A snowfall during the night had transformed the garden into a glittering reminder of the windows at Caffè Gilli and the fact that Christmas was only a breath away. In spite of the jet lag, which after a week had only just relinquished its grip on her, she had managed to complete the two restorations she’d started before her trip and the frame for Zoe’s engraving. She’d unearthed the frame years ago in a junk shop but hadn’t found a suitable mate for it, until now. She considered it a stroke of pure serendipity to find a print that not only fit the frame but had special meaning for Zoe. She hadn’t wavered a moment in buying it, but when she unpacked it a few days after her return, she wondered if it might be a bit macabre to give Zoe a reminder of her father’s final resting place. Undecided, she proceeded with the cleaning and regilding of the simple frame. Now that it was finished and the print safely under its glass, there seemed nothing morbid about it. Zoe would be thrilled.

Although Zoe had not thrown herself into Marina’s arms at the airport, she had clearly been happy to have her mother back, slipping her arms around Marina and squeezing her tight for a long few moments without saying a word. She’d remained silent as Lydia drove them home, and once there, had escaped the car and gone straight to her room while Marina brought in the bags.

Marina had found Zoe on her bed, hugging a stuffed penguin. “Hey, sweetie.” She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the animal’s soft fur, frayed and dingy at the edges. “I haven’t seen Opus in a long time.”

Zoe hugged the toy tighter. “I dug him out while you were gone,” she said softly without looking at her mother.

The stuffed animal had been her daughter’s constant companion for the first seven years of her life, until he’d been accidentally left behind at a Disney World hotel. Zoe had cried for days before the toy was found and shipped home, after which it was decided that Opus would spend the remainder of his days safely in the house.

Marina put her hand on Zoe’s leg. “I know we have a lot to talk about, and we will ... in time ... But for now I just want you to know how very much I love you.”

Zoe was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “I know, Mom. And I know you were doing what you thought was best for me.” She paused, then lifted her head to meet her mother’s gaze. “And, I am still mad that I didn’t get to meet my dad.” Her eyes filled. “But I love you more than I’m mad.”

Zoe began to cry, and Marina drew her close and rocked her. The joy that came with holding her child in her arms was bittersweet, tainted by the understanding that this love Zoe proffered was about survival, not forgiveness. What she had done in depriving Zoe of her father, whether for better or worse, was unforgivable, but it made sense that Zoe might tamp down her anger for fear of losing the only parent she had.

Marina kissed Zoe’s head. “It’s okay for you to be mad at me, sweetie. You should be. What I did was ... not okay. And it’s okay if sometimes you are too mad to talk to me or spend time with me. I understand that.” Marina disentangled herself and looked into Zoe’s face. “But it’s
not
okay to run off in the night and put yourself in danger.”

Zoe rolled her eyes and leaned back against the headboard. “It’s not exactly dangerous around here, Mom.”

“I know, but you could have fallen, stumbling around in the dark, or been hit by a car, or been picked up by some random creep driving by. You just don’t know.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Zoe, I need you to promise me that you won’t run away again, that you’ll come and talk to me. Or talk to someone else. But no running away.” Marina blinked against the threatening tears. “Promise me.”

Zoe didn’t respond immediately, but then a smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Okay, I’ll promise ... If you promise to answer
all
the questions I have about my dad.”