gone for five days. His men went with him, but Nicodemo had stayed behind.
She leaned against the counter in what I called my candle kitchen. The hidden casa on the property had a small kitchen for cooking, plus another one set in the back, which I used for my candles. No one knew about the casa but my sister and Fabrizio’s famiglia.
It had been Fabrizio’s grandfather’s casa when he was still alive. He did not care for people, but only the company of his cats. The product of a past generation sat in the window, licking her paws, watching as my sister and I shouted at each other.
“What do you want, Alcina? Tell me. Tell me as if you are speaking to a wish maker.”
I turned from my sister, wiping a hand along my forehead. It was hot with the burners going and the summer air from outside. The smell of lemon and chocolate was pungent in the small space. Especially the citrus. I made my own oils for the candles.
“I want my life to be mine,” I said. “I want his life to be his.”
“That is a simple wish,” she said.
“How can it be?” I wiped my hand on a towel, staring out of the window. It was secluded in this area, nothing but trees and cats. “It is complicated. I am wanted for what I did to Junior, and I am to be married to a man who would start another war if he found out I have even been spending time with another man. It has been doomed from the start.” I waved a hand casually, but my eyes burned.
“You are right,” she said, and even though I could not see her, I knew she was nodding. “The two of you will start a war. On your side and his. It is good that he has gone. Let him marry Rosa, and you marry Elmo—I mean, Eraldo. Everyone lives unhappily ever after.”
Even though it was the truth, and I needed that from her, it made me mad. “It might not be Rosa,” I snapped.
My sister started to laugh. I whirled on her, a candle in my hand.
She lifted hers. “It does not matter her name, does it? I hit a soft spot.”
“Sì! I do not know how to make it go away. The jealousy.”
“It will not,” she said, all traces of humor gone from her face. “Because you love him, Alcina.”
“Love does not happen overnight!”
“Sì! It does. Every second of every day, love happens. It just moves at its own speed. Sometimes it comes as a speeding thunderbolt. Sometimes it moves at the speed of a lazy summer breeze. It does not matter how fast or how slow. All that matters is that it moves us.
“You will never know real love, Alcina,” she said, her voice taking on a pleading tone, “until you give yourself over to it. It does not matter if he marries Rosa, or if you marry Eraldo. What matters is that you give in to love. However this ends, you can always say you had today.”
“I do not have today.” I snatched a basket from the counter. “He is gone.”
She grabbed my arm, stopping me before I rushed out the door. I usually made the candles to clear my head, to create light in my life, but I needed air. My heart and eyes burned from the ache I could not escape. The internal had overflowed to the physical.
“Wars are started for much less,” she whispered to me, “than true love.”
I took a hard step out of the door, landing at an awkward angle on the step. I fell forward, right into the arms of a man. Lo scorpione.
“And we meet again this way,” he said, looking down at me.
“How did you find me?” I said, looking up at him.
It took a minute for him to right me. When he did, he set me straight but did not let go. “Walk with me, Alcina.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. I thought I would never see him again. I thought he was gone for good. The relief I felt was both physical and internal, much deeper than anything I had ever felt before.
I turned to set the basket down, but my sister took it instead. “Today, and for much less,” she whispered to me in Sicilian, and then went back into the casa.
Corrado and I walked next to each other in silence. It took about ten minutes or so to leave this part of the