Celina rushed outside, her head aching from the onslaught of indisputable facts. As she raced from the villa, her espadrilles slipped against the rocky exterior gravel, rendering her unsteady.
She was drowning; her life had just capsized on the open sea, and she had no life preserver, nothing to lash herself to against the crashing waves of truth.
She had no idea know who she’d been married to, or who Marco’s father was. Were there two men named Antonino Savoia? Possibly, but this Savoia family was not the family of her husband.
They were strangers.
Why had Tony told her they were relatives? To impress her? Or had he known that the real Antonino was missing? With her head throbbing in agony, she started down the hill, her shoes slapping against the pavement. Desperate for time to sort out her thoughts, she decided to walk to Marco’s school to wait for him.
Overhead, clouds blocked the sun, and Celina shivered, brushing her bare arms. She hadn’t taken the time to get a jacket, but she didn’t care. She only wanted to distance herself from this disaster. Maybe she’d wake up and discover this had been a nightmare.
But no, she recognized the truth deep in her being. Once she reflected on the clues that had been there all along, she knew that Sara spoke the truth. Perhaps she had been scared to examine the little discrepancies, too afraid to acknowledge facts that didn’t align in the dolce world she yearned to live in.
The chill air slapped her skin, awakening her nerves with a thousand excruciating pinpricks that heralded The Truth.
Had she been selfish? Perhaps, though not for the trimmings of wealth, but for the love and comfort of family. In the beginning, she had acted out of a sense of duty to Tony and his family. She had been motivated more for Marco than herself. Until Lauro had illuminated the dark wasteland of her heart.
Had love masked the persistence of facts right before her?
A whirlwind of questions, churning like autumn leaves, swirled through her mind. How would the truth affect the love Lauro professed for her? How would it affect every other person in the Savoia extended family, from Sara and Carmine to Adele, Werner, and Karin? Even the villagers of Amalfi, Marco’s teachers, and friends, and patrons of her cioccolateria.
She would be branded a liar.
An imposter.
An opportunist.
This wasn’t who she was.
Yet, a tiny, mean-spirited voice inside of her disagreed.
Had she been a willing accomplice in her husband’s deception by ignoring the signs for convenience and continued acceptance?
And could she be forgiven for that?
Maybe, but nothing in her life would be as it had been before. This realization lit a thin fuse of fury in her.
Staggering under the weight of this revelation, she stumbled to the edge of the lane under a gnarled olive tree and sank to her knees, broken and sobbing. Above her, even the sparrows chattered their reproach. She had worked tirelessly to make a life for her son and herself. Never had she consciously meant to harm anyone or set herself out to be anything she thought she wasn’t. How dare Adele or Carmine accuse her of such treachery?
The sputtering fuse of anger sizzled within her. She wiped her eyes.
Her husband had been a decent man, not a swindler or con artist, yet here she was, victimized by his actions. But she still had a choice. She could succumb to victimhood, or she could rise with strength and dignity, just as she had when he died, or when she decided to come to Italy, or open her shop. She curled her fingers and balled her fists.
Despite her misery, the fuse was lit, empowering her with fiery determination. She would follow it wherever it led.
Footsteps behind her, and she whirled around.
Lauro.
“Amore mio,” he murmured. He knelt beside her and swept her into his arms.
Under the silvery gray boughs of the ancient olive tree, they held each other. In his tender embrace, she felt strength emanating from him, though for all Celina knew, this was the last time she would hold Lauro in her arms. Finally, she lifted her face to his.
“I’m so sor—”
“Shh,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “You have nothing to apologize for. This doesn’t change my love for you. You honestly thought your husband was my brother. I believe you.”
At his words, relief coursed through her. He believed her. She was sure she could figure out everything else, but where to begin? “I never had a reason to doubt my husband’s identity. He had his military identification and his dog tags. How would he have gotten those?”
“Maybe he stole them or bought them on the black market. Or they were counterfeit.”
Celina bristled at this. “My husband wasn’t a criminal. He was a fine, educated man.” Even if he were a little rough around the edges.
“I didn’t say he was, cara.” He kissed her forehead. “During the war, many people had forged documents, for whatever reason. Often to protect themselves and their family.”
“He told me he was part of the Savoia chocolate family.” Or, had he only agreed when someone said it? She couldn’t even recall now.
“Did you ever meet any of his family?”
“Only once. When we visited Santa Monica, he said he needed to visit his uncle.” She pressed her temples, trying to recall the day. “He had just moved into a small bungalow not too far from the beach. Tony asked me to wait in the parlor while they spoke first. Then I met him.”
“What was his name?”
“He introduced himself only as Art.”
Lauro sighed. “That’s not much help.”
“But while I was waiting, the day’s post was delivered through the slot in the door. I picked it up and put it on the sideboard for him. The letters were addressed to Arturo Romani. I remembered because his surname was so similar to mine.”
He enveloped her in his arms. “We can start there.”
“No, we can’t. After Tony died, I tried to call him. His telephone number was listed in the telephone directory, but when I dialed the number, it had been disconnected. I mailed a letter, but I never received a reply.”
Arturo had been such an old man, she’d assumed the worst—that he had passed away, too.
“We only visited him once. After that, Tony never had anything else to do with him. He said something about a falling out. I didn’t press the issue.” She’d learned not to press her husband for answers. When she would ask about his family, he often exploded. As long as she didn’t broach the subject of family, Tony was generally happy.
Now, she knew better.
At that recollection, fresh tears burst through her new resolve. There had been earlier clues. And she’d ignored them to maintain a peaceful home life. But she’d had no idea that he wasn’t who he said he was. Her anger against Tony—and herself—rushed back and she gripped Lauro’s jacket lapels.
“Whatever happened in the past, I trust you,” he said, rubbing her back. “I know you’re not a fortune seeker out to defraud our family.”
Outraged, she looked up at him. “That you mention that at all is proof that you thought of it.”
“Those weren’t my words, or even my mother’s. But consider this, if your husband died, my brother could still be alive. Don’t you see? We haven’t lost anything. We’re back to where we were before you came. And with both of us, we can double our efforts.”
“I promise to do whatever it takes to help you find Nino.” Even as Celina uttered these words, another thought occurred to her. If her last name wasn’t Savoia, then what was it? Who had she been married to all these years? And who was Marco’s father?
She gazed into Lauro’s eyes and saw the commitment he had to her. Still, she had other issues to consider. “How will I ever explain this to Marco?”
“He’s young. Will a few days matter, or do you have to go into detail right now?” Lauro wrapped his arms around her and swayed. “When you’re ready to explain, I’ll be there with you. I don’t want him to feel abandoned. He’s part of us going forward. We’re going to be a family, Celina. I’m more determined than ever.”
“Those are the kindest words I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s true. And the best news is that now my father can’t use some outdated Catholic canon to forbid our marriage.”
This thought eased Celina’s mind a little. But she had an unsettling feeling that Carmine might have another, even stronger reason now.