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How could he treat me that way? Isotta’s prayer was interrupted as she felt herself rubbing the prayer beads harder and harder. That wasn’t love. The way he treated her wasn’t love. Isotta squeezed her eyes shut, determined to complete the prescribed prayers that the priest recommended.
Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Isotta kept her eyes closed, hoping that the words she spoke would penetrate her heart and that she would start to feel differently about the betrayal. She remained silent in the silent sanctuary, hoping that a seedling of forgiveness would emerge.
When it didn’t, Isotta wasn’t sure what to do. She had taken the risk of coming to the church for answers. But the answers she sought seemed elusive and out of reach.
“One more time,” she said aloud to herself. She would give the prayer one more chance to see if it would start working.
Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy –
“Aw hell,” Isotta uttered and then immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t mean to curse in church.
Isotta stood up from the wooden pew and stepped out into the aisle again. As she knelt, she completed the sign of the cross and then spun on her heels and quickly padded out of the sacred space. Clearly, she wasn’t in the right headspace for reverence. The chauffeur opened the back car door as Mrs. Ricci exited the church.
“Thank you,” she uttered as she slipped into the backseat. The chauffeur closed her car door and then rounded the back of the car, reentering on the driver’s side. He opened the car door, entered the vehicle, and closed the door behind him.
“Where to, ma’am?” He asked as he started the ignition.
“To the Conti estate, please.”
The further Isotta got away from the church, the further her mind got away from prayer. That wasn’t the resolution she needed. Isotta was hurt and angry. She needed a different outlet. She gazed out of the window as the car left the city and moved into much lusher yards spaced further apart. She noticed how city blocks, crowded with large skyscrapers, gave way to more open spaces and the occasional cow grazing in a pasture. As she rode, other things started to bother her, things she’d been silent about just as she’d been silent about her last sexual tryst with Massimo. As the driver pulled up to the rod iron gate, Isotta brewed. As the driver exited the vehicle and opened her door, assisting her in getting out, Isotta was fuming.
“Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Isotta. It’s so good to see you again,” the butler greeted.
“Where’s my mother?” Isotta asked, being dismissive of his greeting and looking around to see if she could spot her from the sprawling entryway.
“I think she’s in the day room,” the butler responded. “Let me go and see.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Isotta quipped, her voice slightly more elevated than the butler was used to. “Thank you,” Isotta remembered to say as she made her way down the hall. Her kitten heels clicked against the black and white checker floor, the sound transitioning as she transitioned onto the hardwood floor that led to the day room.
“Well, well, well,” Celestina greeted as she saw her daughter entering the day room.
Isotta didn’t greet her mother as expected. She sat down across the table from her and leveled her mother a stern look.
“Where is Valentina?”
Celestina drew back, the smile she wore slowly fading from her face. She clutched her pearls and pitched her brow.
“Excuse me?” Celestina asked.
“Where is Valentina?” Isotta repeated unwaveringly. She stared at her mother, demonstrating a side of herself she’d previously hidden from her mother.
“Whatever made you ask me that?” Celestina countered, her brow lowering, but her pearls still tightly clutched.
“I need to know where Valentina is,” Isotta insisted. “Where is she?” Isotta was resolute, determined to get an answer to her question. It was important to her.
“I don’t know what to say,” Celestina admitted.
“How about the truth, Mother,” Isotta suggested strongly. “You know where she is. You won’t tell me.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Celestina corrected.
“Are you trying to tell me that your daughter, your oldest daughter, is out there somewhere, and you have no idea exactly where she is?” Isotta bordered on the hysterical. Celestina was taken aback at the volume in which her daughter spoke but also the veracity. It wasn’t like her. Celestina reached her hand across the table and placed it on top of Isotta’s.
“What’s wrong, dear.”
“What do you mean what’s wrong?” Isotta snapped, snatching her hand away and bounding to her feet. “I need to find Valentina! That’s all.”
