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Lily flowers. My Mama named me Lilyana, after her own mother and her favorite blooms, the ones they tended here together.
I pick up the tiny trowel. My mother held it in her small hand before her peaceful life was swept out from beneath her feet. Vlad and Sasha have always said she remained steadfast and true to her heart; even my father couldn’t break her down. She died as she lived, fighting for her children.
At this moment, I feel Mama everywhere. She moves in the breeze, stroking my hair from my face. My feet sink into the same good Italian earth she tilled and turned.
I’ve never sought God or felt I knew Him, but if the faithful are correct, that doesn’t trouble Him. He still works within you and others, forgiving your doubts because He is love. I don’t know if that’s true, but my soul is soothed by a closeness I never knew before now. Something fundamental inside me has shifted forever.
I draw a deep breath, the sweet scent of the lilies almost strong enough to taste. I catch Arman’s eye, and he leans against the doorframe with a smile.
“I could have had the place renovated, but I wanted you to see it first,” he says. “My mother is lost to me, but I don’t want that for you, Lilyana. You feel her, don’t you? Where she came from, who she was.”
I nod, and he comes to me, taking my hands in his. “Never forget—she is still here, in you. She was a woman of great courage and kindness, and so is her daughter. She’d be so damn proud of you, moya zhena. Hold that knowledge close to your heart; you earned it.”
“For the first time in my life, I believe that,” I say, wiping away a tear with my sleeve. “I wish I could see what this place looked like when it was lived in. I’d give anything to restore it exactly as it was.”
Arman raises an eyebrow. “Funny you should say that…” His voice trails off as he reaches into his jacket, revealing a stack of photographs.
My mouth falls open. “How did you do this?” I ask.
“I’m good at finding stuff out, baby girl. You know that.” He grins at my shocked face. “I got onto the locals, visited the town hall archive, you name it. Remember, they were the Risidi mafia famiglia. They got their picture taken a lot.”
I shuffle through the images. Anna sunbathing. Mama and some other kids in the kitchen, icing a panettone. Men in the lounge, smoking cigars. The lives of people I never knew, yet they and I are intimately connected.
“I have a team of Florentine architects and decorators on a retainer, ready to go,” Arman says. “All you have to do is tell them what you want, and I’ll see it done. We’ll keep as much of the original wood and stone as possible. And we won’t lay a finger on the back garden. It’s grown wild, and I say leave it that way.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “After all, it belonged to Anna and Stefania, and this is how they wanted it. Who are we to interfere?”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “It means so much to me, Arman. I wish you could have the same closure.”
He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “I have you. It doesn’t matter where we are; as long as I’m with you, I’m home.”
The villa is a haven of sun-baked orange brick, with a patio that gets the last of the evening sun. I watch the light fade, and Arman appears from the kitchen.
“I made you an Aperol spritz,” he says. “Better late than never.” He cocks his head at me. “What are you thinking?”
I smile as he hands me the drink. “I was wondering about Heidi and her older man. I hope she’s on top of the situation.”
“Or under, or on her knees…” Arman chuckles at my frown. “She’s an adult. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“I know.” He sits on the loveseat beside me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “I don’t worry much about anything anymore. You’ve brought me so much peace.”
“You had it in you all along, my love.” He kisses my forehead. “All I did was open the door; it was up to you to walk through it. Any regrets?”
I shake my head. “For myself? No. I only wish you hadn’t gone through Hell for me.”
He closes his eyes. “Ah, you mean Napoleon. His name suits him; the little bastard really is a dictator. No cat should wield absolute power the way he does.”
It’s a running joke that my kitten has ended up being more Arman’s than mine. Napoleon likes me well enough, but he adores my husband, and the poor man has to throw back meds daily to cope with the attention. The love is mutual, and Napoleon is spoiled as much as I am.
I look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so? Are you trying to tell me he ordered you to buy him the one hundred percent pure cashmere bed? And the obscenely expensive custom-blended kitty chow?”
Arman furrows his brow. “He’s a nightmare, Lilyana. A nightmare. Who knows what he’ll do if he doesn’t get his way?”
I laugh and snuggle closer, sipping my drink. “There are six different agents clamoring to represent me, you know. If I go on tour, I’ll have to leave the two of you alone together.”
Arman hisses through his teeth. “No can do. I’ll be coming with you, and His Royal Purrness can stay home. Maybe.”
I could never have imagined Arman would be the man he is. He says I brought out the best in him, but he did the same for me. He’s at my side, as ever, but now he’s my husband. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Whatever comes in the future, we’ll face it together. We’ve already proved we can stand up to the bad stuff; now we have all the good things waiting for us.
“I love you, Arman” I whisper.
He pulls me closer, his lips soft on mine as he kisses me.
“I love you too, my tsvetok.”
THE END
