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“From the start,” he says.
“Is that why you…” I begin my sentence, but my father shakes his head, warning me to remain quiet.
“You what, Agostino?” Serafina asks, turning between us.
“He was nervous and kept coughing,” I lie through my teeth, holding back the photo he took of a diamond we can’t mention to Serafina.
“You sure?” she asks, not believing a word I say.
“It’s nothing, Serafina,” Papà says firmly.
“Fine,” Serafina accedes, at last. “But the two of you ought to know,” she lowers her voice. “That Rafaele Bressan is not a man to be messed with. He’s had people shot dead in the street for simply cursing him. A traitor could do much, much worse. The torture I’ve heard of,” she shudders here slowly, a well of tears rising in her eyes. “Please, I beg of you, Romola. Get out of this.”
Serafina's words are like a leaden shroud, suffocating me with fear and doubt. But, knowing what Papà and I know now, seeing what we’ve seen in Rafaele’s secret chamber… it’s too late to back out. If I back out, he might torture or kill Papà, and that is a reality I could never live with.
And so, I straighten my back and stand. “Serafina,” I say, through poised confidence, “Not all your visions come true. For all you know, it could be a nightmare manifested. Rafaele Bressan needs us for what he wants done and would fear if something happened to me.”
I speak with surety, and I can tell that my father’s doubts are being appeased, too. That's good. I’m succeeding in what I wanted.
“And so,” I extend my hand to my father. “We’re going to continue the path we’re on. But just know,” I take Serafina’s hand in my other, “that we always count on you, Serafina. But this time, I must follow my heart, as you’ve told me to.”
Serafina nods slowly. The colorful headband she always wears for bed shimmers in the dim light. "Yes, my dear friends. But be cautious, for the path you walk is fraught with danger."
"Thank you, Serafina," my father says, his voice filled with gratitude. "We'll heed your warning."
With one final embrace, we bid our mystic friend farewell and exit her tent. Even though all is quiet at the small hours of the night, the circus around us feels alive with energy—soaring acrobats, captivated audiences, and even a light scent of cotton candy remains in the cool night air.
Yet, amidst this whirlwind of color and excitement, my thoughts remain consumed by the darkness that threatens to envelop us. My mind races with thoughts of Rafaele and the terrible prophecy that hangs over me. Is there any way to avoid that specific turn of events?
"Romola," my father says, his voice heavy with concern. "We don't have to go through with this."
I shake my head. "It's too late, Papà. Rafaele and Fiero, two of Italy’s most dangerous mobsters, are already involved. If we back out, we will find ourselves dead."
"Then let's take the diamond for ourselves," Papà suggests boldly. "We could start a new life somewhere far away from here; it could guarantee us a safe life."
My breath catches in my throat at the thought of stealing the Heart of Italy – the very gemstone that has brought us to this perilous crossroads. Though the prospect of a fresh start is tempting, I nevertheless feel a sense of foreboding.
"Father," I warn, my voice trembling with emotion. "We need Rafaele to protect us from Cremaschi. Crossing them both is not a decision to be made lightly."
"Romola, I know the risks," he replies, his voice breaking. "But I cannot stand by while my daughter’s life hangs in the balance.” He swallows hard, and another coughing fit gives him the opportunity to rein in his emotions. “I must protect you, even if it means facing the wrath of these men – I promised your mother."
His words release my own floodgates. My father has always been my rock, my harbor. After my mother died, we grew even closer. The circus folk often say we are like twins, we know what the other is thinking without saying anything.
"Please," I implore, wiping away my tears. "Let's stick to the original plan, Papà. Stop scaring me, you old bore!" We both laugh at my term of endearment, and my father squeezes my hand.
"Romola, if there's even a chance that Rafaele could harm you..."
"Then we will face it together," I interrupt him, my gray eyes meeting his. "We've come too far to lose ourselves now."
My father hesitates, clearly torn, but ultimately, he nods in agreement, his expression earnest.
"Very well," he concedes, taking my hand in his own. "We will see this through to the end, no matter the consequences."
I unlock my little VW Beetle and get in to unlock the passenger side for my father. As we continue our journey through the cold night streets of Rome, I can only pray that our path does not lead us to the terrible dole that Serafina foretold.
Inside the apartment, the warmth embraces me, as does the familiar scent of flour and sourdough. I jump slightly as the door clicks shut behind us.
"Get some rest, Romola," my father gently advises. We’ll need all our strength to face whatever comes our way."
