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Diane went on to explain that Apollo and Désirée were instantly smitten with each other; they couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. Before the men left, Apollo asked if he could see Désirée again. My grandmother and Apollo’s grandfather saw it as a way to merge two influential families and naturally pushed the two in close quarters.
“The man I loved was now in love with my sister and she had no idea how I felt because I never said a word to her or him,” Diane mumbled. “It wasn’t my sister’s fault that she too fell in love with Apollo, but it made me resentful regardless. Jealousy was a monster and it consumed me whole. I allowed it to rule my actions and words towards the two people I loved the most. With time, I became mean and shut both of them out without an explanation. Something I regret till this day.”
There was no use chastising Diane regarding her character when her words proved she was her own worst critic.
“What happened afterward?” I asked. “How did they…pass away?”
“During their four-year long courtship, I met one of Apollo’s best friend—Elijah—who’d taken an interest in me. We tried dating, but it never worked because my heart always belonged to Apollo. It drove Elijah insane with jealousy because he”—she clenched her jaw—“apparently fell in love with me. While I cared for him, I didn’t return the depth of his feelings. Elijah told me love would bloom if we married, but marriage was the furthest thing on my mind. To be honest, I wasn’t a homemaker like Désirée. It wasn’t in my blood and I’d make a horrible excuse of a wife.” She hedged us a miserable expression. “Elijah thought I didn’t love him because he wasn’t like Apollo, the latter whom was on his way to becoming the new head of the D’Ambrosio family. You see, Elijah was meant to be Apollo’s right-hand man. Not the boss himself. And I was committed to becoming mayor of Montardor one day and creating a successful life for myself as an independent woman. Naturally, Elijah assumed I wanted someone at the top of the food chain…he thought I was purely thirsty for…power.”
Oh, I didn’t like where this was going.
“After years of dating, Apollo and Désirée married. Your father took his rightful place as the heir of the D’Ambrosios and my sister fell pregnant with you, Darla.” The grandfather clock ticked and the sound was like a gong to a hammer. “Désirée was eight months along when Apollo was brutally murdered…by Elijah, who claimed he did it out of his love for me.”
Mother released a pained exhale.
Dacia’s eyes bulged out.
And I fell utterly still, my stomach twisting in knots.
“Elijah stabbed Apollo repeatedly in his study while yelling obscenities. I happened to stumble upon the scene.” Diane started crying with choked noises. “I tried to stop Elijah, but he was lost in his madness. Swearing he was doing this to help me rid of my love for Apollo and to finally give him a chance. I found a revolver and shot Elijah.” Diane shuddered, wiping her tears. “However, it was too late. Apollo died from multiple stab wounds and Désirée, who heard the commotion, went into labour from the shock of it all. She gave birth to you and died that same night, Darla.”
Shock tightened a noose around my vocal cords.
I didn’t expect the tale to be this morbid.
“In one night, I lost the two people who meant the world to me,” Diane whispered. “I witnessed Apollo’s horrific death, Désirée’s final agony, and your very birth, Darla.”
“I...I don’t know what to say.” There were no words to describe the ache I felt for Apollo’s and Désirée’s tragic ending.
Dacia silently rubbed my shoulder, too shocked herself.
“When I held you for the first time that night, I had so much guilt because it felt like I deprived you of your parents. If only I could turn back time and do things differently, I wouldn’t have underestimated Elijah’s madness. I would have warned Apollo and Désirée and none of this would have happened.” Diane put her face in her hands and let out a broken sob. “It’s my fault. I ruined everything.”
Diane had made a lot of mistakes in her past, but this wasn’t on her.
“Mother,” I started slowly and her face snapped up with a smidge of hope. “This…This is not your fault. You fell in love with a man who was your friend and brother-in-law, but you never acted on those feelings. You didn’t ruin their marriage nor are you responsible for Apollo’s and Désirée’s deaths. Elijah is to blame. Not you.”
She sniffed and gave me a weak smile. “At first, I thought raising you would be my punishment. Having to see your face every day and be reminded of the worst day of my life. Ironically enough, it wasyouwho saved me. You were the personification of Apollo and Désirée’s love and I wanted to preserve and protect you. You came into Dacia’s and my life and everything changed. You brought laughter and colour into our quiet home. You helped me cope with their deaths and it felt like an honour to be in your presence. Like I was bestowed the greatest gift by becoming your mother.
“Yet no matter how much I loved you, I failed as a mother. I wanted to push you to be the best version of yourself, but I went about it all wrong. I realized twenty-seven years too late that I made awful mistakes by treating you the way I did. I shouldn’t have been harsh, demanding, or controlling. Instead of breaking the cycle, I ended up treating you the same way my own mother treated me. I am so ashamed of myself. The truth is I needed to apologize to you and Dacia years ago. My pride just got in the way and I’m so sorry, my sweets. So sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused. Please know that despite my behaviour, I have always loved you both.”
I felt stuck at a crossroads, overwhelmed with the need to punish her for her sins but also to forgive her so we could heal from this and start anew.
Not to mention, my heart truly brightened hearing her say she loved us. Diane Hill didn’t say it often. It was a delicacy I cherished.
“I want to show you what they looked like,” Mother said hopefully. “If you want to see?”
I nodded eagerly. She pulled out an old photo album from the crate, flipped it a few pages, and turned it my way. “This is my Désirée.” She swept a thumb over the small picture of a dark-haired woman who was a carbon copy of me. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Yes, she’s beautiful.” My throat tightened. “Did you hate me since I looked like her?”
“God, no, Darla. I loved you more for it. Sometimes it hurt to look at you because it reminded me of my loss. But sometimes, looking at you was my consolation. Whenever I missed her, I’d glance at you and it was like Désirée never left.”
That put a smile on my face.
Suddenly, I wanted to know everything about Désirée. Her hobbies. Her quirks. Her favourite foods. Was I like her in more ways than just looks? “Did she love reading and writing too?”
“No, Apollo did. You got that from him,” Mother said. “Your father was a fantastic writer. He serenaded Désirée by writing her love letters and stories. I still have some of his works in my archives if you’d like to read.”
