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“I’m so happy you’re here, Rafael, but I didn’t expect you. Otherwise, I would have freshened your room. Do you have everything you need?”
He nods, gnawing on the corner of his bottom lip. “I wanted to see her. To meet her.”
I’m sure he did. We dropped a bomb on him, and on Lydia too. But she’s better emotionally equipped to handle the blows. “What do you think? Remind you of me when I was a young girl—you know, annoying?”
“She’s great,” he says quietly, with a faraway look. He doesn’t even smirk at my joke. “If I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes, I would have never believed how much she looks like my mom when she was a girl.”
Rafael gazes across the table at me, with a resolve I can’t quite place. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother since that day at Aunt Lydia’s.” He lifts his chin and straightens his shoulders. “She would expect me to do right by you and Valentina. That begins with an apology for what my father and brother did to you and your mother.”
My protective instincts kick in, and I want to throw my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay. That none of it was his fault. But I don’t, because he’s not a boy. He’s a man.
Rafael is a Huntsman through and through. There’s nothing of him that resembles his father or brother. But he has so much of the man who raised him inside. Antonio is a big believer, not in apologies, but in doing right by people.
“You don’t need to apologize for things that had nothing to do with you.” I pause for a few seconds. I want him to understand that I don’t harbor any ill will toward him. “You’re not obligated in any way, but I’d love for you to be a big part of Valentina’s life—and mine too.”
He swallows hard, and we sit in silence for a long moment before he comes around the table and takes the chair next to mine. “I have something for Valentina. I know she doesn’t know about any of this. But maybe you can hold it for her, until the time is right.” He takes a velvet pouch out of his pocket and hands it to me.
“Can I peek?”
“Of course.”
Inside is a delicate gold necklace, with a charm dangling from a dainty lobster clasp. The charm is the letterVin a cursive font. It’s not a new piece of jewelry.
My heart.
“This belonged to your mother.”
He nods, soberly. “She wore it often. It was an eighteenth birthday present from her parents. My grandparents—Antonio’s grandparents too.”
The emotion whirls in my chest. Most of it’s joyful, but the anxiety that comes with the prospect of telling Valentina the truth dims some of the joy.
I hold the necklace in my palm before returning it to the pouch.He should give this to her after she knows the truth.I press the velvet sack into Rafael’s hand. “I want you to keep this. You can give it to her when the time is right. It should be you. You’re her uncle. Valentina has so little family—I want her to know about the good people. About you, and your mother. You’re the best person to tell her about her grandmother.”
“I’m ready for the movie,” a cheery voice calls seconds before Valentina saunters into the room.
Rafael quickly dons his cheerful mask, sliding the necklace back into his pocket. “Then let’s get to it.”
As they leave the room together, chatting about horses, I almost forget there’s turmoil brewing in Porto, formidable enough to etch black circles under Antonio’s eyes.
58
DANIELA
Antonio and Will are huddled in a corner. They appear totally engrossed in conversation, but their eyes continuously scan St. Philomena’s ballroom for any sign of danger. After spending a few days in London with Samantha and Will, I’ve concluded that Antonio and Will are like two peas in a pod. I’m not sure it’s a good thing. One force of nature seems like plenty.
We arrived in the UK early, to take in the sights and do a little shopping, and so Valentina and Alexis could get to know one another before we left them at camp. Of course, we didn’t sightsee like normal tourists. Will arranged for us to visit the attractions when they were closed to the public.Like I said, two peas in a pod.
“You’re so quiet. Are you okay?” Samantha asks, touching my elbow.
St. Philomena’s is hosting a small reception for families before we say goodbye to our campers. I’m in the center of a lovely room with a few dozen girls, and many more adults milling around. But in some ways, I feel alone.
I smile. “I’m fine. This is all new to me.”
“The first time you leave them is the hardest. After that, each time gets easier.”
“It’s just this one time,” I say quickly.I hope. Although I’m not foolish enough to believe that two weeks’ time is enough to wage war and bring the peace.
She nods sympathetically. Samantha is older than me, closer in age to Antonio, but we’ve become fast friends, bonding over our formidable husbands. I wish she lived closer.
