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She lies Beatrice down on her lap. “What are you doing there?”
“In the village?” Biting my lip, I consider how honest to be with her. As I don’t want to lie and lose her trust, I opt for the truth. I’d rather face the consequences if my secret is revealed than deceive her. “A few odd jobs.”
“Grandpa didn’t want us to go to the village. He got angry when we talked about it. He said if Mr. Russo knew, he’d be angry too.” She continues in all earnest. “Don’t worry, Sabella. I won’t let him be angry with you. I won’t tell him.” She looks at the doll. “You won’t say anything, will you, Beatrice?”
The exchange leaves me uncomfortable. I shouldn’t ask a child to conceal the facts. In any event, I can’t hide my outings forever. My husband only visits me at night, but that’s not to say he won’t decide to come earlier one day. He’s bound to catch me out. As soon as I have enough money stashed away, I’ll tell him myself.
“Can I go with you?” Sophie asks in her musical voice.
“You want to go to the village?”
She averts her gaze. “Beatrice wants to, but the people in the village aren’t kind.” She lifts her big, brown eyes to me again. “They scare her.”
“You’ve been there?” I ask, unable to imagine her making the long walk alone.
“Yes,” she admits reluctantly, brushing the frayed rope from Beatrice’s face. “I sometimes go alone. Other times, I go with my brothers.” She looks at me quickly. “I won’t slow you down. I promise. Beatrice walks really fast too.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I stroke her arm. “I’m not worried about you or Beatrice slowing me down. I’m more worried about you getting tired. It’s a very long walk.”
“I won’t get tired.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I promise, Sabella. I promise I won’t get tired. I really, really, really want to go. Pleeeease.”
“All right,” I say slowly, unable to deny her. “We’ll have to dress you warmly though. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
She jumps from the sofa. “Can I look in your closet?”
“You may.” Smiling, I stand. “I’ll come help you.”
A short while later, we’re both dressed. Sophie is wrapped up in one of my sweaters that reaches her knees. Underneath, she wears leggings that are rolled up several times and a pair of my sneakers with socks stuffed into the front. I wind my scarf around her neck and pull my beanie over her ears. A warm fleece jacket serves as a coat. Beatrice has an extra scarf tied around her shoulders. I stock up on food and water, and then we set out for the village.
To be on the safe side, I go out the backdoor and around the cliffside of the house. From there, I keep to the thick vegetation at the fringe of the trees, making sure we stay out of sight from the road. The odd feeling that someone is watching me still makes the hair in my nape stand on end. It was probably only Sophie I sensed, but I prefer to be cautious.
Mrs. Paoli does a double take when she opens the door. Diva goes ballistic. Sophie hides behind me, fisting her hands in my coat.
“It’s all right, Sophie,” I say. “Diva is kind. She’s only barking because she doesn’t know you.”
Mrs. Paoli scoops Diva up and balances her under one arm. The dog immediately goes quiet.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Paoli says. “Isn’t this one of the Russo broods?”
“This is Sophie.” I add with emphasis, “My niece-in-law.”
“My goodness,” Mrs. Paoli says again. “What is she doing with you?”
I smile at Sophie. “She’s staying with me for a while.”
Mrs. Paoli places a hand over her heart. “Is that convenient for you?”
“Absolutely.” My smile stretches. “Sophie wanted to come with me today. Can I introduce her to Diva?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Paoli clutches the dog even tighter. She only loosens her hold when Diva yelps. “I suppose so. She looks…” She lifts her gaze from Sophie to me and mouths, “Clean.”
“Here.” I gently pull Sophie out from behind me. “Offer Diva your palm like this.” I show her how. “Let her sniff you. It’s how dogs get to know humans. It’ll reassure her that you’re not going to hurt her.”
Sophie takes a hesitant step forward. She stretches out her little arm, offering her hand, but at the last minute, she snatches it away as her courage fails her.
“She won’t bite, dear,” Mrs. Paoli says. “My Diva has never bitten anyone in her life.”
Sophie tilts her face up to me.
