AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Scusi,’Julius said.
And he understood now why they had moved her to Milan. Because a brown-eyed Beatrice was looking up at him. He saw a little pointed nose and tight lips, a slight figure, so similar, and yet... She was like a waxwork, or a dead fish lying on the deck of a boat, with nothing behind her velvet brown eyes.
Nothing of passion and terror and shame. None of the things that made you question yourself at times. That caused you to doubt and ponder and consider or regret.
‘The bell on the door rings and interrupts us. Always tourists!’ She sneered a little. ‘Please, show some respect.’
‘Of course. It’s a beautiful convent.’ He looked up at the stunning Sicilian Baroque-style building, but she gave nothing back. ‘Is it seventeenth century?’ he asked.
‘There are tours on the first Friday of the month.’
‘I was just thinking...’
Julius peered at the black iron. Julius was good at small talk—well, unless any sunburned shoulders were around. He could usually engage anyone. But Sister Catherine was not here to talk.
‘How lucky—’ he began.
‘We take care of the babies.’
‘No, no.’ He halted her tersely. ‘I meant, how lucky I am.’
She looked at his smart clothes. ‘You clearly have a privileged life,signor,’ she said, and pointed to the donation box above the baby door.
This woman rejected conversation.
Beatrice deflected.
This woman rejected the chance to tell a tourist a little about the beautiful building. She rejected that little moment of connection. She rejected it coldly, and had done the same to her daughter in every minute of her childhood.
But to find out that this was your mother...?
No wonder Beatrice hadn’t been able to walk down that hill, or pick up the phone. Even he felt the cold snub of this nun.
He wanted to say something cutting. He wanted to call her out so he could savour the moment, relish it later, let her know the pain she had caused.
He chose not to, for it was not his place.
Furthermore, he doubted this woman would care.
‘Yes, Sister,’ he said. ‘I am privileged indeed.’
He was loved by someone who, thanks to this woman, barely dared to love anyone.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said, and although he wanted to addSister Catherine—because he wanted to see her give that little jolt as she realised he knew her name—he stopped himself.
That was not the person he wanted to be.
He turned and left.
Julius stood on the headland and looked out to sea. He wished he could speak to his brother.
And then he paused.
No one could make this choice for him.
So he watched as the woman closed up the baby door, as she had done some twenty-nine years ago, and walked away without so much as a glance.
No, he didn’t need his brother, nor his advice.
