Fruit of the Golden Vine (30 page)

Father gazed at Adelina, expressing no emotion. A long silence passed. “We will talk in private,” he said finally. “Irena, come with us. Orfeo, politely ask Delfina to meet me in my study. The rest of you wait outside.”

“But Bastian!” said Orfeo. “I have a stake in this. You can’t shut me out.”

“You’ll have your say. After you speak with Delfina, wait with Matheus in the drawing room.” Father nodded at Adelina. “Come, daughters.”

Adelina looked toward Silvana. “I love you, Silvana. I’ll return.”

Silvana lowered her lashes as she smiled. “I’ll be waiting, my love.”

The guards whispered to each other, Orfeo glowered at his boots, Father reddened and Felise clapped her hands and cheered. Adelina and Irena linked arms and followed Father into the study.

Looking far older and more tired than he had appeared on his front step, Father settled behind his desk, the sun spreading across his shoulders like a cloak. “God help me, Ada,” he said. “I thought the worst.”

“That I’d become a fishmonger?”

“What? No.” Father chuckled. “Your attitude at least remains unchanged.”

Adelina put a hand on her hip. “And you know where I get it from.”

Father inspected her in silence, a hint of moisture in his eyes. “Indeed I do. Adelina, Orfeo has told me that—” He broke off at the sound of brisk footsteps in the corridor. “Ah, Delfina.”

Mother stood in the doorway, drawn to her full height. Her eyes had dulled, and her face was drawn. No trace of the fury Adelina had remembered or expected.

“Your hair, girl,” Mother said.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” said Adelina.

“It’s obscene.” Mother stalked to stand beside Father. Seeing the scene of two weeks ago repeated, Adelina’s stomach lurched. But no—it was different this time. For one, Irena was here. Adelina reached for her hand and received a reassuring squeeze in return.

“Returned by the town watch,” Mother said. “Of all the humiliations.”

Adelina studied her mother’s weathered features. Had she ever truly been young, or had she been born with that stern, unloving face?

“Mother,” Adelina said. “Father. I want you to let me go. I want to be with Silvana and for both of us to live as free women. And—” Adelina’s throat tightened, and she took a difficult breath. “And I don’t want to lose my family because of it. Despite everything that has happened, I do love you.”

“I thought you were dead.” Mother’s voice was flat. “I prayed for you.”

“If you force me to marry Orfeo, then I truly will be dead. The only way I can live is with her. If you value my life, then set me free.” Adelina shifted her gaze to Father. “Don’t you want me to be happy, Father?”

“I do,” Father said. “But don’t you understand what it will mean to ruin your reputation?”

“Forget her reputation.” A hard light fixed itself in Mother’s eyes. “What of her soul? It’s the sin we should be concerned with foremost, Sebastian. Had she come to us pleading permission to marry some young man, then perhaps we could allow ourselves lenient indulgence. But to be with that woman? To incur the wrath of God?”

“You’re wrong,” said Irena. Mother gasped, and the resolve in her eyes wavered. “Yes, you’re wrong, Mother. You taught me to believe, and I do. I have faith, just as you do. And I know our Creator has woven the tie that joins Silvana and Adelina, and that He intends for them to be together. To love is not a sin, Mother. Only the Devil hates love. Only the Devil would force Adelina to be with a man she fears and despises.”

“You don’t know what you speak of, girl—”

“I do know!” Irena stormed across the room and slammed her fists on the desk. Mother jumped, and Father stared in dismay. “I pray just as you do! Don’t tell me that God only speaks to you. I’ve prayed each night, and each night I’ve heard the same thing—that He wants Ada to be loved and protected, and that Silvana is the one He has sent to enact His will. They are beautiful together, and to see Adelina happy is the strongest affirmation of my faith I could ever have.”

“I want her to be loved and protected as well.” Mother’s tone became more gentle. “Irena…Ira. My eldest, my first, please trust me. It is not their love that our Creator despises. It is their common sex. They cannot have children. That is their sin. That they love one another is a tragic accident we cannot encourage.”

Adelina closed her eyes and searched her mind for the face of the woman she loved. Silvana. The silver tree at her cheek, the dark passion in her eyes, the affectionate amusement that drew her lips into a crooked smile.

“Mother,” said Adelina. “Tell me of your life at twenty-four.”

“My life at—” Mother blinked. “I was sick, as you know. I had been from birth. I lay each day on a bed in the attic, beside a window so that I might look out upon the street below.”

“The doctors told you that you might never have children.”

Mother’s eyes grew distant. “Yes. They said that I was likely barren. Even if not, my body was too frail for the ordeal of childbirth.”

“So you lay there and watched the street. Knowing that you would forever be alone. Knowing that you would never feel the embrace of another’s arms.”

“For hours I stared out of that window. I prayed to God that I would be healed, and I gazed at the people below, and I cursed them for their health and the life they enjoyed. I dreamed of the children I was never to have. Yes, Adelina. I believed I would be always alone.”

“And then Father arrived.”

A thin smile touched Mother’s face. “He had seen me sitting at the window. He walked past every day, and each time he stopped and waved. I would give a feeble wave in return. And then one morning, my mother ascended the staircase and said that I had a visitor, a young man who insisted on seeing me…”

“How startled Delfina was!” Father looked sidelong toward Mother, his eyes likewise pensive. “I told her that I wanted to see her up close instead of from the street. She was beautiful, so thin and pale, but still beautiful…and I’ll never forget the smile she gave me when I told her so.”

“You were the first to ever tell me I was beautiful.”

“You explained that you were ill and that you could never bear children, and so your family had left you to die in the attic. That’s how you put it—that they’d left you to die. So I visited you day after day, bringing you gifts, and you read to me while I told you about the things that I’d seen in the town.”

Mother laughed, and Irena and Adelina glanced at each other. Had Mother ever laughed before? “You invented half those tales, I’m sure of it.”

“How was an invalid like you to know?” Sebastian’s eyes glinted. “Those days were the most wonderful of my life. If I were to imagine for myself a paradise, it would be to relive those months in your attic. I remember it as if it were yesterday—climbing those long steps, seeing the light enter your face, sitting beside you and basking in the sweet sound of your laughter, gazing into your clever eyes as you read to me…”

“And you decided to marry her,” said Adelina. “How did your family react?”

“Oh, they were furious. In fact, they forbade it. She was sick, probably barren, four years my senior, not expected to live another decade. She had no dowry, her family was poor. My parents threatened to disown me. I ignored them. Her parents, of course, had no objections. They were ecstatic.”

Mother stared at the floor, a subtle tremor to her lips.

“Why did he do it, Mother?” said Adelina. “Why did he give up so much and choose you, a woman who could never have a child, a woman who might not even live another year, a woman who would destroy his bond with his family?”

Mother closed her eyes, and a tear ran down her lined cheek. “Because he loved me.”

“I love Silvana the same way. Yes, we will never bear children, but what of it? I have to be with her or I’ll waste away, just as you would have wasted away in that attic unless Father had risked everything to take you into his arms.”

“But Adelina,” said Father, his voice thick. “Orfeo, my business…”

“Father, everything you own, this land, this house, this vineyard, none of it was truly built upon wealth. Your wife, your children, this family you’ve created—it all started from a seed of love. Love is in the soil that feeds your vines. Love is the fruit that they bear.”

Father frowned at his desk without responding. Adelina took a deep breath. “You believe that your Creator allowed my mother to live and gave you three daughters, and you hope to repay that miracle through the observance of some silly superstition. Assuming there is such a God, Father, that wasn’t the message He intended to send you. To honor the miracle that is your family, you must truly understand the lesson your God has given: nothing in this world is greater than love. Let me go to her, Father.”

“God help us.” Mother wiped her eyes. “Bring her to me. I wish to speak with her.”

Silvana waited under a tree—there was nothing quite like the feel of solid bark to set flight to her worries and calm her nerves—while Rafael sat nearby on the grass. Together, they watched as Felise and Mona flew toward a ball thrown for them by the feather-capped guard, who had been persuaded to take part in the game.

The puppy and Felise reached the ball at the same time and fell to wrestling, and Rafael laughed. “I’ve had to give that child so many piggybacks, I think I’ll never walk upright again.”

“And to think you’re planning to have children of your own. You’ll be crushed to death by piggyback rides.”

“A fate the Gods mete out only to the worst of men.” Rafael took an apple from his pocket and bit into it. “I was dumbfounded to see you standing at the front door. I know you could have escaped those witless guards if you’d wanted.”

“You made a sacrifice for me two weeks ago. It’s only right I did the same for you.”

“I doubt Ada can shift their minds. Sebastian has some impressive profit to be gained by marrying her to Orfeo.”

“I know. Yet I also can’t shake the feeling that the worst is behind us.” Silvana lifted her hand and held her ring to the sunlight. “When I saw her in that inn, I felt an emotion that I can barely describe. It was like…it was like a redemption, Rafael.”

“Unusually religious for you.”

“I’m no more spiritual than I was before.” Silvana traced the ridges of the tree’s pale bark. “Only more aware. These people revere a hulking, vengeful deity, whereas we were taught as children to search for the numinous in the earth, sun and heavens. Even now, when I place my hand against a tree, I feel as if something divine returns my touch. But it’s not because the tree is sacred. It’s because the moment I lay my hand upon it, I find myself tranquil, and my thoughts move without hindrance to love.”

Rafael tossed the apple core. “Love does as much harm as good. It’ll never feed the hungry or clothe the destitute. It doesn’t stop wars or unshackle the oppressed.”

“That’s because we’re afraid of it.” Silvana inhaled the tree’s aroma of leathery leaves and heady sap. “We’re afraid of the senses it stirs, and so we ascribe our ecstasies to spirits and our raptures to demons, not realizing that our Goddess in truth resides within us. We can’t confront the fact that our deaths are final, and so we never embrace our mortality and accept that our lives are only made beautiful by the grace of love.”

“All I know is that I enjoy her company and that she would be a gentle mother to my children.” Rafael shrugged. “I’m happy for you, Silvie, but I fear your exaltations of the heart are beyond me.”

“Perhaps if you had loved a man, you would understand.” Silvana smiled at her brother, who gave her a perplexed look in return. “To devote yourself to that love which little minds have forbidden, that love which brings you into union with a defiant soul like your own—nothing draws two hearts closer, nothing inspires more fervor and passion.”

“It’s a pretty speech, Silvie, but you should have saved it for those who aren’t already convinced. If you ask me—”

The door opened, and Adelina strolled into the sunlight, a dreamy smile on her face. Silvana stared, her heart pounding. Adelina was alone, she was smiling—was that a good sign? As eccentric as she could be, it was hard to tell. “Ada, what happened?”

“Lurking by a tree, are you? I should have guessed.” Adelina motioned. “Come along. My mother wants to speak with you.”

Silvana pressed her fingers to the bark. This time, it did nothing to settle the turmoil inside her. “Very well.” She hurried to Adelina’s side. “But tell me, how did it go?”

“I don’t know yet.” Adelina took Silvana’s hand. “I suppose we’re about to find out.”

Silvana let herself be led through a hallway and through the open door of a study. Delfina sat behind the desk, unaccompanied. Adelina frowned. “Where did Ira and Father go?” she said.

Delfina waved her hand. “I sent them away, and I’m sending you as well. Let me talk to her alone.”

“Why? Why can’t you talk in front of me?”

Silvana touched Adelina’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Ada.”

“Says you.” Adelina frowned. “Very well, but if she’s not out in half an hour, I’m coming back to make sure nobody’s been strangled.”

Adelina marched out of the room. Delfina straightened in her chair, folded her hands in front of her and inspected Silvana with gleaming intensity. “You have been a most eventful guest.”

“Mistress Delfina,” said Silvana, careful to keep her tone even. “It’s a pleasure.”

Delfina wrinkled her nose. “There’s no need for formalities. Not when you’re to be family.”

So Adelina had at least persuaded her parents to allow Rafael and Irena to marry. Silvana exhaled, and the tension in her body eased. “As you say, Delfina.”

“Very good.” Delfina’s eyes retained their predatory glint, but her upper lip curled in a suggestion of humor. “Orfeo tells us you abducted our daughter last night.”

“Not so. I protected her from his heavy-handedness.”

“In that case, I should be praising your virtues, shouldn’t I?” Delfina leaned back in the chair and steepled her fingers. “A heroine, in truth, and no villain at all.”

Silvana shifted on her feet. If only she too had somewhere to sit, so that it didn’t feel as if she were being lectured by a displeased tutor. “I suppose I should be grateful for your sardonic applause.”