“You should. There was no call for me to be so awful to you, and I do regret it. At any rate, it’s done and over, and we still have supper to make. Do you think you can face something more than brodo tonight?”

“Not quite yet. Do you need me to help you?”

“Just so you can faint again? No, thanks. Finish off the mending instead, and make the most of this last hour of sunshine.”

It was good advice, so Nina threaded her needle and set to repairing the hem of her nightgown. She would do as Rosa said, and make the most of the fading day. She would drink it in, now, and when the nightmares came, as they so often did when she was alone in her bed, she would turn her dreaming face to the remembered warmth of the sun, and she would think of the comfort of Nico’s arms, and she would listen hard for the blessed sound of his beating heart.

WHEN NICO DID return some two weeks later, Rosa wasted no time in telling him that Nina had been poorly, and though Nina protested that she barely remembered being ill, and couldn’t imagine why Rosa would bother him with such things, Nico fussed over her for the entire afternoon and evening.

Only when they were safely alone in bed, and it was at last safe to talk freely, was she able to tell him the truth.

“I wasn’t ill. Not really. It was Passover, and since I couldn’t do anything much to celebrate it properly, I made excuses so I wouldn’t have to eat anything leavened. But only for the week.”

He hugged her close, arranging her head just so under his chin. “I’m sorry I was away. One day we’ll celebrate it together. You can teach me about Passover and the rest of the holy days.” He sighed contentedly. “So you weren’t sick at all?”

“There were a few days, just after I saw you last, when I did feel a bit queasy. I think I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me. And then, even though I felt better, I realized it would be easier to explain to Rosa than inventing some farfetched reason for not eating bread for a week. Apart from the truth, that is.”

“You had me worried. I can’t bear the thought of your being ill while I’m away.”

“But you’re home now.”

“Yes, although I do have to help my zio Beppe next week. At his fields in Liedolo. We’ll stay with Zia Nora—it’s too far to come back every night.”

“For how long?”

“A few days. No more.”