“Mamma mia, Eliana, what has happened to you?”

At the sight of her friend Eliana began to tear up, and Anna stepped inside, putting her arms around her. “Mamma mia, are you ill? You have lost fifty pounds. And look at your house.” Anna shook her head. “What has happened, Eliana?”

“Maurizio found out about me and Ross.”

“Oh, Blessed Mother, no. Here, sit down.” They went over to the couch. Anna sat down first, then pulled Eliana close. “Tell me everything.”

“When we came back from shopping, after we dropped you off, Maurizio was waiting for me. Somehow he knew all about Ross and me. He kicked Ross out of his apartment. He’s forbidden me to see or speak to him.”

Anna stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“But there’s more, Anna. It’s horrible.”

“What could possibly be more horrible?”

She started sobbing. When she stopped crying long enough to speak, she said, “I need to show you.” Eliana went to the cupboard drawer and brought out the articles.

Anna looked at the pictures then said, “I can’t read them. They’re in English.”

“I’m sorry.” One by one Eliana translated the articles for her. When she finished, Anna looked more confused than concerned. “I don’t believe he is capable of this. Do you?”

“But it’s all right there.”

“Sì. But how long ago was this?”

“I don’t know, about three years?”

“And in the United States you only go to prison three years for murder?”

Eliana had been so devastated by the news that she hadn’t considered this obvious discrepancy.

“Believe me, Eliana, there is more to this. I know people. It’s a gift from God—I can read them like books. What does your heart tell you about Ross?”

“My heart tells me that he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Anna nodded.

“And that I don’t want to be without him.” She started crying again. “But what if . . .”

Anna pulled her in again and held her. “No if, Eliana. No if.”

CHAPTER 28

“Amoante non sia chi coraggio non ha.” Who will be a lover must be courageous.

—Italian Proverb

Ross waited to hear from Eliana for three days before he tried to contact her, careful only to call her on her cell phone. At first her phone wasn’t turned on. Then, after several days, it simply wasn’t answered. Nor were the multiple messages he left, each growing more emphatic. It was a whole week before he risked calling her house, but she didn’t answer there either.

He was unwilling to accept that she could so fully desert him, and it was a full week before he began to struggle with the reality that her silence might be, in fact, her verdict. After two weeks, three weeks if he counted the time in Pisa, he believed it was, and he took it hard.

He considered risking a visit to Rendola but decided against it. The property had eyes other than Maurizio’s—the workers in the vineyard and winery, Luca and the gardener Vittorio. As hard as it was to accept, he knew that if she wanted to see him she would see him. And after three weeks he had lost hope. Heartbroken, he did what came natural to him. He returned to his art.