“I know we fight too much, but we love each other.” Paolo took her hands into his own.
Anina loved Paolo, but she couldn’t stay, because there was someone who needed her more. “Forgive me,” she said as she opened the door, picked up her suitcases, and walked out into the storm.
* * *
The hospital elevator was filled with young residents in scrubs when the doors opened to reveal Anina carrying two cups of tea and a carton of soup for her grandmother. “I’ll wait for the next one,” Anina said cheerfully.
A handsome resident looked at her appreciatively and said, “We’ll make room.”
Anina squeezed onto the elevator. The resident held the door open as she disembarked moments later. She smiled to herself as she walked down the corridor to her grandmother’s room.
Anina placed her purse on the chair and kissed Matelda.
“You don’t have to come to the hospital every day.”
“I want to.”
“Nonno said you’re watering my plants. How’s the hibiscus tree?”
“It blooms big red blossoms when the sun is out.”
“It’s supposed to.”
“It’s peaceful in your home.”
“Stay as long as you want. Sometimes you need a little distance,” Matelda said. “And then you get it, and with it comes perspective, and you can find a way to work things out.”
“Maybe,” Anina said. “I’m just happy that I have a chance to spend more time with you.”
Anina pulled the chair close to her grandmother’s bed. “I want to hear what happened when your mother went to Scotland.”
“You need to hear a story about a woman who survives losing the man she loves?”
“I guess I do, Nonna.” Anina handed her grandmother a cup of tea. She took the lid off the other cup and settled into the chair.
Matelda raised the headboard on her bed to a sitting position. She smoothed the top blanket over the sheet. She closed her eyes and conjured the first home she ever knew in a place that lived in her dreams.
CHAPTER 26
Dumbarton, Scotland
AUTUMN 1939
The Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur ran a school in an old castle overlooking the river Clyde. Their convent and school were situated north of Glasgow at the point where the Clyde widened out at Havoc. The swell and expanse of the river at that point meant that the nuns were the first to observe the daily flotilla of new carriers, ships, and barges for use in the impending war. The nuns were confident that the war could be won based upon the display of might they observed from their turret, but they said a daily rosary for victory to hedge their bets.
The flower gardens of Notre Dame were set like jewels in the rolling fields around the convent. They also planted corn, green beans, lettuce, cucumbers, and potatoes in the field behind the convent. There was a grove of fruit trees along the path to the river. Their simple dairy operation housed cows in a working barn, providing milk and cream on a daily basis and cured meats on a seasonal one.
The school year had begun as scheduled; by 5 September 1939, every room in the residence was filled. As staff, Domenica was given a room off the main hall. A curtain separated her small office from her living quarters—a cell with a window, a bed, and a wash basin. If Domenica had wanted to contemplate life as a nun, her current position would have been good practice. The only difference between the good nuns and her was her freedom on her days off. Instead of spending the day in cloistered prayer, Domenica went into Glasgow.
Domenica picked up her mail in the welcome house on Saturday morning. She smiled as she walked back to the main house, shuffling the envelopes with return addresses from Indiana, USA, to Paris, France. She recognized Mary Gay’s scrawl on a blue envelope forwarded from Saint Joseph’s. Her heart raced when she saw the sender’s address typed in the corner. The letter itself was typed on pale blue stationery with the crest of the merchant navy at the top. Domenica’s hand shook as she opened the envelope. It was postmarked 10 August 1939. She was lucky the letter had reached her at all.
Dear Domenica,
I hope this finds you in good health.
This letter is to inform you that I must put an end to our correspondence. I am on assignment, and it will be impossible for me to respond. It is best that I wish you well and thank you for your friendship.
Captain John Lawrie McVicars
Domenica folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.
She slipped on her coat, placed the letter in her pocket, and took the path down to the river. With every step she took, she became more furious. She was angry with herself for falling for a sailor, as their reputations preceded them. She had believed John McVicars was the exception, but she had been wrong.