Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN WHO SENT CHRISTMAS GIFTS FROM SICILY
Agatha cried when I showed her the photograph.
Not quietly.
Not with the restrained sadness I'd seen throughout my life.
She broke down completely.
And I knew before she spoke.
"She's alive," I whispered.
Agatha closed her eyes.
"Yes."
I stared at her.
"My mother?"
She nodded.
The room spun.
I stepped backward.
"Why?"
My voice cracked.
"Why would you let me believe she was dead?"
Agatha reached toward me.
I couldn't take her hand.
"Penelope, please."
"No."
I shook my head.
"I trusted you more than anyone."
Tears streamed down her face.
"I know."
"You raised me. You taught me everything. You were there when I cried over my parents. And all that time, you knew?"
Agatha lowered her head.
"Lucia believed Carlo was still watching everyone connected to her."
I stared.
"She could have told me."
"She was terrified that contact would lead him to you."
"That was her choice to make?"
Agatha looked at me sadly.
"No. It was a decision made under fear. And it hurt you."
The admission softened nothing.
Not yet.
I sat beside the window.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Agatha explained.
Lucia had survived the raid.
She'd escaped through southern Italy using documents provided by sympathetic church workers.
For years, she lived under another name.
She couldn't safely travel.
She couldn't contact Antonio.
And she believed Carlo would kill Penelope if she resurfaced.
"But things changed," I whispered.
Agatha nodded.
"Lucia tried to contact you two years ago."
I turned.
"What?"
"She wrote letters."
"Where are they?"
Agatha closed her eyes.
"I kept them."
Pain flashed through me.
"Why?"
"Because Carlo had recently threatened someone who knew your real identity. I believed the danger was still too great."
I stood.
"You should have trusted me."
"I know."
Her voice broke.
"I was wrong."
For the first time, I understood that someone could love me deeply and still hurt me by trying to control the truth.
I thought of my mother, Elizabeth.
She'd known, too.
How many adults had made decisions about my life without ever asking what I wanted?
Agatha reached beneath her pillow.
She removed a packet of letters tied with faded blue ribbon.
"I should have given you these when they arrived."
I took them.
My hands trembled.
The first letter began:
My darling Penny,
Today is your twenty-seventh birthday.
I wonder whether you still smile the way you did as a baby.
I couldn't read another word.
I pressed the letters against my heart and cried.
Later that evening, Dominic called.
"Penelope, are you all right?"
"No."
He didn't offer empty reassurance.
He simply asked, "What do you need?"
I looked at the letters.
Then toward the photograph of the woman I'd never known.
"I need to go to Sicily."
A pause.
"Then we'll find a way."
I took a breath.
"And Dominic?"
"Yes?"
"I want to meet my parents without anyone deciding what I should know."
His answer came immediately.
"You have my word."
Then his voice changed.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The investigators have issued warrants for Carlo and several associates."
"Good."
"But Carlo disappeared before they reached his house."
I closed my eyes.
"And?"
Dominic's voice lowered.
"Security cameras show him boarding a private aircraft."
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"Where was it going?"
"Sicily."
