Chapter 12 - THE MOTHER WAITING IN THE GARDEN
Isabella chose a quiet botanical garden on the outskirts of Chicago.
Roman arrived early and paced beneath the trees, repeatedly checking the path. The man who could silence a crowded restaurant with a glance looked like a frightened child waiting outside a school door.
I stood several feet away, giving him space.
Finally, an older woman appeared beside the garden's white rose bushes.
Her silver hair was pinned back, and she walked with a slight limp. She wore a blue coat and held a small paper bag in both hands.
Roman stopped breathing.
“Mom?”
Isabella froze.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then she dropped the bag and crossed the remaining distance as quickly as her injured leg allowed.
Roman fell to his knees when she reached him.
She wrapped both arms around his head, sobbing into his hair. He clung to her coat and cried with a grief that had been trapped inside him for thirty-four years.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.
“I know, my love. I'm so sorry.”
They stayed together beneath the bare branches while the world continued around them.
Eventually, Isabella opened the paper bag.
Inside was a small thermos of homemade soup.
“I wanted to bring you something you would remember,” she said.
Roman took one spoonful and closed his eyes.
It was exactly as he remembered it.
Then Isabella looked at me and recognized the pendant around my neck.
“Lucia's granddaughter,” she whispered.
I nodded, suddenly unable to speak.
Isabella held my hands.
“She saved my life. And she saved yours, too, in a way you don't yet understand.”
May you like
She reached into her coat and produced a sealed envelope addressed to me.
“My dear,” she said softly, “your grandmother asked me to keep this until you were old enough to know the truth about your own family.”
