Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (10 page)

“Exactly. Being root-bound halts growth and slowly strangles you to death.” He ruthlessly clipped the roots in a downward motion, pulling away any that were blackened and dead. Then he massaged the ball, loosening it, before dumping the plant in a bucket of water. “Now it has a chance. Come. Bring your basket.”

He grabbed the bucket and a small burlap bag of compost, and headed away from the cottage, toward the field where they’d first met. He paused along the edge of a slope that tumbled gradually toward the meadow, still dotted with a profusion of lilac hyacinths, bright red poppies, and innocent white daisies.

He smiled at her. “What do you think?”

Her gaze lingered on the spot of their kiss. “I think our rose will be happy here,” she decided. “I particularly like that it’ll mark our first memory of each other.”

Rom jiggled the bucket. “What do you say, little rose? Do you approve?”

Julietta laughed. “Did it answer?”

“It did. It says the only thing that might make it happier is if it were within sight of the sea. At least, it would make me happier if I were a rose.” His laughter joined hers, the combination creating a sweet harmony. “Okay, to work. What do you say we give this rose a new home?”

Rom dug a hole, while Julietta lined the loosened soil with compost before, together, they planted the rose. After pouring the remaining water from the bucket around the new bed, he turned to Julietta. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, the memory of their first embrace sweetening the moment. To his relief, she melted against him, still as open and generous as she’d been whenever they’d come together.

“I’m still not sure I’m a rose,” she confessed. “But with you, it’s what I want to be.”

Regret consumed him. “I’ve asked so much from you in such a short amount of time. And I’ve done it badly.” Gently, he reached beneath the neckline of her dress and eased the silver chain from her neck. He removed the ring and deposited it in his shirt pocket, then returned the necklace to its proper place. Taking her hands in his, he dropped to one knee. “I refuse to propose marriage while you wear another man’s ring, even if it’s on a chain around your neck.”

“Well, technically, it’s your ring, too.”

He conceded the point. “I suppose it is. Even so, since I’m not the man who put it there, I’d rather you not wear it. At least, not right now.”

“I understand.”

“Julietta Bianchi, my one and only love, will you marry me?”

Her answer blossomed across her face, as radiant as the sun and as beautiful as the tumble of wildflowers dancing beneath the sun. “Yes, Romero Dante. I’ll marry you. I’ll even try to become a rose for you.”

“I don’t want you to be anything other than yourself, which is the perfect woman.”

He stood and swept her into his arms, sealing their promise with a kiss. It seemed right to propose here, where it had all started. Just as it seemed right to have freed the root-bound rose bush and planted it as a symbol of what they hoped for the future.

Now all they had to do was figure out how to overcome the small obstacle of a soon-to-be pissed off fiancé and two infuriated families.

What could be easier?

Only a handful of days remained before the wedding—a wedding Julietta knew in her heart would never take place. Not after what happened at the engagement party. And definitely not after Rom’s proposal the day before. As determined as she was to marry him, the idea of breaking off her engagement to Tito worried her. But convincing her family she belonged with Rom loomed like an insurmountable obstacle.

“Thank God this marriage is almost behind us,” Maria muttered.

Julietta set aside the vegetable brush she’d been wielding, relieved to have the subject raised. Perhaps she could plant a few vital seeds that would persuade her mother to change her mind. With any luck, those seeds would take root and flourish. “If my wedding is causing you so much stress, we can always cancel it,” she suggested.

“Cancel?
Per carità!
Don’t you dare suggest such a thing,” Maria replied with a sharp edge. “Have you any idea—” She turned abruptly away, but not before Julietta caught the telltale glint of tears.

She eyed her mother with concern. Her mother rarely cried. If anything, she was always the calm center in the middle of the family storm. “Mamma? Do I have any idea… what? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Maria groped for one of the chairs tucked beneath the scarred kitchen table, and sank into it. “Nothing at all.”

Julietta hastened to set aside the vegetables she’d washed and joined her mother. “That’s not true. There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?” She gathered her mother’s work-roughened hands in her own. For an instant, hope filled her. “Does it have to do with my marriage to Tito? Is there some reason why I shouldn’t marry him?”

“No. No, nothing like that,” Maria said, crushing the burgeoning bud of hope. “It’s your marriage to Tito that will save us.”

“Save us,” Julietta repeated. Alarm streaked through her, along with a deepening dread. “Save us from what, Mamma?”

Maria straightened in her chair. “That’s your father’s business,” she said primly. “And soon,
grazie a Dio
, Tito’s.”

Julietta fought through her confusion in an attempt to find a logical explanation. “You said my marriage would save us. Is this about the vineyard? Is there something wrong with it?” She frowned. “I thought
Babbo
wanted to sell because the work had become too much for him.”

“And so it has.” But she refused to meet Julietta’s gaze. “Forget I said anything. It will all turn out well once you and Tito are married.”

“No, I want the truth. What will turn out well?” she pressed. “Why is it so important for me to marry Tito?”

“It’s none of your concern, Julietta,” her mother insisted. “Now, let it go.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t let it go. Not now.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the coming battle. “Mamma, I don’t want to marry Tito. In fact, I was going to discuss it with you and
Babbo
later today. We’re… we’re not suited.”

Her mother turned deathly pale, her hand fisting around her crucifix. “You can’t back out, Julietta. You mustn’t.”

“Why?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t think her mother would answer. Then her face crumpled, and helpless tears slid down her cheeks. “You know we’ve had a few bad years, all on the heels of recovering from the toll the war took on us. There was the frost. Two years ago that horrible drought that shriveled all the grapes. Then last year… The blight took half the harvest.”

“But it’s looking good for this year, isn’t it?”

Maria nodded, though it offered little reassurance. “Unfortunately, your father was forced to borrow money to get us through the winter. The money is due soon. If it’s not repaid, we’ll lose the vineyard.”

Dread pooled in the pit of Julietta’s belly. “We don’t have the money to repay the loan, do we?”

“No,” Maria whispered. “We’ve done everything possible to keep it quiet, in case Tito caught wind of our problems.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“No,” Maria repeated, her voice sharper this time. “It’s important we keep it from him. We need him to marry you.”

“So he’ll buy the vineyard and the debt can be repaid?” Maria nodded, exhaustion carving deep lines into a face whose beauty had faded before its time. Julietta sat beside her mother in stunned silence. “Why can’t you just sell the vineyard, outright? Why must I marry him?” she finally asked.

“Because after our debt is paid, we’ll have nothing left. No land. No home. Nothing with which to support eight daughters.”

The full ramifications hit Julietta. “If Tito knew we were about to lose the vineyard, he wouldn’t need to marry me, would he?”

“No. He could simply wait until we lost the vineyard and buy it for a fraction of its worth.”

“Wait.” Julietta struggled to absorb the information. “You expect Tito to buy the vineyard and then support us?
All
of us?”

“He can well afford it,” Maria retorted, stung. She gripped Julietta’s arm, her words low and hurried. “It’s important you be a good wife to him, Julietta. Your sister was right when she said you must satisfy him in bed. A man will do almost anything for a woman if he’s… pleased.
A tutti i costi
. No matter what it costs.
Capisci?”

“It’s you who doesn’t understand, Mamma,” Julietta whispered. “Tito… He repulses me.”

“You must not let him know.” Urgency underscored her mother’s words.

“It’s too late. He kissed me at our engagement party and—” She broke off, unwilling to go into details. “He knows I didn’t enjoy it.”

Maria closed her eyes. “We won’t force you to marry him. But if you don’t, we will be destitute. We’ll have to split the family apart, send the little ones to relatives. Are you very sure you can’t go through with the marriage? Perhaps in time you won’t mind when he—”

Julietta pulled free of her mother’s hold and stood. “I’ll think about it. It’s the best I can do.” Unable to help herself, she bolted from the house.

Julietta fled to the meadow and collapsed beside the rose bush she and Rom had replanted. To her amazement, it already showed signs of flourishing. Unlike her. She’d never have the opportunity to discover whether she could become a rose and put down roots on a hillside overlooking the sea. Instead, she’d spend the rest of her life root-bound. Tears filled her eyes, and she allowed them to come. Just this once. Just this one time, she’d mourn what would never be. Regret the path she’d turned from.

Because no matter how deeply she loved Rom, she refused to sacrifice her family for her own happiness.

She felt Rom’s approach long before he reached her and dried her tears, praying he wouldn’t notice she’d been crying. A vain hope, no doubt. He took a seat beside her and gathered her hand in his. Showing amazing perception, he didn’t say a word but waited patiently for her to speak.

“I have to go through with the wedding,” she finally said, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

“What happened?” No anger. No resentment. No demands. Just a single, calm question.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, not when she didn’t have the wherewithal to defend her decision should he challenge it. “I realized I’m not a rose.”

“Ah.”

Why wasn’t he fighting her? Why wasn’t he arguing? She stumbled into an explanation. “I can’t uproot myself and move halfway around the world with a man I’ve only known for a few days.”

“But you can marry a man whose touch repulses you?”

She bowed her head, stung by his gentle inquiry. “Yes.”

“Julietta, if you don’t wish to marry me, I can accept that. True, I’ll do everything within my power to change your mind. But it’s your decision. All I ask is for you to wait. Postpone your marriage until you’re sure of what you truly want.” A quick glance warned he’d set his jaw into a line of endless determination. “I would even be willing to remain in Florence and work for the Dantes, if it meant having you in my life.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”