ATONEMENT (20 page)

After
the
emotional disclosure
,
Selange went for a stroll on the grounds
. She asked Nico to please
give her space
to think
. She couldn’t deal with his overpowering presence. It confused and distracted her. On one subject he was right, she had to
tell Alfonzo about the pregnancy
and
take care of herself. The paternity could easily be rectified
through
DNA. The question
Nico wanted answered was if it is his child
would she let him be a part of the child’s life?

Her head
tilt
ed skyward and she
watch
ed
the fluffy clo
uds
, wishing
she could teleport there
and rest her weary
limbs
in their soft embrace
.
Time did not rewind or suspend itself. It did not pause to grant reprieve for one’s mistakes. No one can rescind their
actions;
only pray the passing of
hours
healed the stinging wound,
leaving no
visible evidence of injury.

The cool air whipped
the
hair from her face as she walked to the stone bench in the center of the garden. She sat there and gave herself a much needed hug. Holding ti
ght to hope, praying fervently God forgave her and praying Alfonzo would do the same.

Her head touched her chest as she sat there listening to the wind and the distant sounds of cars
bouncing
along unaware of her
misery
. She wondered if
the
burden would ease,
and thought how foolish, of course it would not. Every day she harbored this secret, she’d suffer in solace. Her punishment was pain and
an
uncert
ain future. The fluctuating hormones were partly why she cried harder, the other part was
, she
mourned the death of her marriage
and her soul
if the child was not Alfonzo’s.
It was inconceivable to think
Alfonzo
would stay
. What man would
or could
?

Selange took a cleansing breath
. H
er eyes clouded with sorrow and
she
prayed for forgiveness. She also prayed strength
for her
husband then stood and walked back to the house.

Nico intercepted her at the entry, “Come on, let’s take a drive.”

She thought to decline but he had her arm, walked her down the path to a shiny Mercedes and gestured for her to get in as he held open the door.

Soon they were on the road, driving through the countryside
, passing hills of grass and tall plants, winding through dirt paths and trees in silence.

“Where are we going?”

“On a drive.”

“To where?”

He glanced at her, his mouth grim, “Stop worrying every minute. Relax we’re almost there.”

The drive led to a wharf, where stalls were set-up by the dozens and merchants peddled their wares. People browsed leisurely and were entertained by an operatic song from a local artist. Selange smiled, Nico obviously was appealing to her woman’s desire to shop, which for many was a form of relaxation and she was no different.

She walked through the wide aisles, passing lovers, families and tourists as they eyed the many choices of crafts, clothing and novelties. Nico was at her side, explaining this was the
Fiera
di
Sinigaglia
,
somewhat of a
n institution
in Milan
. Here along the
Viale
d'Annunzio
th
e
flea market
was very popular
.
She understood why, it had
everything
. There were
Indian, South American and African craftwork, new and second-hand clothes, old furniture, perfumes, candles, books, comics, records, videos and DVDs.

Nico purchased some herbal scented oils
while
Selange
rummaged through a collection of books. Poetry, classics and modern romances stacked in bins atop a table. She found one of interest, written in English by an unknown poet. She opened it and read a sonnet about love and the trials of the heart.
Its
melancholy tone spoke to her.

Nico grinned, “That’s all you want?”

“Yes.”

He paid and they moved on
.

She found a hand carved tribal war mask from Tunisia and two delicious smelling candles, a vintage comic book for Sal and a doll for Allie. Nico purchased them, not bothering to haggle as is
the
custom everywhere and when she asked him why he hadn’t, he shrugged, “They’re hardworking merchants and their prices are reasonable, what’s the point?”

“It’s part of the fun.”

His eyebrow
s
crinkled
in opposition
, “What’s fun about debating cheap prices
to save a euro or two, I don’t get it?”

“Oh never-mind.”

They got a bite to eat at one of the food tents
then
sat at
a
makeshift table
where they
viewed
the many boats drifting across the harbor.

Nico watched her eat the Milanese food, smiling to himself
because she
ate
heartily,
devouring the large slice of
panettone
then
the raw vegetables spread with
stracchino
, a creamy soft milk cheese
.
For Nico, seeing the sadness replaced by the vibrant glow of life was all he wanted.
The
noticeable signs of
stress
were removed from the lovely face and the joy of living settled in its place. He loved the carefree side of
her;
it was a much better housing for the caretaker of
the fetus growing inside her womb. S
ince she
was
unequivocal in one decision, it
would become
his mission to ensure
the pregnant woman received the
pampering she deserved.
She was the bearer of life, protector of the innocent,
which he considered
a wondrous undertaking.
He
marveled at
it
, especially since
death was his moniker
and an abomination
he’d answer for on his day of reckoning.

Whether, the child was his or not, he loved her and
vowed to
restore joy to her
spirit.
The
y
only
enjoyed
one life
and when it came to it, they could make the best of it or mope around.
He’d never regret the intimacy they shared.
He lived
in the
moment and the after’s were added bonuses to an uncertain tomorrow. W
hen it
came
time
for recompense
for his sins he’d breathe glee
knowing he’d atoned for his misdeeds by giving life and love as
restitution
.

A speck of
cream clung to the corner of her lip and he
used his thumb to wipe
it away
. S
he smiled, “
Ummm
thanks, n
ow that was delicious.”

He consumed the remnants of his food and
asked
, “Feel
ing
better?”

“Much better, thanks Nico.”
 

He thought to visit the other markets. The
Viale
Papiniano
and
Viale
Fauché
;
appreciated by the
fashionistas
, for finds on
discounted
and
I
talian
designer
clothing, sort of make a day of it
,
but it was getting late and he decided to take her elsewhere.

They were on the road, moving quietly through the streets
, occupied by their private thoughts, not addressing the subject foremost in their minds, her pregnancy.

After thirty
minutes the
car drove through rows of trees along a smooth dirt path and curved around exotic plants to soon halt in front a
cozy villa
hidden
there.
She wondered
if it were Nico’s home
but did not ask. In time she’d learn, sometimes questions were unnecessary when answers came with careful observation.

She looked around at the peaceful scenery once they stood outside the door and folded her arms across her chest as Nico accessed security. He pushed the
iron
plaque
on the brick wall
aside
to display an
electronic
control panel. She’d seen similar
ones;
Alfonzo had these installed in their homes as well. It required a
pass key,
which
Nico removed
from his back pocket and swiped. It beeped, giving him thirty seconds to type in the code, then the heavy door clicked unlocked.

“Go in,” he said pointing as he
replac
ed
the iron wall hanging
and followed her through
.

The villa was nicely decorated, lots of solid furnishings, with large colorful pillows and a
beautiful rustic fireplace with delicate artistry curving about the frieze and down the marble side columns.
Expensive, understated and cozy, just as she envisioned. Nico
removed
the bag of oils he purchased from his coat pocket before hanging it in the closet and requested her
coat,
which he
hung
with care next to his.