Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Chapter
Seventeen
Sabella
* * *
At sunrise, Sophie walks into my room, rubbing sleep from her eyes with one hand and clutching Beatrice in the other.
“Hey,” I say, only half-awake. “Did you sleep well?”
She stops next to me. “Beatrice is hungry.”
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I say with a smile, “Then we better feed her.”
She runs ahead of me, barging down the stairs.
“Slowly,” I call after her. “Don’t trip and fall.”
When I catch up with her in the kitchen, she’s already seated at the table.
“What would you like?” I ask. “Bacon and eggs?”
She nods with enthusiasm.
I switch on the radio and turn to a music station. While I’m preparing our breakfast, Sophie hums along to the songs and plays with Beatrice. I steal looks at her as I cook, my heart squeezing at the sight of her tiny frame and thin body. When the food is ready, I dish up a generous helping for her. She can do with a little weight on those fragile bones.
After each bite she takes, she offers one to Beatrice. When our plates are empty, she runs to the lounge and snuggles up under the throw on the sofa in front of the television.
After tidying the kitchen, I sit down next to her.
“Aren’t you going to the village today?” she asks.
I give a start. “Why do you think I’m going there?”
“Beatrice saw you walking down the hill.”
“I see,” I say slowly. “No, I’m not going.”
She lies Beatrice down on her lap. “What are you doing there?”
“In the village?” Biting my lip, I consider how honest to be with her. As I don’t want to lie and lose her trust, I opt for the truth. I’d rather face the consequences if my secret is revealed than deceive her. “A few odd jobs.”
“Grandpa didn’t want us to go to the village. He got angry when we talked about it. He said if Mr. Russo knew, he’d be angry too.” She continues in all earnest. “Don’t worry, Sabella. I won’t let him be angry with you. I won’t tell him.” She looks at the doll. “You won’t say anything, will you, Beatrice?”
The exchange leaves me uncomfortable. I shouldn’t ask a child to conceal the facts. In any event, I can’t hide my outings forever. My husband only visits me at night, but that’s not to say he won’t decide to come earlier one day. He’s bound to catch me out. As soon as I have enough money stashed away, I’ll tell him myself.
“Can I go with you?” Sophie asks in her musical voice.
“You want to go to the village?”
She averts her gaze. “Beatrice wants to, but the people in the village aren’t kind.” She lifts her big, brown eyes to me again. “They scare her.”
“You’ve been there?” I ask, unable to imagine her making the long walk alone.
“Yes,” she admits reluctantly, brushing the frayed rope from Beatrice’s face. “I sometimes go alone. Other times, I go with my brothers.” She looks at me quickly. “I won’t slow you down. I promise. Beatrice walks really fast too.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I stroke her arm. “I’m not worried about you or Beatrice slowing me down. I’m more worried about you getting tired. It’s a very long walk.”
“I won’t get tired.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I promise, Sabella. I promise I won’t get tired. I really, really, really want to go. Pleeeease.”
“All right,” I say slowly, unable to deny her. “We’ll have to dress you warmly though. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
She jumps from the sofa. “Can I look in your closet?”
“You may.” Smiling, I stand. “I’ll come help you.”
A short while later, we’re both dressed. Sophie is wrapped up in one of my sweaters that reaches her knees. Underneath, she wears leggings that are rolled up several times and a pair of my sneakers with socks stuffed into the front. I wind my scarf around her neck and pull my beanie over her ears. A warm fleece jacket serves as a coat. Beatrice has an extra scarf tied around her shoulders. I stock up on food and water, and then we set out for the village.
To be on the safe side, I go out the backdoor and around the cliffside of the house. From there, I keep to the thick vegetation at the fringe of the trees, making sure we stay out of sight from the road. The odd feeling that someone is watching me still makes the hair in my nape stand on end. It was probably only Sophie I sensed, but I prefer to be cautious.
Mrs. Paoli does a double take when she opens the door. Diva goes ballistic. Sophie hides behind me, fisting her hands in my coat.
“It’s all right, Sophie,” I say. “Diva is kind. She’s only barking because she doesn’t know you.”
Mrs. Paoli scoops Diva up and balances her under one arm. The dog immediately goes quiet.