Chapter 21 - Teresa Comes Back to Belladonna
She refused for almost a year.
Then Isabella asked.
Not me.
Teresa returned on a summer afternoon.
No gun.
No coat.
No snow.
Belladonna looked smaller in sunlight.
That happens to childhood fear and inherited legends.
Maria came too.
Retired again.
Still opinionated.
We went to the old accounting wing.
Now converted into administrative offices.
Teresa stood where her desk had once been.
Nothing remained.
“Wrong carpet.”
Maria said:
“Thank God.”
Teresa laughed.
Then cried.
I did not touch her.
Isabella did.
Eventually.
Their relationship had improved enough for that.
Teresa showed Isabella where Antonio’s office had been.
“He sat there?”
“Yes.”
“What was he like?”
Teresa considered.
“Too confident.”
I said:
“That seems genetic.”
Isabella smiled.
Then Teresa:
“Funny.”
I had rarely heard anyone call Antonio funny.
My memories were a child’s.
Large man.
Cigar smell.
Hands.
Being carried upstairs.
Funeral.
I asked:
“Did he love her?”
Teresa looked at Isabella.
“I think he would have.”
Careful.
Not:
He did.
He never knew.
Isabella nodded.
That distinction mattered.
Then Teresa apologized again.
Not generally.
Specific.
“I should have told you when you became an adult.”
“Yes,” Isabella said.
“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
“I also wanted to keep you mine.”
There.
Isabella cried.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“No.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Isabella took time.
Then:
“Some days.”
Best answer.
Forgiveness can fluctuate.
May you like
People remain family anyway.
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