A Facade to Shatter(5)

How many times had she let her heart open? How many times had she had the door slammed in her face? When was she going to learn to guard herself better?

Shame and anger coiled together inside her belly. Why couldn’t she be decisive? Brave? Why did she care how they treated her?

Why couldn’t she just tell them all to go to hell the way her mother would have done?

Grace Hart had been beautiful, perfect, a gorgeous movie star who’d been swept off her feet by Benito Corretti. She’d had no problem handling the Correttis, until she’d accidentally driven her car off a cliff and left Benito a lonely widower with a baby. Soon after that, Benito had sent Lia to live with Salvatore and Teresa.

She knew why he’d done it. Because she wasn’t beautiful and perfect like her mother. Because she was shy and awkward and lacking in the most basic graces. She’d grown up on the periphery, watching her cousins and half-siblings from a distance. Wanting her father’s love but getting only cool silence.

No, she wasn’t beautiful and perfect, and she wasn’t decisive. She hated crowds, and she hated pretending she fit in when everyone knew she didn’t. She was a failure.

She wanted to go home, back to her small cottage at Salvatore and Teresa’s country estate, back to her books and her garden. She loved getting her fingers in the dirt, loved creating something beautiful from nothing more than soil and water and seeds. It gave her hope somehow that she wasn’t as inconsequential as she always felt.

Useless. Fat and mousy and weak.

Lia turned and fled through the same door Rosa had stormed out of. This was it. The final straw in her long, tortured life as a Corretti. She was finished pretending to fit in.

She meant to go to her room, but instead she marched out through the courtyard and found herself standing in front of the swimming pool.

There was no one in it tonight. The hotel had been overrun with wedding guests, and they were all at the reception. The air was hot, and the blue water was so clear, the pool lit from below with soft lights. For a moment Lia thought of jumping in with her dress on. It would ruin the stupid thing, but she hardly cared.

She stood there for a long time, hot feelings swelling within her. She wanted to be decisive. Brave. She wanted to make her own decisions, and she didn’t want to let anyone make her feel inferior or unneeded ever again.

She took a step closer to the edge of the pool, staring down into the depths of the water. It would ruin her dress, her shoes, her hair.

So what?

For the first time in a long time, she was going to do what she wanted. She was going to step into the pool and ruin her dress, and she damn well didn’t care. She was going to wash away the pain of the day and emerge clean. A new, determined Lia.

Before she could change her mind, she kicked off her shoes and stepped over the edge, letting the water take her down. It closed over her head so peacefully, shutting out all the sounds from above. Shutting out the pain and anger, the humiliation of this day.

She didn’t fight it, didn’t kick or struggle. She was a strong swimmer, and she wasn’t afraid. She just let the water take her down to the bottom, where everything was still. She’d only sit here a moment, and then she’d kick to the top again.

Above her, she heard some kind of noise. And then the water rippled as someone leaped into the pool with her. It annoyed her. She wasn’t finished being quiet and still.

Guests from the reception, no doubt. Drunk and looking for a good time.

Lia started to kick upward again, her solace interrupted now. She would get out of the pool and drag her sodden body back to her room. But her dress was heavier than she’d thought, twisting around her legs and pulling her back down again.

She kicked harder, but got nowhere. And then she realized with a sinking feeling that the suction of the drain had trapped part of her skirt. Panic bloomed inside her as she kicked harder.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She couldn’t cry for help, couldn’t do anything but try to rip herself out of the pink mess.

The dress didn’t want to come off. Her lungs ached. Any minute and they would burst.

She kicked harder—but she was caught by her own folly.

No, by Carmela’s folly, she thought numbly. Carmela’s folly of a dress. Wouldn’t everyone laugh when they discovered her bloated body in the pool tomorrow?

Poor, pitiful, stupid Lia. She’d been decisive, all right. She’d made a decision that was going to kill her. She wondered if her mother had thought the same thing in those seconds when her car had hung suspended over the cliffs before plunging onto the rocks below… .