Love & Gelato(12)

I slumped against the doorway. “You mean like a big leather one with lots of writing and photographs?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it’s like.” Her forehead scrunched up. “Is it something you’ve already looked at?”

I ignored her question. “I thought you were just going to give me one of her photographs or something.”

“I actually do have a photograph of hers, but it’s hanging on the wall in my guest bedroom and I don’t have any plans to part with it. It’s a close-up of the Wall of the Missing. Quite a beautiful shot. You should come see it sometime.”

Apparently the Wall of the Missing was a big deal around here. “Why do you have one of her journals?”

My voice came out kind of bad-cop-sounding, but she just bobbed her head. “She sent it to the cemetery back in September. There wasn’t a note, and the package wasn’t addressed to anyone, but when I opened it I recognized it right away. When she was living at the cemetery she carried that journal around everywhere.”

Living at the cemetery?

“Anyway, I thought about giving it to your dad, but your mom had always been kind of a taboo subject. Whenever I brought her up, he got . . .”

“What?”

She sighed. “It was hard on him when she moved out. Really hard. And even after all these years, I was nervous about bringing her up. Anyway, I stalled for a couple of days, and then your dad told me about the plan for you to come stay here. That’s when I realized why she’d sent the journal.”

She gave me a funny look and suddenly I realized that I’d been slowly gravitating toward her. We were only like five inches apart. Oops. I sprang back, and questions started flying out of my mouth.

“My mom lived at the cemetery? For how long?”

“Not very long. Maybe a month or so? It was right after your dad got the job. He’d just barely moved into this house.”

“So they were like, together together? It wasn’t like a one-night stand between friends or something?” That was Addie’s theory.

Sonia cringed. “Uh . . . no. I don’t think it was . . . that. They seemed very in love. Your dad adored her.”

“So then why did she leave? Was it because she was pregnant? Howard wasn’t ready to be a dad?”

“No. Howard would have been a great dad—I thought . . .” She put her hands up. “Wait a minute. Haven’t they talked to you about what happened? Your mom didn’t explain things?”

I dropped my head. “I don’t know anything. I didn’t even know Howard was my dad until after my mom died.” Great. Now I was going to cry. Losing my mom had turned me into a human faucet. The regular hot/cold kind.

“Oh, Lina. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I assumed they’d talked to you about what happened. To be honest, I don’t even really know what went wrong. It seemed like their relationship ended pretty suddenly, and then your dad never wanted to discuss it.”

“Did he ever talk about me? Before now?”

She shook her head, her long dangly earrings swinging back and forth. “No. I was pretty surprised when I heard about you coming to live here. But you really need to talk to Howard. I’m sure he’ll answer all of your questions. And maybe the journal will too.” She held the flower pot out to me. “I went into town early this morning and your dad asked me to pick these up for you. He said your room was missing flowers and that violets were your mother’s favorite.”

I took them from her and studied them suspiciously. The flowers were deep purple and had a subtle scent. I was ninety-nine percent sure my mom hadn’t had any special feelings for violets.

“Would you rather I keep the journal for a while? It sounds like it’s a lot to process. Maybe you should spend some time talking to your dad first.”

I shook my head. Slowly at first, and then more forcefully. “No, I want it.”

Technically a lie. I’d packed up the rest of her journals several months earlier when I’d finally given up on the idea that I’d ever be able to read them without falling apart. But I had to read this one. She’d sent it to me.

I blinked a couple of times, then put on my best I’m in control now smile for Sonia, who was looking at me with the expression of a hapless bystander trapped in a hallway by an emotionally unstable teenager. Which she was.

I cleared my throat. “It’ll be nice. I can read about what she did while she was in Italy.”

Her expression softened. “Yes, exactly. I’m sure that’s why she sent it. You’ll be experiencing Florence just like she did, and maybe it will be a nice connection.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

If I could make it past the first page without falling apart.

“Lina, it really is great having you here. And stop by anytime to see that photograph of your mother’s.” She walked to the top of the stairs and then looked back. “I meant to tell you, it’s best to water violets from the bottom. Just fill up a saucer and set the whole pot in there. That way you won’t overwater. They could probably use a drink right away.”

“Thanks, Sonia. And I’m, uh . . . sorry for all those questions.”

“I understand. And I really liked your mother. She was pretty special.”

“Yeah. She was.” I hesitated. “Would you mind not mentioning this conversation to Howard? I don’t want him to think I’m . . . uh . . . mad at him or something.” Or instigate any awkward conversations that aren’t strictly necessary.