Rachel swallowed with difficulty. “I lived so much of my life in Juliet’s shadow...and then once she was gone, I still lived in her shadow.” Her head lifted and she looked at Gio. “Being a single mom was not my plan. It was really important to me that I could be self-sufficient and financially independent before I married and had children. Instead, look at me. I show up, begging on your doorstep.”
“You weren’t begging. You were fierce and very defiant.”
She wished she could smile but couldn’t. “I can’t forgive myself for being angry with Juliet, and I can’t forgive myself for resenting my orphaned nephew, and I can’t forgive myself for not being a better sister to Juliet when she needed more of me, not less.”
“Which is why you need to forgive yourself. If you can’t forgive yourself for being real and human, you’ll never be happy.”
“I don’t deserve to be happy—”
“Of course you do. And I don’t know why you feel inadequate, or if you were made to feel inferior as a child, but it’s a lie, and a travesty. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, a passionate loyal woman, and that is rarer and more valuable than the emeralds on your ears.”
* * *
The gondola ride was quiet on the return home. Gio said no more than two words during the trip and despite the warmth of her cape, Rachel felt chilled to the core, regretting what she’d told him, wishing she hadn’t revealed so much.
Gio took her hand, assisted her from the gondola onto the embankment fronting the palazzo, but didn’t let it go, as he walked her inside. As the door shut behind them, he turned her to face him. “Your sister died tragically, and unexpectedly, but you are not to blame for that.”
She pushed the hood back on her cape. “She was suffering from postpartum depression—”
“I understand you are grieving for her, but you were not responsible for her—”
“But I was—”
“No, and that’s the lie. I don’t presume to understand all your family dynamics, but you were not put on earth to be your sister’s caregiver. You’re here to be you, and live your life, and find happiness in your life.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But I do know that I can’t fail Michael.”
For a moment there was just silence, and then Giovanni untied the silk cords on her cape. “You mean, we,” he corrected. “We can’t fail him, and we have to do better.”
He held out his hand to her. “Why don’t we go up and check on him together?”
* * *
Reaching the third floor they discovered Michael was asleep in his crib, and Mrs. Fabbro resting in a chair not far away, her hands folded across her middle, her steel-gray head tipped back, eyes closed.
The elderly woman opened her eyes when they approached. Gio spoke quietly to her, and Mrs. Fabbro answered, then with a brief nod and briefer smile in Rachel’s direction, she left.
“It was a good night,” Gio said to Rachel. “No problems. No fussing. She said he’s settling in well here, but thinks we need to think about giving him a proper room.”
“I feel badly that we were out so late. Mrs. Fabbro is not a young woman.”
“Mrs. Fabbro is delighted to be needed. She would take Michael home and keep him all to herself if she could.”
“But I hated seeing her sleeping in a chair.”
“If she’d wanted to, she could have slept on the bed. She used to do that with us when we were small and had nightmares.”
“Your mother didn’t come to you?” she whispered, leaning over the crib to check on Michael.
The baby was fast asleep, his round cheeks rosy. She smiled down at him, thinking he looked like an angel.
Gio reached into the crib and lightly stroked a wisp of Michael’s black hair. “If my mother was home, yes. But sometimes she’d travel with my father.”
Rachel felt a pang as she saw how gently Giovanni touched their nephew. From the beginning he’d been comfortable holding Michael, and she wondered if he’d had a lot of experience with children, or if he was just a natural. Either way, it was reassuring to see.
Giovanni sighed. “Speaking of Madre, I need to tell you something.”
“Is she on her way back home?” she whispered.