Thomas cleared his throat and continued, “Lo and behold, the good doctor remembered your parents because he had been instrumental in obtaining your mother’s release from the Island.
“It seems the doctor had friends visiting from Illinois, a young Italian couple, who took an interest in the plight of your parents and agreed to stand in for Geni’s relatives. The man who signed for your mother was Cesare Unti, but unfortunately he moved from Chicago years ago and died some five years back.”
Jared sank back in his chair, looking tense and exhausted. He raked his fingers through his hair and looked from Mr. Thomas to Grace and back. “But your letter said you found...”
“Yes, yes, let me continue. Mr. Unti is deceased, but his wife, a godly woman of seventy-five now, is still alive. I found her in a deplorable place.” Thomas grimaced. “In a county nursing home in Alabama, one pathetically overcrowded with many dependent and ill people.
“Mrs. Unti, Lena, was overjoyed to meet with me, for she’d been waiting thirty-five years to fulfill a promise she made to a friend as dear to her as her own sister.”
Mr. Thomas’ smile faded as he placed a beautifully carved wooden box on his desk and looked apprehensively at his client’s somber visage. “I’m afraid the tale grows a bit more grim now, Mr. de Warre.”
Grace glanced at her husband, who reached for her hand and wound his fingers through hers. She patted his hand and gave Mr. Thomas a valiant smile. “We’re ready, sir,” she said.
How she loved this man beside her! How she wished with all her heart this tale would not bring him more pain than he’d already had to bear.
Thomas took a deep breath and raised the lid to the box. He took an aged and crackled picture out and handed it to Jared, who took it in a steady hand. Grace bent over the photograph to see a happy couple in the typical marriage pose of the time, a handsome man seated in a straight-backed chair, his hands resting on his knees, looking incredibly like her husband.
She squeezed Jared’s hand.
Standing beside the man and slightly behind him with her hand on his shoulder was the beautiful woman Jared knew to be his mother. She wore a simple white gown, with a lace veil covering her fair hair and flowing down her back. She held a floral bouquet in one hand.
“They were married,” Jared whispered and Grace realized when she saw his expression of quiet gladness that all these years he had feared his parents had never married, that he was illegitimate. Now she knew the root of most of the brutality he’d faced at such a tender age, cruelty that he’d revealed to her in bits and pieces over the last two years.
“Mrs. Unti filled in all the gaps to the story. The two couples were friends, living across the hall from each other in an apartment building in Chicago. Your father worked as a laborer while he studied at night to become an accountant. Your parents were overjoyed when you were born.”
Mr. Thomas paused here. He took a deep breath. “Your father died from an accident on the job when you were two years old. Lena told me your mother was devastated but determined to make a life for you. Unfortunately, what little money they had was quickly spent, and your mother had never learned enough English to secure a good paying job.
“Within a year, she was destitute and talked to Lena for the first time about going back to her family. Lena only knew that they were Italian and wealthy, and that your mother feared she disappointed them so badly they wouldn’t welcome her back. You see, she’d taken a family heirloom with her when she fled.” Mr. Thomas reached into the box, removed a few papers, and withdrew a ruby-and-diamond necklace, a match to the earrings that made up the lost set.
“Why didn’t my mother sell this to save herself?” Jared asked as he took the valuable gems in his hands.
“Perhaps because, after she took it, she thought it wasn’t hers to sell,” Grace said softly.
“Perhaps,” Jared said, as he rose and walked to the window. After a while he asked, “Mrs. Unti. You say she is old and ill and not well taken care of?”
“Yes,” Mr. Thomas replied.
“She could have sold this necklace many times over in the last thirty-five years to help herself. We will have to see to her needs, Grace.” He gazed out the window again. “Continue, Mr. Thomas.”
“Yes, well, Mrs. Unti said a great epidemic hit the area. A killing influenza ran rampant, and she and her husband left Chicago to care for ailing relatives. When they returned two weeks later,” Mr. Thomas paused to clear his throat again, “they found your mother delirious with fever. You were nowhere to be found, and your mother never regained consciousness. She died within hours after Lena returned and found her. She was never able to tell Lena where she had taken you.”
Mr. Thomas looked extremely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such troubling news. Perhaps you would like a few moments to yourself?”
“No...no, I want to know the rest,” Jared said.
Thomas continued, “As I said, Lena didn’t know what Geni had done with you, so she opened the two letters in the box she found lying on the bed next to her friend and read them, hoping to glean some information. One letter is to your grandparents, telling them what had transpired to date. She begs their forgiveness for taking the necklace and tells them she must sell it now to save her son. She writes that she will come to them soon, as she is not well enough to travel but soon will be. As you can see the letter was never mailed and there wasn’t an address on the envelope for Lena to send it.”
Jared held up a hand for Mr. Thomas to pause in his story and turned back to the window.
Grace saw him swallow several times.
Mr. Thomas busied himself by taking a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and polishing his wire-rimmed glasses.
Finally, Jared clasped his hands behind his back and asked in a steady voice, “Do you know where Lena and her husband buried my mother?”
Mr. Thomas responded gently, “Beside your father in a tiny cemetery on a farm outside Chicago, owned by a relative of the Untis.” He reached into the box. “This second letter is to you from your mother, Mr. de Warre.” He handed the letter to Grace and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Grace joined her husband at the window, winding her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart in her ear. Pulling back to smile up at him, she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his, then handed him the letter.
She turned to leave, but he caught her hand and said, “No, stay, please.”
Jared turned the envelope over in his hands a few times and ran his fingers over the browned paper reverently, and then with an intake of breath he opened it and looked the letter over quickly. He handed the paper to Grace and pulled her into his arms, pressing his cheek against her temple.
“Read it to me, Grace.”
Grace looked down at the letter he had pressed into her hand. The shaky writing was no doubt penned when his mother finally realized she would not survive her illness. Grace translated the Italian script.
My Beloved Son,
I fear the worst has come to pass and I must leave your care to others for a while. I pray you will fare well. You have your father’s courage and intelligence, little one, and our love to see you through any hardship, for you see, we will both be by your side forever.
Be secure in our love, my beautiful boy.
Mama
Jared squeezed his wife tightly against his chest. Warmth swirled around them, protective and loving, dispelling the chill in the room.
The babe in Grace’s womb kicked hard at Jared’s fingers splayed over his wife’s swollen belly. “I think it’s a girl, Grace. I can feel it.”
“Yes, Geni Angelica, I believe,” she said, as she settled into the cradle of her husband’s strong arms.
Annalisa Russo is a Midwest girl who grew up in a first-generation Italian family. Along with a passion for reading and writing, Annalisa enjoys traveling, gardening, and cooking for company. The mother of three adult children, she now shares her house with a narcissistic tabby named Buster.
She loves hearing from readers, so check out her website at:
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