Page 50 of In the Garden of Monsters

I sighed, gathering the fragments of my earliest memories. “The first thing I remember is walking out of the Pantheon, a couple of years past, just after the war ended. I had nothing but the clothes on my back, a purse filled with lire—an amount equivalent to $2,000—and a letter of acceptance for a full-ride scholarship to theaccademia.” The words came out in a rush. I had never told anyone the truth before. “The first person I spoke to was an American woman. She noticed my confusion and asked if I was lost. It was her kindness that led me to the school, where an administrator welcomed me and helped me get settled, and arranged for a doctor to treat my amnesia.”

Lillian listened intently. “Damn. It’s almost like you just popped into existence. I know, that’s out-there, but wow, what a story.”

A chill ran down my spine. I had always felt exactly like that, as though I had literally appeared in the world. But she was right—that was too out-there.

“Wait, how did you get the scholarship?” she asked.

“An anonymous benefactor. The school couldn’t tell me anything. I don’t think they even knew.” A strange sense of relief surged through me at sharing this with her. “None of it has ever made sense. It’s like I’m a character from a story, stepping into a world that was somehow prepared for me, yet completely foreign.”

Lillian’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and understanding. “I have always admired your confidence, Jules. You seemed so...self-assured, so worldly. But there have been moments when little things didn’t quite add up.”

“Like what?”

“Well, your knowledge of art and history for one. It’s as if you have memorized hundreds of books. And you often have a faraway look in your eyes, as if you were searching for something lost.”

“I’ve always felt out of place, Lillian. Like a puzzle piece trying to fit into the wrong picture.”

She smiled then, a big happy grin that brightened her eyes. “Do you remember how we met? I mean, the very first time?”

“We met at a gallery opening sponsored by theaccademia. But tell me what you remember.” I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t sure if I should trust my memory; everything had become so convoluted and I wasn’t sure what to believe.

“I saw that tree and I knew I had to meet you. I asked around and a curator at the show pointed you out to me. You were staring at someone else’s painting, some weird, surreal thing I couldn’t get into. You seemed so captivated, yet so lost. I remember thinking you were like a character from one of those paintings—enigmatic, mysterious. I told you how much I loved your painting, and after we talked for a few minutes, you said you wanted me to have it. I tried to refuse but you were adamant.”

“And that’s when I asked if you knew anyone who was looking for a roommate?”

Lillian bobbed her head in affirmation. “That’s right. It’s so strange you don’t remember that. But that’s okay. We’ll figure this all out.” She patted me on the shoulder. “So now you are caught up with our history at least. But really, Jules, you should have told me about your memory.”

“I was too embarrassed.” While I was glad she knew the truth, the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to mention was that I’d slept with Jack. If I told her about that, I’d inevitably tell her about the dreams, about the woman who came to me, and the deep underlying desire I had for Ignazio. I could barely articulate those feelings to myself, much less to someone else, even someone as dear to me as Lillian. “It soundspazzo.”

“Well, it’s definitely some bad business,” Lillian said, shaking her head. “Tell me, you don’t really think that you are somehow connected to Persephone—I mean, Proserpina?”

“I don’t want to believe it, but with the warnings from the ghosts, and from Orpheus...I don’t want to eat another pomegranate seed and find out. Why chance it? I don’t want to be the next Julia buried in the garden.”

“Well, even if the whole thing seems rather far-fetched, don’t you worry. I’ve got your back, Jules. I’ll eat all the pomegranates so you can’t.”

I hugged her, grateful again beyond measure. “So, you believe me?”

She chuckled. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t disbelieve you. But there is a lot to get to the bottom of in all this weirdness. Besides, this is better than a Nancy Drew mystery!”

I probably should have expected such a reaction from my friend. She was always up for a challenge.

“There’s more,” I said, feeling energized by her excitement. “Come, let me show you.”

When we reached the library, I was pleased to find Paolo lounging on one of the couches. Lillian blushed when he stood to greet her with kisses upon both cheeks. It hadn’t hit me before that moment, but he was exactly Lillian’s type.

But we didn’t have time for flirting. Anyone could appear at the library door at any moment, and I was determined to show them my find before that happened.

“Ooo,”Lillian said as I led them around the library and pointed out the thin golden arrows. She reached out a hand to touch the final arrow in the corner, and again, the hidden door slid back with a whoosh. “Holy moly,” she exclaimed as Paolo simultaneously let loose a“Madonna.”

I shushed them, and we looked down the stairs into the blackness.

“We need a flashlight before we can go down there,” Lillian said.

“I have a couple of torches in my camera bags,” Paolo offered. I smiled, amused by his use of the British word forflashlight.

“Let’s check it out tonight after everyone has gone to sleep.” Lillian was giddy, like a child excited about going to a birthday party. “Maybe there are secret chambers down there full of fascinating things.”

After the episode in the cellar, I was more than a little anxious about exploring this place, but the idea that perhaps I may learn more about the green glow in theboschettobolstered me. I touched the arrow, and we watched the door close before joining the others for dinner.

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