Page 99 of Just for a Taste

Then, after one final squeeze, he released me.

“Will you take the finches with you?” Zeno asked, eyes flickering over to where the cages resided. “They don’t deserve to be here either.”

“Yes. I’ll take good care of them.”

“Nobody else could do it better.”

Lying back down, he grasped the key tightly again and let out a long breath—the strange, final breath of a dying beast. It was hollow compared to the sharp whistle of a gale just beyond the window. He turned his back away from it and hugged his arms to his chest like a scared child.

“My God,” he said to the wind. “I’m terrified.”

That was the end of our conversation, I knew. That was all there was to say.

And yet, just as I was about to leave the room for the last time, Zeno spoke with the most pain, fear, and love I had ever heard in a man’s voice.

“Please . . . just know I’ll love you forever. Remember that my bones will love you.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, etching his face into my mind, searing his eyes into me. “I love you too,” I whispered. “I always will.”

Finally, I realized there were tears in his eyes as well, glinting like the key in his hand. A man mourning himself.

“Can you open the window before you go?” he asked with a genuine smile. “I want to see the stars tonight.”

Epilogue: Non temer, amato bene

Doctor Cora Bowling expected the Abbazia di Santa Dymphna to look the same as when she had inherited it so many years ago. The idea that, like her, the abbey would age, had somehow never struck her.

Even before she reached the apex of the hill, the discrepancy between her expectations and the reality of the abbey was undeniable. The olive trees, so ancient and gnarled she had thought it impossible for them to grow any larger, had done just that. Serpentine roots had unfurled through the maze of tiles, now cracked and overgrown with encroaching wild grasses. The statues and architecture had been overtaken by vines and moss and ivy. More so than even in Puglia, the air had a distinct, dusty odor to it, and the sisters got the sense that the main building itself had remained untouched by the elements by the same magic that had allowed it to survive the earthquake so many decades ago.

Not that it was in prime condition, of course. Dead branches and small animals alike had found ways to nestle in its dusty crevices, some of the facades had smoothed with time, and even a few nonessential bricks had toppled out of place. All in all, however, the skeleton of the looming building was an unchanged artifact.

A gust of icy wind sent a wave of freshly fallen leaves spiraling toward them, and as if to beckon them from afar, the rusted main gate to the abbey creaked open noisily.

With her long dress billowing around her, Opaline pulled her tan cardigan more tightly across her slender frame, trapping several russet locks of hair. Already in front of her sister, Opaline’s pace quickened even more, as she felt strangely compelled by the imagined gesture.

“Slow down, Peachy!” Cora yelled. “I’m not in as good of shape as I used to be.”

Opaline slowed her speed and tried not to turn and look back at her sister. Cora hadn’t cried very many times in front of Opaline since they started speaking again, but the mere mention of this place always seemed to make her eyes glaze over. Opaline knew the ragged breaths of her sister behind her were not because of physical strain, but she wanted to grant Cora the excuse.

Opaline couldn’t help but wonder at the significance of the items her sister was carrying. Such disparate things could only have one unifying factor: a person she knew little about. Cora had told her so much about the abbey itself, about its gorgeous architecture, its curious history, and the hill beside the graveyard, but only in the sense of the historian she had come to be. The nameZenohad slipped out of Cora’s mouth by accident once or twice, and an immediate change in topic always followed. But these objects, so light they had to be carried in a box for fear of being blown away by the slightest gust, were some of the heaviest things the doctor had ever held.

The two finally reached the entrance, and only once tucked into its mouth did Cora realize the abbey would be locked. She juggled the box from arm to arm to dig into her pockets, cursing to herself all the while at the clumsiness of the movements. In most circumstances, Opaline would have waited for her sister to remember that it was she who had the key and take full advantage of the opportunity to tease Cora back for once. Today, though, she opted to pull the freshly copied skeleton key out from her pocket and show it to her sister before unlocking the door herself.

The key fought with Opaline, and it took a few deft movements to maneuver the old lock into submission. After a softclick,the door opened on its own accord, far too quickly.

The hallway, which utterly engulfed any shred of daylight, illuminated itself. Row by row, the sconces flickered on, casting the vacant room with a low, amberish hue. With chills running down her spine, Opaline glanced back at her sister, half expecting her to be terrified, half expecting her to mutter some excuse about how the building’s foundation must have shifted. What Coraactuallydid was entirely outside of Opaline’s imagination.

She brightened, even laughed as if seeing an old friend, and stepped inside slowly.

“Sorry, Peachy,” Cora said over her shoulder. “I forgot to warn you that this place has a tendency to show you ghosts.”

The younger sister quickly vanished further into the hallway, hugging the box tighter than before. Opaline peered back outside at the bright, sunny Sicilian landscape, and then back into the belly of the beast. Opaline could not deny the abbey was beautiful, despite the decrepit state of its exterior. It was as though the baroque room had been factory sealed centuries ago, with ornate marble flooring and a celestial fresco of a cloudy day overhead, joined by sinuous columns that also acted as frames for the murals painted across the walls.

Red, velvet curtains marked every open entrance. Portraits and sculpted busts alike stared at her expectantly, so lifelike it seemed like they would scold her for leaving the door open. Opaline wanted to say something to Cora, but instead she sucked in her breath and kept her eyes to the ground. She didn’t know why her sister had brought her along, and she didn’t know what was the right or wrong thing to say.

Silence, Ma had always told her, was a lot easier to apologize for than misplaced words.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Cora said in front of her. “I don’t think a more beautiful place exists in this world, and I’ve looked for a long time, Peachy.”

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