An Italian Girl in Brooklyn by Santa Montefiore

Author:Santa Montefiore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2022-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

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As they made their way through the crowd, the skies over Coney Island darkened and the twinkling lights of the fairground shone brightly, promising a golden future to the gilded youth of America. Evelina thought nothing more of Mystic Marica and her strange predictions. Instead, she bathed in those dazzling lights, in the music and the street entertainers, and let Mike take her hand.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

There was undoubtedly chemistry between Evelina and Mike. Evelina could not deny it, although she rather wished there wasn’t. She felt guilty for looking at another man, as if she was betraying Ezra with every lustful glance. But Ezra wasn’t ever coming back. Evelina needed to live her life, not shrink from it. She couldn’t reach Ezra where he was and there was no point in wishing she could. Those kinds of wishes were beyond the abilities of even the most gifted fairy godmother. Ezra would want her to be happy. And with Mike, Evelina was happy. He made her laugh. He was interesting to talk to. He was attractive, confident and kind – and he wasn’t Italian, which was crucial. She didn’t know whether she’d ever love him. Whether she was even capable of feeling that depth of emotion again. But she knew for sure that she could never love him in the way she loved Ezra. Ezra would always occupy the greater part of her heart. It simply couldn’t be otherwise. Ezra had occupied it for so long and now, in death, he would remain eternally there, like a beautiful fossil that would never deteriorate or lose its form. He would be for ever young and handsome. He would be for ever hers.

That summer Evelina and Alba regularly went out with Antonio and Mike as a foursome. They went to the movies, to the baseball, to Coney Island and to dances. Evelina’s command of the English language was improving with every lesson, but she learned the most with Mike, Alba and Antonio. She wrote regular letters to her parents and to Benedetta, and was thrilled when she heard the news that Benedetta had given birth to a baby girl, who they’d named Pasquala.

Evelina did not miss home, at least, she didn’t allow herself that indulgence. Home was no longer Villa L’Ambrosiana and her family, but Ezra and Fioruccia, Matteo, Olga and Ercole too. They were intertwined, tragedy and joy, like two sides of the same coin, and she couldn’t think of one without thinking of the other. It was better not to think of either, for each thought was laced with sorrow. Better to leave them all in the past and let the dust settle over them, blanketing both the pleasure and the pain.

Evelina gave herself to the present moment and to her future. Her life would be in America now. She had no intention of ever going back to Vercellino. As she settled into a comfortable routine of helping Aunt Madolina with her charities, going out with Mike, Alba and Antonio, she slowly began to shed a skin, and it felt good.

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