Tuesday, February 12, 1867
Evidence of spring, the sky was saturated with a blue so deep it could be the Madonna’s cloak. A scouring wind blew Serafina’s cape. Ancient trees bent against its force, but as they rolled and bounced inland, the air grew softer. Their world filled with spring blossoms and Serafina smelled the heavy scent of almond, the tang of citrus.
Carlo drove. She closed her eyes and felt sand underneath her lids. She shouldn’t have indulged her sorrow last night, weeping for hours in her room. She was a fool without conviction. What would her mother have done? Gone to him, of course. Or maybe not. But she’d be quick to give her daughter advice. Serafina could hear her saying something about time to get on with life.
It took hours of searching before they found Ugo’s missing boot. Nearby she saw churning footprints in the soft earth, a red button, nothing more.
“Take the boot?” Carlo asked.
“And the button. I’ve had enough searching for today. I know a little clearing not far from here, a good spot to rest. Bring the food.”