Buried Alive, I Left the Don My Blood-Written Truth Chapter 10
Wildgoose Pass. White Rock Fort. Cold Sand Ridge. I had been terrified he would die in the border fights, so I stitched the names of every place he had been into the lining of my wedding dress. Every crooked stitch was a prayer. Then I went to church and prayed for him to come home alive. Adrian looked at the uneven stitches. The torn edge of the fabric cut his fingertip. Ava said, “Elena also treated the wounded men brought back from the border outposts.”
“She sold the jewels her mother left her to buy medicine.”
“She said that while you guarded the border outposts, she would guard the people you wanted to protect.”
Adrian swallowed hard.
“She never told me.”
Ava’s voice was cold.
“She did.”
“At the time, you said she wasted her days on compound affairs and knew nothing about the battlefield.”
Adrian went white. I remembered that time. I had wanted to tell him that the wounded men outside the city had no medicine. He was strapping on his body armor before leaving. He only gave me a faint glance.
“Elena, just manage the internal affairs of the family.”
At the time, I was holding Lily. I smiled and nodded.
“All right.”
Pain could pile up so quietly that one day, even tears forgot how to come. Adrian opened Lily’s little chest. Inside was a wooden horse. Its belly was loose. Ava gently took it apart, and a wrinkled piece of paper fell out. On it, Lily had drawn three people. The tallest one was Daddy. Beside him was Mommy. In the middle was herself, holding both our hands. On the back was my handwriting.
“When you come home, Lily wants you to teach her to ride a horse.”
Adrian sat down on the floor with the wooden horse in his hands. After a long silence, he whispered, “I’m home.” No one answered. He said it again. “Elena. Lily. I’m home.” Only the silver bell rang once in the courtyard. The verdict came quickly. Faster than mercy ever had. Margaret was sentenced to death for murdering a child, poisoning the adopted son under Elena’s name, and forging the Don’s order. Vivian was sent to a maximum-security women’s prison with no chance of parole. Mara was sent to death row. The maids involved were either sentenced in court or quietly dealt with by the Family.
People in the neighborhood murmured that justice had finally been done. Adrian did not attend any of the executions. He moved Lily and me to Hudson Hill Cemetery. On the day of the burial, he carried my coffin himself. Then he carried Lily’s small coffin himself. An elder from the Family Council asked, “Should the headstone read Donna Elena?” Adrian shook his head.
“Engrave it with: my wife, Elena. My daughter, Lily.”
The elder sighed.
“She was wronged and cleared. Giving her the title Donna is only proper.”
Adrian looked at the headstone.
“What she wanted wasn’t a title.”
“She wanted me to believe her.”
That night, he sat before the grave and sewed my wedding dress. The needle stabbed into his finger. He
seemed not to feel it. Ava stood beside him.
“Don Moretti, why are you sewing that?”
Adrian said softly, “When she married me, this dress was still whole.” Ava said, “And if you sew it back
together, what then?”
“She isn’t coming back.”
Adrian’s hand paused.
“I know.”
Ava looked at him.
“You don’t.”
“If you truly knew, you wouldn’t be sewing and hoping she would see it and forgive you.”
Adrian’s eyes reddened. He didn’t argue. Stitch by stitch, he pieced the shredded wedding dress back
together.
“Elena, I used to complain that your stitches were crooked.”
“Now I know how much it hurts when the needle goes into your hand.”
I stood beneath the plum tree. Lily’s little soul had not appeared yet. I looked at Adrian’s blood-covered hands and at that wedding dress repaired too late. There was no satisfaction in my heart. No forgiveness either Only a hollow place where grief had burned everything clean. Adrian lifted his head, as if he had sensed
something.
“Elena, is that you?”
I did not go near him. The wind moved through the silver bell. The sound was very light. He knelt before the
grave and asked in a low voice, “Are you refusing to see me?”
“Mommy, why are you here too?”
Lily sat beside the well, hugging her knees as she asked me. She was still three years old. Her hair was wet
and stuck to her face. Her little feet were bare. The red cord was still tied around her ankle. I crouched down
to hold her. This time, my hands did not pass through. Lily melted into my arms, just like she used to after
waking up and wanting to be held.
“Mommy, did Grandma punish you again?”
Ghosts have no tears. But the empty space in my chest felt as if a knife had been shoved back inside.
“No. Mommy came to pick Lily up.”
Lily looked at the well and shrank into my arms.
“I heard Daddy calling me. But I was too scared to go out.”
“Grandma said girls don’t deserve to enter the Moretti family.”
I stroked her head.
“Lily isn’t the one who doesn’t deserve it. They don’t deserve you.”
Lily lifted her face. Her eyes were bright.
“Mommy, did I do something wrong? I didn’t steal Grandma’s pastries. I didn’t bother Connor while he was reading. Why did Grandma push me into the water?”
I couldn’t speak. I could only kiss her forehead again and again.
“It wasn’t Lily’s fault. Lily was good. They were bad.”
Outside the well, Adrian knelt all night. He could not see us. He only heard the silver bell ring again and again. He spoke into the mouth of the well.
“Lily, Daddy was wrong. Daddy didn’t come for you. If you can hear me, shake the bell once, all right?”
