Garden of Shadows
Chapter One
It was the 21st of May in 1972 when my family and I were in St. Peter's Basilica and I was in front of the Pieta. This piece of art is what gave me my inspiration to become an art historian and come to Italy. This piece of work, to me, is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but then there came a loud sound and then all of a sudden I pushed roughly to the side. I tried throwing my hands out to catch my fall but someone caught be before I hit the hard floor. The body that caught be engulfed my small frame when I looked up all I could focus on were green eyes. These eyes were so penetrating and alluring it felt like my soul was trying to reach out toward them. Then all too quickly I was up right and standing by myself, I didn't even tell him thank you. By the time my brain caught up to reality my parents were around me pulling me away from the crazed man who was now on the ground being restrained by multiple men. I could see that he damaged the Pieta and that the arm of the Madonna had been broken off and her face had been fractured. I began to cry. I don't know why I cried whether it was because that the Pieta was damaged or that my soul ached to see those eyes again.
My family wanted to leave but my father, being the cop that he is, wanted to stay and “help” aka be a nuisance, he was being questioned by a local cop well more like my father was doing the questioning. My mom was next to him translating since yes, my father is very bad at Italian. Then, here I was looking for those green eyes that had helped me. When I looked around all I saw were angry people trying to leave, random woman acting like they were the ones that had gotten attacked, and then people like myself just standing looking around aimlessly. I was ready to give up hope when I heard this deep voice and I glanced over to see this man with his back to me. I knew it was him. It was like he was calling to me. He was so tall but that's not saying much since I am five foot of nothing. He had to be at least six foot and his shoulders were so broad and his back was so stand, he looked out of place. Before I knew it I was right behind him and my hand was grabbed onto his shirt. When he turned around I suddenly forgot why I walked over. He was so handsome it was unnatural almost. I normally was not one to go for guys with longer hair but his hair was like dark chocolate and was lightly slicked back, though it couldn't have been longer than his shoulders.
“La posso aiutare?”
His voice made me jump and I quickly let go of him and looked to the floor feeling embarrassed for staring.
“Oh, I'm sorry my Italian is very bad. Do-do you speak English as well?” I asked. All he did was smile and nod so I continued “I'm sorry I was rude earlier. I had forgotten to thank you for saving me.”
“Ha, you're very welcome but I would hardly classify that as being “saved”” He said chuckling.
I could feel my face getting hot as I looked up at him suddenly feeling very small..
“You know you remind me of this girl from this old folk tale that is told back in my home town. Would you like to hear it?” He asked.
I looked over and saw my parents were still chatting away but to a different cop this time and my father was pointing violently at the doors and to the Pieta. So, I looked back at him and when I turned his eyes were looking straight at me making me feel under a spotlight. Like he could see right through me. I felt like all my secrets were visible for him to read like a book.
“Yes, please. I want to hear it.” I said not breaking eye contact with him.
My family wanted to leave but my father, being the cop that he is, wanted to stay and “help” aka be a nuisance, he was being questioned by a local cop well more like my father was doing the questioning. My mom was next to him translating since yes, my father is very bad at Italian. Then, here I was looking for those green eyes that had helped me. When I looked around all I saw were angry people trying to leave, random woman acting like they were the ones that had gotten attacked, and then people like myself just standing looking around aimlessly. I was ready to give up hope when I heard this deep voice and I glanced over to see this man with his back to me. I knew it was him. It was like he was calling to me. He was so tall but that's not saying much since I am five foot of nothing. He had to be at least six foot and his shoulders were so broad and his back was so stand, he looked out of place. Before I knew it I was right behind him and my hand was grabbed onto his shirt. When he turned around I suddenly forgot why I walked over. He was so handsome it was unnatural almost. I normally was not one to go for guys with longer hair but his hair was like dark chocolate and was lightly slicked back, though it couldn't have been longer than his shoulders.
“La posso aiutare?”
His voice made me jump and I quickly let go of him and looked to the floor feeling embarrassed for staring.
“Oh, I'm sorry my Italian is very bad. Do-do you speak English as well?” I asked. All he did was smile and nod so I continued “I'm sorry I was rude earlier. I had forgotten to thank you for saving me.”
“Ha, you're very welcome but I would hardly classify that as being “saved”” He said chuckling.
I could feel my face getting hot as I looked up at him suddenly feeling very small..
“You know you remind me of this girl from this old folk tale that is told back in my home town. Would you like to hear it?” He asked.
I looked over and saw my parents were still chatting away but to a different cop this time and my father was pointing violently at the doors and to the Pieta. So, I looked back at him and when I turned his eyes were looking straight at me making me feel under a spotlight. Like he could see right through me. I felt like all my secrets were visible for him to read like a book.
“Yes, please. I want to hear it.” I said not breaking eye contact with him.