Nodding, Vittoria spread out a blanket and sat on it Little Angelina toddled over to see what was going on. She climbed on to her grandmother’s lap. “You want to hear the story, too, bambina?”
Angelina pushed her sunbonnet back from her eyes and nodded eagerly. “Please,” she said.
Before Vittoria knew it, her other grandson, Rick, and two of his school friends were seated on the blanket, too.
“Many years ago in Italy, my famiglia, the Perrones, lived in a small village. When I was a young girl, it was a bad time. War ravaged the countryside, but my village in Tuscany fortunately seemed to be safe. Until an airplane crashed not far from our home.”
“It was Grandpa’s plane. A B-24,” Rafe announced. “He was a nose gunner.”
Vittoria nodded. “Yes. It was an American plane. It had been hit and the pilot was trying to make it back to his base over the border, but was forced to crash-land in a field not far from our farmhouse. The next day, I found Army Sergeant Enrico Covelli hiding in our barn. He was wounded in the leg and had lost a lot of blood.”
Vittoria remembered it as if it were yesterday. His face was bruised from the rough landing and he was grimacing from the pain of his wounds. He’d still been the handsomest man she’d ever seen. He was also the enemy. But she was afraid he might die, and she couldn’t let that happen in her barn—or a prison camp.
“And you saved him.”
Immersed in the memory now, Vittoria hardly heard her grandson’s voice urge her on. “I knew I should turn him in, but I ended up caring for his wounds and sneaking out to stay with him while he fought his fever. Then after a few days, he began to get his strength back. He was American, but he spoke to me in Italiano. I was shocked when he told me his name was Enrico Covelli. His parents had come from Rome. I could not turn him over to the soldiers.”
“No, Nonna,” Rafe said, shaking his head, “you had to hide him.”
Vittoria looked around at the other three boys as they nodded in agreement.
“But I was afraid he’d be discovered.” And Vittoria had known that she was also falling in love with the American. Then came the night Enrico confessed his love for her. He didn’t want to leave her, but he had to find his way back to the Allied lines. They’d both be in danger if he was caught.
She continued the story. “I’d heard about the underground—a group who helped get people to safety. The next night, before Nonno Enrico left, he promised that he would return after the war. He said he wanted to marry me and take me to America. I told him I loved him, too. Then he kissed me goodbye and disappeared into the night.”
Rafe stood and leaned toward his grandmother. “Can I show them the box?” he whispered.
Vittoria nodded and Rafe hurried into the house. Within minutes he returned with a beautiful hand-carved jewelry box. He handed it to his grandmother and she opened the ornate brass clasp. She reached inside and took out the medal.
Rafe held it up. “My grandpa got a Purple Heart for being shot.” There were oohs and ahhs from the boys as the medal was passed around.
“For months I never knew if Enrico ever made it to safety. Another year passed, and then the war ended.” Tears filled her eyes at the memory. “I thought he must have died, because he’d promised never to forget about me.
“But he didn’t die,” Rafe said encouragingly.
Vittoria took her grandson’s hand. “No, but I had no word from him. I still waited. By then my padre had arranged for me to marry Giovanni Valente.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t want to marry him.”
“No, Rafe, I didn’t love Giovanni as I loved Enrico. But my famiglia urged me to marry him because of his wealth. Even during the war, the Valentes managed to hold on to their vineyards. We had nothing left of value except the set of ruby rings that was to go to the firstborn daughter when she married. That was me. And my padre already had given the rings to Giovanni.”
It still saddened her to remember it all. She had used the yards of white silk from Enrico’s discarded parachute for her wedding gown. At least she’d have something of her true love with her.
“But Grandpa came back to rescue you.”
Vittoria smiled. So many times she had told this story to her children and now her grandchildren. “Si, he returned the week of my wedding.”
She recalled the day clearly. She had nearly fainted when Enrico came for her. He took her into his arms and kissed her until she realized she wasn’t dreaming. He’d come back, just as he’d promised.
“Your nonno asked to many me, but my padre insisted that I was already promised to another. That didn’t stop Enrico. Together we went to the Valente famiglia to explain. Giovanni was furious that I wouldn’t marry him, but finally agreed to release me from the promise. However, he swore he’d never love another and refused to return one of the rings. That he slipped on his little finger as a symbol of his stolen bride. Then Madre Valente placed a curse on both rings, stating that until the two were joined again, love would not be an easy road for the Covellis or their children.”
For all these years, Vittoria’s heart had ached deeply. She opened the box again and took out the remaining ring. Although her Enrico had never believed in the power of the curse, Vittoria knew that something had shadowed their love over the years. She had trouble conceiving a child, but was finally blessed with two sons. And her son Rafaele almost did not make it to the altar with his bride, Maria. Could the curse be the cause of these things?
Rafe got up on his knees. “Can I see it?”
Vittoria opened the case to display the large bloodred ruby with a circle of diamonds embedded in the ornate gold band. When the two rings had been side by side, they were a perfect pair. The last time had been more than fifty years ago.
“Wow! I bet it’s worth a million dollars.”
“Oh, Rafaele. This ring is a symbol of love, and it’s priceless. And true love is the only thing that will break the curse and bring the two rings together again.”
Chapter One
More than one hundred years old, and Stewart Manor was still a sight to behold.
Rafe Covelli drove his truck through the wrought-iron gates and gazed at the three-story structure. Years ago this place had been one of Haven Springs’s most regal homes. Even the missing shingles and peeling trim paint couldn’t take away from the grandeur of the architecture.
Ever since he’d been a kid, it had fascinated him. He’d ridden by on his bike and stared at the big, haunted-looking house, wondering what it would be like to live in such a place. His imagination had dreamed up all sorts of secret passages, hidden rooms and a few ghosts.
None of it was true, of course. The grand house had been built for wealthy businessman William Stewart, who had been mayor of Haven Springs at the turn of the century. His son, William, Jr., and his wife had lived here along with their only child, a daughter named Hannah. As a boy, Rafe remembered nice Miss Hannah, who’d never married and lived in the house until her death three years ago.
A distant cousin inherited the estate, but not wanting the big house, he put Stewart Manor up for auction. The town’s landmark sold for a fraction of its worth. This was the first time someone other than a Stewart was going to live there.
Rafe stopped his truck in front of the house and noticed the woman standing on the porch. It looked like he was about to meet Haven Springs’s newest resident, Ms. Shelby Harris.
Grabbing his clipboard, he climbed out of the cab. He made his way up the walkway, flanked by overgrown weeds, to the porch steps.
“Ms. Harris?” He tipped