Page 123 of The Unraveling of Julia

“There is so much about the Renaissance to celebrate, in painting, architecture, music, literature, and sculpture. Florence was the world’s epicenter, and men like da Vinci, Michelangelo, Brunelleschi, Vasari, and Raphael gained prominence, not because they made war but because they made art. They wanted to express the struggle of man to understand himself and his times, to make sense of his place in his universe and with his God, and finally to find beauty around him, not when it came easily to the eye, but when it did not.”

Julia noticed that Fiamma stayed facing in her direction, no longer sweeping the crowd as she spoke.

“Those are the glories of the Renaissance, and we know them so well. But that doesn’t mean we can ignore its underside. There is always a negative to the positive, and a dark side to the moon herself.”

Julia thought of the pearl she’d found in the scorched debris at the villa.

“The underside is, what about women during the Renaissance? They didn’t experience the freedom and power of men. Even at theInnocenti, girls were taught only sewing and cooking, while boys were educated and taught a trade.”

Julia couldn’t shake the sensation that Fiamma was looking at her, but she couldn’t be sure. People nodded in the crowd.

“To be sure, there were strong women of the Renaissance, but they were exceptions and for the most part, the nobility. The perfect example is Duchess Caterina Sforza, who famously defended her family at Forlì. Caterina was a favorite of my mother’s, and I grew up with stories of Caterina’s bravery, intelligence, and boldness.”

Julia startled, knowing the reference couldn’t be a coincidence. On impulse, she lifted her sunglasses off her face and onto the top of her head. She wanted to see Fiamma better, and she wanted Fiamma to seeherbetter.

Fiamma reacted instantly. Her expression changed on the spot, as if a professional mask had dropped. She looked nakedly astonished, hereyes widening with disbelief. She even shifted on her feet, like she lost her balance.

Oh my God.Julia locked eyes with Fiamma, feeling the connection between them, as surely as there had once been an umbilical cord.

Courtney whispered, “Jules, she sees you.”

The crowd noticed, too, craned their necks and turned to the back, wondering what was distracting her, but Fiamma seemed to forget they were even there, as she fumbled to continue.

“But the, uh, sexism of the Renaissance was worse for women… unlike Caterina… who weren’t noble.” Fiamma faltered like she’d lost her train of thought, gazing directly at Julia, and her eyes began to glisten. “When I painted… those magical charms, I imagined those women… pregnant, desperate… unable to support a child. They had no other option but to give up… their baby.”

Julia felt tears come to her eyes, too. Galvanized, she realized Fiamma was explaining, in front of everyone, why she’d relinquished her for adoption.

“And, uh, excuse me, I’m sorry… I think I see, I can’t believe this!” Fiamma abruptly stopped speaking, climbed down from the stand, and vanished into the crowd, which broke into confused chatter.

Julia spotted Fiamma threading her way through the crowd toward them, making a beeline for her. “We should go, Courtney.”

“No, she’s coming to meet you. Let’s stay.”

Julia was struck by a foreboding, like a child about to be disciplined by a mother she never knew. “I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t, you should meet her.”

“I can’t.” Julia fled for the door, knocking over the easel.

“Jules, wait!”

Julia almost made it to the door when she felt a hand on her arm. “Courtney, no,” she said, turning around.

She came face-to-face with Fiamma.

69

Chi sei?” Fiamma asked, shocked, and Julia felt shocked, too, realizing they looked like older and younger versions of the same woman, their jaws on the floor.

“I… don’t speak… Italian.”

“Whoareyou?” Fiamma asked, hushed. “Are you my—?”

“Yes,” Julia blurted out, reeling, and Fiamma took her arm, walked her to the door, and brought her outside.

“What’s your name?” Fiamma’s eyes rounded with disbelief. “What are you doing here? Where did you come from? How did you find me?”

Julia was about to answer when she spotted two men approaching down the dark street behind Fiamma, moving oddly fast. One was the Fiat driver with the mustache, and the other had on jeans and a black hoodie.

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