Page 74 of The Counterfeit Lover

For a moment, he wondered what she was doing all by herself over here. She was too young to be left to her own devices, and given the condition of her clothes, he suspected she needed constant supervision.

"Only if you tell me where your parents are," he said playfully. He didn't like the thought of her wandering around by herself.

Immediately, the smile died on her lips as she took a deep breath in, turning slightly and pointing her finger towards the crowd of people.

"There," she said with a small shrug.

"Why don't we go find them?" Michele suggested.

"No," she shook her head. "There," she pointed again, this time towards the casket.

"That's your father?"

She nodded, but didn't seem particularly sad.

Odd.

"What about your mother?"

Another shrug.

"She left me. Loooong time ago," she said in a high pitched voice, but there wasn't any trace of emotion—almost as if she was reciting something she'd heard one too many times before.

"Then who are you with today?"

"Tino," she gave a tremulous smile, "but he has no time for me," she added dejectedly. "Can I see the drawing now?" she switched the topic immediately, placing her small hands on the bench and jumping in an attempt to haul herself up.

Seeing her efforts, Michele shook his head indulgently, a sad smile playing at his lips. He had the vague feeling she wasn't very cared for, and that broke his heart a little—especially since she was trying very hard not to dwell on it.

"Here," he placed his notepad aside for a moment as he swooped her up and placed her next to him on the bench. And before she could protest, he removed a pack of wet wipes from his bag, taking one out and dabbing it gently at her cheeks.

"Drawing?"

"After," he chuckled, feeling sorry for the state she was in. "Let's get you cleaned a little and then I'll show you the drawing."

She blinked, looking at him with such awe, he didn't know how to react. He'd always liked children, and he'd spent long periods of time with those younger than him in the hospital, so to an extent he was used to dealing with toddlers.

For some unknown reason, though, the state of this little girl, so dirty and neglected, tugged at his heart. In some ways, she reminded him a lot of himself.

A gentle smile on his face, he continued his ministrations, wiping the dirt smudges from her face and hands.

"Now you're good," he winked at her, grabbing his drawing and passing it to her.

"Wow," she inhaled sharply, staring at the drawing for a few seconds before turning to him. She scooted closer, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I love it," she exclaimed. "You're good. Very, very good," she praised with effusive enthusiasm.

He hadn't managed to draw much. There was the outline of the people and the casket, but he'd focused more on the forlorn surroundings—the tombstones and general atmosphere of the place. It wasn't his best work, but he couldn't deny her praise. More than anything, Michele found that he couldn't stop himself from smiling, her bubbly attitude intoxicating.

"Thanks," he chuckled.

"I'm Venezia," she offered slyly, grinning from ear to ear, the missing front tooth only making her more adorable. But Michele knew the little hoyden had something under her sleeve.

"Michele," he replied, taking her now clean hand and shaking it lightly.

"Can you draw me too?"

"Sure," he answered immediately, happy to indulge her. It wasn't often that he was asked to draw other people, so it was a good opportunity for him too.

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