About the Book
Maria Landro led her little son by the hand as they hurried down the winding road from Bella Terra toward the village. Distant, dark clouds gathered in the morning sky. Looked like a storm coming. The anxiety that had been churning for days in the pit of her stomach now spread to chill every part of her body. It was all she could do to keep herself from turning back.
Nico tugged on her wrist. "Are we almost there, Mama?"
She squeezed his hand in return, the hem of her skirt rustling against the pebbles as it swished along the cobblestone road. "Almost, darling. Are you all right?"
He looked up at her. He had her father's eyes. Kind, deep, and probing. They always made him so easy to love.
"I'm well, Mama." But his fingers fidgeted in her hand.
His nervousness only fueled her own. She squeezed his hand more tightly. Please let the village be kind to him. Regardless of what they believed about her.
A sudden gust of wind caught the end of her headscarf, pulling it back past her temples. "My, the wind is getting stronger. Let's hurry before the storm breaks. We don't want you to arrive at school soaking wet on your very first day, do we?"
"No, we don't, Mama. I would look silly." He laughed, and an arrow pierced her heart.
If anyone hurt him . . .
About the Author
MaryAnn holds the PhD in French with a concentration in Comparative Literature. She is a former university professor of fiction writing. She rides in New Jersey with her husband of 46 years. They are blessed with two awesome daughters, a wonderful son-in-law, and five rambunctious grandchildren. When not writing, MaryAnn loves to read, to paint, and to make up silly songs for her grandchildren.
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