Only someone who
had experienced such bitter despair would be able to recognize it in another.
Sooner or later everyone was driven to love someone they could never have.
I don't agree with you, Derek. I've had my ... I mean, I've done . . .that . . . and it wasn't at all what I expected. And Giuseppe was known everywhere as Italy's greatest lover.
Everyone said so."
Derek's bright green eyes filled with mockery. "Sure 'e did it right?"
"Since I conceived a child from the act, he must have done something right," Lily retorted.
"Dearest Lily." Penelope took her hand and pressed it between her own. "Since I was a little girl, I've
always thought of you as the most beautiful, most courageous, most everything. But not practical. Never practical."
Everyone striving to be witty and sought-after, everyone talking and no one listening...
"I'm sorry for being such a scapegrace," Lily said. "Perhaps if I'd been a son, we might have found some
way to get along together. Instead I've been rebellious and foolish, and I've made such mistakes . . . oh, if
you only knew, you'd be even more ashamed of me than you already are. But you should be sorry, too,
Papa. You've been little more than a stranger to me. Since I was a child I've had to forge my own way.
You were never there. You never punished or scolded me, or did anything to show
you were aware of my existence. At least Mother bothered to cry." She raked her hands through her hair
and sighed. "All the times I needed someone to turn to ... I should have been able to rely on you. But you
kept to your books and your philosophical treatises. Such a fine, scholarly mind you have, Papa."
George glanced at her then, his eyes filled with protest and rebuke. Lily smiled sadly. "I just wanted to
tell you that in spite of everything . . . I still care about you. I wish ... I wish you could say you felt the
same."
Sooner or later everyone was driven to love someone they could never have.
I don't agree with you, Derek. I've had my ... I mean, I've done . . .that . . . and it wasn't at all what I expected. And Giuseppe was known everywhere as Italy's greatest lover.
Everyone said so."
Derek's bright green eyes filled with mockery. "Sure 'e did it right?"
"Since I conceived a child from the act, he must have done something right," Lily retorted.
"Dearest Lily." Penelope took her hand and pressed it between her own. "Since I was a little girl, I've
always thought of you as the most beautiful, most courageous, most everything. But not practical. Never practical."
Everyone striving to be witty and sought-after, everyone talking and no one listening...
"I'm sorry for being such a scapegrace," Lily said. "Perhaps if I'd been a son, we might have found some
way to get along together. Instead I've been rebellious and foolish, and I've made such mistakes . . . oh, if
you only knew, you'd be even more ashamed of me than you already are. But you should be sorry, too,
Papa. You've been little more than a stranger to me. Since I was a child I've had to forge my own way.
You were never there. You never punished or scolded me, or did anything to show
you were aware of my existence. At least Mother bothered to cry." She raked her hands through her hair
and sighed. "All the times I needed someone to turn to ... I should have been able to rely on you. But you
kept to your books and your philosophical treatises. Such a fine, scholarly mind you have, Papa."
George glanced at her then, his eyes filled with protest and rebuke. Lily smiled sadly. "I just wanted to
tell you that in spite of everything . . . I still care about you. I wish ... I wish you could say you felt the
same."
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