The Blue Dress Sisters

CHAPTER 21: A LETTER TO GOD

Delilah felt her throat dry, her body cold and heavy, as she walked toward the main hall to meet the person who had come to see her. She hadn't wanted to ask Immacolata who it was; she didn't want to know. She just wanted to see. This was the first time, as far back as she could remember, that someone from outside the home had come to visit her.

Could it be her mother? Had she finally found her?

Her feet quickened, and her eyes closed just before she entered the room where her visitor waited. When she opened them, she saw an elderly woman sitting in one of the armchairs, next to Abbess Bruna. The woman looked elegant and wealthy, wearing a deep purple dress, her white hair gathered in a bun, her face lined with deep wrinkles.

The young lady stood frozen, watching her, unable to say a word.

"Delilah, this is Mrs. Alda Francomagaro," Sister Bruna introduced.

"Are you...," Delilah's voice was barely a whisper, "... my mother?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"I am your grandmother," Alda said softly. "And I want to adopt you."

Delilah stepped back, stumbling, shaking her head in disbelief. Could it be...?

"How do you know for sure...?" She trailed off. "Where is my mother?"

"Sit down, dear," the woman instructed. Delilah fumbled for a seat, lowering herself slowly onto the sofa, unable to take her eyes off the woman who claimed to be her grandmother. "I'm afraid your mother passed away when you were very young."

A sharp pain surged through Delilah's chest, and she thought she might faint. She sank slowly into the couch, her hand pressed to her heart, tears spilling from her eyes.

"No... it can't be true," she whispered, her voice choked, barely able to form the words. "I remember my mother... she's not..."

Mrs. Alda took both of Delilah's hands, gently consoling her.

"I'm so sorry, Delilah, but she's gone."

The orphan girl began to struggle to breathe, as if she were on the verge of an asthma attack. Her face flushed, wet with tears.

"But... I felt she was alive, I..." Delilah pulled her hands away from her supposed grandmother's grasp to wipe her tears with her sleeve. "I wrote to her every day, I prayed to God that she would find me, I waited for her all these years... It can't be true. No."

"Calm yourself, Delilah, and behave," the Mother Superior scolded. "Where are your manners?"

"I'll tell you the whole truth, young lady," Alda assured her. "You can trust me; I am your grandmother. I've been looking for you for many years." Delilah could not stop silently crying as she listened to the woman speak. "When your mother was pregnant, she was kidnapped by a man. I searched for both of you, for your mother and for you. But when you were three, Scarlatta—your mother—died of starvation in captivity."

Scarlatta. The name echoed in Delilah's mind like a poem—a poem with a tragic, painful ending.

"When your mother passed," her grandmother continued, "her captor sent you to this orphanage. I never knew until a few months ago when he died, and his wife came forward to tell me the truth. As soon as I learned where you were, I came here from Castell'Arquato to find you. You belong with your family, Delilah. You deserve to have a name and to know where you come from."

Delilah's head throbbed painfully, and she could barely see through her tears. A faint, cracked voice escaped her lips.

"And my father? Do I have a father?"