Cross My Heart by Sasha Gould Read Free Book Online Page A

statue in the hallway. Her smile vanishes. “I’m so sorry.”
    “That’s all right,” I say quickly, desperately wanting to change the subject. “How are you? How’s your grandmama?”
    “Oh, she died three years ago!” says Paulina. “I wrote to tell you, but you never replied. We all thought that you’d turned to God, after all.”
    I remember the Abbess, holding sheets of parchment over a candle. Paulina’s letter would have been among them.
    “I wrote to you all the time,” I say. “For the first couple of years. Sometimes every day. The censors were strict, though.”
    Paulina squeezes my hand.
    “Are you married?” I ask.
    Paulina gives me a sly grin. “Not yet.” She lowers her voice. “I can’t tell you about it here—but I will. Now, what was it like in the convent? I’ve heard they have decadentparties and that men visit, and mad nuns stick their bottoms out of the windows at passersby.”
    Her laughter scatters across the room, drawing attention, but I don’t care and laugh too.
    “Not the one I was in.” I smile.
    “I see,” says Paulina seriously, but her eyes dance impishly. “Is it true that they torture you with instruments if you do something sinful? And you have to make necklaces out of children’s teeth?”
    “No,” I say, laughing as I shake my head. “Nothing like that. It was mainly very, very boring. Anyway, I want to hear about Venice, and parties, and dresses, and—well, everything.”
    She smiles and draws a deep breath. I guess she doesn’t know where to start.
    People who have been friends as children always find a thousand things to say to each other, no matter how long they have been parted. For the rest of the evening Paulina is there, if not right beside me, then hovering nearby. Now that I’ve found her, it seems that my new life is going to get easier. One day I’ll become as confident and self-possessed as she.
    “Come.” Paulina beckons, putting out her hands to me. “Come and dance.”
    But a man in a silver-threaded jacket steps between us and puts his hands around my waist. “I’ve been trying to summon the courage to talk to this lovely stranger all night.”
    His eyes are kind. My heart flutters as I wonder for a moment if he is Vincenzo.
    “I don’t imagine you’re ever short of courage, Pietro,” teases Paulina.
    “Oh, but I am,” he replies. “Every time I ask a lovely girl to dance.”
    No, he’s not my intended. But the way he smiles down at me makes my cheeks flush.
    “So,” says Pietro, “I must know, this instant, who in heaven’s name is this wonderful woman?”
    “I’m Laura della Scala.”
    “Well, Laura della Scala, I’m Pietro Castellano, and I’ve discovered my purpose in coming tonight. It’s to dance with you.”
    He leads me out onto the floor.
    I stumble after him, trying to keep up. “I’ve never danced,” I tell him.
    “Never danced? Where have you been all these years? In a convent?”
    “Actually—yes.”
    Pietro laughs—I don’t think he believes me. “Anyone can dance. Even a clumsy, awkward fellow like me. Let me show you how.”
    He’s right. He spends a few minutes slowly taking me through steps that seemed so intricate when I was watching, helping me to learn the simple rhythm that lies underneath. Pietro grips my waist and my left hand, and as we speed around the floor I see our laughing faces reflected in one of the gold-encrusted mirrors. I, Laura della Scala, am dancing—with a man I’ve only just met!
    A firm grip clutches my arm and we halt. It’s my father.
    “Excuse me, Pietro. I need my daughter.”
    “Yes, of course,” Pietro says graciously. He bows to me. “A pleasure, Laura, an absolute pleasure.”
    My father smiles tightly and steers me across the room.
    “It strikes me that you need a chaperone,” he says. “To teach you the way things are done.”
    “Father, do you remember Paulina? I’ve just met her—”
    “Yes, yes.” He isn’t looking at me anymore, but