Bride of Montefalco

"LIEUTENANT DAVIS?" The Portland police detective looked up from his computer. "I'm glad you got here so fast, Mrs. Parker." "Your message indicated it was urgent." "It is," he said in a solemn tone. "Come in and sit down." Ally took a chair opposite his desk. "I take it there's been a new development in the case." "Major." He nodded. "The woman who died in the car accident with your husband four months ago has finally been identified through dental records and a DNA match-up." Though Ally had buried her husband two months ago, she'd needed this day to come if she were ever to find closure. Yet at the same time she'd been dreading it because it meant getting painful facts instead of wallowing in useless conjecture. "Who was she?" "A thirty-four-year-old married female from Italy named Donata Di Montefalco." Finally the woman had a name and a background. "The Italian authorities have informed me she was the wife of the Duc Di Montefalco, a very wealthy, prominent aristocrat from a town of the same name near Rome. According to the police investigating the case, her husband has had his own people searching for her all these months." "Naturally," Ally whispered. Had he been in love with his wife? Or had his marriage been unraveling like Ally's? Though the detective had never said the words, she knew he suspected her husband of having been unfaithful. So had Ally who'd known her marriage was breaking down but hadn't wanted to believe it. Jim had changed so much from the seemingly devoted family man she'd first married, she'd slowly fallen out of love with him though she wasn't able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened. During the latter part of their two and half year marriage she'd seen signs that something was wrong. The long absenses from home because of his work, the lack of passion in his love-making when he did come home, his disinterest in her life when he made brief, unsatisfactory phone calls home, his desire to put off starting a family until he was making more money. Despite the fact that there was still no definitive proof of an affair, this news gave added credence to her suspicions. A fresh stab of pain assailed her. She needed to get out of his office to grieve in private. Though she'd already had two months to absorb the fact that he hadn't died alone, a part of her had hoped the other woman would have been middle-aged. Possibly an older woman he'd given a lift to because of the storm. But this latest information put that myth to rest. It increased her turmoil that she hadn't loved him as much as she should have, otherwise why hadn't she confronted him before it was too late? "Thank you for calling me in, Lieutenant." Any second now and she was going to lose control. Living in denial was the worst thing she could have done. Her guilt worsened to recognize she hadn't fought harder to recapture the love that had brought them together in the first place. "I appreciate what you've done to help me." She got up to leave. He walked her to the door of his office. "I'm sorry I had to call you in and remind you of your loss all over again. But I promised to let you know when I had any more information. "Here's hoping that in the months to come, you'll be able to put this behind you and move on." Move on? a voice inside her cried hysterically. How did you do that when your husband had died at the lowest ebb in your marriage? How did you function when your dreams for a happy life with him were permanently shattered? The detective eyed her with compassion. "Would you like me to walk you out to your car?" "No thank you," she murmured. "I'll be all right." She hurried out of his office and down the hall to the front door of the police station. Dear God--how was it possible things had ended like this? Nothing was resolved. If anything, she was riddWinters, Rebecca is the author of 'Bride of Montefalco ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373039234 and ISBN 0373039239.