Free The Smile by Donna Jo Napoli

face is already white, the blood all drained away somewhere else. A hidden pool.
    The horse’s right rear leg is shattered. Bones protrude in so many pieces. An explosion of shards. Why are horse’s legs made so thin, as though designed to break? He’ll have to be destroyed. It must be his fear that fouls the air. Or maybe that’s just the way death smells.
    We’ll have to dig graves.
    A double funeral.
    I taste blood.
    Papà puts his hand on my shoulder. But I sink away, to the ground. The dirt yields to me. This plot of earth is riddled with mole tunnels.
    Blood drips from my mouth, red on black. I must have bitten my tongue. But I don’t feel it.
    Two graves to dig.
    â€œCome, Betta.” Papà has caught my horse. She neighs in terror. She stamps and throws her head back. “Mount. We have to go for help.”
    â€œI’ll stay here.”
    â€œShe doesn’t need you now, daughter. Get on the horse.”
    â€œNo.”
    He stands a moment. “Hold these reins.” He hands me the reins, down on the ground where I sit.
    He looks around and finds a heavy rock. “Look away, Betta.”
    But I won’t look away.
    He slams Mamma’s horse in the head, at the very top between the ears.
    My horse screams and rears, dragging me a little way before she stops and paws the ground.
    That one blow crushed the skull. But the poor animal gushes blood from his nose. He’s somehow still alive. Papà kills him with a second blow.
    Then he takes the reins from me and pins them to the ground with the rock. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His face is grooved with pain, though his voice stays steady. “If you want to leave, ride home.”
    He’s gone.
    I sit here, hands loose, nothing to do.
    Gradually my horse stops stamping. She grows quiet. She grazes, pulling the rock along with her.
    I sit. I can’t feel my legs anymore. Nor my arms. Nor any part of me really.
    Birds catch the edges of my vision. Insects have already discovered the wells of blood.
    I sit.
    The day moves forward as though nothing has changed.
    Sparrows.
    I have walked in the meadows and the woods so many times, reveling in being the Lord’s smallest sparrow.
    But I don’t want Mamma to be a sparrow.
    Oh, everything has changed.
    Mamma is dead. The woman who calls me her sweet delight is gone. Oh sweet delight she was to me. I should have told her that. I should have told her every day.
    My heart breaks.
    I bury my fingers in the soft soil and weep.

CHAPTER Eight
    AND SO WE MEET AGAIN.” Giuliano de’ Medici comes up beside me. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, yet I recognize it before I even turn to face him. “I’m so sorry, Monna Lisa.”
    I’ve been brave. The hostess that Mamma would want me to be. Greeting everyone. Thanking them for coming. But now my bottom lip trembles. The last time he called me Monna Lisa I smiled. He said that calling me that was the key to my smile. Wouldn’t it be lovely if there were such simple keys to happiness? I swallow. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.” I try to be clever. “Maybe funerals will be our regular meeting place.”
    â€œDon’t say that.” Giuliano shakes his head. “Anyway, we don’t meet only at funerals. We met once before, near the Duomo.”
    My mouth opens in disbelief. “You remember that?”
    â€œAnd why not? You do.”
    â€œBut you’re famous. Anyone would remember meeting you.”
    Giuliano gives a small smile. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”
    â€œI’m sorry I said that. I realized what it sounded like immediately after the words came out of my mouth. Please, let us start over.” I curtsy in greeting. “Hello, Ser Giuliano. Thank you for coming.”
    â€œWe were ten.” Giuliano rubs above his lip, though I can’t see anything there. And I remember how he did that last time we were