Chapter 17 - His Yellow Rose

1934, USA

Dad's been busy with the new documents he was able to find in the country. He was giving me a little less time in teaching because of it. As I sat by the settee in his study, his attention was focused on the journal he was writing on together with a messy pile of important books and documents.

I wasn't able to catch which part of history it is about but by the looks of it, it's probably around the early renaissance.

Trying to distract myself, I decided to choose a book to read to pass the time. As I skim through the spines of books on the shelf, one book stood out. Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory. The legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the round table has always been my favorite.

The thought of chivalrous knights protecting their motherland has always appealed to me. Grabbing the book from the spine, I firmly carry it to the settee and started reading.

When I open it, a bookmark fell on the ground. I lean down to grab it when I noticed a ring lying on the floor. I took both the bookmark and the ring and bring them a little closer to my eyes. "Dad, is this yours?" I asked as I look towards him raising the ring so he could see.

It took a few more seconds before he managed to bring his eyes up to me and then to the ring. He squints a little then laughs. "You found it!" He said, then locks his eyes on the ring. I stood up and bring it to his hand.

"I have never seen you wear this," I said as he inspects the ring.

"Yes, well after throwing away my career I no longer feel I deserve this." He said, looking solemnly at the ring.

"Why not?" I ask as I sit back down, looking at him expectantly.

"It was passed down by my father to me as soon as I started attending university. This ring has been in our possession for as long as I know."

"Is it a family crest?"

He looks up at me and shakes his head no as he places the ring on one of his drawers. "No, it's a symbol for protection. Which reminds me!" He then grabs something from the other drawer and fished out a key, an old iron key towards me. "I do not have the gift I wish to give you on my person but this key will bring you to it."

I took the key in my hands and noticed the same symbol of his ring on its bow. "Which door will it open?"

"It's in Florence." He said, earning him a confused look me making him laugh. "It's not much but if you're able to find the door, I'm sure it will give you answers."

Despite his cryptic message, a smile crept onto my face as I study it. The answers may not be relevant but it's comforting to know that there are answers that await me.

1476, Florence

I always find skeleton keys beautiful and perplexing. The keys in general are very interesting. They are the tool to possibly a secret door that might lead you to something you're not expecting.

As I study the skeleton key my father gave me, the symbol now appears a lot more important than I initially thought. I'm sure my father purposely has this key made with this bow as a sign for me. This key has never left my person since I got here but its importance didn't reveal itself until now.

The last time I visited Florence, my father didn't mention anything about the key. I wonder, did he have the key made in this century? However, before I could find the door waiting for this key to be opened, I must uncover the mysteries of these symbols. With how intricate the symbols are, I can only assume it would be difficult to uncover in a deeply catholic city especially when it seems to predate Christianity.

Placing the key in my pocket, I decided to start writing what I know so far and what I have discovered. A few moments later, I heard a knock on my door. "My dear, may I come on?" Aunt Simona asks from the other side.

"Come in!" I said as I continue writing. I heard the door open and close followed by footsteps then it abruptly increases. When she finally came into view, her face is horrified. Confused, I ask "Is something wrong, Aunt Simona?"

She immediately took away my quill and set it down then reached for my left hand. "You never told me you write using your left hand." She said in a harsh whisper.

"I didn't think it matters," I said, with growing anxiety in my belly.

"But it does matter!" She then let go of my hand and stand upright. "From now on, you'll not let anyone see you write, do you understand?"

With my brows furrowed in confusion, I nodded my head yes. "As you wish, but can I ask why?"

"If someone else finds out, they'll arrest you."

"For what?"

"The left-handed people are accused of consorting with the devil. They could execute you for witchcraft." To my surprise, I was rendered speechless. How was I not aware of this? She sat down by the edge of my bed and sigh. "I'm very disappointed if your father has never mentioned any of this to you."

He never did. As I look down at my journal, I noticed some ink stains from when she abruptly took the quill from my hand. "I couldn't blame him. He was not entirely sure if I will succeed in going back here. I wasn't even sure how I got myself in this century."

We were silent for a while. How can I solve the greater mysteries of the symbols that I have in my possession if I couldn't even understand the basics of time traveling using the stone? "Before I forget, do you wish for Sandro to start the portrait this morning?"

"Oh, um of course," I said, masking the sudden fluctuation of my heartbeat.

"Alright, I'll leave you to get ready." She said as she stood up to leave my room. When she's by the door, she stops and turns around. "I know we both are not certain about the stone and its abilities but I do know someone willed you to be here."

I look up into her eyes expecting her to mention someone when she didn't, I ask "Who would it be?"

She smiles cryptically and said, "For that, you must figure it out on your own." With that, she leaves.

Franzia came in a few moments later to fix my hair. As she does, I can't help me think about Botticelli. It would never be the same for us anymore. Even as he caused me pain, I could never bring myself to forget the feel of his lips on mine.

The memory used to ignite such passionate feelings inside me now must remain only in my memory.

Whenever he's near, I can feel the way his eyes are gazing upon me. I always notice it and I can never deny how much I like it. However, since we started this morning we barely talk to each other and his gazes become less and less over time.

We both don't know how to continue without acknowledging what happened between the two of us. To my delight, he didn't forget to place a flower on the vase. It was a yellow rose.

"Where do you get the flowers you place on the vase?" I said, trying to act normal despite the change in atmosphere between the two of us.

"I always pass by a vendor of flowers." He said stoically.

When I look at him, his eyes are glued to the panel. "Botticelli..." I whispered in disappointment. "I know things are a little different between us but we are friends are we not?"

"I guess we are." He said, eyes still focused on the panel. Not knowing what to say anymore, I sighed and look back at the flower once again. When he was done, he suddenly came toward me and handed me a letter. "Giuliano asked me to give this to you."

Surprised by the letter, I hesitantly reach out to grab it when our fingers touched each other. By the looks of it, he didn't seem to mind as he immediately packs his equipment. "The portrait will soon be finished. I'll send it over in a few days." Confused and utterly shocked, I was left speechless when he bid farewell and left.

The letter is sitting by the nightstand as Franzia helps me with my hair. I'm not sure why he sends me a letter or what he wants to say. The only way to find out is to open it. After cleaning myself, Franzia left the room then I sat by the bed and open the letter.

Antonia,

This morning, I will travel to Rome for business. It was only yesterday when you revealed your interest in traveling to the said city. Forgive me if I cannot bring you along. I will be back in a few days and if you would permit me, I'd like to see you.

I am most eager to hear you accept my invitation.

Sincerely,

Giuliano de Medici

Seeing Giuliano as often as I do makes me forget that he's a very busy man with very important responsibilities. He's quite good at making you feel as though nothing else matters than you and the time you spend with him.

Perhaps that's the reason why he's charmed almost all of Florence. Aside from taking care of the bank, he and his brother are the de facto ruler of the city.

To be honest, I appreciate the time he spends with me even with his schedule. I wonder how did he know that Botticelli will be coming over here?

Suddenly, I remembered that the Medicis are his patrons and perhaps developed a friendship over their appreciation for the arts. No matter how much I try, I cannot bring myself to forget about Botticelli and my feelings for him.

Why do I get this feeling as if I have done something I shouldn't have? As I lay down, I couldn't help but think of his eyes that once looked at me with such delicateness. Now, barely looks my way.

True to his word, Botticelli did take only a few days to finish the portrait which brightens the mood of my Aunt Simona. I, however, am disappointed that he chooses to ask one of his apprentices to bring it to us. I had hoped to see him again.