The Italian’s Miracle Family

CHAPTER EIGHT

FOR the next couple of days they continued going through the letters, but there were no more revelations, and at last they could relax. The pills worked well and her cold improved fast, until they were able to go out for a breath of fresh air. Drago acted like a nanny, making her wear his own coat, and buttoning it up to the throat, while she laughed with pleasure. It was bliss to be fussed over.

‘You’re twice my size,’ she said, regarding herself in the mirror, almost vanishing into the huge coat, and flapping the sleeves which hung comically off the ends of her arms. ‘Whatever do I look like?’

‘You look like someone who needs a scarf,’ he said, wrapping one around her neck several times. ‘Has nobody ever taken any care of you?’

‘My mother did, until she died. But after that I’ve been pretty independent.’

For ‘independent’ read ‘alone’, he thought.

‘What about James?’ he wanted to know.

She made a face. James hadn’t been the protective kind, and until this moment it hadn’t bothered her.

The beauty of the mountain was overwhelming as they went carefully up the slope, Alysa clinging to his arm at his insistence to avoid slipping. Overhead the trees hung heavy with snow, while in front of them the white path led up out of sight.

‘I’ve never seen anything so lovely,’ she sighed.

‘Don’t you have snow in England?’

‘It turns to sludge very quickly. But this…’

She let go of his arm and turned round and round, looking up so that the bright morning sun fell on her face. Drago watched her, smiling at her ecstasy.

‘You look like a scarecrow,’ he said.

‘Thank you, kind sir. Yes, I do, don’t I?’ She began to spin faster. ‘Wheee!’

‘You’re scaring the birds,’ he protested as a startled flock rose from the branches above, fleeing these wild noises.

The next moment they were engulfed in snow that had been disturbed by the scattering birds. Alysa collapsed with laughter, leaning back against a tree and sliding down.

‘Don’t sit on the ground, you crazy woman,’ Drago said, brushing snow out of his hair and taking hold of her.

He yanked her unceremoniously to her feet, so that she staggered and he had to steady her against him.

‘Behave,’ he told her firmly. ‘Are you totally intent on getting pneumonia?’

‘That would be very awkward for you,’ she laughed. ‘Especially if I died. You get me up here, and I vanish for ever. You could be in big trouble.’

‘Nonsense, they’d give me a medal. Now, come on, I want to get you safely into the warm.’

‘Suppose I want to stay?’

His answer was to pick her up and march firmly back to the villa.

‘Why do some women argue about everything?’ he growled.

‘Some men are made to be argued with,’ she said, steadying herself with both arms around his neck. ‘The temptation is irresistible.’

He gave a bark of laughter, turning his head to glance at her, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her mouth was so close to his that their lips almost touched. He looked ahead quickly, shaken by the vibration that went through him, almost causing him to stumble, and feeling her arms tighten about his neck.

‘Steady,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘I don’t want to be dumped on the ground again.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said huskily.

She struggled to control her breathing, which was coming in awkward jerks, thankful that he couldn’t sense the beating of her heart. Or could he? She could sense his. Unless it was merely the echo of her own.

Don’t overreact. It was over a year since a man’s lips had touched her own, and she’d been taken by surprise.

As he strode on she watched the side of his face. It was dark with something that she might have mistaken for fury if she hadn’t known better. She had neither fear nor hope that he would follow through; not now, while she was dependent on him. It would be a betrayal of trust, and he was a man of honour. There was no justice in the world, she thought sadly.

As soon as they reached home they got to work, stoking up the fire, working in the kitchen, managing to avoid each other’s eyes even when they said goodnight and retired to their rooms.

That night it rained, and by morning the worst of the snow had gone. Drago said he would arrange for her bags to be delivered. To her relief his manner was normal again, and she was able to respond in the same tone.

‘I’ve managed well enough so far,’ she said with a gleam of humour. ‘Although I suppose I should stop pinching your shirts.’

‘That’s the third one you’re wearing. I’ll be glad for you to recover your own clothes before I run out.’

Then his smile died. ‘But it’s not that. The truth is that these last few days have been-Didn’t you feel it?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said in a tone of wonder. ‘We laughed. Can you believe that? I don’t think I’ve laughed in months.’

‘Me neither. It was the last thing I was expecting when we came here. It’s you-I’ve never known anyone like you. I don’t want this time to end.’

‘Neither do I,’ she admitted.

‘Just a couple more days?’

‘All right.’

‘I’ll call home and get them to send the bags right away.’

But before he could take out his mobile phone, Alysa’s own telephone shrilled, startling her. The sound seemed to come from another world, one she had left behind without regret. The caller was her boss.

‘Alysa? Are you all right? I got worried when we didn’t hear from you.’

‘I’m fine, Brian,’ she said, trying to sound bright. ‘I took a little trip into the mountains and got snowed in.’

‘Damn. There are big things happening here, and it would really help if you came back.’

‘But I left everything in good order. I even cleared up all the problems with the Riley account.’

‘I know, and he’s very impressed,’ Brian admitted. ‘So impressed that he’s introduced a new client and told him to ask for you and nobody else. But he wants an early appointment. You should be very proud.’

‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose I should.’

His voice changed, became persuasive.

‘Mind you, if it’s really difficult, I suppose I could assign him to someone else. Frank’s proving very good.’

She knew Frank, a newcomer who was straining every nerve to impress the boss, and would obliterate her if he could. Brian had known just what to say.

‘How’s the snow?’ he asked.

‘Clearing,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘All right, I’ll be back tomorrow.’

Drago was watching her as she hung up.

‘Duty calls?’ he asked wryly.

‘I guess it does. Oh, if only-’

‘Hey, that’s enough. If there’s one thing you and I have learned not to say, it’s “if only”.’

‘I can’t help it. If only-if only-’

She wondered what was happening to her. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Brian that she was still trapped and needed more time. But the habit of putting work first was too strong, and the words had come out of their own accord.

‘There’s a flight at six o’clock this evening,’ Drago said. ‘I’ll book it for you.’

Her heart sank. She wanted to say that tomorrow would have done, and they could have spent one last comfortable evening together. Now it was too late. Unless, perhaps, there were no seats. But even that hope died.

‘All fixed,’ Drago said, hanging up.

‘I should have put Brian off,’ she said unhappily. ‘I wanted those extra days.’

‘So did I, but it wasn’t to be, and maybe it’s best. We’ve had something we both needed, and we’re stronger for it. I shall be glad for the rest of my life that I met you, and you helped me survive.’

He reached out, enveloping her in a bear hug against the warmth of his chest. She turned her head so that it rested on his shoulder with her face turned away from him. His words reminded her of the letter she’d taken and which now, more than ever, she was determined that he must never see. She was afraid to meet his eyes lest they should somehow reveal her thoughts.

They had been granted a special time in which to heal each other’s wounds. It had brought them suffering, but also a kind of healing. Now it was time to move on to a life that might be bearable again. But still her heart ached.

Drago called his home and arranged for her luggage to be delivered to the airport, while she went to pack up the few things she had with her, putting the dangerous letter firmly away in her bag.

He made her a final meal of spaghetti, and they washed up together.

‘We’d better leave now,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to drive slowly.’

They made it to the foot of the mountain without mishap, and then they were on the road to the airport. Once there he bought her a coffee and went to meet the chauffeur, returning a few minutes later with her suitcases.

‘We’ve got a few minutes before you need to check in,’ he said, sitting down with her at the table.

‘Yes.’

Just a few minutes, and then she might never see him again. The speed of her departure had taken her by surprise. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but suddenly she couldn’t remember any of them, and the time was ticking past.

A waiter asked if Drago wanted anything, and he asked for coffee without taking his eyes off Alysa. When it came he didn’t even notice.

‘That’s that, then,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘It should be a calm flight. The weather’s cleared nicely.’

‘Yes,’ she said again.

She wanted to meet his gaze, yet she feared to meet it. There was something there that she couldn’t afford to see now that she was leaving. He was her friend and comfort, both of which she needed too much to risk them with any other kind of relationship. And yet-and yet…

‘Call me when you get there,’ he said. ‘Just to let me know you’ve landed safely.’

‘Yes,’ she said for the fourth time. Inwardly she was cursing herself for being tongue-tied.

‘Yes,’ he echoed heavily.

She gave him a faint smile. ‘I reckon we’ve exhausted the conversation.’

‘It’s not the words,’ he said. ‘It’s the other things.’

‘Yes,’ she said before she could stop herself, and they both laughed awkwardly.

‘Luckily the other things don’t need saying,’ he added.

As he spoke he reached out across the table to take her hand in his, rubbing his thumb softly across the backs of her fingers, then raising them so that he could brush them across his cheek. When he released her he put his hand to his eyes for a moment.

‘Will you be all right, after everything I’ve put you through?’ he asked.

‘Don’t worry, I’m tough.’

He met her eyes. His own were gentle.

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘You’re not.’

‘You’re not either.’

He gave the self-mocking smile that touched her heart. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’

‘I promise. It’ll be our secret. What about you? Will you be all right?’

‘I will now, with your help. I’m only sorry it was so hard on you. I got off lightly in comparison.’

She thought of the letter that he must never see, and smiled at him.

‘Drago, I’m not sorry we met. I’ll never regret that, however hard it was.’

‘Nor I. ’ He looked down and spoke awkwardly. ‘In some ways I’m glad I didn’t meet you earlier, when I was still married to Carlotta. There would have been…problems.’

‘I know,’ she whispered.

‘We’d better be moving.’

He waited while she checked in, then came to the barrier with her.

‘This is as far as I can go,’ he said.

But that wasn’t what he really meant; she knew. It was as far as they could go together.

‘Goodbye, Drago.’

‘Goodbye.’

For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but instead he pulled her close for a fierce embrace, which she went into willingly. Holding him, feeling him hold her, she told herself that this was the last time she would seek refuge in him, and feel him seek it in her. And a tide of regret swept over her.

‘That’s your flight they’re calling,’ he said with a sudden husky note in his voice. ‘You’d better hurry.’

But he didn’t release her.

‘Yes, I suppose I must.’

‘Hey, are you crying?’

‘Yes,’ she choked.

She tightened her arms again, then released him and moved away quickly. As she went through Passport Control, she wiped her tears and took a last glance back at him, blaming herself for being glad he was still there. Then the check on her hand luggage. Another few moments and he would be out of her life for ever.

One final look. Just one. And there was his hand raised in farewell, and his smile seeming to call her back.

And that was it, she thought. That was the mystery about their brief time together-every moment of it a contradiction of the moment before, each truth denying the others. She’d been drawn to him from the first, even while she’d raged at him. He’d made her stronger. She could only hope that she had done the same for him.

It was evening when the plane touched down, and the cold struck her as soon as she was outside. It was different from the cold of the mountains, which had been fresh and invigorating. This was merely depressing.

The queue for the taxi took ages, and she took the chance to call him.

‘Safely down,’ she said.

‘Good. I’d say go home and have a good rest, but I guess there’ll be a pile of messages waiting for you there.’

‘I’d rather be back in the mountains.’

‘So would I-One moment.’

Alysa could hear Tina calling in the background. So she was home now, and naturally wanted her father’s attention after having been away from him.

‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Goodbye. And thank you for everything.’

‘Goodbye, Alysa-and thank you.’

To her relief the taxi came, and she could force her mind back to the present and the future. Gradually the lights of London enfolded her again, and she told herself that it was good to come home. She said that several times.

Her apartment was chilly. As soon as she entered she saw a light winking on her phone, telling her that there was a message. She picked it up and found it was Brian.

‘Welcome back. I knew I could rely on you. I’ve made an appointment with your new client for tomorrow afternoon. That’ll give me time to brief you in the morning. Frank’s furious that he couldn’t steal a march on you. I thought you’d enjoy that. Get a good night’s sleep and be ready for action.’

She switched off and looked around the empty apartment, seeing it with new eyes. How bare it was! How long had it been like that? And she hadn’t noticed. It spoke of a woman who hardly existed, inside whose heart nothing happened.

She wondered what Drago was doing now.

Next day Frank scowled to see her back, which really was satisfying. She listened to Brian’s briefing, taking in every word, and when she met the client that afternoon everything went well. On the surface it was just as before.

But later, when Brian had finished praising her, he added, considering her, ‘You’ve changed. I can’t quite work out how, but it’s good. I have great hopes of you, Alysa.’

As winter faded into spring, and then into summer, she took on more clients, worked hard and won approving looks from her employers. Unlike Brian, few people were perceptive enough to discern the difference. Her apartment would have given a clue, becoming less stark and functional, but the real change was in her mind and heart, both of which seemed to flower again.

One night she took home a tape-recording of a conference that had been held within the firm eight months previously, wanting to check whether she had really said what the notes stated.

The sound of her own voice made her lean back in her chair, shocked. It might have been a machine talking, so dead and cold did she sound. Now she knew what Drago had heard, and why he had feared for her.

He was with her-unseen, unheard, but a constant presence. She had only to think of him to feel safe again, as though his arms were still holding her. With James there had been a constant yearning for a man who, she now realised, had never really been there. But she did not miss Drago, for how could you miss someone who was always with you?

At last a letter came from him.

I wanted you to know how different things are with me since you were here. Not all the ghosts have been laid to rest, but the worst of them leave me in peace now. I sleep at night, and when I awake I confront the day ahead without despair. I once thought this could never happen, but now I know that there is one person who knows and understands, and that knowledge is enough to give me strength. Even if we never meet again, you are still here with me in spirit, and you give me the courage I need. I hope with all my heart that it is the same with you. God bless you.

She wrote back.

You brought me back to life. I had become dead inside, and would have stayed that way always, but for you. It’s a strange and confusing feeling to reawaken, and I don’t yet know who this new person is. But, whoever she is, you made her free to grieve and one day, perhaps soon, she will be well again. For this you will always be dear to me.

He did not write again, nor did she expect him to. They had set each other on a new path, but it led away into the unknown, and they must travel it separately. Sometimes she remembered his words-that he was glad they had not met before because she would have threatened his loyalty to his wife. Who knew where that road might have led? But not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Her sleep, once so blank, had begun to be troubled with dreams. James seemed to haunt her as he’d never done before. She would see his face in that last meeting, but when she approached him he always vanished.

‘Where are you?’ she cried. ‘Where are you?’

But when she awoke to find herself sitting up in bed she knew that she hadn’t been calling to James, but to someone else, and that he was already with her. Then she would lie down and sleep again in peace.

She began studying him again on the internet, and soon managed to access Italian newspapers, including one that was local to Florence. It was a ready source of information, as excitement was rising about a mediaeval church that Drago was restoring. Work had slowed the previous year owing to many unexpected problems, but now things were moving again, as Drago seemed infused with new inspiration. It had caused him to insist on changing things that had previously seemed settled, replacing them with better ideas.

There were pictures, showing her the building before Drago had started work-tired-looking and down-at-heel. Now as it neared completion she could see its magnificence restored through his genius, and she felt a sudden happiness, for she thought she knew the source of his new life.

An increase of work left her no time to follow his progress for a while, and it was almost a week before she was able to seek him out on-line. Then she saw something that almost made her heart stop:

Di Luca critical after near-death plunge.

Struggling through the Italian prose, Alysa managed to understand that Drago had climbed high on some scaffolding, intent on examining a carved stone to make sure that it was perfect, had missed his footing and had plunged down to the ground.

It was dated five days ago. He could be dead by now.

Frantically she searched through the following days, terrified lest she find the fatal announcement. There was nothing, but she searched again, and this time she spotted a small item saying that he’d regained consciousness and seemed better. She read it over and over, terrified that she’d misread it.

To her relief there had been no mistake, but she couldn’t rest until she knew more. After a few minutes, summoning up her courage, she lifted the phone and dialled his home.

Who would answer? she wondered. The housekeeper? Or perhaps Elena was there again? She was still running through the possibilities when Drago’s voice said, ‘Pronto.’

At first she was too startled to speak and he had to say it again before she answered.

‘It’s me.’

She wondered if she should identify herself properly, but he recognised ‘me’ at once.

‘Ciao, Alysa. How nice to hear from you.’

Trying to pull herself together, she blurted out, ‘What are you doing there? You’re supposed to be at death’s door.’

‘Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?’ He sounded amused.

‘Of course not. They said you’d had a terrible fall and took days to regain consciousness.’

‘As usual, the press exaggerates. My fall was broken by a ledge. I had a slight concussion and a couple of cracked ribs, but that’s all. I left hospital yesterday. Tomorrow I’ll go back to work.’

‘With cracked ribs?’ she echoed, aghast.

‘Why not? They’re painful, but I can still bark orders and be generally overbearing.’

‘And climb scaffolding?’

‘No, not that. I’ll be careful, but I have to be there to make sure that everything is done the way I want.’

‘That sounds like you,’ she said, feeling her heart slow to a more normal rhythm.

‘Slave-driver?’

‘Perfectionist. Everyone says you’re doing a wonderful job on that church.’

‘I hope so. It must be finished soon. I’ve made so many changes recently that it held things up, but we’re nearly there. Tell me, how did you know what had happened?’

‘The internet. I can access the local Florence paper, and it was all there.’

She paused, embarrassed by what she had just revealed.

For a few moments there was silence from the other end. Then he said, ‘You’re not so easy to trace. There’s your firm’s website, which has just a little about you. And a picture of you at some official dinner last week. That’s all.’

So he’d been watching her from a distance too. She smiled.

‘What kind of a function was it?’ he asked casually.

‘Like you said, official. Accountants, lawyers, businessmen, a few politicians, lots of boring speeches.’

‘You didn’t seem bored by the man sitting next to you. You were sharing a laugh.’

‘That’s my boss, Brian. He thinks he’s a wit, so I guess I play up.’

‘Ah, the one who can make you a partner?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then you were right to laugh. Was the joke any good?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘That’s handy. You’ll be able to laugh again next time he tells it.’

His voice was warm, turning the remark into a friendly joke, so that she could say, ‘I might just do that.’

‘You’ve grown your hair. It’s nicer this way.’

‘I wonder why I did,’ she said lightly. ‘Someone may have suggested it, but I can’t remember who.’

He laughed but stopped at once.

‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’

‘Please, Drago, I wish you wouldn’t go back to work yet. Give yourself a few more days.’

‘All right. Just a couple more days. Because you say so.’

‘Thank you.’

Then his voice changed, becoming gentler. ‘Alysa-how are things with you?’

‘I’m managing better now.’

‘So am I. Thank you.’

Silence. She felt awkward, and she could sense that he did too.

‘Am I forgiven?’ he asked at last.

‘There’s nothing to forgive. You know that.’

‘I didn’t. But I hoped.’

‘Goodbye, Drago.’

‘Goodbye.’

The line went dead. Alysa hung up and sat looking at the phone, wondering at the strange feeling that had overtaken her. It was disturbingly like happiness.

So he’d seen her with Brian, and had wondered. But there was nothing romantic in their association, even though he was an outrageously handsome man. A well-preserved fifty-three, he’d been married three times and now determinedly ‘avoided shackles’.

He both worked and played hard, but the pleasure was strictly out of office hours. None of his female employees had anything to fear from him, which had caused one of them to mutter that this was because ‘the old goat’ preferred women who were too stupid to spell, never mind add.

He’d invited Alysa to the dinner as a professional courtesy, introducing her to a lot of influential people, congratulating her on her networking skills, showing the road that led to a partnership. Afterwards he’d taken her home, kissed her on the cheek, and had gone to spend the rest of the night with a lady whose talents were as legendary as her prices.

She wondered if Drago would call her back, or write, but a month passed with no word from him. Then a large gold envelope came through her door. Opening it, she found an invitation to the ceremonies that would accompany the reopening of the church he’d been restoring.

The card was practically a work of art in itself, elaborately embossed, the wording formal with nothing personal about it. He’d included a brief note, saying he would book a hotel for her, and inviting her to join him and his other guests at his home the night before the dedication, and again the following evening. It could have been written to almost any guest, but she knew better than to attach importance to its formality.

The true message was that, like her, he longed for another meeting but, also like her, he was cautious. Across the miles his heart and mind reached out to her, as perfectly in harmony as before.