The Italian’s Wife by Sunset

CHAPTER TWELVE

DOWN the side of the hospital ran a narrow street, lined with small shops and cafés, some with outside tables. At one of them sat Carlo, drinking coffee, staring fiercely at the floor.

‘Well, look who’s here!’

He looked up to see Ruggiero pulling out chairs for Hope and himself. His brother called the waiter and ordered prosecco all round.

‘Is that her window up there?’ Hope asked, pointing to the hospital.

‘That’s right. The third one along. How did you know I was here?’

‘We’ve been spying on you, of course,’ Ruggiero said. ‘What else?’

‘Why aren’t you with her?’ Hope demanded. ‘That’s where you belong.’

‘So I thought,’ he said heavily. ‘But I was wrong. She doesn’t want to see me. The mere idea upsets her.’

‘Because she no longer loves you?’

‘Because she thinks I won’t want her now she’s injured.’

‘Perhaps she’s right?’ Hope said carefully. ‘She’ll be a heavy responsibility.’

His eyes flashed. ‘Do you think I’m afraid of that?’

Hope looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘But she does.’

‘Then you must convince her otherwise. It should be easy, since she loves you so much. After all, she came back to find you.’

‘Yes, I think she did. But the crash has changed everything-not for me, but for her.

‘Nonsense. She still wants you. Nothing has changed,’ Hope said robustly. ‘Your mother says so, and your mother is always right.’

He gave a faint smile, but looked at her curiously. ‘At one time you were against her.’

‘In those days I was a stupid woman. I didn’t understand her, but most of all I didn’t understand you. I see more clearly now.’

She saw Carlo glance up at the window, to where a young man stood, signalling to him.

‘Sol,’ he explained.

‘You two have become friends?’ Ruggiero demanded sceptically.

‘Not quite that, but we’re managing to work together. He’s not so bad.’ He rose and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you, Mamma, for everything.’

‘Give Della my love.’

He found Sol in the corridor, agitated.

‘Now we’re in the soup,’ he said. ‘Why did you tell that doctor that you were her husband?’

‘What’s happened?’

‘He told her about it, didn’t he? Only she didn’t know, and she asked me a lot of questions, and now she’s all worked up and I don’t know what to do.’

‘But I do. Stay here, and don’t come in.’

He found the doctor beside Della’s bed, trying to soothe her.

‘Please leave,’ Carlo said.

‘Signore, I don’t know who you are, but I cannot allow-’

‘I am her husband and I tell you to leave.’

The doctor departed quickly. There was something about Carlo that he didn’t want to argue with.

Carlo paid him no attention. He’d heard Della’s horrified gasp and he dropped down beside the bed, taking her hands in his and kissing them.

‘No, don’t struggle,’ he said. ‘Or we’ll both get tangled up in your machines. Hush, be still.’

Either his voice or the feel of his hands seemed to get through to her, and at last she lay quiet.

‘Is it you?’ she whispered.

‘Who else should it be? Della, my love-my love-’

She grew still, knowing she should fight this, but also knowing that she had no strength left to fight. She had come to the end, and he was there, waiting for her.

Then she felt the sensation that had haunted her dreams: the gentle pressure of his head against her, so that her hands moved instinctively to enfold and caress him possessively. It wasn’t what she’d meant to do, but the choice was no longer hers. As her fingers clasped him she felt him move a little closer, as though seeking a long-lost refuge.

‘Do you think you could keep me away?’ he whispered. ‘You never could and you never will. Don’t try to leave me again, my darling. I couldn’t bear it.’

‘But look at me,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m crippled and half blind-or maybe completely blind-’

He raised his head, looking down at what he could see of her wan face, half covered in bandages.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, ‘as long as we love each other.’

‘But-’

‘No.’ He laid a gentle finger over her lips. ‘No more words. They only get in the way.’

This time they held each other in silence for a long time.

‘You told them you were my husband?’ she said after a while.

‘Yes, because I am. I won’t let anyone deny me-not even you. Only tell me this. Why did you come back?’

‘To find you. I should never have gone away, and I wanted to tell you that. Even if you didn’t want me any more-’

‘Hush,’ he said, silencing her mouth tenderly with his own. ‘I could never stop wanting you. If you knew how hard I’ve hoped that you came back for me. When I saw the pictures I dared to let myself believe, but I needed to hear you say it.’

‘Even now that I’m like this?’

‘I see no difference in you,’ he said simply. ‘Except that you are hurt, and need me at last.’

Before such total commitment there was nothing for her to say. She began to weep, the tears pouring out from under the bandages until he kissed them away.

From then they had to be patient as Della progressed by slow inches. Painful life returned to her leg, the bandages were removed from her head, although not from her eyes, and her hair began to grow again.

‘It isn’t grey, is it?’ she asked Carlo anxiously.

‘No, it’s not grey,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s fair and soft, in little tight curls, like a shorn lamb. You’ll start a new fashion.’

‘I can’t bear not knowing what I look like. How long before they remove these bandages?’

‘Be patient until-Hey what are you doing?’

He moved to stop her, but Della was too fast, taking the edge of the bandage, lifting it just a little, then dropping it at once.

‘What is it?’ he asked, full of dread. ‘My darling, don’t panic-’

‘I think I can see,’ she said breathlessly. ‘My right eye is fuzzy, but I can make out shapes and colours. I’m going to see.’

They flung themselves into each other’s arms and stayed that way for a while, unable to speak. Then Della, inspired by sudden determination, raised her hands to her head. But Carlo caught them.

‘No, cara. We’ll ask the doctor before we do anything rash.’

‘But he’ll just tell me to be patient, and I’m tired of that.’

‘One step at a time.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said grumpily, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘But I’m fed up. I’m fed up with being here, with not being able to move properly, with not knowing what’s happening. I’m fed up.’

He laughed, caressing her.

‘I can see you’re going to be a handful to look after.’

‘You won’t have to look after me.’

‘Yes, I will. As soon as you can leave here I’m taking you home, to nurse you until you’re well enough for us to be married.’

A noise outside made them pull apart. It was the doctor.

‘I can see,’ Della told him at once. ‘Just out of one eye, but I can.’

‘In that case, let’s have a look.’

They held their breath as he removed the bandages. Della blinked rapidly.

‘I’ve got the right one back,’ she said joyfully. ‘It’s getting clearer all the time.’

‘And the left?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Well, we may be able to do something about that later.’

‘Just one eye makes all the difference,’ she said fervently.

The doctor asked some more questions, and went away looking pleased.

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ she said, meaning it. ‘I thought I never would.’ She blinked again. ‘It’s getting better all the time. I’ll be able to work again.’

‘Will you wait until the rest of you has recovered?’ He was almost tearing his hair.

‘Sorry. I can’t help it.’

Seeing that she was on a high of delight, he gave up trying to calm her down and joined in her pleasure. His own heart was rejoicing at her happiness, content to forget the future in the first good news they’d had.

Sol arrived, already exulting.

‘I met the doctor on the way in,’ he said, producing a bottle of champagne, ‘and turned back to get this.’

They drank it out of paper cups, toasting each other cheerfully, until Della said, ‘Darling, it’s wonderful that you’re here, but now I’m so much better I want you to go home. Your exams must be coming up soon.’

He nodded. ‘And I really must pass them this time,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get a job and start sending Gina money. Her grandmother says I can visit them as soon as the baby’s born.’

‘You’ve been in touch?’

‘I found Mrs Burton’s phone number in your things, and-well, I thought I should do something. It’s my kid, after all.’

‘Good for you,’ Carlo said.

Next day he drove Sol to the airport. Now on easy terms, they had a coffee while they waited for the flight to be called.

‘You know,’ Sol said, considering, ‘you didn’t handle it very cleverly last year.’

‘Handle what?’ Carlo asked.

‘Everything. “Marry me now or it’s all off.” I ask you!’

‘She told you about that?’ Carlo asked, horrified.

‘No, of course not. She told Jackie, her secretary. They’re friendly.’

‘And Jackie told you?’

‘Nah, I was eavesdropping.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Dunno. Usually you assume the worst of me on instinct-’

‘Maybe I don’t any more. A lot of things have changed. Go on with what you were saying.’

‘Mum’s as stubborn as a mule. Give her an ultimatum and she’s off in the other direction. You should have played along with her.’

‘Settled for an affair because she thought I was too young?’

‘That was just talk,’ Sol declared, with the wisdom of twenty-one. ‘Once she’d got used to living with you she’d have seen that you were right. When the time came to leave she wouldn’t have been able to. You’d have been married by now.’

The truth of this was so blindingly obvious that Carlo nearly burst out laughing.

‘If anyone had told me that I’d be sitting here taking advice from you,’ he murmured, ‘I’d never have believed them.’

At the gate he clapped Sol on the shoulder.

‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘See you again soon.’

It was Hope who took over the arrangements for the day Della left hospital. When she heard that Carlo planned to take her to his apartment she vetoed the idea without hesitation.

‘That place is on the third floor, and quite unsuitable,’ she declared.

‘There is an elevator, Mamma,’ Carlo observed, but he spoke mildly, for he could see where Hope was leading, and it pleased him.

‘No arguments,’ she said with finality. ‘I have decided. She’s coming home with us. It’s all settled.’

Della had a demonstration of exactly what it meant to be Hope Rinucci when it came to persuading the hospital to let her go early. At first the doctor was dubious, but Hope swept him off to the villa, showed him the ground-floor rooms that were being prepared for the invalid, and emphasised that there would always be people there to care for her.

‘She will never be alone in the house,’ Hope insisted. ‘Not for one moment, even when the nurse has left-for of course I will hire a nurse at the start.’

Della began to see how alike Carlo and his mother were. The same quiet forcefulness was present in both of them.

On the day she left hospital the doctor took Carlo aside.

‘There are things you need to know, signore. She’s better, but her health has been seriously impaired, and it always will be. She had a heart attack immediately after the crash, and she’ll always be vulnerable to another one. If you’re thinking of having children-’

‘No,’ Carlo said at once. ‘I won’t do anything that means the smallest risk for her.’

‘Good. Hopefully that will prolong her life.’

‘But not by much,’ Carlo said quietly. ‘Is that what you mean?’

‘With the greatest care she could have another twenty years. But she’ll always be frail, and it might be less.’

‘Whatever it is, it’ll still be more than I feared.’

‘I’m glad you’re a realist, signore. You’re going to need to be.’

Carlo travelled in the ambulance with her. At the villa she was greeted by Toni and Hope, Ruggiero, Primo and Olympia, and with flowers and messages of goodwill from the others of her new family who could not be there.

They had prepared a home for her, with a room for herself-so well equipped that she might still have been in hospital-a room next door for the nurse, and one nearby for Carlo.

At first they left her alone, knowing that she would need rest more than anything, and she slept for two days before waking to feel better than for a long time.

Now Carlo was with her all the time, even when the nurse was tending her. He watched everything the nurse did, and learned. It was he who got her back on her feet and held her as she struggled to walk again. From a sedentary life she progressed to a walking stick, first clasping him with her free hand, then without him.

‘You’re improving fast,’ he told her. ‘At this rate we can start planning the wedding.’

She sat down, gasping slightly from the effort she had made.

‘Are you really sure you still want to go ahead?’ she asked. ‘It’s such an undertaking-’

‘You mean you don’t think you can face a lifetime with me?’ he asked wickedly.

‘You know what I mean. The cost to you will be much greater now.’

‘I can’t believe that we’re still arguing about this. We settled it long ago. In my heart you are already my wife. Now you will become my wife in the eyes of the world. That’s it. Final. End of subject.’

‘You don’t give me any choice?’

‘It’s taken you so long to realise that?’ he asked, with a touch of his old humour.

‘But one day-’ Della stopped, silenced by the look he gave her.

She’d been going to say that she wouldn’t tie him down. He could divorce her whenever he liked.

‘No,’ he said firmly, following her meaning as if by telepathy. ‘Never say that. Never!’ He kissed her, then spoke more gently.

‘It would be treating me like a boy, one who can’t make his own decisions, and we’ve been down that path before. When we marry it must be for real-and for ever.’

‘But I can’t give you children,’ she reminded him.

‘Then we must love each other all the more.’

They spent many evenings on the terrace, looking out at the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, talking endlessly, discovering each other’s minds. She began to realise how little they had talked in the old days, when their fierce passion had left no time for talk. Now he sometimes seemed afraid to touch her for fear of doing harm.

‘I’m not breakable,’ she told him once, when he had broken off a kiss by sheer will-power. ‘We could go into my room and-’

To calm his nerves he took refuge in clowning. ‘Make love before our wedding night?’ he asked, in mock horror. ‘I’m shocked. Shocked!’

‘Well, perhaps it’s best that you know the truth about me,’ she said, matching his mood.

He seized her wandering hand and spoke in a shaking voice.

‘Will you stop, please? How much self-control do you think I have?’

‘I’m having fun finding out.’

He gave her a hunted look that made her burst out laughing. He joined her, while still gripping her hand out of sheer self-preservation. They made so much noise that Hope came out to see what the commotion was. But beneath the laughter Della saw the seriousness of the man who would never risk her safety, whatever it cost him. And it did cost him, she knew. There were evenings when he parted from her abruptly, lest his strength of will collapse, for his desire for her was as great as ever. She loved him for that, too. But most of all she loved him for what she discovered in his mind, in the long talks they had in the semi-darkness.

Now she could tell him about the path she’d travelled as she lay, unconscious, in hospital.

‘Everything was scary, dark and confusing. But then I heard you talking to me, telling me that everything would be all right because you were my husband, and you’d look after me.’

‘So why did you try to keep me away when you woke up?’

‘Because when I came back to reality everything changed. I knew it had been a wonderful dream, and that I had to be sensible.’

‘Being sensible has always been our curse,’ he observed. ‘It’s time you stopped that bad habit.’

‘I promise never to be sensible again.’

Sometimes she stared anxiously into the mirror, worried that her ordeal might have aged her faster. Her face was thinner, and there were scars around her left eye, which the nurse assured her would fade to thin lines. But to her relief there was no sign of premature grey hair.

‘Not like me,’ Carlo told her one day. ‘Look.’

Incredibly, the first signs of grey had started to appear at the side of his head. She examined them, wondering if suffering had done this to him.

‘You’ll have to treat me carefully now I’m getting decrepit,’ he told her mischievously.

‘Don’t let him fool you, daughter,’ Toni said. ‘The Rinuccis always go grey early. It’s just a family trait.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Carlo grinned. ‘I was going to make the most of it.’

Toni winked at Della. ‘When your name’s Rinucci it’ll happen to you, too.’

‘I didn’t think it worked like that,’ she said, chuckling.

‘You don’t believe me? Try being married to this one, and it’ll put ten years on you.’

Everyone laughed, and Della felt the world become a brighter place-partly, she thought, because Toni had called her daughter.

Gradually she saw that her looks had changed, but not in the way she’d feared. Her hair, which had merely curved gracefully before, now decided to curl, so that it was easier to wear it much shorter.

‘You look like a pretty little elf,’ Sol informed her.

‘Cheek.’

‘No, it’s nice.’

And Carlo thought so, too.

Sol was visiting, armed with photos of his newly-born son. He’d gained his degree-not brilliantly, but well enough to escape censure-and had a job lined up for when he returned to England.

Hope was thrilled with the child.

‘Our first great-grandson,’ she said.

‘But, Mamma,’ Carlo began to protest, ‘he’s not-I mean-’

‘Are you saying that Della isn’t one of us?’ Hope demanded.

‘Yes, she is. But-’

‘Then this baby is also one of us,’ Hope said firmly, thus settling the matter for all time.

When Della was well enough to move around almost normally Carlo vanished one day, and returned in the evening with the news that he had taken a job in a local museum. He explained that he would only need to go in on three days a week, which would give him time for his own projects at home, but it was still the kind of conventional employment that he would once have spurned, and Della and Hope were both loud in their dismay.

‘What are you thinking of?’ Hope asked him when they were alone.

‘Money,’ he said simply. ‘I haven’t worked for months and my cash is running out.’

‘You’ve been giving us too much-we can take less-’

‘I know that having Della here is expensive, and I won’t let that expense fall on you.’

‘As though Poppa and I minded-’

‘But I mind,’ he said, in the quiet, firm voice that was usual with him these days. ‘I’m taking this job.’

‘For how long?’

He shrugged cheerfully.

‘But what about expeditions?’

‘I can’t risk leaving Della. When she’s stronger we might manage some short trips together, but we’ll see how it works out.’

Hope said no more. She saw this dazzling son of hers, the most talented, the most brilliant, giving up his chance of an outstanding future. And yet he was happy. Because he’d found something that meant more to him.

At one time she would have blamed Della, but she knew better now.

It was Della herself who brought up the subject, finding Hope alone that evening.

‘You must hate me,’ she said slowly.

Hope spoke gently. ‘I have no reason to hate you. Never think that.’

‘You didn’t want me to marry him, and you have even more reason now. I’m tying him down, taking up his time when he should be working at his career.’

‘Once I would have thought so, too. But now I know that what he’s doing is more valuable to him than any career. Before, everything was easy for him-too easy. Then he had to fight for you, and it made a man of him. Don’t try to stop him. Take what he offers. Because in doing that you’ll be giving him the kind of love that he most needs.’

On the night before the wedding Hope found Carlo sitting alone under a lamp in the garden.

‘What are you reading, my son?’ She took the book from his hands. ‘English poetry? You?’

‘The sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning,’ he said, showing her the one that had held his attention. ‘I found them through Della.’

‘“How do I love thee?”’ Hope read. ‘“Let me count the ways.”’

‘Look at the last line,’ Carlo said. ‘I’ve read it so often-’ He whispered the words. ‘“And if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”’

‘Do you think of that very much?’ Hope asked, sitting beside him.

‘All the time. Twenty years, if we’re very lucky. Perhaps fifteen-or less.’

‘And then you’ll be left alone, with no children and nothing but memories,’ Hope said sadly. ‘But at least you’ll still be young enough to-well-’

‘No,’ he said at once. ‘I won’t marry again.’

‘My dear boy, you can’t know that now.’

‘Yes, I can,’ he said slowly. ‘You’d be amazed at how far and how well I can see ahead. It’s as though a mist has cleared, and I can follow the road to the end. I see it all, and I know where I’m going.’

She didn’t want to ask the next question, but she needed to know the answer.

‘And when you get there? How will you bear it without her?’

‘But I won’t be without her,’ he said quietly. ‘She’ll always be with me, still loving me, as I’ll always love her. Don’t worry about me, Mamma. She’ll never really leave me.’

His eyes were shining, and she had to look away. The next moment his arm was about her shoulder and he was hugging her.

‘Hey, come on,’ he said in a rallying voice. ‘Don’t cry. Everything’s all right. Tomorrow’s my wedding day. I’m marrying the woman I love, and I’m the happiest man in the world.’

Next day, the women in the family gathered to adorn Della in her ivory lace wedding gown, then to escort her to the main room, where the rest of the family was waiting. Only Carlo and Ruggiero were missing, having gone ahead to the church.

Sol was there to give her away. As he helped her out of the car she threw away her stick, not needing it now. Waiting for her at the altar was the man who valued her higher than anything else in life.

Sol smiled and offered his arm. She took it, and together they made their way down the aisle to Carlo. As she grew closer she could make out his expression of expectant joy.

Her heart began to speak to him in silent words.

I love you because from the first moment you accepted me wholeheartedly, asking for nothing except that I should be yours, and by valuing me you showed me how to value myself.

I love you because you taught me how to feel love, when I thought I’d never know.

I love you because you showed me that a man’s heart can be deeper and more powerful than I had dreamed possible. And then you gave that heart to me, renewing my life, for however long that life may be.

‘And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.’