Her One and Only Hero

by Sharon Hartley

  Fran took her daughter’s hand, found her flesh chilly, and covered it with both of hers.

  “I am sorry,” Fran said. “I know you love your nonna.”

  “So the reason she hates Americans is because my father is an American?”

  “No. She hated your father because he is an American. She never wanted me to go to America to study.”

  “But that’s wrong,” Bella said. “You cannot hate people because of where they were born. Especially before you even meet them.”

  Fran squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I am pleased you feel that way.” I made sure of that at least.

  “They must have hated me when I was born since I am half American.” Bella sighed. “I never realized.”

  “No, tesoro.” Fran touched her daughter’s cheek. “I promise your grandparents fell in love with you the moment they saw you. As did Paolo.”

  “So he knows he’s not my father?”

  “Of course. And he knows you are safe. I spoke to him a few hours ago. He sends his love.”

  “I love Paolo.”

  “I know you do.”

  “It’s funny, though.” Bella bit her bottom lip. “I always felt as if he was my uncle rather than my father. So why did you marry Paolo if you loved Dale?”

  Fran smiled at her daughter. Bella made everything sound so simple, and maybe it was. “To get out of my locked room.”

  “So he rescued you?”

  Fran grinned at the image of Paolo as Prince Charming riding in on a white steed to scoop her away from cruel parents. “In a way, yes. And you.”

  “My grandparents thought he was acceptable to marry because he is Italian?”

  Fran nodded. “And a political ally of Nonno.”

  “I guess they did not realize he likes men.”

  Fran raised a hand to her mouth. “You know Paolo is gay?”

  “Not at first, but yeah. Duh. That’s why I knew something was not right with our family.”

  “I see.”

  “Did they ever figure it out?”

  “Eventually,” Fran said. “But times have changed.”

  “Yeah, even in Italy. So lame.” Bella shook her head. “I can’t say anything to Nonno since he is dead, but I will tell Nonna how wrong she is when I talk to her.”

  Good luck with that. “Some people will never change their minds no matter how many facts are shown to them,” Fran said. “I fear your grandmother is one of them.”

  “Was it hard for you to see my father again?”

  “Yes,” Fran admitted.

  “Was he surprised to find out about me?”

  “Very.”

  “Was he happy?”

  “After he got over the shock, I think so.”

  Bella closed her eyes. “Thank you for finding me. I am sorry I ran away.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I was so afraid.”

  “Shh,” Fran murmured. “It is all over now. We can go home.”

  Bella’s eyes flew open. “But I do not want to go home.”

  * * *

  DALE PUSHED OPEN the door to Bella’s hospital room and hesitated, peering into the darkened space. His daughter appeared to be asleep. The chair beside her bed was empty. He searched the room for Fran, but didn’t see her. The door to the bathroom was open, so not in there.

  Where was she? She’d barely left Bella’s side.

  Dale took a deep breath. Damn, he was more nervous about a solo conversation with a twelve-year-old than the reaming he’d received from his commanding officer. But what did one say to a twelve-year-old who’d been through hell?

  He needed Fran for a buffer.

  Maybe he shouldn’t go in. He didn’t want to wake Bella. And she might hate him because of what she’d been through. He wouldn’t blame her if she did, although he couldn’t fathom how anything could have been his fault.

  Still, he knew from experience with his younger sisters that preteen girls think in strange ways.

  What had Fran told Bella about what happened thirteen years ago? Had Fran sugarcoated the truth? Damn, they’d only been a few years older than Bella when they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other, the first sexual experience for both of them, which had been awkward but amazing.

  Had Bella had her first sexual experience at the hands of her captors? She claimed not to have been raped, but maybe she’d been holding back.

  A light over the bed flashed on, illuminating Bella, eyes wide open and staring at him.

  “Aren’t you going to come in?”

  Her soft, gently accented voice galvanized him into action.

  “Yes,” Dale said, and stepped into the room. “How do you feel?”

  “Okay,” she said. “Bored.”

  Dale grinned. That sounded like a normal girl her age. “Haven’t you had enough adventure?”

  “I want to get out of this place and see America,” she said. “So far all I’ve seen is rooms full of sewing machines.”

  Stung by her comment, Dale nodded. “Not much of an adventure I guess.”

  “Not much.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  When Bella shrugged and looked away, Dale understood. She’s not ready to talk about the trauma yet. The wounds are too fresh, too painful, or she’s repressing the hurt. She needs someone trained in getting her to open up. Recovery will take time.

  “Where is your mom?”

  “I don’t know. She probably went to the cafeteria to get something to eat when I fell asleep.”

  “Good,” Dale said. Now what?

  “Sit down,” Bella urged. “I want to know all about what happened with your boss.”

  Dale took the seat beside the bed. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Yes, I do. Mamma told me your boss is mad at you because you were helping her find me.”

  “I see,” Dale said. “What else did your mother tell you?”

  “Everything,” Bella proclaimed with confidence. “How you two fell in love and she got pregnant with me and my grandparents wouldn’t let her tell you about me and made her marry Paolo.” She took a deep breath.

  Dale’s grin grew wider. Bella had summed up over a decade’s worth of pain and longing and angst in one long sentence. And she made it sound so simple. Hell, maybe it was.

  “I’m really mad at my nonna,” Bella said.

  “You are?”

  “Of course. For locking Mamma away and hating Americans for no good reason.”

  “Is your mother mad at you?”

  Bella made a face. “You mean for running away to find you?”

  “Yeah, and for trusting a strange man.”

  “I think she is, yes, but she hasn’t said what my punishment will be yet. I think she’s still too happy to see me.”

  “Probably so,” Dale agreed. “Do you know how lucky you are that we found you?”

  She nodded, a shadow entering her eyes. “I know.”

  Dale cursed himself. Why was he doing this to her, reminding her of the danger?

  “And I’m sorry,” she said. “I really and truly am. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.” Her face brightened. “But I found you. Are you in a lot of trouble because of me?”

  “Nothing that I can’t handle.”

  Her smile reappeared. “Mamma told me you are a police officer.”

  “Yes, I am,” Dale said, pleased by his daughter’s respectful tone. Not everyone thought law enforcement was such an awesome job.

  “A detective,” she said dreamily, as if that title somehow conferred rock star status.

  Dale sighed. Maybe not a detective. His promotion was on hold pending Lieutenant Marshall’s review of the FBI report. He’d spilled his guts to LT about Bella and Fran and the search, but his com
manding officer had been less than sympathetic, insisting Dale had used poor judgment, that a detective should have been up front about what was transpiring in his life no matter how unsettling. LT had slammed him with a week suspension without pay.

  If he didn’t have his detective shield, he could forget assignment to the terrorism task force. But things had changed for him. He’d realized what was important in life, which had shifted his career goals. He now had a fire in his gut to stop human trafficking. More light needed to be shed on that abomination.

  But no reason to tell Bella about his endangered promotion. She had enough to deal with. And the suspension gave him a week to spend with his daughter.

  “Did you miss Mamma when she flew back to Rome?”

  Startled by the sudden change in subject, Dale hesitated.

  “Or did you forget all about her?” Bella asked.

  “Forget your mother? No way,” Dale said. “Actually, you could say I ran away, too.”

  “You did?”

  “I was so miserable believing that I’d lost your mother, I joined the army and got shipped to Iraq.”

  Her eyes widened. “You went to war because you missed Mamma so much?”

  “Yeah, that’s what happened.”

  “So you still loved her?”

  Dale leaned forward and took one of his daughter’s hands. “I have never stopped loving your mother.”

  “Even after all this time?”

  “Even after all this time.”

  “That is so cool,” Bella said.

  Dale shook his head. Cool? More like dumb. Yeah, Fran had said she loved him, but was that real love, the kind of love that lasts? Or nostalgia about the past? He didn’t want her to take his daughter, a daughter he found more enchanting every minute he spent with her, and fly back to Italy.

  But why shouldn’t she? He hadn’t told her how he felt.

  He’d told their daughter, but she wasn’t the person who needed to know.

  “You should get hitched,” Bella proclaimed.

  Dale rubbed his chin. “Hitched?”

  “Isn’t that what you call it in America? I heard that in a movie about cowboys.”

  “Your mother told me you like America.”

  “I love America.”

  “Even after what happened to you?”

  “Mr. Zarco isn’t from this country,” Bella logically pointed out.

  “Do you still want to see America?” Dale asked.

  “Of course. Especially the Everglades. I want to draw an alligator.”

  “How would you like it if you and your mom came to live with me for a while?”

  “Awesome idea. I would love that.” Bella leaned toward him and said, “You know, I think Mamma still loves you, too.”

  Feeling like a conspirator, Dale also leaned toward her. “You do? Why?”

  “There you are.” Fran’s cheery, breezy voice startled Dale. He sat back. So did Bella.

  How much had Fran heard?

  “Guess what, Mamma?” Bella said in a voice full of excitement.

  “What?” Fran asked, with a quick, wary glance at Dale.

  “Papa has invited us to live with him so I can finally see America.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FRAN CAME AWAKE to the heavenly smell of fresh coffee. She blinked at the dark room, unsure where she was and then the memories flooded in.

  Bella was safe.

  Fran rolled her head to check. Yes, her daughter slept in the next bed. Yesterday, Dale had brought her home from the hospital to his condo.

  With another grateful prayer that her daughter was alive and well, Fran slipped out of bed and into a robe and went in search of Dale. If coffee was brewing, he must be up, and they needed to talk.

  There was so much left unsaid between the two of them.

  Dale had a two-bedroom condo, so naturally mother and daughter occupied the guest room. Dale had hesitated at that decision but had not protested. Bella, however, had been quite disappointed by the sleeping arrangements, and Fran suspected her daughter was trying to encourage a relationship between her parents.

  The whole thing was just too weird, so when Bella got sleepy, Fran had disappeared inside the guest room with her daughter and had not emerged until the smell of coffee roused her.

  She found Dale sitting at an island in his small kitchen reading the sports page of the Miami Herald. He looked away from the paper and smiled.

  Without a word, he got up and poured her a cup of coffee as she took a seat across from his.

  “Grazie,” she murmured and took a sip. American coffee of course, but still. At least it contained caffeine.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, his piercing green eyes assessing her. She suspected he missed nothing, but what did he see?

  “Fantastic,” she said. And she had gotten a good night’s sleep, the first since Bella’s abduction. While Bella remained in the hospital, Fran had slept beside her bed, waking every hour from discomfort or to reassure herself that Bella truly was okay. Fran hadn’t been able to go home with Dale, even though he’d wanted her to.

  “Me, too,” he said. “Is Bella still asleep?”

  “For now. She will likely be up soon.”

  “How is she?” he asked.

  Fran sighed, knowing Dale was asking how their daughter was coping with the aftermath, with the trauma of her ordeal. He did not know his daughter well enough to make that judgment, so was relying on her.

  “I am not sure,” Fran said. “She seems fine, but how can she be?”

  “I know. Kids are resilient, but she’s been through so much. Did you talk to the therapist yesterday?”

  Fran nodded. Bella had had three sessions with a female counselor while in the hospital.

  “She said that Bella’s reactions were normal, that she is slowly opening up about what happened. She insists Bella must continue to talk to someone.” Fran bit off the rest of what she’d almost said by taking a swallow of coffee. “When we return to Italy.”

  Fran did not want to talk about the future yet. She was not ready. She did not think Dale was either.

  But when?

  Dale pushed away from the island and poured himself more coffee, although his mug appeared to be full. She watched him curiously. Maybe she was wrong. Dale obviously had something to say.

  “Fran, I—” He ran a hand through his hair, uncharacteristically nervous. “I want to get to know Bella.”

  “And she wants to know you.”

  “It’s more than that. I want to be a part of our daughter’s life. Please allow me to be.”

  Fran lowered her mug. “Of course.”

  He blew out a breath, obviously relieved. “Thank you.”

  He came around to her, pulled her from the chair and kissed her—a kiss that began softly and increased in intensity, conveying deep meaning, a meaning she wanted to explore. Her Dale tasted of American coffee as his tongue curled around hers. She was beginning to like the taste.

  “Mio Dio,” Bella said behind her in a voice full of mock outrage.

  Dale jerked back, releasing Fran.

  Continuing in Italian so Dale would not understand, their precocious daughter said, “Good work, Mamma.”

  Dale jammed his hands into his pockets.

  “Today I want to go shopping,” Bella announced, reverting to English. “I want some American clothes. And I need a new sketch pad.”

  * * *

  FRAN PAUSED ON the boardwalk at Shark Valley in Everglades National Park and lifted her hair away from her damp neck. She had forgotten how muggy September could be in South Florida. Especially in the middle of a swamp surrounded by water.

  Although Bella did not seem to mind the humidity.

  She and Dale stood about fifty feet away. Leaning on a railing, Dale pointe
d out a large white bird to his daughter. Fran smiled as she watched them. They seemed to be getting along great. There had been some initial awkwardness but Dale knew how to talk to her, perhaps because of his younger sisters.

  Bella pulled out the sketch pad she and Dale had purchased on a shopping trip yesterday—a trip Bella had asked to take alone with her father—and began to sketch. Wearing a broad grin, Dale watched the drawing emerge.

  Fran and Dale had not yet had a private conversation. He was all about interaction with Bella, which of course she understood. Father and daughter had a lifetime to catch up on.

  No mention had been made about when she and Bella would go home.

  It was as if all three of them deliberately avoided that subject. But how much longer could they remain in America?

  Milan had given her a generous extension.

  While father and daughter had been shopping, Fran had contacted her patrons and explained everything. So perhaps there was no rush to go home.

  Still, Bella had missed weeks of school. Yes, yes, she was a year ahead, so that probably did not matter either. What did matter?

  Fran pulled her sticky blouse away from her skin. She could not force herself to do anything anymore. Maybe because she did not know what she wanted to do.

  At the sound of a squawking bird overhead, Fran looked up. She knew this bird, a great blue heron, all gray and gangly and prehistoric looking. But how effortlessly the great animal flew, flapping its wings, skimming near the surface of the water. I wish I could so easily fly away.

  No. Her habit of escaping into work and hiding from her problems had ended. She must figure out what she wanted and face life head-on.

  She and Dale had only a few minutes alone that first morning before Bella joined them in the kitchen. They’d barely said hello, how is Bella, when Dale had said, “I want to be a part of our daughter’s life. Please let me.”

  But how would that happen? Dale could visit them in Italy, but how long could he stay? Bella could fly to Miami in the summers. Should I allow her to come by herself? Would he want me to come, too?

  There’d been no time to launch into any sort of discussion about what the future looked like for them.

  If they even had a future. How could they?