'Sleep fast, my lamb.' Lucie touched her slightly hollowed cheek.
'Lucie,' she murmured, 'do you think dreams ever come true?'
'If they're meant to, though if you depend on dreams for your happiness you're going to find them a lot less substantial than real life. You have to ask yourself if the dream is nicer than what you really have.'
'It is,' Julia said, with quiet conviction. Someone loved her in the dream, so very much that she lay aching with loss whenever the daylight woke her up. She felt the dream would always vanish when she awoke from it.
The day of Ramona's wedding dawned sunny and warm. Domani was still redolent of the flowers which had been cut from the garden and taken down to the church by Tullio, and for the next couple of hours there was a lot of excited scurrying about as the bride was prepared for the wedding.
In the room where they dressed Ramona the long mirror was wreathed in jasmine, for it was the tradition that a bride should see herself that way on her wedding morning. Her white dress had puffed sleeves, an embroidered bodice and a flounced skirt over several lace petticoats. She wore a gold locket about her neck, and from a little coronet of white flowers there flowed a veil of flowered lace work.
The garment was a traditional Italian one, sent from Sicily by Vitale's grandmother, who was too old and tired to make the journey herself but had desired that her grand-son's bride wear the dress and veil which had been in their family for many years. It had been kept in layers of herb-scented linen in a cedarwood chest, and only minor alterations had been needed to make it a perfect fit for Ramona. She looked every inch a true Latin bride, a deep glow of joy and expectancy in her eyes. If she felt saddened that her family had refused to attend the wedding, the feeling was concealed. Not a shadow of doubt about her happiness with Don Vitale showed in her gaze as she turned from the mirror to smile at Julia.
'Do you think Vitale will approve of me?' she asked.
Julia broke into an answering smile. 'He'll love you,' she said simply. 'I've never seen a more charming bride in my life. The dress and veil suit you to perfection, as if they were made for you.'
'You look charming yourself, Julia, and I'm so happy you didn't change your mind about giving me away. I know Rome isn't too happy about it, but you do feel up to it, don't you?'
'I feel fine.' Julia spoke convincingly and kept to herself that upon getting out of bed that morning she had been seized by a dizziness which had flung her to the floor, where she had lain until the room righted itself. If deep inside her she still felt rather odd, she certainly had no intention of telling anyone. She wanted to see Ramona married, and a breath of a hint to Rome that she wasn't as fit as a careful application of make-up made her look, then he'd order her to return home. She couldn't bear the thought of being confined to the villa while everyone else enjoyed this lovely day.
She could feel her spine bracing itself as she walked down to the hall with Ramona, Lucie following with the long veil cradled in her arms. Rome had left for the village an hour ago, so he could lend his support to the bridegroom. He'd had a look of sombre elegance in a dark grey suit, a wine-coloured flower in his lapel. Looking at him when he left in his car, Julia had been irresistibly reminded of her sister's wedding day, when Rome had walked back into her life. It couldn't be denied that he was a remarkably handsome man, except that these days his lean face carried a more serious look.
As they waited in the hall for the wedding car to arrive, Julia could feel Lucie looking at her, concerned that she didn't tire herself. She tilted her chin and smiled, her eyes deep green beneath the dipped brim of a hat in ivory straw, with which she wore a dress of turquoise silk lightly draped about her figure. A crescent of creamy flowers was attached to her dress at the bosom, pinned there by an emerald brooch which Rome had laid casually on the dressing-table when he had asked that morning if she felt strong enough to attend the wedding.
'Don't stop me from going,' she had said.
'I'd stop you, Julia, if I thought it would be better for you.' His eyes had searched her face unsmilingly. 'I don't wish to be a killjoy, but I can't pretend that I wouldn't prefer you to rest at home.'
'I'm not an invalid, Rome.' She gave a laugh, and pushed from her thoughts the dizzy spell which had probably been caused by excitement. 'I haven't done anything to hurt the baby all these weeks, and going to Ramona's wedding won't do him any harm.'
'Him?' A faint smile had touched Rome's lips. 'Is instinct telling you that we're having a son?'
'I wouldn't want that train set to go to waste,' she retorted.
The wedding car drove through the sunlight and into the village, with its crooked streets of houses with flat roofs and walls crusted with limewash, flowers drifting from earthenware pots grouped along sills. Some of the old people stood in their doorways to wave at the car as it passed them, their skin sun-darkened and sculptured into lines from hard work and the gift of laughter.
The car drew to a halt in front of the church, its walls sun-burnished and pierced by coloured windows carved round by fat little angeli and cherubs. Stone steps led up to the entrance and two little girls in embroidered dresses helped carry the long lace veil as Ramona entered the coolness of the church to the sound of organ music. Lucie slipped into a seat while Julia continued to walk with the bride to the altar, where Vitale stood in his dark suit beside the taller figure of Rome. Julia felt his encompassing glance as she paused there beside the bride as the music faded and the priest stepped forward to start the ceremony.
At the sound of the Latin words Julia was reminded vividly of her own marriage in New York, where the rows of seats had been empty and the church large and echoing.
When Ramona and Vitale knelt on little red cushions in front of the altar, Julia remembered kneeling beside Rome and feeling his hand warm and hard around hers. She had felt cold and nervous, and so aware that their exchange of vows were not made from love but from expediency. When Rome had bent his tall head to kiss her, she had turned her cold cheek to meet his warm lips… how warm they had felt, as on that night when pride and passion had swept them together so mercilessly.
Suddenly Julia swayed… that sickening, spinning feeling was coming over her again. Any second she was going to fall, but before she could do so a strong pair of arms had hold of her and the next instant she was being carried quickly from the church into the sunlight. She heard Rome speak and she heard Lucie answer him. 'Get the doctor!' he said. 'Tell him to come to the villa—Santo Dio, her face! It's so white!'
'Julia?' A hand stroked her cheek. 'Julia, dear one?'
The voice was far away and yet so close… so very close. They sped along as through time and space that was made up of shadows and then sudden blinding stabs of whiteness. Tiny claws were tearing at Julia deep inside and she felt bathed in a cold perspiration. She wanted to retch and the car slid to a halt and she was held firmly yet gently so she could give way to her nausea on the roadside.
She was weeping… something had gone wrong. It had started to go wrong that morning and she should have told him.
'Rome…'
'Hush.' He wiped her forehead. 'Soon we'll be home and I'll put you to bed.'
'I'm so sorry—'
'No sorrier than I am, Julia.'
Her eyelids sank down over her eyes and she lay there, trying not to moan as her body and her heart were clawed by pain. She sensed vaguely that her head was against his shoulder as he drove; she could smell the scent of the flower in his lapel.
'Oh God!'
'Hold on, little one. We're almost home!'
Home… on Grand Drive, did he mean? Her head felt so strange, as if it was floating above her shoulders, out into space away from her body that hurt so much.
'Rome—' She slumped and everything went dark.
Through waves of pain and fatigue she came swimming back to a certain awareness. 'I can save your wife or your child, signore.' The voice spoke in Italian and she understood every word. 'It is doubtful if I can save both of t
hem, so you must choose.'
Rome made his decision instantly. 'You must save my wife! I can't lose Julia—it would be like losing my own life.'
'Ah, you love her, signore.'
'I have loved her since we were children. What caused this to happen to our child?'
'There is no one at fault, not you or your good wife. These things happen, signore. All goes well with the pregnancy, then all of a sudden something goes wrong, Nature can be very unpredictable at times.'
'What exactly has happened, dottore?'
'The child has breeched and the lower limbs are presenting themselves instead of the shoulders and head. The umbilical cord has twisted around the infant and the oxygen supply is almost cut off. He is being slowly strangled.'
Tears crept down Julia's cheeks and she knew she had to give Rome his son.
'Dottore,' she held out a weak hand and spoke in Italian, 'save the baby—my husband wants him so much!'
The doctor leaned over her. 'He wants you even more, signora. Nurse, my forceps! Signore, perhaps you will hold your wife while we have one final try—'
The words faded and Julia was half lost again in delirium, a warm pair of hands holding her head, a deep voice murmuring her name. Pain wrenched at her and she heard someone curse desperately. 'Don't keep hurting her, for God's sake!'
'The child has to emerge, signore, dead or alive!'
Everything was peaceful now. The bedroom lamps diffused a soft, warm glow and the curtains were pulled across the windows. Julia stirred in a soft warm nest and her body felt so curiously slight and young again. Her eyes sought around the room and her heart gave a deep beat as the tall figure turned from the door, where he was speaking to someone, and came swiftly to the bedside. He leaned over her and she lifted a hand to touch his lean, drawn face. Slowly she saw the tears gather and shimmer in his grey eyes.
'I'm so sorry, Rome,' she murmured.
'Sorry?' He allowed a tear to streak his cheek before hastily wiping it away. 'You won't be when you see him, cara.'
'Him?'
'Sebastian, our son.' Rome half-turned towards the door. 'Bring him to her, Lucie. Bring the boy.'
'But the doctor said—' Julia couldn't take her eyes from Rome's face. 'I heard him say you had to choose me or the baby. He said the baby was dying—'
'He's a tough one like his father.' Lucie was at the bedside with a blue-shawled bundle in her arms. She smiled down at Julia. 'Almost blue as this shawl when the doctor pulled him out, but the signore took him and breathed into his mouth until he let out such a yell. My, but there's nothing wrong with this bambino!'
Julia's eyes were shining as she held out her arms for Rome's son. She felt him, warm and soft, his little rounded cheeks faintly pink. She stroked a finger against the delicate softness of his skin and very slowly he opened his eyes.
Velvety pupils and glimmering grey irises. Rome's eyes, as she had known they would be.
She glanced up eagerly into the eyes she had always loved. That love had gone into hiding for a while… she hadn't been able to face it that the dark, beautiful boy could grow up a devil who had taken her with such merciless desire that night in Naples.
But now she knew that the desire sometimes had no mercy if the love was overpowering.
Rome leaned down and kissed her, and then very gently the baby. 'Don't leave me,' he whispered. 'I—I couldn't bear it, Julia. I just couldn't face it—I'd have to make you stay, as I made you stay that other time.'
'You don't have to make me, darling,' she whispered back. 'I'm where I want to be, where love is.'
'I've wanted so many times to say it, but each time I advanced you retreated—I could only love you with passion, Julia, never with the refinement you wanted from that other man. I can't help it that I'm Italian.'
Rome's eyes dwelt with a smouldering fire upon her face. 'Have you truly surrendered at last, my one and only love?'
'Oh yes,' she breathed. 'Lucie was right, she said there was no one else—'
'No one that ever mattered—no one at all after that night in Naples, only you. Julia, do you forgive me?'
She glanced at the baby in her arms and slowly smiled. 'You were right, signore, we did make this son of ours with passionate love—I know it now. Isn't he just perfect?'
'Santo Dio,' Rome groaned, 'a woman is a perfect mystery!'
Lucie smiled and nodded to herself as she slipped quietly from the room and left Julia to bask in the love Rome had always felt for her. The trembling stars hung over Domani—the house of tomorrow.
Desire Has No Mercy Page 17