‘Because you don’t believe me. Because you think I’ve lied to you about the baby being yours.’
‘No! Tesoro, no! Never!’
‘Then why wouldn’t you talk to me?’ she screamed, tears coursing down her dusty cheeks and leaving muddy trails in their wake. She scrubbed them away, biting her lip and fighting for control, and he felt another crushing wave of guilt.
‘Oh, Isabelle, my love—I couldn’t talk,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I was going through all the things it could be, wondering what was wrong with our child, if it would live or die—’
His voice cracked, and he let go of her and turned away, his shoulders heaving, and she stared at him, taking in his words, letting them sink in and make some sense of this sad and senseless day, and then tentatively she reached out her hand and laid it on his shoulder.
‘Luca? Please hold me.’
He turned, his face contorted, and dragged her hard up against him, and together they stood on the long, winding drive and wept.
Finally he lifted his head and led her into the shade of a cypress tree, and they sat down side by side, his arm around her shoulders, and he spoke softly to her, her hand wrapped firmly in his.
‘I was so busy blaming myself and feeling guilty for letting you work so hard and making you fly, and not letting you have your quiet little wedding, and all the time you thought I didn’t believe it was mine? Oh, Isabelle, I thought we’d got past this.’
‘I thought we had. I thought you would have talked to me, shared your fears.’
‘I wanted to protect you from it.’
‘How?’ she asked. ‘By refusing to discuss it? I’m a midwife, Luca—I know all the things it could be. How did you think not talking it through would help me?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. Of course it wouldn’t, but I was afraid to put too much into your head. I should have realised it was already there from the first suspicion that everything wasn’t right. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you were running away.’
‘I thought you didn’t trust me. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘I’m sorry. Of course I trust you. You’re far too honest to lie about a thing like that. That’s one of the things I love most about you.’
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she leant against him with a sigh, taking comfort from him and at the same time offering it.
‘Luca, what are we going to do?’
‘Wait,’ he said quietly. ‘What else can we do? We wait, and when we have the next scan, we’ll hopefully have more answers.’
‘And if there’s something wrong? I mean, there might not be. It could just be a little baby. I was working too hard, and I should have stopped, and I wasn’t eating properly, and I was so busy being stubborn I didn’t do the best thing for the baby, but what if—’
‘Hush,’ he murmured, pulling her closer. ‘It’s not your fault, and working hard and flying and the wedding are not responsible. If we’re logical, we both know that, but we’re doing what people do when things go wrong and blaming something or someone instead of just accepting fate. And if there is something wrong,’ he said, ‘then we’ll face it together, and somehow we’ll find the strength to do that, and to work through it together and support each other and our child. Whatever it is, however great or small, we can deal with it, cara. It will be all right. Come on, let’s go home.’
And getting to his feet, he held out his hand to her and pulled her up beside him. Then he saw her hand and lifted it questioningly, frowning at the little scrape on her finger where her nails had scratched it.
‘Where’s your ring?’
‘I gave it back to Massimo,’ she told him, and he tutted and smiled gently.
‘Then we’ll go and get it, and put it back where it belongs,’ he said, and putting his arm round her shoulders, he steered her carefully back to the car.
The next two weeks were agony, but they spent them together, for the most part. On the last day, though, he disappeared, and she found him eventually in the little chapel at the side of the house, sitting quietly.
‘Luca?’
He looked up and smiled, and held out his arm and she snuggled under it, glad to have found him.
‘I lit a candle for our baby,’ he said. ‘I do it every day. It’s funny, I haven’t prayed for years, but I’ve prayed more these last two weeks than I have in my life.’
‘Asking for miracles?’ she asked, moved by his simple words but unsure about the power of even that much prayer, and he laughed softly.
‘No. Not miracles. Just strength, for both of us.’
‘It’s nice in here—tranquil. It reminds me of your house in London in a way.’
‘Do you want to go back there?’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just wondered. If there is something wrong, then I’d like to come home, really. The family would give us so much support, but I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I know you have reservations.’
‘Not any more,’ she said truthfully. ‘They’ve been so wonderful the past two weeks—well, all the time, really, but especially recently—and I’ve grown to love it here. London was always my home, but only because it was where I lived. But this—this could be home, too, in a different way. But you’ll have to help me with my Italian, and I’d like my mother to come often—will you help with the air fares, Luca?’
‘Of course. Don’t be absurd, they can come as often as you like. And maybe we’ll need a house of our own.’
He left his thoughts hanging, but she could read his mind, and only the scan would answer that question. If then.
He looked at his watch. ‘It’s time. Shall we go?’
‘Well, there’s the heart—and it looks good. The flow’s excellent, the vessels all look fine—and the baby’s grown. Have you been resting?’
She laughed a little, and squeezed Luca’s hand. ‘Yes, I’ve been resting,’ she told him.
‘Well, it must have just had a slow start, because it’s caught up now—I would say it’s just a few days behind, maybe three or four, and that could be simply that it’s a small baby—a girl, probably, but I’m not sure without looking. Do you want to know?’
‘No.’
They spoke in unison, and Luca went on, ‘It doesn’t matter. All we have to do now is sit back and wait. Oh, and find a job here in Tuscany, at some point, before I forget how to deliver babies.’
His friend laughed. ‘How about the professorship? It’s still up for grabs.’
‘Professorship?’ Isabelle said, stunned, and he gave a wry grin.
‘Mmm—in Firenze. That was the job I turned down.’
‘For me?’ she said, even more stunned. ‘You turned down a professorship for me?’
‘Si. Because I loved you—from the first moment I saw you through the café window.’
‘Oh, Luca,’ she said, and started to laugh, but the laughter turned to tears of joy and relief, and as he gathered her up into his arms, his friend went quietly out and closed the door behind him…
EPILOGUE
ISABELLE STRAIGHTENED UP and arched her back, exhausted.
Heavens, the house had been dirty, she thought, and then the backache grew and spread, and she rested her hand over the baby and felt the contraction ease.
She glanced at her watch, and went into the kitchen to make a drink. It was probably just a Braxton-Hicks, she’d been having lots of them.
‘Ahh!’
She sagged against the worktop, hanging on and staring out over the valley at the Palazzo in the distance. It was mid-September, and they were harvesting the wheat, and Elisa was visiting Carla and the children, snatching the chance before Luca’s baby arrived.
She was alone, and she was having contractions every three minutes. That wasn’t good.
She went into out onto the veranda of the old shooting lodge and uncovered the birthing pool again. She’d just scrubbed it out and rinsed it thoroughly in preparation—because she’d known? Maybe.
&n
bsp; She turned on the taps, all plumbed in in readiness, and started to fill it. It had to be at exactly the right temperature, thirty-seven degrees, and as it filled she would need to adjust it to keep it right.
Well, it would give her something to think about till Luca got home, she thought, and then another contraction took her breath away. The moment it was past, she phoned the hospital and said, in halting Italian, ‘Could you please page Professor Valtieri and tell him his wife’s in labour and he’s needed at home? Yes, that’s right. Now, please. Thank you.’
Then she put the phone down within reach, turned on a soothing CD, peeled off her clothes and stepped into the water. Bliss. The music soothed her, the water was perfect, and the next contraction washed over her.
She tuned into it, feeling the power of it sweep through her body, and as she rested her head back, she relaxed her muscles and allowed them to do their work.
‘She’s what?’
‘In labour—I’m sorry, Dottore, I tried to page you but they said you were in Theatre, and I had to find you to tell you…’
His secretary’s words faded into the distance as he sprinted for his office to grab his car keys and phone. As he headed for the car park, he stabbed the speed dial for Isabelle and fumed impatiently until she answered.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. I’m in the pool.’
‘Who’s with you?’
‘No one, but I’m fine, Luca. I’m propped up, I can’t slip, I’m really comfortable and don’t even contemplate suggesting I get out. Just get home carefully.’
‘I’m on my way,’ he said. ‘Ring me—any change, ring me. How close are your contractions?’
‘Two minutes.’
He swore, fluently and succinctly, and gunned the car out of the car park into the stream of traffic heading out of the city. He hit the A1 in record time, drove faster than was sensible but slower than he wanted to, and skidded onto the drive a little over an hour later.
‘Isabelle!’
He ran out to the veranda and found her lying in the water, panting softly, her eyes closed and her legs drawn up. And he could see that the baby’s head was crowning.
Dear God.
He tore off his shirt, knelt down beside her and kissed her gently on the shoulder. ‘I’m here, tesoro. I’ve got you.’
‘Mmm,’ she sighed, and then made a little pushing noise and the baby’s head was delivered. She put her hand down and stroked it, and a smile drifted over her face, and he felt a huge lump in his throat. He’d so nearly missed this.
‘You’re doing really well,’ he murmured, holding her, and then with the next contraction, their baby was born and she lifted it, silent and peaceful, up to her breast.
He reached out, blinking away the tears, and laid his hand on the soft, soft skin of his child. It was pale, as babies born underwater so often were, and as it took its first shuddering little breath, its face went pink, then its body, then its arms and legs.
‘Hello, baby,’ she murmured, turning it so it could reach her nipple, and he got his first clear look at his baby.
‘She’s a girl,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘She’s a girl, Isabella. She’s beautiful.’
‘Can you check her? Please? Make sure everything’s all right?’
‘Si.’ He took his tiny daughter from her, his hands sure and confident, and wrapped her in a towel. It wasn’t cold—the weather was beautiful—but he didn’t want her to be chilled. He dealt with the cord, then laid her down on the towel beside Isabelle’s pool so she could watch and he checked her thoroughly.
Eyes, nose, mouth, ears, head, neck, hands, fingers, feet, toes, hips, bottom—perfect. And indignant now, wanting her mum, angry at being disturbed when she’d been so peaceful, and he smiled and lifted her to his shoulder.
‘Hush, baby. I need to look after your mama. You rest now.’
And putting her down in the waiting crib and wrapping her up gently, he turned back to his wife.
‘That was amazing. I’m so glad I was able to have a water birth, it was just wonderful.’
‘I can’t believe you did it without me—if I’d been any later—’
‘Shh,’ she said, smiling at her frowning, panicking husband. ‘You weren’t, so it’s all right, but maybe next time you’d better book a good chunk of time off and be a little closer.’
‘Next time?’ he said, smiling quizzically, and she smiled back, then looked down at their little daughter, asleep at her breast.
‘Oh, yes. And the time after, and the time after that.’
He laughed, then hugged her. ‘How can you even talk about it so soon? Crazy woman.’
‘Crazy about you,’ she murmured, and his smile faded as a dozen emotions chased across his familiar and beloved features.
‘Oh, tesoro.’ He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, they were bright with tears. ‘I love you,’ he said gruffly. ‘You and our beautiful little daughter. I can’t believe how much light and joy you’ve brought into my life.’
Unbearably moved, she reached up a gentle hand and cradled his cheek. ‘I feel the same. My life was empty without you, Luca, and now I’ve got so much—you, our daughter, your family—but most of all, you. I love you. Te amo, Luca.’
‘Te amo, Isabella,’ he murmured, and, bending his head, he touched his lips to hers in a kiss filled with tenderness and promise—the promise of a future rich with warmth and love and laughter, fiery with passion and with a deep, enduring trust to underlie it all.
He would be there for her, his kiss said; so long as there was breath in his body, he would be there for her, as she would for him. Forever…
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3492-9
THE VALTIERI MARRIAGE DEAL
First North American Publication 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Caroline Anderson
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The Valtieri Marriage Deal Page 16