I turned sharply to him. “Were? We still are.”
“Papa, we were going to tell you, he was going to marry me. I’ve been in love with him my whole life. Where is he?”
The look on my father’s face was pure shock. He had not been expecting that at all. A silence fell across the room. No one moved.
“Ev, Rocco was killed, his car was run off the road, we think. We don’t know all the details just yet, but I will find out.” Jonathan told me.
I heard the words, of course, but they didn’t register. I just stood, shaking my head, trying to dislodge them from my ears, from my brain. I heard my father rise from his chair and then I heard a strange noise, an animalistic, guttural, sound. It took a while before I realised the sound was coming from me. I couldn’t get my breath, I doubled over in pain before falling to my knees.
“I didn’t know. I mean, I knew there was a boy, but not Rocco,” I heard my father say as he knelt before me.
He tried to gather me in his arms but I pushed myself away.
“You knew though, papa, you knew he would be killed if he went back and you let him go, you let him go,” I said through the sobs.
“Bella, how could I stop him? If I’d know about you, you two, I would have. I would have stopped him, you believe that, don’t you?”
I looked at him, his eyes beseeching.
“Why didn’t I know, Evelyn, why?” he said, quietly.
‘He was too scared to tell you, papa, I was too scared to tell you. This fucking life we lead, we are never free.”
I saw feet move, I saw Jonathan usher everyone from the room and close the door gently behind them. I hugged myself, the tears soaking into my lap, droplets of anguish spilling onto the wooden floor. I hurt, my stomach hurt, my legs and arms and head hurt, but most of all, my heart shattered into tiny pieces inside me.
The door to the office opened, a bare set of feet came into view as Maria crouched beside me. She placed her arms around my body and rested her head on my back. She didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. She rocked me, gently.
“You should have told me. I asked you to find out who it was, you should have said,” I heard my father say, angrily, he was looking at Jonathan.
“Papa, I asked Jonathan to keep my secret, until we were ready to tell you,” I said through my sobs.
My father knelt down beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered to me, over and over. I reached out and took his hand in mine and we mourned for a man we had loved.
****
I woke up, I didn’t know when, it could have been the following day, or the one after. I was in my night gown, I didn’t remember getting undressed. I felt hollow, lost. My cheeks were red and chapped from the salty tears that just would not stop, even in sleep I must have cried, my pillow sodden. The door creaked opened and my father entered. He sat on the edge of the bed, nervous. I reached out for him, I climbed on to his lap and let my head rest on his chest. He seemed to have aged overnight. His arms went around my body and he hugged me so tight, just as he’d done when I was little. He stroked my hair, comforting me.
“Tell me about him, about the two of you?” he asked, gently.
Without looking up I told him. I told him how I had fallen in love with Rocco when I was just sixteen. I felt his body stiffen and I reassured him nothing had happened for two years. I told him how much I loved him, how he had loved me back, I knew he had. I apologised over and over for the lies and I asked his forgiveness.
“There is nothing to forgive, Evelyn. I should apologise to you. This life, it’s all I know. I just wanted to protect you, your sister and Joey. I just wanted to provide, give you everything you wanted and I failed.”
“You didn’t fail, papa, I should have told you. He was scared you would send him away if you knew. He said you wanted me to marry a doctor, a lawyer, he wasn’t good enough for me.”
“He made you happy, didn’t he?” my father asked. I nodded my head.
“Then he was a good man, good enough.”
We sat in silence for a while.
“Will you come downstairs, eat something?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, papa, I can’t eat today.”
“Okay, bella, but tomorrow I’ll cook something nice for you.”
“Papa, I need to ask you do something for me,” I said, the words catching in my throat.
“Anything, I would do anything for you,” he replied.
“Make them pay, papa, make them pay for Rocco.”
He looked at me, a sadness crept over his face before he nodded. At twenty years old I had finally embraced my father’s way of life.
I crawled back into bed and he left, not before I noticed the tears in his eyes. A half hour or so later, as I was dozing, the door opened again. Maria came in and climbed into the bed next to me, without a word she placed an arm around me and we cuddled and cried together. I cried for Rocco, I cried for his family, for me. I remembered our weekend, playing husband and wife and I cried for the life I would never have with him. I would never love anyone the way I loved Rocco. I had given myself to him, I had become a woman under his touch and he would always have a part of my heart, my soul. I would never be complete again.
****
It was nearly a month later that I returned to work. I wasn’t the same person, I wasn’t happy but I was coping. I treasured that photograph I had taken of him. Maria had taken the camera and had the pictures developed. She had come to my room and handed it to me. For the first time in months, she spoke.
“He loved you too, I heard him tell Jonathan. You need to get up now, Evelyn, if you don’t you’ll end up like me, please get up.”
It was all I needed to hear. I would still grieve, I would go to the church and pray and I tried my hardest to return to some form of normality. Four weeks to the day, Jonathan handed me a letter. An airmail sticker on the top corner and the postage mark from Italy made my heart stop. I didn’t recognise the writing and my hands shook as I held it. I needed to be alone and took myself to the garden. With the sun setting on the horizon, reminding me of those last moments in Rocco’s courtyard, I opened it.
Dear Evelyn,
I can’t tell you how sad we all are and how much I would have loved to have met you, I still do. My son spoke of you often with such affection. I didn’t want him to come here. It broke my heart to send him away, to your family. I didn’t know he was coming until he had arrived. It was a silly accident Adriana had been involved in, Rocco panicked. He shouldn’t have come. We still don’t know for sure what happened, I don’t think we will ever know. Your father has friends, they are searching for the other car involved, then we will know. I found this, by his bed. I don’t know if he intended to send this or perhaps he was practising what to say when he returned to you, but I thought you should have it.
If you ever can, Evelyn, please visit. I want to know the woman that my son loved so deeply.
Dina xxx
I held in my hand another piece of paper, folded into four. Just a plain white, scrap piece of paper with torn edges. It looked as if it had been folded and unfolded many times, creases divided up the page. I stared at it for a long time.
I didn’t tell you, but I do love you, Evelyn, and I will tell you every day and more. I don’t know why I am writing this, I don’t think I will ever give it you, I’m just writing my thoughts, preparing for when I see you next. I want it all straight in my head when I ask your father for his blessing, to marry you. I picture that day, you will be beautiful and you will be mine. I’ll be the proudest man, watching you walk on your father’s arm, to be handed over to me.
I’m sitting here, among the olive trees imagining you here, our children playing in the grass. This is something that will always just be a dream though. Perhaps, later, who knows. I want a daughter, Evelyn. I want a daughter who will look just like you, then a son and I will cherish them. I’ll work hard, we can start our own business, a safe one and buy a house. I wa
nt that life so much, it hurts.
You gave me the ultimate gift, yourself. I hear your moans in my head, when my hands touch you and all I want to do is lie next to you, holding you in my arms. I want to feel your skin, so smooth, so soft. I want to stroke your hair and kiss your lips. I want, well, you know what I want.
I’ll be home tomorrow and the first thing I’m going to do is find you. I don’t care who knows, I love you. I want everyone to know that. I LOVE YOU.
There was no signature, it wasn’t a letter as such, more a jumble of thoughts and a note to himself. I held it to my chest, it would become, along with the photograph my most treasured possession. Something that would go to the grave with me. I didn’t need possessions, I didn’t need fancy shoes or rings, I just needed confirmation that I had been right. This man had loved me and that one year we had together would be enough to last me a lifetime. I would never love another man the same, I would never completely give my heart, for me, there would only ever be Rocco.
****
I wasn’t paying attention, I was fumbling in my bag for a cigarette, something to calm the sickness inside when I felt a tug on the strap. I looked up and into the black eyes of a... Well, I wasn’t quite sure of his age. He was as tall as me, broad shoulders but a child’s face, a dirty face. I watched as he ran holding my purse, the purse that contained the only picture I had of Rocco. A sadness engulfed me and my knees buckled. I found myself kneeling on the cold, dirty sidewalk and not one person came to my aid. I bowed my head and I let the tears flow. I felt no embarrassment just an overwhelming sense of sadness. I thought that I would never again be able to hold that photo to my heart, to whisper words of love to it in dark, lonely nights.
A shadow fell across my lap and I looked up as the boy crouched in front of me. His dark eyes just staring. I moved slightly back, to get a little distance, I wasn’t sure of his motive and then he surprised me. He handed me back my purse.
“My friend is sick, I needed some money for medicine,” he said.
That was the day that I met Robert Stone, the boy that would save me. The boy that I would care for as if he was my own and who would help me mend my broken heart. The boy who would grow to be a remarkable, powerful, wealthy man, who looked upon my father as his own.
The boy who gave me a reason to continue to live.
Dear Reader,
We all have moments in our lives that we treasure, memories that, as we get older, fade but can always be called upon when we need them, for comfort. That one weekend with Rocco is mine. Over the years that followed, I’ve often thought of Rocco and what could have been. That old saying rings so true - to have loved and lost is better than to have never loved at all.
I wrote to Dina for many years, I was saddened never to have met her and even sadder to hear of her passing. Adriana and I, to this day, still exchange letters. They have a comfortable life, it appears Rocco had provided for his family, financially, although I suspect my father may have had a hand in that. I’m hoping to visit soon, to meet her family and her son, named after his uncle. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to visit Italy in the past but never been able to bring myself to go.It was only when I received an airline ticket, for a family holiday one Christmas, that I knew, now was the right time. With my family beside me, I would go. I would visit Rocco’s grave and I would love him all over again.
Don’t waste a moment, don’t waste an opportunity to tell that special person you love them. Don’t spend your life mourning or wishing for something better. You only have one life, make it count, live it to the fullest.
I never really fell in love again. It wasn’t because I couldn’t have, that I felt I would betray Rocco. I just never found another who could make me feel the way Rocco did. I love my family and that’s enough for me.
This isn’t the happy ending I would have loved, but had my life not taken the path it did, I would never have been on that street that day. I would never have shed tears that made a young boy come back to me. Fate brought Robert and Travis into my life, or maybe Rocco did, who knows. Whatever it was, I am truly thankful.
Evelyn
Contents
Copyright
About the author
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Letter from Evelyn
Evelyn (Fallen Angel Series Book 3) Page 8