by Beth Ciotta
I look to Sylvia. “You can’t take all the blame for the past. When Nick grew older, he could’ve reached out to you.”
“He did.”
Nick tenses and I think this, whatever Sylvia’s about to reveal, is the sin he can’t forgive.
“Four years after I left the states,” she says on a sigh, “Nicky called me out of the blue. He told me that, instead of allowing him to attend public high school, Ron was sending him to a military boarding school. With Valerie’s support. Nicky begged me to intervene. He wanted to move to Italy, to live with me, to focus on his music.
“As much as I wanted to offer refuge, I didn’t. I told Nicky, even if that school was Ron’s idea, his mom had his best interest at heart. She wanted to equip him with a high-quality education and leadership skills. How could I argue with that?”
She looks to her grandson with her heart in her eyes. “Maybe I should have handled things differently, but I honestly believed your parents were offering you a leg up in this world and that you should at least give that school a try. I honestly thought you’d adjust and benefit.
“I’m sorry you hated it there. I’m sorry your mom fails to see the relevance of your music. I’m sorry if gifting you this farm seems like a lame apology for letting you down, but I won’t take it back. Especially now that two little boys are involved. This could be your joyous haven. Maybe not today, but someday.”
Nick drags his hands down his face, his visible anger fading at Sylvia’s obvious distress.
At this point, I know enough from both sides to piece together the gist. Nick felt that Sylvia abandoned him, not once, but twice. Because when Valerie sided with Ron to send him to a boarding school—a school more focused on discipline than the arts—she as good as deserted him for the second time.
I could sit here and help these two navigate a history of disappointment and terrible communication, but I’m wrestling with my own injured feelings, and my willingness to play mediator is sapped.
“We came here so you can bury that hatchet,” I say to Nick. “Your words. For both of you to move on in peace, you need to talk this out. The betrayals, the grudges, the motivation, and regrets. All of it,” I say to Sylvia.
“Where are you going?” she asks as I stand.
“This doesn’t concern me.”
“But you’re family.”
“No,” I say, my heart aching as I meet Nick’s gaze. “I’m just a weekend wife.”
Chapter 39
I ESCAPE TO our bedroom, march for the terrace and, seeking calm, suck in the cool, fresh air.
It doesn’t help.
I move back inside and pace, obsessing on the last few days.
Nick isn’t the only one who feels betrayed. How could he seduce me into falling in love with him without revealing the existence of those boys?
No matter how I spin it, I can’t make sense of it. So my mind hops to the future, which only confounds me more.
Over a week ago, my life was perfect. Or close to perfect. I was happy. Mostly happy.
All of a sudden I’m thinking about my less-than-stunning relationship with my own parents. As well as with my siblings and friends. I’m spinning in my own vault of disappointment, frustration, and crap communication.
By the time Nick joins me, I’ve depleted my rage. Instead, I feel sad and bone-deep lonely. I’m curled up on the terrace, sinking into my misery and a padded wicker chair. He sits across from me, his handsome face illuminated by the massive golden moon.
He looks…pensive. “I’m not sure where to begin, Meg.”
“Did you and Sylvia clear the air?”
“We did. And, even though we feel a little awkward, you’re right. We can find our way back to where we were. Or a version of it anyway. She also understands that I need to be in the States.” He looks down and shakes his head. “This argument. Some petty shit on my part, huh?”
“Not petty. The thing is, I was sitting here thinking about all the ways I disappointed my parents and vice versa. Thinking about all the years I spent dodging extended visits with them and my siblings because we didn’t see eye to eye. Time we’ll never get back.
“All of my friendships have been work related. Once the gig ended, I allowed those friendships to fade away. I’ve spent the last twenty-two years avoiding committed relationships. I’ve avoided love because I never recovered from the one time I fell heart over head for a man.”
I breathe deep, then meet Nick’s gaze. “Then you blindsided me.”
“Meg—”
“Against all reason, I fell in love with you, Nick. You know I worry regarding our age difference. You know I’m in the middle of a life crisis. And yet you seduced me. How could you not tell me about Caleb and Dash? I understand your devotion to those young boys,” I rush on, “and I admire your plans to adopt. But how could you declare your love for me without telling me about this major complication?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know.” He reaches over and grasps my hands. “Please believe me when I tell you I never meant to deceive you, Meg. I’m dealing with privacy and legal issues, not to mention my own insecurities regarding my future as a father. I wanted a chance to bond with you before introducing all that baggage. I wanted to see if we clicked in a deeper sense—which we do.
“If I didn’t think you’d bond with Caleb and Dash, I wouldn’t have taken you on this trip. And honestly, I didn’t mean to tell you I loved you when I did.” He smiles a little. “Things happen. We happened.”
My heart is a cramped, slow-thudding thing in my chest. “I appreciate your faith in my maternal instincts, but I’m not ready for an instant family.”
I push out of the chair and grip the railing. I gaze at the moonlit garden and the rolling hills beyond and I feel a little less lonely, a little calmer.
“I don’t know what I want to do with my life right now,” I say honestly. “My confidence is shaken and my emotions are tangled. I need to explore options. I need time and distance and…a fresh start.”
Nick moves in behind me, pressing his front to my back, and wrapping his hands over mine. He’s warm and loving and I trust he never meant to trick me.
Still.
“I’m not flying back with you tomorrow,” I say past a lump in my throat. “I’m going to stay with Sylvia for a while. Maybe longer.”
Tears well as he turns me in his arms and kisses me sweetly, then deeply. I’ve never felt so fragile. Or strong.
Cradling my face, he drops his forehead to mine.
“You know where to find me, Meg.”
Chapter 40
I DEVOTE THE next several months to living on the farm with Sylvia—exploring the novelty of domesticity and tapping into new aspects of internal joy.
My love of the region and people and my friendship with Sylvia and the Quests, along with the need to nurture my creative soul, fuels my determination to film that documentary.
As a companion piece, I keep a handwritten datebook. A thought here. An event there. Something to chronicle the blurring days.
May 15—It’s official. I’m filming the development of the Quests’ dream project under the Tuscan skies and the umbrella of Italian traditions. But instead of starring in the project, I’m staying behind the camera. I want the world to see this slice of heaven through my eyes.
May 17—stepped up communications with my family, going so far as to invite them for a visit. Also, I contacted an old crew member, resurrecting a friendship when he agreed to give me sporadic tutorials on editing software. I’m determined to nurture my relationships as much as I once nurtured my career.
May 25—bought Sylvia a laptop and taught her computer skills so she can enjoy video chats with Nick. At her insistence, I sat in on her initial chat. Nick was full of news. Caleb and Dash will be moving in with him in June and he not only scored a reliable part-time nanny, he thought outside the box and secured new employment—writing and recording commerc
ial jingles and stock music. He’ll be working less at the pub and more from home. Although it will be several months before the adoption is finalized, Nick was jazzed. My heart jerked throughout. It was good to hear his voice, to see his face. It was also too soon.
June 5—Sylvia finally met Caleb and Dash in person, or rather via Skype. She’s in love. I’m torn about meeting them. What if we don’t hit it off? What if I get attached and the final adoption falls through? Or what if my involvement somehow mucks things up? I don’t know why I’m so manic about it. It’s not like Nick is pressing me to meet them. It’s not like he’s brought up the concept of “us.” He’s keeping it casual. I should be glad. I am glad. Mostly.
June 20—Casa di Gioia was invaded by my parents, my sister and brother, their spouses, and my four nieces and nephews. I’m not sure who was more thrilled by the extended visit—me, Sylvia, or my family. Everyone was impressed with my knowledge of the region and mom was blown away when I baked cherry tarts from scratch. Dad not only praised my film footage, but offered a damn good suggestion. One evening I confided in my parents, confessing my feelings and fears regarding Nick. For once in my life, I took their advice to heart.
July 1—I started e-mailing and chatting with Nick on my own, taking our relationship to a new level—a genuine and solid friendship. We brainstorm aspects of my film and he shares his thoughts regarding a musical score. I tell him about my deepening friendship with Elsie Quest, my first real girlfriend in ages. I assure him Sylvia’s in tip-top form—according to my doctor dad—and I applaud his increased, albeit awkward, communications with his mom. Nick updates me on the progress he’s making with the boys regarding their social and learning skills and makes light of challenges he faces as a single dad—even though I know he’s concerned.
August 10—The summer’s flying by and my restless spirit’s settling as I form tight relationships with locals and explore possibilities for increasing tourism for the region through expanded media exposure. I feel rooted and inspired, although with each passing day and the absence of Nick, I want more.
August 27—Tilly had puppies. In a moment of weakness, Sylvia and I adopted one.
September 15—had my first video chat with Caleb and Dash. I was charmed, not only by their sweet shyness, but by the way Nick interacted with them. The experience left me breathless and contemplating the benefits of an instant family. I itch to fly over to explore my maternal instincts in person, but Nick’s dealing with the last bits of red tape and my parents are returning for a one-month visit. Due to some puppy damage, Sylvia and I are doing some home repairs. We’re also preparing for the grand opening of the Quests’ resort and I’m shooting a music festival in Cetona in October. And then there’s the olive harvest in November. It occurs to me that I finally have a damn life—only it isn’t quite complete.
Chapter 41
“I SCREWED UP, MOM.”
“No, you didn’t, honey.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” says Elsie.
Sylvia pats my hand. “Of course, everything’s fine.”
We’re sitting around the table in Sylvia’s garden. But instead of enjoying the company of my family and friends, the lovely fall breeze, and a plate of home-baked Italian pastries, I’m obsessing on my lack of communication with Nick.
I tap my phone. “I’ve called, e-mailed, and texted. I haven’t heard from Nick in four days.”
“He’s overwhelmed with the last legal step of adoption,” Sylvia says.
“You know this,” I say, “because he called you yesterday.” I point to Elsie. “And he e-mailed you and Jim the day before to wish you luck with your first off-property event. He even texted Dad,” I say to Mom, “thanking him for rescheduling your trip to coincide with the harvest as a show of support for Sylvia and the Quests and my film. So, yeah. I know he’s okay. But ‘we’ are not okay. Otherwise he would have returned any one of my messages.”
I’m hurt. I’m worried. I’m pissed. “I should have been there for the finalization process. I should have dropped everything—”
“You had obligations here,” Mom says. “Nick understood—”
“I should have been there for him.” Heartsick, I stand and shove my phone in my pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a drag. This is supposed to be a joyous day. It is a joyous day. In a few hours I’ll be filming the olive harvest and oil pressing—the finale of my first documentary. And after I get to celebrate with my parents and closest friends.”
Olivia yaps at my heels.
“And my dog,” I say past the lump in my throat as I scratch her scruffy ears. “I’m just…I’m going to walk this off.”
“Don’t go too far, dear,” Sylvia says. “Any minute now—”
“Your dad will be returning from the market,” Mom says.
“With goodies,” says Elsie.
I smile a little, thinking about Dad’s newly acquired weakness for grappa with his coffee. We didn’t have any on hand this morning, although I swore I bought a bottle of that liquor last week.
“I won’t be long,” I say as I march toward the olive grove with Olivia trotting behind. Soon, I think as I pass between the fruit-laden trees, this grove will be alive with the laughter and chatter of olive-picking tourists.
I sink in the grass at the edge of the property with Olivia curled at my side. Gazing at the rolling hills beyond, I think about how much my life has changed over the last six months.
Last month, I had a heart to heart with Nick. I confessed that, as much as I was looking forward to flying back to the States to nurture a relationship with him and the boys, I was struggling with the thought of leaving the life I’d built in Tuscany.
In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t been so honest. I wish I booked a flight back the next day, instead of waiting for the week after the olive harvest. I wish I told Nick straight out how much I love him over the phone, instead of choosing to tell him in person.
“What’s done is done,” I say to Olivia. “But it’s not over. If I waited too long, if I screwed up…Nick and I can get back to where we were.”
“I’m thinking we moved beyond where we were weeks ago.”
I jump at the sound of his voice. I turn and see him in the flesh, the man I’ve grown to love in the deepest, most all-consuming sense of the word. “Nick.”
“Your dad picked us up at the train station.”
“Us?”
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “The boys are back at the house, getting fawned over by Gram, your parents, and Elsie. So this is Olivia,” he says while crouching beside us. “Cute pup.”
I stare as he rubs her chunky little belly. Oh, how I’ve missed those beautiful hands.
Nick glances at me, looking irritatingly bemused. “You okay?”
“Why didn’t you tell me—”
“We wanted to surprise you.”
Tears burn my eyes. “Damn you, Walker. I thought…I thought…”
“Gram told me what you thought. You didn’t screw up, Meg. You did everything right.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“The boys are excited to meet you,” he says as he pulls me to my shaky legs. “And they’re excited about the olive harvest. Have room for three more?”
Heart pounding, I move into his arms. “How long are you staying?”
“For a while. Maybe longer. That depends on you.”
I kiss him with all my heart and joy. I tell him I love him and then I kiss him again, my future flashing before my eyes—a future full of friends and family, a husband and sons. A dog and a fulfilling creative outlet.
Olivia barks and I ease back, catching a glimpse of Sylvia standing under the canopy of olive trees and holding hands with two little boys. This family captured my heart—even with an ocean between us.
I smile at Caleb and Dash and then I smile at Nick. “We’ve already done the weekend thing. How about this time around we shoot for forever?”
“A forever family, huh?”
He kisses me then whispers in my ear. “We’re gonna smoke this gig.”
About the Author
A former entertainer and professional emcee, award-winning author Beth Ciotta has published with HQN, St. Martin’s, and NAL. She is the author of twenty-four novels, as well as several novellas.
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