The Proud Italian

by Alison Roberts

  Rafael felt his heart stop for a split second and then thump painfully back into action. Who the hell was Toby? Had Abbie met someone else?’

  ‘Toby?’ His voice felt raw. ‘He’s someone in New York?’

  Abbie nodded mutely. Her eyes were still tightly shut and she was clearly on the verge of tears.

  Maybe it didn’t matter who this Toby was. What mattered was that he could feel Abbie shaking under his hands. She needed support. Comfort.

  Love…

  He pulled Abbie right into the circle of his arms and held her against his heart. He didn’t say anything because he had no idea what he could say. And he didn’t need to say anything anyway because moments later words began to spill out of Abbie between wrenching sobs.

  ‘He was only five…and he was such a brave little boy… He was getting the same treatment as Ella and his mum and I became good friends. Shelley was crying when we left…she said she’d miss us both so much but…but knowing that Ella had made it through was giving her strength…the suffering that poor little Toby was going through would all be worth it in the end because…because one day soon she’d be able to take him home to his daddy…the way…the way I was taking Ella home…to you…’

  The words got strangled by the heartbroken sobs for some time after that. Rafael simply held Abbie and rocked her gently until the grief subsided. Clearly this little boy hadn’t survived the treatment.

  It could so easily have been Ella.

  Rafael’s throat tightened and he could feel an odd prickling sensation at the back of his eyes.

  Tears?

  No. Not possible. He hadn’t cried since he’d been a very small boy. A man’s pride didn’t allow the showing of such weakness. He needed a distraction but there was none to be had at this moment. No work to be done. He couldn’t even pick up a journal article and lose himself in that for a while. And then Abbie made it even worse.

  ‘It could have been Ella,’ she choked out, echoing his own terrible thought. ‘I could have put her through all that suffering for nothing. Shelley must be feeling so awful.’

  ‘She’ll know that she tried everything she could to keep her little one alive. That it was the right thing to do.’

  But Abbie was shaking her head as she tried to pull away from him. Rafael loosened his hold but still kept her within the circle of his arms.

  ‘I just didn’t think. I couldn’t see your point of view at all. Ella could have died, just like Toby, and all that suffering would have been pointless and…and, worse…we would have been half a world away from you. You would never have been able to hold Ella again. It was wrong, Rafael…’ Tears were streaming down Abbie’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Strangely, any threat of his own tears had evaporated. Rafael felt strong. He brushed tears from Abbie’s face.

  ‘Si, it could have been Ella but it wasn’t so I was wrong, too. We were both wrong. Isn’t it time that we forgave each other?’

  Abbie was nodding. Her sob became a hiccup and, instead of pushing out against the circle of his arms, she moved closer, lifting her own arms to wrap them around his neck.

  This embrace wasn’t about offering comfort or support. This was a new closeness. An affirmation of forgiveness.

  It was Rafael who pulled back this time. So that he could cup Abbie’s face with his hands as he kissed her forehead and then her closed eyelids. Slowly. Softly.

  He felt her eyes open as he finished the third kiss. And then they were looking at each other, the way they had when Leo and Lizzie had been kissing at the end of their wedding ceremony and it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss his own wife at that point.

  Just like it did now.

  Oh… God…

  This was what she had been aching for. The tenderness of those gentle kisses in the wake of an emotional storm that had washed away anything irrelevant.

  Was this what forgiveness felt like?

  If so, it was incredibly sweet.

  Healing.

  And then Abbie became aware of more than the calm after the storm. She could feel the softness of Rafael’s lips as they pressed so gently on her eyelids. She could feel the strength in his hands as he cradled her face. She had to open her eyes then and when she did, all she could see in his eyes was the caring.

  The love.

  She could feel herself rising to stand on tiptoe. To meet his lips with her own. They were so close right now. Closer than they’d been for a long time. Maybe closer than they’d ever been emotionally.

  But it wasn’t close enough.

  Abbie wanted more. She wanted them to be skin to skin. To have Rafael touching her in a way that would affirm life, rather than provide comfort in the face of death.

  ‘Take me to bed, Rafe,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’

  Without a word, Rafael scooped her up into his arms and strode through the apartment without pausing to turn on any more lights. Their bedroom had French doors that opened into the private garden and there were lights beyond that. Enough to take the edge off the darkness in the room. And Abbie didn’t need more than that. Her other senses were more than enough.

  She could hear the slide of fabric as Rafael peeled off his shirt, the thump of shoes being heeled off and the scratch of the zip as he got rid of his trousers. She could feel her own fingers shaking as she tried to undo the fastenings of her dress and she could hear the catch of her breath that was almost a gasp as Rafael’s hands closed over hers and took over the task.

  It was colder in here, away from the fire. Rafael pulled the duvet from the bed and draped it over Abbie’s shoulders as she sat there while he took off her shoes and tights. And then he somehow wrapped them both in the fluffy, light down of the cover and they were lying on the bed with Rafael half over her and he was holding her face again as he kissed her.

  A kiss that started as gently as the one during the wedding service. There was almost wonder in it. He was treating her as something fragile and precious. But Abbie was kissing him back now. She knew the first slide of her tongue against his would ignite the same kind of passion that had been unleashed with that kiss in the changing room and that was what she needed. She pushed closer with her hips, too, to feel more of his body as she opened her mouth to him and deepened the kiss.

  A rough sound came from deep within Rafael’s chest and his hands were moving now. Swiftly tracing the outline of her body. Pausing to shape her breasts and bring her nipples to painful hardness, and then they were moving lower. Sliding over her hips and touching her exactly where it ached most.

  It was Abbie’s turn to cry out incoherently. She didn’t want slow and tender. Not this time. She pushed against his hand and used her hand to reach for the hardness she knew she would find without breaking the rhythm as their tongues danced and passion spiralled to bright flames.

  Rafael changed his position with the smoothness that could only come from the confidence of knowing someone so intimately. Her body welcomed him as if it had only been yesterday they had last made love and they were in total accord about the pace of this fiercely passionate coupling. They both knew it would be over too soon. But they also both knew that it would be very different next time. This was a release of tension that had become pent up enough to be destructive all by itself. And it was a statement, too. An underscoring of the forgiveness perhaps.

  Whatever emotional currents ran beneath the physical communication, the hard, fast sex left a curiously calm aftermath. It took some time for their heart rates to drop and for both of them to catch their breath enough to be able to talk. Abbie was content to lie there in Rafael’s arms, their heads on the same pillow and their noses almost touching.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve missed this.’

  Rafael only had to tilt his face up a little to kiss the tip of her nose. And then her lips. The sound he made was one of absolute agreement.

  ‘Ti voglio molto bene,’ he murmured. ‘Sei tutto per me. E…e ho bisogno di te.’
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  A smile curled the corners of Abbie’s mouth. She’d learned more Italian than she’d realised in her time with Rafael.

  ‘I love you very much, too,’ she said softly. ‘You are everything to me as well. And…and I do need you, too. Very much.’ But then she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘Is it enough, do you think? That we love each other?’

  ‘Si.’ The word was adamant. ‘Of course it is.’

  For a while they lay there in silence. Abbie hoped Rafael was right but they’d always loved each other like this, hadn’t they? And it hadn’t been enough when it had come to the crunch over Ella’s treatment.

  It was Rafael who broke the silence. ‘You understand Italian very well now, cara. It’s time I took you to see my birthplace. To meet my family. I’ve kept them shut away from this for too long already.’

  ‘They’d been about to come, hadn’t they? Your mother and your sister? Just after Ella was born.’

  ‘And then she got sick and was in isolation and I told them nobody could come. I couldn’t tell anybody about the…difficulties we were having after you’d gone to New York but my mother still called every week or two. She wants to know why she can’t meet her nipote. Why I’m not allowing her to meet my bride. “What’s so wrong with us?” she asks. “What’s wrong with her?”’

  ‘Oh, help…’ Being estranged from her own parents had made Abbie focus on nothing more than the nuclear family she and Rafael had made with Ella. How selfish had she been, not realising the ripple effect this had all had on Rafael’s relationship with his own family? He was Italian. Family was everything. ‘I’m going to be very nervous about meeting my in-laws now.’

  ‘It will be fine. They will all love you. And they will adore Fiorella. It will only get harder if we leave it too long so we should do this as soon as our little Fiorella is well enough to travel.’

  ‘I’d love that. I’ve heard so much about how beautiful the Almafi Coast is.’

  ‘It’s beyond beauty. The ancient villages that cling to the rocky cliffs. The sparkling blue of the sea. The scent of lemon trees and sunshine…’

  Abbie blinked. ‘You sound…homesick, Rafe.’

  She could feel his whole body move with the shrug that was automatic. ‘Perhaps I am, a little. Not so much for the place but for the memories of childhood. The…the safety?’

  Abbie understood. ‘It was so much easier, wasn’t it? Having other people make the big decisions. Knowing that, whatever happened, there would always be a place to call home. People to love you.’

  ‘This is home now.’ Rafael kissed her again. ‘Our home.’

  ‘It won’t really be home, though, will it? Until Ella is here.’

  ‘Family,’ Rafael agreed on a sigh. ‘Si…’

  ‘I’m glad you had a happy childhood, Rafe. That’s all I want for Ella.’

  ‘I had brother and sisters. And cousins. Lots of family. She will be welcomed with open hearts.’

  And maybe she would have some brothers or sisters of her own one day. But that was a dream Abbie wasn’t ready to share aloud. This new space they were in felt too fragile to test the boundaries.

  ‘Your parents are still together, aren’t they?’

  ‘Si. They probably still argue with each other all the time and complain that neither of them listens to the other but they will always be together, I think. For the sake of the family.’

  ‘I don’t want to be like that,’ Abbie said. ‘I don’t want to be together just for Ella. Or to keep up an illusion of family. And…and I don’t want us to argue all the time.’

  ‘We will be together because we truly love each other.’ She could see Rafael’s smile. ‘But… I am Italian… I can’t promise there will never be a disagreement.’

  ‘As long as we talk.’ The words were urgent. ‘And listen to each other. And try to understand.’

  ‘We will. I promise you that.’

  Would even that be enough? ‘I look at my parents,’ Abbie whispered. ‘And the way things fell apart after Sophie died. The way they backed out of our lives as soon as they knew Ella was sick. Was it because they didn’t love each other enough that it destroyed them? That they didn’t love me enough?’ Her words wobbled this time.

  ‘I love you enough,’ Rafael said fiercely. ‘You have to believe that.’

  His hands were moving over her body again now. Slowly, this time, as he stopped any further conversation by covering her lips with his.

  And once again they were in total accord. They didn’t need fierce, hot sex now. They needed the comfort of slow, tender lovemaking. An affirmation of love rather than life. Healing for things that went a long way further back than the troubles in their own relationship.

  This certainly wasn’t about pushing issues out of sight by distracting themselves with physical passion.

  This was new. Making love with the depth of a new understanding about each other. A new resolution to make things work.

  A whole new dimension to the love they shared.

  A long time later, for the first time ever, Abbie found slow tears trickling down her face in the aftermath of lovemaking.

  Rafael was horrified. ‘You’re crying, cara.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘They’re happy tears.’

  ‘Like at a wedding?’

  ‘Si…’ Abbie’s smile wobbled. ‘Exactly like at a wedding.’

  Happy tears.

  That was all right, then.

  Rafael could hear Abbie’s breathing slowing a little. Feel her relax even more in his arms as she drifted into sleep. He would not sleep yet. Not until he was sure that she didn’t need anything more from him in the way of comfort. Or love.

  Everything was all right again. This was exactly what they had needed. Where they needed to be.

  In their own home.

  Their own bed. Where he could show Abbie how much he loved her. Apologies had been made and accepted. They had forgiven each other.

  They had both been wrong but they had put it behind them. Admitting fault meant that honour could be restored. Forgiveness meant that pride could be smoothed.

  Si…

  They could move forward again now. All of them, including his little Fiorella.

  Mia famiglia.

  It was with a smile on his lips that Rafael finally allowed himself to sink into slumber.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘IT’S LOOKING GOOD.’

  ‘Yes. The retainers have done a good job bringing the tissues closer together.’

  ‘The parents need a lot of the credit. It can’t be easy keeping those retainers in place when you’ve got a baby that needs feeding and washing.’

  ‘And when he’s miserable and doing his best to pull things off his face.’

  ‘I guess you do what you have to do when it’s your baby.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  A quick shared glance spoke volumes between the two surgeons. The theatre staff around them also exchanged similar glances. Who knew better than the de Lucas how hard it could be, doing what you had to do for your baby?

  Baby Angus MacDonald looked tiny, lying on the operating table. His eyes were being held closed by wide pieces of tape. His mouth was held open by retractors that hooked over the top and bottom lips. A breathing tube was as far out of the way as it could be to one side. Rafael was putting the final stitches into closing both the baby’s hard and soft palates.

  Now it was Abbie’s turn. She studied the tiny face, using callipers to measure the space between the nostrils and the lips. There were two clefts to repair here and she had to mark the skin carefully so that her final rows of neat stitching would make straight lines from the centre of the nostrils to the lips. She created a map of tiny dots of indelible ink.

  ‘Local?’

  ‘Please.’ The less bleeding that occurred as she used the scalpel the better as far as making the cuts as accurate as possible.

  The incisions were a Z shape. Excess muscle and fat was removed so that the sur
face tissue would fit together with absolute precision. Rafael was ready with the cautery to seal blood vessels. A theatre nurse held a pair of scissors to snip off the ends of the stitches as Abbie deftly looped and tied the thin suture material.

  It was so satisfying to pull the tissue together and see it nestle into exactly the position that she had mapped out. Nobody would see the precise work Rafael had achieved inside Angus’s mouth and Abbie hoped that, eventually, nobody would see what she had done here, on the outside. In a few years’ time, these scars should be invisible.

  It wasn’t the end of this surgery, however. The baby’s nostrils were an odd, flattened shape due to the birth deformity and that was something else they could fix in this operation. Not only could they pull the tissue inside the nostrils together to make them a normal shape, they could ensure that the passages inside were clear enough to improve breathing. She and Rafael worked together on this last task and thirty minutes later they stood back as a nurse gently wiped the little face clean.

  ‘His parents are going to be thrilled when they see how he looks,’ she said.

  There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Apart from the two lines of visible stitching and the lips being more swollen than they should be, this was a normal-looking baby. A beautiful little boy.

  This time, when Abbie looked up to the space between Rafael’s mask and theatre cap she could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and she knew he was smiling.

  ‘Good job, Mrs de Luca.’

  ‘Likewise, Mr de Luca.’

  Another murmur of general agreement was accompanied by a ripple of laughter this time. The atmosphere was relaxed and happy. Not only was this surgery a great success but the de Lucas were obviously working well together again.

  The “dream team” was back in action.

  And it wasn’t just in Theatre that they were working well together again. After watching that Angus had no problem coming out from under the anaesthetic, Abbie hurried to catch up with Rafael in the changing room.

  ‘I’ve got them,’ she said.

  ‘Got what, cara?’

  ‘The colour charts. Melanie’s boyfriend works in a paint shop and she says that if we choose the colour, they can deliver it for us any time. They can do all the brushes and rollers and everything, too.’ She opened the door of her locker and shifted the clothes and shoes she had left in there. A moment later she held up some glossy brochures triumphantly.