The Italian's Touch (Promotional Presents)

by Carol Marinelli

  Accepting a glass of wine with her meal, she put on her headphones and fiddled with the controls, the beautiful fluid voice of Bocelli surrounding her. Suddenly she was lying in her bath, with candles flickering. She recalled the joy she’d felt then, that night when Mario had brought Ricky to do his homework. The tiny seed of love that had been planted, those first shy kisses, a growing sexual awareness. Who would have thought then that it would have come to this? That she, Fleur, would be embarking on an impulsive journey to the other side of the world, with no accommodation organised, no idea where she was going except for a piece of paper with the name of a hospital and an address that Danny ‘thought’ must be that of Mario’s parents. It was the most crazy, spontaneous, scary thing she had ever done in her life, yet there was no place she would rather be right now.

  * * *

  Breakfast had been served, eaten and cleared away. The film had long since ended and now the screen in front of her was filled with a map. She watched the image of their plane transposed on the map, inching its way nearer Rome, every minute a fraction closer to Mario. As the captain announced their descent, the seat-belt sign lit up and the cabin lights dimmed, Fleur sat quite still, her eyes focussed on the screen. ‘I’m coming, Mario,’ she whispered quietly. ‘I’m coming.’

  Fleur’s vision of dashing off the plane into a taxi was soon disillusioned. Handing over her passport and ticket at passport control, she waited what seemed an interminably long time as the impassive face of the official tapped away on his computer.

  ‘English?’

  ‘No, Australian,’ Fleur said nervously.

  ‘I mean you speak only English?’

  Fleur swallowed nervously. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you book this ticket only yesterday?’ His accent was thicker and heavier than Mario’s, and Fleur had to strain to understand.

  ‘That’s right. I have a friend, you see. His father is very sick.’

  ‘And where you stay?’

  Fleur chewed nervously on her lip. She remembered reading somewhere to look these people directly in the eye to show that you were telling the truth. ‘I don’t know yet, it was all rather rushed. I’m going to find a hotel once I’ve been to the hospital. Here…’ she handed him the piece of paper with the hospital name on it, which he barely even gave a cursory glance.

  ‘Is this friend meeting you?’

  The suspicion in his voice was too much and Fleur’s eyes filled with tears. Surely she couldn’t have come this far to be defeated at the final hurdle?

  ‘He doesn’t know that I’m coming,’ Fleur faltered, trying to compose herself, trying to look him in the eye. It was imperative that he believe her. ‘We had a row, and then his father was taken ill. I just need to get to the hospital, to make sure he’s all right. Please,’ she added desperately.

  Watching, her lungs bursting with the breath she was holding, she saw his hand pick up the rubber stamp and with a loud click the official stamped her passport.

  ‘I ’ope things go well for you.’

  For a second she was tempted to kiss him—wasn’t that what all the Italians did? Instead, Fleur gratefully accepted her passport. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, before making her way to the baggage area.

  Round and round the baggage carousel went as she jostled for a space amongst the exuberantly vocal locals. And just when she was sure her luggage must surely be lost and she would have to venture over to Informazione, her suitcase appeared, small and dog-eared compared to the rest, but never had she been so delighted to see it. It was so light that Fleur didn’t even bother with a trolley as she walked through Customs, half expecting to be stopped, half expecting yet another obstacle to be thrown in her path.

  But suddenly she was through, stepping into a throng of people, couples, children and families all reuniting. Such was her longing she half expected Mario to appear from the crowd, to fight his way over and take her in his arms.

  Never had she felt more alone.

  The taxi rank was just as busy, but at least it moved quickly. Coming from the hot spring weather in Melbourne, Fleur thought she’d never felt so cold, her thin jacket offering little protection against the cold wind that was biting at her.

  As Fleur stepped into a taxi, her nerves really hit home. What if the driver didn’t understand her? What if he took her somewhere else, or they had an accident?

  She handed him the piece of paper and he looked at the hospital’s name before turning to face her.

  ‘English?’

  ‘Australian.’

  The taxi driver grinned. ‘Ah, Olympics!’

  Rome was beautiful, breathtakingly so. That twenty-minute taxi ride, as they hurtled through the city on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, would have been savoured if she wasn’t so nervous of meeting Mario. With horn blaring, they dodged scooters and pedestrians. Fleur gazed in awe at the seemingly endless numbers of beautiful men and women rushing to work dressed in long dark raincoats with bright scarves trailing, all so effortlessly elegant.

  The taxi driver pointed out some of the more familiar landmarks, and Fleur gazed in wonder as they passed the Colosseum, truly unable to believe that she was really there and vowing that she would come back one day with Alex and Mario, only to chide herself for her brazen presumption.

  As they drew up at the hospital Fleur fumbled in her purse, trying to work out the alien money.

  ‘’Ere.’ The taxi driver took a note and showed her the fare, extracting some change from a small machine on his dashboard.

  ‘Grazie,’ Fleur said, refusing the change as she utilised practically the entire range of her Italian vocabulary.

  The hospital was huge, a massive old building with a grand staircase leading to the entrance, a stark contrast to the modern Australian hospitals she was used to. But once inside it was every bit as high-tech as home, probably more so, Fleur mused. She stood in the huge foyer trying to read the multitude of signs before giving up and heading to the desk.

  A young, immaculately made-up woman smiled at her curiously. It was only then that Fleur realised what a sight she must look in her thin clothes, with messy unkempt hair.

  ‘Posso aiutare?’

  ‘Mario Ruffini,’ Fleur said slowly. ‘I believe his father, Dr Ruffini, is a patient here.’

  The woman shook her head at Fleur’s attempt.

  ‘Dr Ruffini,’ Fleur said imploringly, and pointed to her chest, patting her hand on her heart. ‘He is sick.’

  ‘Un momento, signora.’ The woman’s beautifully manicured fingers tapped away at her keyboard.

  ‘Si, si. Dottore Ruffini, è un patienté al terzo piano.’ She looked at Fleur’s noncomprehending expression. ‘Aspetta ti porto.’

  Fleur shook her head, watching helplessly as the woman spoke rapidly in Italian to another girl on the desk, before making her way around.

  ‘Come.’

  ‘Thank you. I mean, grazie.’ Fleur’s linguistic skills were truly amazing!

  The young woman walked incredibly quickly along the beautifully tiled corridors and Fleur struggled to keep up with her as she battled with her suitcase. In the lift she was painfully aware of the young woman’s undisguised scrutiny. Fleur so badly wanted to dive into the toilets to at least run a comb through her hair and put on some make-up, to at least offer some competition to the undoubtedly stunning Carmella, but she could hardly explain that! Still, Fleur consoled herself, she was finally going to see Mario. Somehow she had made them understand her! Surely make-up wasn’t important at a time like this?

  Maybe not, but every little helps, Fleur thought as the ward doors swung open and again she was the recipient of a few raised eyebrows. Bracing herself for the sight of Mario, she felt her confidence plummet as she realised the ward was empty of visitors.

  Her escort spoke rapidly to a nurse who with a smile beckoned for her to follow, leading her to a small side ward.

  As she entered, for a second Fleur stood stunned. The face that lay with its eyes closed on the p
illow was Mario’s, just slightly more lined, the hair fanning grey at the sides. He was so pale and so very still, and only the slight movement in his chest and the steady bleeping of the heart monitor indicated that Dr Ruffini was alive.

  Fleur turned to the nurse. How on earth was she going to explain this?

  ‘Er, Dr Ruffini, he has a son.’ Fleur sighed, impatient with herself at her inability to communicate. ‘Bambino,’ she said hopefully, knowing deep down that it was useless. ‘Dr Ruffini.’ Fleur pointed to the bed. ‘His bambino.’

  The nurse was giving her really strange looks now as Fleur practically danced on the spot in her efforts to explain.

  ‘Am I right in thinking that you’re referring to my son?’

  Fleur practically jumped out of her skin as Dr Ruffini suddenly spoke, his voice positively dripping with an upper-crust English accent.

  ‘You speak English!’ Never had she been so pleased to hear her own language.

  ‘Extremely well.’ Dr Ruffini smiled and Fleur saw the sapphire blue eyes that were so familiar. ‘You must be Fleur.’

  ‘But how do you know?’ she gasped.

  ‘Oh, just a logical assumption. My son has spent the last couple of months going on about a rather special Australian blonde. I think you fit the bill quite nicely.’

  ‘I need to speak to him,’ Fleur said imploringly, her voice filled with relief and desperation.

  Dr Ruffini spoke to the nurse before translating back to Fleur. ‘My son needs to speak with you, also. Apparently Mario is taking a moment while I rest to try and locate you. He is in Sister’s office, attempting to ring you, at this very moment. Somehow I don’t fancy his chances, do you? The nurse here will take you now.’

  As she made to go, Fleur swung around, horrified. ‘How rude of me. I didn’t even ask how you were.’

  Dr Ruffini lay back on his pillow, a smile creeping across his tired face. ‘Lucky to be alive,’ he said slowly. ‘And very glad, too, I might add. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’

  As the nurse led her down the ward and motioned to a door, Fleur’s hand paused before she knocked and instead she tentatively pushed down the handle. Quietly stepping inside, she was greeted with the delicious sight of Mario’s wide back, his hands gesturing angrily as he spoke loudly into the telephone.

  ‘What on earth do you mean, things will seem better soon, Delorus? It is imperative that I have her telephone number this instant.’ He sighed loudly. ‘I don’t give a damn about hospital policy—’

  ‘Mario.’ She watched as his shoulders stiffened and agonisingly slowly his head turned, an incredulous look on his face.

  ‘Fleur,’ he gasped, dropping the telephone as he rushed across the room. ‘Fleur, is it really you?’

  Taking her in his arms, he kissed her frozen face, his lips warming hers as she fell into his arms, holding her close, his tears mingling with her own. It was only when they pulled apart, when she gazed breathless and speechless into his eyes, that they realised the telephone was still off the hook. Still holding her with one hand, he retrieved the receiver.

  ‘Yes, Delorus, you were right. Things do seem one helluva lot better all of a sudden.’ He listened for a moment, smiling as he did so. ‘I’ll be sure to tell her.’

  ‘What did she say?’ Fleur asked, trembling as she stood there.

  ‘That you promised to give me a kiss from her, and I will hold you to that, too. But first, Fleur, tell me, why are you here?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ She stared back at him, trembling violently now as the moment of truth dawned. ‘It’s because I love you, Mario, that’s why I’m here. And because I’m so sorry for letting you down.’ The tears were rolling down her cheeks and Mario sat down, pulling her onto his knee as he did so.

  ‘But, Fleur, you never, ever let me down. What on earth gave you that idea?’

  ‘On the beach,’ she sobbed. ‘You were trying to tell me that your father was sick and I didn’t even give you a chance. All I did was bang on about myself. When Luke told me that your father had had a cardiac arrest, I thought that he was going to die and it would be too late then to say to you that I was sorry for the way I’ve been.’

  ‘You crazy, crazy lady.’ He was smiling but his eyes were brimming as he spoke.

  She buried her face in his chest but he pulled her up, holding her chin in his hand.

  ‘Look at me, Fleur. Look at me and listen to what I have to say. We had a row, a silly row, that is all. Do you really think I would throw away all that we have together because of a few harsh words? Yes, I was angry, but it doesn’t mean for one moment that I stopped loving you.’

  For a second she double took. ‘You love me?’

  ‘Yes, Fleur, I love you. I think I’ve loved you right from that day at Auskick. Before that even, like when you tried to poison me with salt. But it had to be right, Fleur. We both had to be so very sure. Alex is too precious to be hurt again and so are you. The only reason I didn’t tell you about my father in the end was because I truly thought you’d had enough bad news for one day. I thought it would keep for another time. I didn’t realise then that I would have to rush off so quickly. I tried to ring you as soon as I heard the bad news, you must believe me.’

  ‘I was at my mother-in law’s,’ Fleur admitted. ‘And I didn’t get home till late. You’d have already been on the plane. I just thought you were gone for good, that I’d never get a chance—’

  ‘But I would have come back. Teresa is not flying out until the weekend. I told her to let you know what was happening. Why didn’t you ask her?’

  ‘It would have been a lot simpler,’ Fleur admitted.

  ‘But a lot less romantic,’ Mario said tenderly. ‘Look at me,’ he insisted again as her eyes dropped down to her bitten nails. ‘I was never going to leave things there. I was always going to come back to you.’

  ‘But what if he’d died, what if you couldn’t have—?’

  ‘I would have found a way. Fleur, my father has been sick for years and, like most doctors, he ignored his symptoms. In a strange way this is the best thing that could have ever happened. He has had a quadruple bypass and, yes, he is sick but he is recovering, and now he has years left in him. The last forty-eight hours have been hellish, I admit that, but seeing you here, knowing you did this for me, well, it makes up for it a thousand times over.’

  His hand stroked her cheeks and she could feel the warmth of his body spreading through her own. She wanted to be comforted, wanted to believe it was all that easy but there were still too many questions.

  ‘What about Alex? I can’t ask him to come here…’

  ‘Nor will you have to.’

  ‘But your parents—’

  ‘Will be fine,’ he finished for her. ‘They can come to Australia for my father’s recuperation, and spend some time getting to know you and Alex. Or maybe we can all fly out to Italy in a few months for a holiday.’

  She looked at him then, really looked. The sapphire of his eyes were bright with love and finally Fleur dared to hope, but then those eyes suddenly darkened. Taking her hand, he turned it over slowly.

  ‘You’ve taken off your rings.’

  Fleur swallowed, ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she stated honestly. ‘It just seemed wrong somehow to be wearing them when I was coming to tell you this. I put them in my handbag,’ she finished lamely.

  Tenderly Mario pulled her towards him, soothing her with a gentle kiss. ‘My beautiful Fleur, I know how hard this must be for you. I thought of your rings, too.’

  ‘You did?’ She gazed up at him. ‘Really?’

  Tipping her gently off his knee, he stood up. She sensed his trepidation. Sensed the enormity of what was coming.

  ‘I’m not very good at this either. If I say the wrong thing now, or I upset you, know that was never my intention. Please, understand it is because I am nervous.’

  Fleur nodded, watching as he took a long dark purple box out of his pocket. ‘That night when I came to fin
d you, I brought this with me. I thought leaving you with these might show my commitment to you. I don’t know if this is the right solution but, please, hear what I have to say.’

  His normally steady hands were trembling as he undid the clasp and Fleur felt her eyes fill as she stared down at the delicate gold chain nestled in the soft dark velvet, a huge ruby ring lying in the centre. ‘When I bought this ring for you, as I said, I thought about your rings also. Maybe we are on the same wave distance?’

  ‘Length,’ she said, unable to help herself, unable to grasp the magnitude of his insight.

  ‘I don’t want to take away your memories, Fleur, I just want to give you new ones, good ones. Rory is a part of you. He gave you your beautiful child, he helped make you the wonderful woman you are today. And though he is gone he is still here, loving you, taking care of you, and hopefully he would approve of me. Don’t hide your rings away. Perhaps you could wear them on this chain, keep him close to your heart.’

  Two huge tears splashed from her eyes onto the velvet.

  ‘I have said the wrong thing, yes? It was stupid of me…’ Fleur shook her head, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘No, Mario, it was the nicest thing you could possibly have done.’ And as she placed the rings on the chain and Mario rather clumsily fiddled with the clasp as she held her hair up, Fleur knew then, without a shadow of doubt, that Mario Ruffini was the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

  As he slipped his ring onto her finger she realised that the bad days were behind her now. The lonely nights, the fear, the guilt, they were all finally over.

  ‘You mean you’ll live in Australia for ever?’

  ‘How could I not?’ he said huskily. ‘How could I bear to leave you behind again? Anyway, you’d just get on a plane and follow me.’

  She nestled into him, closing her eyes as he held her ever closer, finally allowing herself to be comforted, to accept the future with Mario there beside her.