Played

by Barbara Freethy

  “I didn’t want you to go looking for her. I didn’t want you to be burdened with a mother who couldn’t take care of you, who couldn’t see you, hear you, touch you.”

  Were his motives pure -- or was this just another rationalization?

  “Will she ever get better?” she asked.

  “The diamond was my last hope,” Marcus answered. “She breathes. She eats when they feed her. She sleeps. But she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t live. She just exists. When I saw that the diamond was being sent to Barclay’s, I knew I had to get it back for her. I thought its power might be able to help her. But it’s been three days and nothing has changed.”

  She heard the hopelessness in his voice, the sorrow, and her heart softened in spite of her anger. Her father loved Isabella. That much was clear. But still...

  “Why didn’t you bring me to see her?” she asked. “Maybe that’s what would have made the difference.”

  “I did bring you to see her,” Marcus replied, shocking her once again. “Despite the phony funeral Vittorio set up, I knew she was alive. Maria had told me that Vittorio wanted the world, especially his sons, to believe she was dead. Maria tried to convince Vittorio that he was wrong, but he was determined to erase Isabella’s existence. I was going to call him a liar myself, but then I saw Isabella, and I thought perhaps it would be easier for her to have no contact with him. But I did bring you, Christina, when you were about fifteen months old. We stayed for several days. I tried to put you in her arms, but she wouldn’t hold you. She didn’t respond at all. And you were scared. You started crying when you saw her. You wouldn’t stop until we left the room. So I took you back home and I raised you myself. I kept in touch with Maria, who checked on her almost every day for the last thirty years. There was never a change in her condition.” He glanced down at Isabella. “Her body is here, but her soul is somewhere else.”

  “Does Vittorio know she’s here?”

  “Of course. He pays the bills. He sent her to another institution at first, a cold, dark place. Maria finally convinced him to move her here. We knew the fresco was in the church, and we thought that since Isabella loved the story so much, it might help her to see the picture, to see the diamond, even if she couldn’t hold it in her hand. The nuns took her in there all the time, but it didn’t help. Nothing helps.” Marcus let out a frustrated sigh. “I wouldn’t have stolen the diamond from Barclay’s if I’d had any other choice, Christina. Over the years I tried to get it from Vittorio, but he had it hidden away in a vault. I knew this was my one chance to get it back for Isabella. I had to take it. I disguised myself as Professor Keaton so I could switch the diamond at the party. I knew that Nicole and Evan wouldn’t make their attempt until the day of the auction.”

  “Did you set the smoke bombs off, too?”

  “No, that was Evan. It was convenient, though. It provided a good distraction.”

  “You knew Evan would steal the fake. Didn’t you wonder what he’d do next?”

  “It was a very good copy. As I said, the jeweler and I went through several tries before we got it almost perfect. I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to tell the difference.”

  “But you left out the mineral inclusion of the heart,” she said. “The noted flaw.”

  “I tried to put it in. It was never quite right, but it was close. You weren’t sure. You told me so yourself.”

  “It was very good,” she admitted. “You almost got away with everything -- only you didn’t.”

  “If I have to go to jail, I will,” Marcus said. “But I had to try to bring your mother back to life one last time. The diamond belongs to her.”

  “I’m surprised Vittorio didn’t send the police here,” Christina murmured. “Didn’t he know you’d bring the diamond here?”

  “That would have meant revealing his lies,” Marcus answered. “He wouldn’t want anyone in Florence to know the truth. He probably thought he could steal it away later.”

  That made sense. Christina didn’t know what else to say. She was so confused. She looked at J.T. “What should I do now?”

  “Well,” he said slowly, “maybe you should talk to your mother.”

  Christina turned back to Isabella, still not sure she could believe this woman was her mother. She moved a few steps closer to the chair. The woman’s gaze seemed fixed on the wall behind Christina. She didn’t seem to be aware of their conversation at all. “Can she hear me?” she asked her father.

  Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll do something wrong.”

  “You can’t make her worse,” Marcus said.

  Christina squatted in front of her mother, so they were at eye level. She took a long moment to gather her thoughts. This woman was her mother. She had to be around sixty-two or -three. Yet, she looked younger than that, as if she’d been frozen in time. In a way, that was exactly what had happened.

  What words could she say now that would cross the decades of distance between them?

  She covered Isabella’s hand with her own.

  “It’s me, Christina,” she said softly. “I’m your daughter. I’ve come back to you. I’m...home.”

  Christina closed her eyes, overwhelmed by emotion. And then she felt it -- a small, tiny squeeze. Her eyes flew open. Isabella still wasn’t looking at her. Christina gazed down at their hands and saw Isabella’s finger move. It tightened around Christina’s finger, much the way a mother would hold the finger of her baby.

  “She knows you’re here,” Marcus said, jubilation in his voice. “Her hand moved. I saw it.”

  “I felt it,” Christina said, meeting her father’s gaze. “But is it enough?”

  “It’s enough for now,” he whispered. “For now, it’s enough.”

  * * *

  It was almost three o’clock in the morning, and Christina still wasn’t asleep. J.T. and her father had left hours ago with the local police. She’d wanted to go along, but they’d both insisted that she stay behind. J.T. didn’t want her to get caught up in her father’s crimes, and Marcus had agreed that she should stay out of it. Fortunately, the sisters of St. Anne’s had offered her a small room in the convent in which to sleep.

  It was a simple, barren room -- a single bed, a dresser with an old-fashioned washing bowl and pitcher, a lamp on the bedside table, a large cross over the door, and a Bible in the drawer. The nuns had been very kind to her, especially after learning that she was Isabella’s daughter. It was clear they had a fondness for her mother, although she wasn’t sure exactly why, since Isabella seemed incapable of expressing any emotion.

  She’d had so many shocks where her mother was concerned, she didn’t know how she felt about any of it, except that she was glad to finally know her mother’s name and the reason why they’d never been together. It was so sad to think that Isabella had lived in a catatonic state for thirty years. Why? What kept her from returning to reality? Her father had hoped the diamond would bring her back to life, but so far it hadn’t made a difference. There had been no change at all until tonight -- when her mother’s finger had curled around hers. Had it been on purpose? Had Isabella felt something -- some long-ago connection between mother and child?

  Or was Christina just hoping for a miracle -- as her father had been?

  She gazed toward the window, where the open curtain revealed a full moon and bright stars. Out here in the countryside there were no city lights to dim the stars. It felt so odd to be looking at the sky from inside a convent in Italy. Yet this was the same sky, the same moon, and the same stars that her mother had stared at every day of her life. For almost thirty years they’d been separated by emotional and physical distance, but tonight they were sleeping under the same roof. It felt odd and yet strangely comforting. She felt as if this place, this land, was where she was supposed to be. She’d always wanted roots. Her real roots were here in Italy. But her life was back in San Francisco.

  And J.T.... well, his life was in LA with the FBI. He lived on the road
, traveled from case to case. Although she wondered what he would do now that his nemesis was gone.

  Was he feeling triumphant, victorious? She hadn’t seen that on his face when he’d looked at Evan. Revenge usually turned out to be more sour than sweet. Evan was dead, but that fact didn’t bring J.T.’s father back. It didn’t change what had happened. Still, maybe J.T. could face the future with a lighter heart, a more carefree spirit. He deserved it after so many years of carrying the weight of his father’s death on his shoulders.

  A tap at the door sent her upright in bed, her heart immediately jumping into her throat. She knew the danger was over. Evan was dead. But it was the middle of the night, she was alone, and there had been far too many surprises already. She was thankful she hadn’t bothered to change out of her clothes into the nightgown the nuns had offered her. Her instincts had told her to stay ready for anything.

  The door slowly opened. She held her breath and then let it out in relief as J.T. slipped into the room. She put a hand to her heart. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” He walked over to the bed and kissed her on the mouth, long and tender.

  She scooted over on the bed so he could sit down. “What happened with my father? Is he in jail?”

  “For tonight, but I think he’ll be released in the morning.”

  “Why?”

  “I spoke to Vittorio Benedetti. In fact, I woke him up. We had a little chat about you and your mother and the secrets he’d like to keep from his sons. They don’t know their mother is alive and locked up in this convent.”

  “I had a feeling they didn’t.”

  “He said he did it to protect them from a lifetime of sad and grieving visits with a mother who couldn’t love them. That’s why he held a public funeral all those years ago and buried an empty coffin, set up a false marker. He wanted it over.”

  “That’s sick. He should have tried harder.”

  “At any rate, he’s agreed to speak to Barclay’s about dropping the charges against your father as long as he gets the diamond back. I have to warn you that he still might try to sell the diamond,” J.T. added. “I know you think it belongs to your mother, but legally it’s a lot more complicated than that. Maybe he’ll have second thoughts when he thinks about it.”

  “Maybe I can convince him,” she said.

  He gave her a loving smile. “I bet you could. How are you holding up?”

  “Okay. My pulse has finally returned to normal. I never imagined Isabella was alive. Although she’s not really alive, is she?”

  “I don’t know, Christina.”

  “Me, either. What about you? How do you feel knowing that Evan is dead?”

  “Like I’m about fifty pounds lighter.”

  “You got your justice.”

  “Yeah, I did. It’s funny, though -- in some ways I wish he had lived. I would have liked to see him in jail, behind bars, suffering the way he made other people suffer. On the other hand, now I know he’s really not coming back. He can’t escape. He can’t cause any more trouble.”

  “So it’s over.”

  “Yeah.” Shadows filled his eyes. “I have to fly home tomorrow, to LA. I have to wrap up this case, talk to my boss, figure out how much trouble I’m in.” He played with her hair. “Are you going back to San Francisco -- or are you staying here?”

  She took a deep breath. It was a question she’d been asking herself all night. “Staying here,” she whispered, not sure what her decision would mean to J.T. or any future they might have together, but this choice was for her mother. “I have to learn more about Isabella. I have to try to connect with her. I can’t leave without doing that.”

  “It’s probably hopeless.”

  “I still have to try. I guess there’s more of my father in me than I’d like to admit.”

  “Marcus isn’t a bad guy. I don’t know what he did in the past, but in this instance his heart was in the right place. He wanted to help the woman he loved. I can get behind that.”

  “Thank you for understanding his motives.” Their eyes met for a long moment. There was so much she wanted to say, and yet so much she was afraid to say. “I know it’s fast, J.T., but I do love you with all my heart. I don’t know what you want from me, if anything, but--”

  “I want you,” he interrupted. “That’s all I want.”

  “I don’t know where I’m going to end up, what I will do with my life. I’m not sure I can return to Barclay’s -- even if they would take me back. I’ve spent so much of my life studying other people’s history. Now I need to know more about my own history. I came to Italy to find my father, but I think I actually found myself.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I think you did. I don’t know what’s in store for me either. I may retire from the FBI, if they haven’t fired me already. The only thing I know for sure is that whatever we both end up doing -- we should do it together. What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds perfect. I don’t care what you do with your life. It’s your choice. You know that, right?” J.T. had already spent too much of his life trying to please the people he loved. She didn’t want him to do the same for her.

  “I do know that. I also know that you’re an amazing woman.”

  “Tell me more,” she said as they stretched out together on the narrow bed.

  “You’re strong, courageous, loveable, passionate....”

  “Keep going,” she said lightly, smiling.

  “Sexy, sweet, intriguing--”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “Okay, that’s enough. You’ve earned a kiss.”

  “Hell, I’d better have earned more than a kiss.”

  “We’re in a convent, J.T. We can’t have...sex,” she whispered.

  He rolled her over on her back, pinning her beneath his body, cradling her face in his hands. “We’re not going to have sex. We’re going to make love.”

  “In that case,” she said, “how can I say no?”

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later...

  It was a beautiful, sunny day on the hillside above Florence. New flowers bloomed in the freshly weeded garden. A soothing stream of water trickled through the once-dry fountain. Hummingbirds pecked at the feeder Christina had set up in the yard.

  As she stepped onto the porch, she let out a sigh of appreciation and satisfaction. She’d spent the past three weeks catching up on her past, learning about her relatives, going through the family albums, spending time with Maria, listening to stories about Isabella as a child. Most important, she’d spent time with her mother.

  Isabella had made some progress. It was a miracle, the nuns proclaimed. Her father thought it was the diamond working its magic. Christina didn’t know the answer, but yesterday when she’d visited her mother, Isabella had actually looked at her, and she’d lifted her hand and stroked her hair. She was coming back. How far back no one could say, but it was a start.

  Christina had also spoken to Vittorio. She’d persuaded him that it was in his best interests to allow the diamond to remain with Isabella. He still didn’t want his sons to know the truth about her mother or about Christina, so he’d agreed to trade the diamond for her silence. It was a bargain she was willing to make. Vittorio had also agreed not to press charges against her father. The Kensingtons and Barclay’s had happily let the whole matter drop; they had other problems to deal with. Jeremy had been arrested for David’s murder. And Alexis was coming to terms with the fact that not only was her husband a killer, but her cousin, Nicole, was the one who had orchestrated the plan to have Evan steal the diamond.

  Nothing would be the same again at Barclay’s, but Christina didn’t care. That life seemed very far behind her now.

  The sound of a car chugging up the narrow road to the house made her heart skip a beat. Every day she’d wondered if he’d come, if he’d forgotten about her, moved on with his life. She’d wanted to call him, but she’d stopped herself a dozen times. They’d each a
greed to work out their own lives first. And then whatever happened...happened.

  The rental car pulled up in front of the house. J.T. stepped out, wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket. He slipped the dark glasses off his eyes as he strode toward her. Her heart melted under the force of his smile, the promise in his eyes.

  “Miss me?”

  “More than I could ever say,” she replied.

  “I quit my job.”

  “So did I,” she returned.

  “How’s your mother?”

  “She looked at me yesterday -- at me, not through me. There was something in her eyes. It might be my imagination, but I’m hopeful.”

  “That’s what I like about you -- you never lose hope. This place looks good, better than the last time I was here. Is your father around?”

  “No, he’s decided to move back to San Francisco for a while, give me some space.” She swallowed hard, not sure what to say, but she knew she had to ask the question running through her head. “Are you staying?”

  “I thought I would.” He closed the space between them with a quick, impatient stride, his hands cupping her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Is that all right with you?”

  “How long?” she whispered.

  “How about forever?”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to stay here forever.”

  “That’s fine with me. I don’t care where you go, as long as I can go, too.”

  “That sounds romantic and completely impractical,” she said, feeling tears creep into her eyes. “One of us has to work. Maybe both of us.”

  “So we’ll work. We’ll find jobs. We’ll make a life somewhere. We don’t have to decide today. In fact, I think we’ve both rushed into career decisions in the past. I played football for my father and moved into the FBI so I could catch Evan. You went into museums and an auction house to follow in your father’s footsteps. Why don’t we take our time? Figure out what we really want?”

  She felt a rush of pleasure at his words. The future could work itself out. Right now she was more interested in the present. “What are we going to do while we’re taking our time?” she asked with a smile.