by Dora Bramden
“I know when decisions need to be made and I make them. You were going to have to leave Italia and I wanted you to stay! There was no other way.”
“You also wanted to keep living the way you always did. Not be a real husband. I didn’t think it through. I just closed my eyes and jumped and didn’t care where I’d land. I can’t do that now. I have a son. I won’t take that leap with him in my arms. Never, ever again.”
“What do you mean? You can’t make that leap again? There’s no leap, we’re already married. Returning to me is correcting a terrible mistake. You and my son belong with me.”
The heated anger of her betrayal, keeping his flesh and blood a secret from him, crept up his neck. He was no danger to his child, she had to know that. It was he who was the responsible one. It had taken every ounce of his strength to leave her willing and wanting yesterday. He’d done what was necessary to avoid complicating an already tenuous situation.
“What I did was my only option. Forcing a child on a man who doesn’t want one doesn’t work.” Katrina’s voice rose several octaves. Alessandro detected her panic at the other end of the line.
He steadied his voice. “I didn’t get the chance to reject him Katrina, you ran before that could happen. You have to give me a chance to show you how much I want him.”
He was never surer of anything in his life. He could give Alex an opulent home and his rightful place in an ancient aristocratic family. His mother would love him, but perhaps she would call him Sandro, the Italian way to shorten his full name, Alessandro Ricardo Giuseppe Rinaldo the 5th. He would have his birth certificate corrected to add the ancestral names.
“We’ll see. It takes time and we need to go slowly.”
“Perhaps you’re angry that I didn’t finish what I started yesterday.”
Katrina’s forehead tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut to relieve the ache in her head. He took her answer as a negative. She didn’t have the strength to argue. Her Gran’s rings had already upset her this morning but even before that, her dreams had troubled her.
Boyfriends from her teenage years had appeared and danced her around the floor with her feet off the ground. ‘The show must go on’ kept repeating in her head as the next old boyfriend came in and pulled her into his arms and the waltz began again. The last partner was Alessandro. He lifted her higher than the others. She looked above his head at the audience. They were clapping and clapping, the applause grew so loud and she became dizzy. The stage tilted and she began to fall.
Another busy day lay ahead of her and she needed to find time to work out what would be best for her and her son. Baby Alex made her link to Alessandro cemented in genetics. There’d be no escaping it. Yesterday had been a weak moment that she wouldn’t let happen again. “I can’t talk now. I have to go and get ready for the studio.”
“Yesterday was a sample of why we belong in our marriage bed together. Va bene, my flight is being called. I’ll be back Wednesday in time for the ball but in the meantime I’ve arranged a surprise for you. Arrivederci.”
He hung up.
What ball? Oh no. He meant the Australian Ballet Fundraising Ball. Where they first met. Katrina withheld a curse. She didn’t want Alex’s first word to be her favorite swear word. She made a funny face at Alex and he beamed his baby teeth smile back at her.
Katrina waved goodbye to Alex as Janet walked him to her house. She closed the door and was about to take the towel from her hair and blow-wave it dry before putting it in her usual bun.
The doorbell rang. She opened it expecting to see Alex with Janet, who must have forgotten something. Katrina’s eyes popped wide at the sight of a huge box in a delivery man’s hands.
“Mrs. Rinaldo?” He questioned her again as if for the second time. Katrina guessed she hadn’t heard him the first time.
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the front door. So this is the surprise. If Alessandro thinks she can be bought, he’s monumentally got that wrong.
“Are you Mrs. Rinaldo?” The delivery guy juggled the box and supported it with his knee and the door frame.
“I don’t use that name.”
His free hand reached into his jacket pocket and tugged out a delivery order. He blew out a breath. “Oh that’s okay. Sign here” He handed her the receipt.
Automatically she took it, and then stood for a moment staring at it. She bit her bottom lip. Maybe she should send it back. But a better option would be to give it back to him in person then she could tell him exactly what she thought about being bought.
“Oh, all right.” She gestured for the pen with an upward flip of her fingers. He reached back into the same pocket and withdrew a pen, and held it out to her. She signed the piece of paper Katrina Baxter and handed back the pen and slip. He stowed the pen away and tore her copy off using his teeth and free hand. He gave her the box and an impatient glare. “Thank you,” he said without sounding like he meant it at all. She couldn’t blame him.
She set the box that might as well contain ten thousand fish hooks down on a lounge chair. She found a knife in the kitchen and slit the box tape. Inside was a couture box. She pulled off the lid. A note in his handwriting sat on top of the tissue paper.
Someone – probably the delivery guy – had to go and pick up this note from him first. Then get the dress. Typically a gift from Alessandro came in the handwriting of the shop assistant who’d taken the order over the phone. Or perhaps he’d actually gone to the designer’s store at Crown Casino and chose the dress himself. That he’d seen to this present personally meant he was upping the stakes.
She read. ‘Mia bella sposa, the contents of this box are for you to wear, Friday night, at the Australian Ballet Fundraising Ball. Arrange for Janet to take care of Alex. I’ll pick you up at 6 p.m.’
She growled under her breath. She was already going to the major fundraising event of the year for the Ballet Company and Janet had already been engaged to take care of Alex. He was really just inviting himself along.
It was hard enough having to attend the same event they’d met at, several years ago. She’d avoided it for the last two seasons. If it wasn’t for her grant she wouldn’t be going this year either.
Midnight chiffon and sparkly crystals peeked out from the tissue paper but despite her determination to shove the box in a dumpster, the beautiful fabric piqued the interest of the ballerina in her. She unfolded the remaining tissue and held up a dark navy-blue floor length gown. It was dusted with silver stars that fanned from the shoulders down to pool around the hem. She gasped at the stunning gown.
She gave it a gentle shake to loosen the folds and heard a plop on the carpet. A thin gold band rolled and landed at her feet.
Her heart jumped. She recognized it instantly. The ring she’d left on his bedside table when she packed her things and left their Milano apartment. Once a much-loved treasure, it had taken all her courage to take it off. That last act represented the ending of her fairytale. Finding her true love had been a misconception of heartbreaking magnitude. The thin gold band, surreptitiously returned, made the muscles in her neck contract and burn.
Alessandro was used to having his life ordered exactly to his liking. He’d wanted her to stay in Italy so had done whatever it took to make it happen. Now he was doing it again but this time she didn’t want to go. What lengths would he go to this time to get what he wanted? She should have trusted her instincts and returned the box.
Hiding the ring in a dress was his way of ordering her back to his side. He hadn’t waited and whispered words of love before slipping it on her finger in person.
She couldn’t go to the ball now because it was letting Alessandro think he had power over her. He obviously had a plan to use the occasion to his advantage. She’d explain to the ballet director that she needs to rest her knee, he would just have to deal with it. She put the dress and the ring back into the box and shoved it into the bottom of the wardrobe in the spare room. If she didn’t leave soon she’d be late for rehear
sal and she still needed to dry her hair and put it in a bun.
She started the car and put her mobile on blue tooth. She voice-commanded a call to Ruby. She’d rung her the evening Alessandro had descended on her unannounced and had promised to keep her posted.
“How do you think it went with Alessandro?”
“He threatened legal action if I didn’t agree to let him have some time with Alex.” She put the blinker on and steered around the corner and headed toward the practice studio.
“Wow, that’s coming on strong, why do you think that is?”
“Probably because I told him I don’t trust him not to hurt Alex.”
“Oh. No wonder he’s lashed out. Remember he’s not had long to process becoming a Dad, Katy.”
“Yeah, I know, but what if Alex gets attached and then Alessandro tires of being a dad and we end up with broken promises and a broken-hearted little boy, too.”
“Be careful you aren’t confusing your relationship with Alessandro with your son’s. But I can understand your concerns. Given what happened with our Dad. When we were young, he’d promise us days out and then the day would arrive and he’d say he was sorry and that he had to work on a sculpture. It never happened. No wonder Mum…”
“Had an affair with my father,” Katrina finished for her. “You can say it. I’m used to the fact that my biological father isn’t the same as the man who raised me. In fact, it explained a lot. But we’re not talking about me. Alessandro is a Formula one driver. Just how much does he think he can be in Alex’s life? It would be hard enough if we were together.”
“That’s true. What are you going to do?”
The lights changed to green and Katrina drove on. As she passed the Fitzroy Gardens she remembered Alessandro chasing Alex through the flower beds. “We had a picnic in the park yesterday.”
“Okay, how was that?”
“He played with him like they were toddlers together. But he has no idea about taking care of a young child. It’s not all picnics in the sunshine.”
“Give him a chance to learn. How can he know what he’s never done before? What does Natalie think?”
Her oldest sister, Natalie lived in Scotland and though Katrina had been spending Christmases with her over there, and Alex had met his cousins this last Christmas, she’d been the serious older sister for as long as Katrina could remember. While grateful that her sister Natalie cared about her enough to work hard to pay the bills, after their parents died. Katrina disliked being a burden on her. “She’d helped out when she could when Alex was born but she works very hard raising funds and promoting a foundation for orphans and raising three children of her own.”
“You mean you didn’t want her to drop everything and fly halfway around the world for you. Cause that’s what she’d do.
“Exactly. I have to be able to deal with this. It’s between Alessandro and me.”
“It’s okay, I’ll give her a call and fill her in but I’ll also make sure she knows you’re handling things well.”
Ruby’s support was great but when Katrina thought about how the picnic had ended up in her bedroom she didn't feel like she’d handled things very well at all.
“So you think I should give him a chance?”
“It could be an opportunity for Alex to have his dad in his life.”
“But he’s pushing too hard. He wants us to get back together for Alex. He sent me a dress to wear at the fundraiser and, hid my wedding ring in the folds of the gown.”
“Wow. You need to tell him to slow down. Maybe you can talk about it at the ball.”
“I’m not going. I can’t be rushed into this. I have to think about Alex.”
“Are you sure. It might be a good idea to meet him halfway.”
“I don’t think Alessandro does halfway, I’ve told him to take it slowly but he keeps pushing.”
“He is a racing car driver. Going slow wouldn’t come naturally to him. Pushing hard would be two first class tickets to Milan in the box with the ring. Maybe he is doing this one step at a time, his way.”
“That’s a good point. I’ll think about it but I’m nearly at the rehearsal center and I haven’t asked how you are.”
“I’m terrific. My first solo fashion collection is coming together brilliantly.”
“I can’t wait to see your designs on the runway at Fashion Week.”
“Me either, Katy, love you.”
“Love you too, Ruby.”
Of her two older half-sisters, Katrina was closest to Ruby. Nearest in age, she was also the most similar to her, having also inherited their mother’s artist temperament. But growing up they weren’t close. Their upbringing didn’t exactly involve regular dinners together. Their childhood was a kind of bohemian existence that sometimes landed them in different schools, depending on the scholarships they won. It turned out that Katrina’s had been paid for by her biological father, who probably chose a school on the basis of it being different from where his son went.
Her grandparents had provided the only stability in her life. School holiday’s she stayed with them. They had sit down meals for lunch and dinner and cared about her problems and were excited when she got honors in her ballet exams. That was the kind of home she wanted for Alex. She’d established a routine so he had a safe, predictable home life. She wouldn’t let Alessandro overturn what she had worked so hard to build.
Katrina sat on the chair in her practice studio at the Australian Ballet Centre and tied on her practice slippers. Her knee hadn’t responded as well as she’d like to the ice pack treatments. She’d strapped it up under her tights for practice. She bound her feet and put the padding on her toes. It was a routine she could perform without thinking, after so many years’ practice, but worrying about her and Alex’s future kept her from entering her mental dancing zone. The bits of ribbon moved awkwardly in her trembling fingers.
Her mind went back to when her fingers had first trembled like this. She was a girl of twelve. Sitting on a hard wooden bench, she tied her ribbons. Her beloved ballet teacher stood next to her and handed her pieces of sticky tape that she clumsily applied to secure the ends of her ribbons flat against her ankle. Her usually nimble fingers, adept at tricky fiddly tasks, were shaking with adrenaline. When she finished, she sat up straight and patted her bun. It was crisp from three coats of hair spray. Her fingers worried it, looking for stray strands. On the bench next to her sat a row of young ballerinas all dressed in the same black leotards and shell-pink stockings.
“Next group,” called the official. She’d looked at her legs and feet and stood up. Would they carry her into the Australian Ballet Company School for dancers?
Her ballet teacher had kissed the top of her head. “You’ll be fine.” Although she was older, she still looked a vision of elegance, an angel, a real ballerina. Katrina wanted to be just like her. Nothing ever flustered her.
Katrina wasn’t a twelve-year-old with dreams anymore. She was a prima ballerina and shouldn’t have shaking fingers but hers did as she finished tying her shoes. She stepped up to the bar and began stretching. If she’d failed that exam years ago she wouldn’t have become a prima ballerina and never would have attracted the notice of an Italian aristocratic Formula 1 champion.
One hour of her life at the age of twelve had decided her future. Because of that hour dancing without fault, she now had a son. For the first time in her life Katrina had something too precious to lose. She had to perform well today. Her knee had to hold her up because it supported the stable life she provided for her son.
Her dance tutor strode the room and caught her hesitating while she performed a plié. He frowned. “How long has your knee been sore?
“Yesterday. It’s just stiff. Give me a chance to warm up.”
She covered the pain and made sure her range of motion wasn’t affected. But the little crease on his brow didn’t shift.
He ran her through the more difficult sections of the dance. She was fine until the pirouette. Her knee c
ap slipped behind the bonds of the strapping and she lost control of the spin. She winced as searing pain rocketed up her body and she fell. She grabbed her knee and tried to absorb the pain, let the pain flow through her and away, but the searing pain steadily grew worse.
Excruciating pain made standing – let alone dancing – difficult. The consequences slammed into Katrina. Disbelief and intense self-annoyance heated her face as she braced her leg. How could she let this happen? Prima ballerinas had to be invincible. Mothers had to be invincible.
The tutor’s hand under her arm made her lift her head. “Let me take a look.”
She nodded. Her lips clamped tight against the scream that wanted to be released into the large room at full volume.
He knelt in front of her and patted her hands. She hated letting go, but released the strangle hold she had on her knee. His palms supported it while his fingers moved the knee cap. It slipped back into place and she closed her eyes as the unbelievable pain reached a new crescendo.
“Okay. I’m finished you can open your eyes.”
She blinked to clear away the water that had gathered under her lids but there was too much. It tracked down her cheeks and she used her arm to mop it up.
“You’ll need scans but I don’t think you’ve torn the ligament. I’ll help you up.”
She leaned onto him and hopped to the bar and held on, white knuckled. Her knee burned and swelled as she watched it, trying to assess the fallout. It wasn’t going to be fixed by tomorrow. Even an immediate ice bath wouldn’t be able to undo this.
“You shouldn’t have danced today. Did you see the company physio when you first injured it?”
“I was in the middle of something, but I iced it as instructed before.”
“Mmmm. When did this happen?”
“Yesterday afternoon, but it’s much better this morning.”
She never rang the physio when her knee ached. No dancer did. Everyone danced injured because an operation to repair ligaments and tendons sidelined a dancer and stalled their career. Other dancers would take their place in the company and opportunities missed could never be got back.