“This is totally awesome,” she said. “Have you been faking the paralysis?”
“No, no. It’s a long story.” He smiled.
From the veranda, Vivi heard Mustafa yelling at Raphael’s men, calling them donkey fuckers. “Will he die?”
Jude nodded. “The light will take him.”
“I want to see.” She walked toward the door.
“Vivi, no,” Jude called.
She turned. “I want to make sure Mustafa’s gone. Or I’ll always wonder.”
Jude pulled in a ragged breath, then nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
As Vivi stepped onto the veranda, she saw Raphael’s men push the gurney across the lawn. Mustafa struggled beneath the restraints, his head whipping from side to side, hands fisted. The sun bulged over the horizon, and a crisp wind blew from the west, stirring the long grass. Mustafa stiffened his back. “Do not leave me here. My eyes are burning. It hurts. I will pay you. How much do you want? Name your price.”
Vivi inched toward the edge of the veranda. The Italians parked the cot in the sun, then stepped back to the veranda.
“You are nothing,” Mustafa yelled. “A wrinkle in history. But I was a Turkish warrior. A Sipahi.”
“You are a demon,” Vivi whispered.
His fists opened and his fingers clawed the air, as if trying to shred the light.
A shimmer radiated around his head. Bubbles spread across his scalp, down his forehead, over his cheeks. Mustafa began to gurgle as a deep scarlet flush rose to the surface of his skin and boiled out. Bits of flesh peeled back and floated up, wafting on the cool breeze. Sores erupted over his hands. Smoke drifted from his nose and ears. He opened his mouth, and a belch of steam curled out.
Vivi almost expected to see the restraints snap away from his body, allowing him to rise off the cot and spread leathery wings. Signore Dolfini guided her back into the building, where her father was waiting.
CHAPTER 52
Caro
VILLA PRIMAVERINA, ISLA CARBONARA
VENICE, ITALY
I spent a week floating in a drug-induced ennui where time moved in concentric circles, each one pressing tightly against the other, my past looped around the present. I perched inside the spiral, watching moments revolve: flames leaping out of a white house; Uncle Nigel leading me up the Egyptian escalator in Harrods; Jude holding Vivi on his shoulder; night wind rushing through the pink house in Saˉo Tomé. I dreamed of objects that wouldn’t close: an overstuffed box, a door that refused to latch, a bracelet with a broken clasp. I dreamed of things that were lost and found. I dreamed that Jude had gone missing again, and I surrendered myself to grief.
I awoke in Raphael’s bedroom, my chest heaving, my vision blurred. I tried to find a still place in my mind, and I focused on an arrangement of seascapes that hung on the far wall. Lamplight washed over a carved desk, where my hairbrush lay next to Raphael’s old rosary beads.
Maria came in later and set a tray on the bed. She tucked her wiry, gray-blond hair behind her ears. “I brought breakfast.”
Enticing smells of coffee and pastry wafted over me, but I couldn’t shake the ashes out of my thoughts.
“Caro, you’ve got to try. And you must get out of bed. You haven’t moved in seven days.”
“Just give me a minute.” I gazed up at the ceiling. The trompe l’oeil clouds seemed different, larger and darker. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“I made croissants,” Maria said.
She had a soft voice, infused with Germanic angles. She’d fallen in love with Beppe over a bowl of gnocchi. As a professional chef, she believed in the healing powers of food.
I pushed back my hair. “I feel dizzy.”
Maria sighed. “It’s those pills. Dr. Nazzareno shouldn’t have given them to you.”
“It’s not every day that I murder someone,” I said. I’d aimed for a cynical tone, but my voice held back a sob.
“It’s not every day that an evil bitch gets her comeuppance,” Maria said.
A cold feeling edged up my neck. I couldn’t believe I’d taken a life. Now I had to live with this knowledge for the rest of mine.
Maria tore open a croissant. “I made Scotch marmalade, just the way you like it. Do you need me to do anything else? Are your hands still sore?”
“No, I’m much better.”
I peeled off the bulky gauze bandage. My hands had healed rapidly. A two-inch scab ran across my left palm and dozens of tiny scabs marked my right hand. I gave silent thanks for hybrid DNA as I flexed my fingers—they were only a little sore.
The wounds had healed, but I wasn’t sure that I would be quite the same. I’d murdered Tatiana, but I’d moved closer to a blurry line. How could I pull back from that line?
I glanced up. Maria looked troubled. “You acted in self-defense,” she said.
Her words flowed right over me. She was loyal to Raphael, and that loyalty extended to me. Not only that, she was always impossibly upbeat, sunny, and positive. I’d never seen her crack, not even the year she’d burned the Easter ham. She just didn’t have enough darkness to understand that I no longer recognized myself.
I drank a few sips of coffee and forced myself to taste the croissant. It was buttery and flaky, and I took another bite.
“It’s ten A.M.,” she said. “A beautiful August morning.”
I sighed. It might as well be ten P.M.
“I’ll get your clothes.” Maria walked to the armoire.
I closed my eyes. A sense of impending doom rose up, and I knew something terrible was going to happen. I tried to shake it away, but it jerked me into a dark vault where all the clocks were ticking out of rhythm, where events and people meshed into one continuum. All the minutes and seconds and years ran together in a spiral. Maria’s voice brought me back. “Do you want to wear this dress?” She held up a pink, dotted shift.
“Perfect,” I said a little too brightly. “What’s been happening at the villa?”
“You’d know if you left this room.” She placed the dress on the bed. “Shall I draw your bath?”
“I can manage on my own.” I moved to the edge of the mattress. “Where’s Raphael?”
“In the library, worrying about you,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll tell him you’re up.”
After she left, I went into Raphael’s bathroom. It was the size of a ballroom, with a sunken tub and pale blue tiles that ran along the edge. Fluffy white towels were stacked on a shelf. On the counter, clear jars held soaps from Grasse, France.
I drew a bath, got into the tub, and closed my eyes. The water sluiced down my thighs, a kind of baptism, rinsing away the scummy edges of the sleeping pill. Steam drifted up, fragrant with the smell of lavender.
A while later, I heard a knock at the door. I sat up, suds falling down my breasts. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Raphael said.
“Come in,” I called, brightening at the sound of his voice.
The door opened, and Arrapato raced into the room. Raphael followed him, looking handsome in a brown cotton shirt and white shorts. His hair fell in straight panels to his chin. I couldn’t read his expression, and he wouldn’t let me into his thoughts.
My stomach tightened.
I got out of the tub, and he wrapped me in a towel, knotting it over my breasts. I ran my fingers through his hair. “Are you all right?”
He kissed me before he spoke. “Your uncle Nigel just arrived.”
“Here?” A flutter stirred in my chest. Normally I would be thrilled to see my uncle. But something felt wrong.
“How did he know where to find me?” I asked.
“I e-mailed him,” Raphael said.
“Why?” I looked up into his eyes. What was going on? Was he just trying to keep me calm? The tranquilizers were still in my bloodstream, and I couldn’t hold my thoughts together. I felt blunted and empty.
Raphael started to say something, but his lips couldn’t seem to shape the words. Then one edge of his mouth tilt
ed down.
“You’ve got that look, Raphael. Something’s wrong. You’re holding back.”
He grabbed another towel and patted it against my shoulder. Then he led me into the bedroom. I started to pick up the dress Maria had set out, but Raphael caught my hand. I gave him a questioning look. He guided me to the bed, and we sat down on the comforter, facing each other. I put my hands in my lap and stared at my upturned palms, trying to appear calm, but my heart was racing. Vivi is dead. That’s why Uncle Nigel is here. People always come together for weddings and funerals.
“No, mia cara.” Raphael lifted my hand and kissed the scabs on my palms. “I apologize. My voice has left me today. But I wanted you to be sitting down when you hear the good news. Vivi is coming home. Dolphini and his men are bringing her here tonight.”
The air swirled. Long, glossy streaks were moving around me. My heart was still leaping. I let out a joyful sob and flung my arms around him. His hands tightened on my waist.
I leaned back. “She’s all right?”
He nodded. “Healthy and unharmed, mia cara.”
“Where was she? How did she escape?”
He explained how Dolfini had traced numbers on Tatiana’s cell phone to a compound in Sutherland, South Africa. Raphael had assembled a team. And now my daughter was on her way home.
I’d been holding my breath while he talked, and now I let it out in a rush. “Where is she now?”
“Madrid. She can’t wait to see you. Before Dolfini’s team arrived in Sutherland, Vivi had prepared the way. She did a takedown of the Al-Dîn compound. She used her skills. Dolfini said she even took a hostage—a ferret. She called while you were sleeping. She wants to tell you what happened. I gave her my word.”
I smiled and shook my head. So that was why he’d brought Uncle Nigel. I pressed my cheek against Raphael’s. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
“Anything for you, mia cara,” he whispered.
“We’ll have to plan a welcome-home dinner,” I said. Now we can have only one wedding. Do you still want to get married in the garden? Uncle Nigel can give me away. And Vivi can be the flower girl.”
Raphael made a tiny, choked sound. And then his cheek felt damp. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was crying. I cradled the back of his head, and my tears spilled down.
After a while, he pulled back, wiping his face. “There’s more.”
“What is it, then?”
He put his hand on my cheek, more tears glistening in his eyes. “Jude is alive. He’s coming with Vivi.”
A roaring sound filled my head. I slumped, as if my bones had softened. Raphael caught me in an instant and wrapped his arms around my waist. No, this couldn’t be right. I’d misunderstood. Jude was dead.
Raphael’s breath stirred in my hair. “He is alive, mia cara.”
Alive. I couldn’t breathe. A tumble of emotions ran together. Shock, happiness, fear, disbelief. My heart slammed against my breastbone, as if trying to punch its way out. I didn’t blame it. Jude was coming here? All this time, he’d been alive?
I moved back. “Where has he been for the last ten years?”
“South Africa. Mustafa Al-Dîn imprisoned him. Forced him to work in his lab.”
I remembered Tatiana’s dying words. They didn’t matter. He was alive. Vivi was alive. They were together. She would finally have a father. But I wasn’t sure about the rest of it. I reached for Raphael’s other hand. What would we do?
“One more thing, mia cara,” Raphael said, pulling back, his eyes searching my face. “Jude was injured. His spinal column was severed, and he lost the use of his legs. He’s undergone stem cell transplants, and he’s regained some use of his legs. But he’s still in a wheelchair.”
I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t imagine how much he’d suffered, trapped in two different prisons, locked in a laboratory, confined to a chair. There was a long silence.
“I loved him, Raphael. I love him still. But I thought he was dead. I’ve moved far away from that grief. I’m not the same woman he left behind.”
“Your love for him won’t end,” Raphael said.
“No, no. But it has changed.”
Tears stood in Raphael’s dark eyes. “Caro, you don’t have a choice. You never had one.”
This was the last thing I wanted to hear. “If I have no choices, I still pick you.” I pressed my chin on his shoulder and laced my fingers through his hair. I knew every plane and slope of his body, and they felt just right to me. My hands dropped to his shoulders. I felt the hard curve and slid my hands lower, over the firm length of his arms. He was just as stong on the inside. “How long before they arrive?” I asked.
He moved back a little and tilted his watch. “Ten hours or so. Why?”
I stretched out on the bed and held out my hand. “Just hold me.”
He climbed in next to me and gathered me into his arms. A tear moved slowly down the side of his nose. “I want every clock in the world to give back our time,” he said, his voice filled with yearning. “I want all of those hours in Norway and Zermatt and Paris and Morocco.”
“This won’t be the last time we’re together,” I said. But one door was gusting open, and I couldn’t prevent the other door from closing, no matter how hard I tried.
“Sei il grande amore della mia vita,” he said in my ear. You’re the love of my life. “In all my time on earth, I’ve only done one thing right. I’ve loved you.”
I leaned into him, bound by his gravity, and no force could take me away from him.
We did little talking for the next ten hours, and what happened will stay between me, Raphael, and the gods.
CHAPTER 53
Vivi
VILLA PRIMAVERINA, ISLA CARBONARA
VENICE, ITALY
Vivi could barely contain her excitement as she leaned against the helicopter window, watching the lights of Venice recede. The water stretched out black and silky as a ball gown. The darkness parted, and a dazzle radiated from Villa Primaverina. She saw the landing pad in the lower garden, a giant white X in the center. The steps rose up past sculpted flower beds, past a stone nymph who danced in a fountain.
Everyone she loved was waiting on the front terrace of the villa, their faces upturned. She saw Beppe in a white dinner jacket, his bald head gleaming. Maria leaned against him, holding Arrapato. Uncle Nigel smoked his pipe. Raphael stood on the bottom step, the wind catching his shirt. Her mom was beside him, a mass of honeyed curls rising behind her.
Jude leaned toward the window, and Vivi saw his face crumple.
She kissed the top of his head. “It’s all right, Dad. She loves you.”
He pointed to his ears and mouthed, I can’t hear you.
Soon they would be on the ground, out of this loud bird. They would be a family with a house and an address that would never change. She even had a pet. She reached down and adjusted the strap on Bram’s Sherpa. She and her dad would garden at night, and her mom would smile all the time. Jude had been trying so hard to walk the last few days. He’d explained about those stem cell treatments he’d secretly gotten at the compound; they had rebuilt part of his spine, but he needed more implants. One day he would rise from that chair. But tonight, if he fell, if he even wobbled, Vivi and her mom would be right there to catch him.
CHAPTER 54
Jude
As the helicopter veered toward the landing pad, Jude remembered the first time he’d come to Villa Primaverina—Raphael’s stereo had played a Nine Inch Nails song, and the red, black, and white décor had complemented the music.
Jude’s eyes brimmed. How could he ever thank Raphael for taking care of Caro and Vivi?
Vivi tapped the window, and it looked as if she were saying, Mom.
He leaned toward the window. Lights blazed over the steps that led to the villa. Everyone was waiting on the terrace—Beppe, Maria, Nigel, Raphael. Caro looked just like she had the first time he’d seen her. All legs and cheekbones, with irrepressible hair. Oh, ho
w he loved her. She was looking up at the helicopter, her white dress billowing. Living without her had been unbearable, but he couldn’t think about that now. He’d need to take it slowly with her. One step. A half step. Their lives had shifted and realigned, and they would shift again. Maybe not in the way he hoped. Or maybe into something wonderful.
Caro ran down the steps as fast as she could, her hair flying. He sat up a little straighter, his heart booming. Everything would be the same. She loved him. And she was still his girl.
CHAPTER 55
Caro
I waited at the edge of the landing pad, my dress foaming around my knees. Lights streaked across the water, and when the helicopter touched down, I felt dizzy. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
The door opened, and Signore Dolfini helped Vivi out of the helicopter. Then he climbed back inside and emerged with a folded-up wheelchair. My heart clenched as I watched him open it and lock the wheels. One of Dolfini’s men came out of the door with Jude in his arms and put him in the chair, then Vivi pushed him away from the landing pad. As they got closer, the wind kicked up his dark ponytail. His eyes were the same porcelain blue, tilting up at the edges. I put my hand over my mouth. This was everything I’d ever wanted. This was everything I didn’t want. I’d already decided what to do. I would be on my own for a while. Let both Jude and Raphael go.
But I was wrong. Vivi locked the wheelchair. She looked as if she’d grown two inches, but she was so thin.
“Mom!”
She dove into my chest. I hugged her as hard as I could. She hugged me, too. We swung from side to side. Finally, she pulled away. “Look who I brought home for supper.”
Jude’s smile widened. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.”
“A bit,” I said. Long ago, I’d realized that we might never have tranquil days, but right now, as I looked into my husband’s eyes, I found a quiet place inside me.
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