by Nichole Van
It was my turn to blink.
“Uh, because there is a history here?” I gestured between Lucy and Tennyson with my free hand.
Tennyson looked at Lucy. “Yeah, there is. But they’re good memories.”
Lucy nodded, answering his unspoken question. “They are, Tenn. Wonderful memories.”
I frowned. “I’m . . . a little lost. You wanna explain what’s going on?”
Tennyson flashed a smile, a little too wicked and knowing. “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on here. I witnessed a solid sample of it in the stairwell—”
“Tenn.” Tone warning. I scowled, trying to piece this puzzle together.
Tennyson popped the top on his Coke and leaned a hip into the bar.
I was utterly confused.
“So . . . I don’t understand—” I stared first at Lucy. And then my brother. “You tried to kill yourself just two weeks ago.”
“I did.”
“This”—I waved a hand between him and Lucy again—“has always been an emotional trigger for you. Bathtub. Blood. Remember?”
A gust of air left Tennyson. He swallowed, eyes fixed on Lucy. “Yes. I remember.”
“So . . . What’s going on?” I glared at him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Tennyson straightened, face sober. “No, Bran. I would never joke about this. But I am trying to be more open, like you said we should be.” He fixed me with his blue, blue gaze. “As I told you, something’s broken inside me. It’s not just the visions and the constant feeling.” He shook his head, eyes glassing as he focused inward. “It’s like this shattered mess of pain and frustration and . . . and pure emotion that eats me from the inside out.”
“Tenn—”
“I’ve let you guys think it was simply the loss of Lucy because it was easier than explaining that the problem is deeper than that. Harder to solve. Not that losing Lucy wasn’t emotionally difficult.” He smiled at her. Soft. Wan. Apologetic. “It’s merely one component of a larger problem, one that has no solution. When I was with Lucy, it was easier to sweep my emotional fracturing under the rug. Use Lucy to prop me up.”
Tennyson set his soda down, running a hand through his hair. Hissed out a low breath.
“Look . . . the whole bath tub incident woke me up,” he continued. “It forced me to face the fact that this pain inside me can only be solved from within. I knew I had to let Lucy emotionally go, once and for all.”
“But the bathtub incident was almost two years ago.”
“True. But healing wounds this deep takes time. So when the situation with Grace surfaced in the news, I wanted to help but knew that I didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to deal with it. Things have been . . . hard . . . lately.” He swallowed. Convulsively.
“Obviously.”
Tennyson nodded. “The fracturing inside me is growing. I was worried that if I spent time around Lucy, I would fall back into old patterns. Rely on her emotional optimism instead of forcing myself to be strong.” He managed another wan smile. “Being an emotional parasite isn’t helpful for any of us. I know that. But it didn’t stop me from crawling up that villa tower.”
“So you aren’t upset over losing Lucy?” I asked.
“No. Not like you think. Not for over a year now. It’s more the fear of having to face all this alone.”
“You never have to face your trials alone. We got this for you, brother.”
“I know. This whole situation with the mirror and Grace has shown me that we can’t make any assumptions about our GUTs. There’s a lot left for us to learn, which means there still might be a solution for me.”
Hope went from a tiny stream to a pounding torrent.
So . . .
Where did that leave this situation?
“You’re honestly okay with this?” I asked him, lifting Lucy’s hand joined with mine.
“Yes. It’s what is meant to be.” He gave an apologetic lift of his shoulder. “Several months ago, I had a vision. So clear. The most lucid I have ever had . . .”
A beat.
I scarcely breathed.
“It was you and Lucy,” Tennyson continued, eyes going distant. “We were all together on Cannon Beach on the Oregon coast . . . it was your wedding day.”
“Oh!” Lucy gasped.
My heart stopped.
“It was . . . exquisite. You got married on the beach underneath a wooden arch, waves crashing around Haystack Rock behind. Dante bought a pastor’s license off the internet so he could marry you—’cause, you know, that’s Dante for you, always wanting to be in the middle of things. Branwell, you cried through your vows. Lucy alternately giggled and sobbed through hers. And then you kissed her . . .” Tennyson’s voice drifted off. “. . . and it was the most sacred kiss I’ve ever been privileged to witness. Tender. Loving. Full of such promise and hope. Hallowed. I cried too. We all did.”
Silence blanketed the room.
“This was several months ago, you say?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t think to say anything to me?”
“I’m saying something now, aren’t I?” He shot me another strained grin. “Besides, I figured if it was truly meant to be, you guys would work it out yourselves. I only see future possibilities, after all.”
He winked at Lucy.
“But—”
Tennyson held out a hand, silencing me. “I know from far too many past experiences that talking about my visions can often impact their outcome. I didn’t want to influence something this big. But Lucy arriving in Italy . . .”
He shrugged and took a loud sip of his soda, avoiding my gaze.
“So the vision Chiara said you were mumbling about, how it would change everything—”
“When I was sedated?”
I nodded.
“That whole night is super fuzzy, but yeah . . . it was this vision I was referring to. You two together. It does change everything.”
Tennyson swallowed and cleared his throat, continuing, “I can’t think of any two people who deserve each other more than you guys.” He shifted his gaze to mine. Lucy’s smile went all wobbly and teary. “And there is no man on the planet I’d rather see Lucy with than you, my brother. God bless you both.”
I crushed Tennyson to me, helpless to stop the tears streaming into my beard.
“Thank you.” I whispered in Italian. “I love you, brother mine. To eternity and back.”
Tennyson returned my hug and we cried it out. Grown men can do that.
When we finally pulled back, he smiled at Lucy.
“I expect you to make good on my vision.” Tennyson winked.
“I always said you were a perfect Tenn.” Lucy laughed and wrapped her arms around Tennyson, kissing him soundly on the cheek. “Now, about that wedding. Can I get a few more details? Dress? Flowers? A girl needs to know these things.”
Epilogue
Branwell
Lucy wasted no time planning our wedding. After pining after each other for six long years, neither of us wanted a drawn out engagement. The darkness and hopelessness of our love had given way to a bright, sunshiny future. I was grateful for those hard-won shadows, as they made the blinding joy of Lucy’s love more crystalline clear. But we were both anxious to move beyond and begin building a life together.
We married just three months after Grace’s return—Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast at sunset. Everything was precisely as Tennyson envisioned, all our family and friends together. To be honest, the day was actually a bit of a blur for me.
My clearest memory was that first glimpse of Lucy in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle. Most women have high expectations for that moment and, not to sabotage my own gender, I don’t know how many grooms appreciate it as much as their brides expect them to.
But for me . . . it’s an image I will remember vividly, even fifty years from now.
Lucy with her red hair piled on her head, a mass of elegant curls. Her dress, th
is diaphanous mix of tailored lace and chiffon swirling around her. Adoration and happiness flooding her expression.
My own vision blurred.
This exquisite, buoyant, confident, extraordinary woman had chosen to share her life with me.
Six months after our wedding, family and friends gathered again. This time on the lawn of the family villa outside Volterra on an unseasonably warm day toward the end of March. Everyone milled about, piling food onto plates and catching up.
Grace chased poor Elvis around the lawn, while Tennyson and Jeff chatted. Dante and Claire listened as Cat Lady delved into the minutiae of her latest feline acquisition. Chiara and Jen kept trying to draw out Jack, who still remained ghost-like. Roberto and his not-so-secret-anymore girlfriend (who had apparently quit her job at the museum so they could date) insisted on helping Nonna and Mom with the food.
Every single person wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans.
Except my beautiful wife.
Her white shirt hugged her rounding belly, the words I make humans. What’s your superpower? printed across her stomach.
I smiled so wide it hurt as she approached. I would never tire of seeing Lucy pregnant with our child.
There are moments in life where you look at the distance between where you once were and where you currently stand and shake your head in disbelief.
If someone had told me a year ago I would be married to Lucy Snow and having a baby gender reveal party for our child . . . I would have laughed at the sick joke.
And yet . . . here we were.
Lucy arched an eyebrow as she drew near, popping onto her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
“I was wondering where my handsome baby-daddy went,” she murmured against my mouth.
I gathered her into my arms, loving that I could hold my entire family all at once.
“You ready for this?” I asked.
She grinned, mischievously delighted. “Oh yeah!”
I laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward a table stacked with sealed white cups.
A few minutes later, Chiara whistled to get everyone’s attention. Lucy snugged herself against my side, one hand on her belly.
“Thank you all for coming,” I began. “Lucy and I appreciate you making the effort to share this day with us. I hope you’ve been enjoying the food and fun—”
“Let’s get on with it!” Mom called. “I want to know if I’m having a grandson or a granddaughter. I’m itching to go shopping.”
Everyone laughed.
“Lucy and I don’t know the gender either. So, from here, it’s pretty simple. Each of you grab a cup full of colored powder.” I swept a hand over the table. “And then, on the count of three, we’re all going to pull off the foil top and toss the contents of our cups in the air. Blue for boy, pink for girl.”
Three minutes later, we all faced each other in a circle. Nervous energy skittered down my spine. I knew what I hoped the colored powder would reveal. Lucy and I exchanged a wink.
“One, two . . . three!”
The air exploded in combination of pink and blue.
Everyone stared in puzzled silence.
“I think someone got the memo wrong,” Tennyson said as the powder settled.
Lucy, however, squealed in excitement, jumping into my arms. I swung her around with a whoop.
At which point, my mom put it all together.
“You’re having twins?!” she shrieked. “A boy and a girl? And you didn’t tell me?!”
Lucy nodded her head, happy tears streaking through the powder on her cheeks.
Pandemonium ensued. People hugged and laughed. My mom and Nonna cried. Lucy and I had known for months that she carried fraternal twins, but we had decided to keep it a secret.
The look on my mom’s face made it totally worth it.
Much later, I carried an exhausted but thoroughly happy Lucy up the stairs to our apartment in the family palazzo in Florence. Dante and Claire had given the first floor apartment to us, saying they preferred to live in her grandfather’s villa just outside of town. I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but Lucy and I welcomed having a space of our own.
Lucy relaxed against my chest, arms looped around my neck.
“Happy, beautiful?” I asked, walking up the stone steps.
“Impossibly so,” she murmured against my throat. “I’m so glad we’re having a boy and a girl.”
“It’s what we both wanted, one of each.”
“Exactly. I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Me either,” I whispered. “I want to tell them everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. I’ll start with ‘I met your mother when she photographed my heart.’”
Other Books by Nichole Van
The Brothers Maledetti
Gladly Beyond (Dante and Claire)
Love’s Shadow (Branwell and Lucy)
Chiara and Jack (coming mid-2017)
Tennyson and Ainsley (coming late 2017)
The House of Oak Series
Intertwine (James and Emme)
Divine (Georgiana and Sebastian)
Clandestine (Marc and Kit)
Refine (Linwood and Jasmine)
An Invisible Heiress (a novella included in the Spring in Hyde Park anthology)
Outshine (coming Spring 2017, Daniel Ashton’s story)
If you haven’t yet read Intertwine, book one in the House of Oak series, click here for a preview.
Author's Note
As usual, when writing a story set in the past, I have incorporated select aspects of history and then blatantly made up others. I’ll attempt to sort through it all here. Though, be warned, there are (minor) spoilers.
First of all, let me express my appreciation for the entire country of Italy—Tuscany in particular. Outside of my current home state, I’ve lived more of my life in Tuscany than anywhere else in the world. Every time I visit, it feels like coming home.
For this book, I dug deep into Tuscany’s history, going all the way back to the Etruscans who originally lived in the region and lent their name to it. All of the information I give in the book about Etruscan history and artifacts is true to the best of my understanding, though the specific mirror itself was fabricated for this story.
Additionally, the information about Hinthial and Tages is drawn from Roman accounts and archeology of the area. Hinthial was an ambiguous figure in Etruscan mythology and folklore and there remains controversy over who she was exactly to the Etruscans. Her name did have the double-meaning of Goddess of Love and ghost/phantasm, which caused me know small amount of frustration in my research. According to Etruscan mythology, Tages was the human founder of Etruscan religion and his descendants/followers acted as oracles.
To Americans, the Italian approach to archaeological excavation and conservation can appear haphazard and casual. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The Italians are hardly cavalier in their treatment of their history—there’s just so much of it, they can’t obsess over every little thing.
The Abbey of San Galgano, mentioned in passing at the very end of the book, is well worth a visit. The abandoned ruins are nestled deep in the Tuscan countryside. A nearby chapel actually houses the original sword in the stone—a confirmed 14th century blade embedded in a large rock.
As for Lucy and her t-shirts, most of them are actual shirts you can purchase from www.woot.com. Happy shopping.
I have created an extensive pinboard on Pinterest with images of everything I talk about in the book. So if you want a visual of anything, pop over there and explore. Just search for NicholeVan.
As with all books, this one couldn’t have been written without the help and support from those around me. I know I am going to leave someone out with all these thanks. So to that person, know that I totally love you and am so deeply grateful for your help!
To Kelly Crawford . . . thanks for helping us up our family motto game. Choose Fun is a much better goal than Just Don’t Die. Though in our
defense, Just Don’t Die really does apply to a staggering number of situations. (Paris driving, anyone?)
To my beta readers—you know who you are—thank you for your helpful ideas and support. And, again, an extra large thank you to Annette Evans and Norma Melzer for their fantastic copy editing skills and insights.
A huge thank you goes to Rebecca Spencer, Lois Brown, Jennifer Jenkins and Amy Beatty for their helpful plot suggestions, revision notes and willingness to let me cry on their shoulders.
And, as usual, this work would not have reached its fruition without the excellent editorial eye of Erin Rodabough. You have a touch of genius, my friend.
Thanks to Andrew, Austenne and Kian for your patience and adaptability. We sold our house and nearly everything we owned (including your beds) and moved into a very small space all during the writing of this book. Onward and upward to better things!
And finally, no words can express my love and appreciation for Dave. Thanks for listening to me, no matter how scattered, exasperated I am. Thank you for moving boxes and hefting heavy furniture and dealing with the frustration of this time in our lives. There is no one else I would rather have as my partner-in-crime.
Reading Group Questions
Fair warning—these reading group questions contain spoilers.
In the initial brainstorming for this book, there was a lot of discussion about using the threat of Tennyson’s suicide as the barrier keeping Branwell and Lucy apart. Do you feel the real possibility of a loved-one’s suicide would be sufficient to prevent you from pursuing a relationship? Do you feel this conflict was realistically portrayed in the book?
There are flashbacks between a number of the chapters. Why do you think the author included the flashbacks? Did you like them? Why or why not?
Did you enjoy the secondary storyline with Jack and Sofia? Why do you think it was included in the book? Did you like how it was integrated? Did you want more or less of their story?
The presence of Chucky is meant to add tension and drama to the storyline. But, in the end, you find that there never was a demon. How did you feel about that revelation? Was it fun or did you feel cheated as a reader?