by Kathryn Shay
“Thank you, then.”
He left them alone.
Calla’s heart was beating so fast, so full of joy, she could barely believe her good fortune.
Her mother took a seat next to her on the small sofa in her room. “Callandra, are you all right?”
“What? Oh, yes.” She grasped her mother’s hands. “Mamá, I’m really going to have a baby. After all I went through with Lorenzo, I thought I might never be able to conceive.”
Renata squeezed Calla’s hands. “So this is Connor Marino’s child.”
“Of course. Anyone could do that math. I left Casarina over three months ago and have had no contact with Lorenzo for that length of time. And I went through my cycle three times. I know when this child was conceived. At Camp David.”
“You’re pleased it’s his?”
“I can’t help but be. I love him so, Mamá. This is truly a joy for me.” She shook her head. “On one of my last medical calls in Syria, we went to the home of a pregnant woman. Connor and I delivered the child. On the way back to camp, I started to cry. I told Connor I wanted his baby.”
“Then you got your wish, sweetheart.”
Emotion welled behind her eyes. “Half of it, anyway.”
“What will you do now?”
She cradled her stomach with her arms. “Take this pleasure for a while.”
A knock on her bedroom door. Calla called out, “Who is it?”
“Papá.”
Renata stood. “I can stall him until you decide what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who you’re going to tell. When?”
“Papá and I promised each other there would be no more secrets between us.”
He knocked again and Calla invited him in. From the doorway he studied them. “I saw through my window Dr. Caruso come into the palace.” He had his own office on the grounds. “Are you ill, bella figlia?”
Grinning, Calla stood and crossed to her father, about to give him news he’d waited for since Mariela gave birth. “I’m pregnant, Papá. Barely. The baby is Connor’s.”
“Thank God it’s not Lorenzo’s.”
“Clearly not.”
His face relaxed and she noticed the difference between that and his previous stiffness. The whole situation had been hard on him, too. “May I sit?”
He took a chair when she and her mother dropped down across from him. “Is this something to celebrate?”
“Yes, it is, Papá. Though you will probably be embarrassed by an unwed daughter having a child.”
“Callandra, if I learned one thing in the last months, it is what matters in life. That is you, your sisters, and your mother. I want you to be happy. Are you?”
“About the baby? Yes.”
“But in general you’re not. I can see it in your eyes.”
When Calla was little and was sad, and particularly when she was trying to hide her feelings, Papá would always call her to him and stare into her eyes. Even when she’d had resentments or was angry with someone, he made her feel better. Once, she told him she was jealous of Francesca’s birthday party. He hugged her and said feelings like that were normal, but it was important to deal with them.
“I am still sad about Connor.”
“Ah, I see.” He waited. “Will you tell him?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“What will you do?”
“Just enjoy the news. Be content.”
“In Casarina?”
“For a while.”
“That too makes me happy. I came here also to tell you one more thing. The council has debated the issue of the old law which allowed abuse. They’ll vote tomorrow but I’m sure it will be abolished.”
“Thank you, Papá.”
A knock on Calla’s door again. Her mother said, “This is a busy place,” got up and opened it. “Yes?” A messenger handed her something. “Thank you.”
She turned around with a letter in her hand. “This is addressed to you, Alessio. By courier.”
When he tore open the envelope and read the missive, he shook his head. “For the love of God.”
“What is it?” Her mother sounded worried. Why not, at the way things were happening around here?
“Lorenzo Bertocchi was married yesterday. To the woman whose house he was in when we found him.”
“He married his mistress?” Her mother swore harshly. Her father gave her an indulgent smile.
“He’s doing this to save face,” her father said. “It will look like he wanted the annulment in order to wed her.”
“Who cares, Papá? He’s out of our lives.” Calla cradled her stomach. “I’m not holding grudges,” she said happily.
“Thank God for that,” her father joked.
They all laughed.
o0o
Connor saw Mama and Pa come into Nick’s house and his eyes misted. Jesus. Apparently he was still an emotional mess. But their visit wasn’t about him, though he’d come out here to be with Isabelle and wait for them because Nick had to go to work.
Mama crossed to him first and hugged him.
He held on tight.
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy, a stór.”
“I’m fine. Let’s concentrate on Isabelle.”
She exchanged places with Pa. His father was firm and solid and safe. His embrace was comforting, as it had been when Connor was little. He took pleasure in the contact.
When he drew back, Connor asked, “Where are the girls and Declan?”
“They’re coming in behind us.” Pa’s voice was filled with concern.
As if on cue, Morgan and Melody came bustling through the door. “Uncle Connor,” they yelled in unison.
They raced to him and he held one in each arm. “Hey, punkins. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Daddy said we could take four days off school!” This from Meli.
“Wow, that many?”
“Where’s your sister?” Mama asked.
“Her and Daddy are talking in the car.” In his ear, Meli whispered, “She didn’t want to come with us.”
They greeted their grandparents, then asked, “Where’s Aunt Whitney?”
“On her way, too.”
Mama smiled. “I’d like to go in and see Isabelle now. Tony?”
His parents went down the hall just before Declan walked inside with his oldest, Maggie. She was the spitting image of her mother, with auburn hair and nearly violet eyes. The two younger ones had Declan’s lighter hair and blue eyes. Connor saw the anxiety on Dec’s face and his shoulders were stiff. “Hey, Connor,” he said.
He nudged Maggie.
“Hi, Uncle Connor.”
“Hey, baby, where’s my hug?”
Maggie crossed to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“We got a lot planned,” Morgan told him after he let go of her sister.
“Will I get time with you, too?”
“Yes, silly.”
Ten minutes later, Whitney strolled through the door. Dressed in capris and a T-shirt with her hair in a ponytail, she looked almost as young as Mags. “Hey everybody.”
The girls flocked to her.
“So what color did you pick for me?”
“Deep purple!”
“Fire engine red!”
An impish grin from Maggie. “Pink.”
“What are we talking about?” Connor asked.
“Aunt Whitney’s taking us to get pedicures.”
Connor pretended shock. “Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?”
“Very funny!” She greeted her other brother then checked her watch. “We have to get going. I’m late because I got stuck in traffic.”
So he and Dec ended up alone.
“Any coffee here?” Dec asked. “I’m whipped. From the drive and my darling daughter.”
“Why didn’t she want to come?”
“To punish me. Why else?”
“There’s coffee in the kitchen. You can tell me all about
her.”
“Okay. The weather’s warm enough to sit outside. Let’s go to the patio.” He punched Connor in the arm. “I miss you, buddy. For a while there, I saw you almost every day.”
Nick’s backyard was beginning to bloom. Connor always loved flowers and bushes and trees and had missed this terrain when he’d been in the Middle East. Once they were seated, Dec said, “So, she went back?”
“That she did.”
“You got close at Camp David. Why didn’t you go with her?”
Man, everybody was getting on him about that. Could they be right? “I’m already having second thoughts. But I’m not sure I could live with the fear that she might leave again, might take our kids away.”
“I know that’s your worst nightmare.”
“Yep.”
Dec waited, then said, “What are you going to do?”
“Move on, finally. I want to get away from this cloak of gloom and doom I’ve been under.”
“I’ll be there for you.”
“Thanks. Things going okay with Lila?”
“Same old, same old. Hell, Con, how did we make such a mess of our love lives?”
“Just lucky I guess.”
o0o
Renata joined Gabriella, Alexandra and Callandra on the back patio. It was a beautiful morning in Casarina where the sky was a shade of blue not seen elsewhere, the birds’ chirping seemed sweeter and an occasional squirrel or chipmunk scampered across the lawn. “How nice to see my three daughters together like this.”
The girls exchanged looks.
“What?”
Brie said, “I’m going back to the U.S., Mamá.”
Renata smoothed down her only blond child’s hair. “I knew it had to happen. I will miss you.”
“And I’ll miss you. But I’ve been off work for three weeks and I need to be there for the end of the year activities.”
“Are you sure?” Lexy asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m staying, Mamá.” This from Lexy. Her comment seemed to surprise everyone. “I’m going to be here for Callandra.”
“Alexandra, your father forbade you to leave.”
“He rescinded that, Mama, to make amends to Calla.”
“I hadn’t thought about you leaving. You’re so young.”
Lexy, even-tempered, rolled her eyes.
Renata sat on a divan next to her youngest. “Callandra, have you thought more about what you’d like to do?”
Her eldest sighed. “Stay in Casarina. Connor won’t have me, so I won’t be going back to America. Five of the girls are there, but we could visit.”
“You will be a mother only?” This from Brie. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But won’t you miss working outside the home?”
“I will be a mother, but I’ve been considering I might work for Papá at some point. I could oversee Casarina’s universal health care and maybe help to get women in the government.”
“That’s even tempting to me.” This from Gabriella.
“I wish all my girls were back in our country.”
“Mamá, why don’t you come to the U.S. more frequently?” Brie asked.
“I should. I will.”
“When do you leave?” Calla asked Brie.
“Papá has a trip to France in a few days,” Brie told her. “He said the royal plane can drop me off in D.C.”
Calla stood. “I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” Lexy asked.
“I’ll tell you later. Is he here, Mamá?”
“No, he went to the Administration Building for meetings.”
“I’ll wait for him to return.”
Gabriella stood. “Come help me pack, Lexy.”
“Okay. But for the record, I don’t want you to go either Brie.”
Arm-in-arm, the sisters walked into the house.
“Calla, do you want to talk to me about your father? Are you worried he’ll contact Connor?”
“No. I’m worried about Connor. I’m going to ask Papá to check on him.”
o0o
That night, Renata left her rooms and walked across the wing to her husband’s large suite. She knocked. Heard, “Come in.”
He was seated in an easy chair, staring out the window, a glass of what appeared to be liquor in his hand.
“Alessio?”
His head snapped around. His face was full of sadness, longing, maybe. “Renata, is something wrong?”
“No.”
“You have not been to my rooms in months.”
“I know. I want to talk to you.” She walked toward him. She wore slinky red silk with tiny straps. “Fix me one of those, please?”
He smiled, stood, and when he passed her, he took her hand and kissed it. “You belong here with me.”
As he went to pour the drink, she said, “I know I do. I’m willing to come back.”
He stopped with the carafe mid-air. She could see his shoulders relax. He finished the drink then turned to her. “Those are words I’ve waited to hear, moglie.”
“There’s a condition.”
His brow knitted. “Renata...”
“It’s an easy one. A promise. If you give it to me, I’ll stay tonight. And all the nights after.”
“Isn’t this blackmail?” But his voice held tenderness. She knew why.
“Like before.”
When they first fell in love but before they married, they used to tease each other sexually, drawing out their coming together by exacting promises from each other.
“We were so in love then.” Renata’s voice was wistful. “What happened?”
“A lot has come between us. I love you as much as I did then. More, probably.” Alessio sighed. “I’m sorry for my part in drawing us apart.”
“I love you more now, too. But we aren’t the same people.”
“We are not. But we can still have a good life together.” He left the drinks on the counter and crossed to her. “What is this promise you want?”
She looped her arms around his neck. His nearness quickened her pulse. “When you go to check on Connor Marino, promise me that you won’t tell him about the baby.”
“Callandra already asked me not to. I wasn’t planning to tell him. I promise I won’t.”
“All right.” She hoped her smile was seductive. “Now make love to me. Be my real marito again. I miss you.”
o0o
“Thanks for meeting me,” Lila said to Declan after he walked into The Jazz Place and joined her at the bar for a drink. He ordered a beer. She, of course, hated the brew and sipped white wine. For a soldier, she had always been absurdly feminine.
“I’m not sure what you want.” He settled at the bar. He wore jeans and a Johns Hopkins sweatshirt. He refused to dress up for her. “I saw you yesterday when I brought the kids over to your new house.” Which was pretty damn fancy digs in Georgetown and made a statement that she wasn’t coming back to Lakeville, ever. Not that he really thought she would.
“Thanks for doing that.” She, on the other hand, wore a pencil-thin pink skirt and white ruffled blouse. Her auburn hair was down around her shoulders and her violet eyes had makeup on them. She always gussied up good. “Did you, um, did you like the house?”
“Hmm. Nice. Big.” Something occurred to him. “You move in there alone?”
She glanced away. Jesus. Declan had no idea this was coming.
He asked tightly, “Who is he?”
“A retired army general.”
“How old is he?”
“Early fifties.” She was thirty-eight, like him.
His knuckles turned white on the beer bottle. She focused on his hand for a minute. “You don’t approve?”
He slugged back some beer. Suddenly, his mouth had gotten parched. “Doesn’t matter what I think about you dating an old man.”
“Ha! Robert’s young-looking and fit.”
“Whatever you say.”
“He’s a nice man, Declan.” Her tone turned challengin
g. A lot of arguments had started because of that tone. “The kids met him when they came to work with me one day.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you lived with him.”
“That’s in the works. We haven’t made the arrangements yet because I wanted to tell you first, then the girls.”
He said nothing.
She stared at him with hot eyes. “Are you upset about me moving in with him?”
How could she not know? “We’ve only been divorced a year. Maggie still hasn’t gotten over it. Now you bring another man into the mix? You’re a piece of work, Delilah.” He only called her that when he was mad.
For some reason, her eyes flamed like shiny amethysts. “You know, this is all very strange.”
“Why?”
“Because you wanted the divorce.”
“I did not.”
“You asked for it.”
“Because you insisted on taking the job in D.C.”
“And you insisted on staying in Lakeville.”
“This is old ground.” He stood and threw money on the bar. “Have a nice life.”
“Now wait just a minute.” She grabbed him by the arm. She was strong and fit and could hold him back if she wanted to, but he stopped and pivoted anyway. “I fought tooth and nail to make things work that first year after I took the job. After you pushed me out of your life, I waited another year for you to come to your senses. And you didn’t. Then I gave up after the divorce.” Her voice rose a notch. “Now that I’m finally going on with my life, you dare blame me? You’re the piece of work.” She threw back her chair, stood and stormed out on three-inch heels that used to drive him crazy.
Open-mouthed, he was dumbfounded by the fact that they were so much on a different page about what had happened. Hell, a different chapter. No, a different fucking book!
Chapter 13
* * *
The entire family gathered at Gabe and Macy’s new house not far from Nick’s in Maryland. Except for Isabelle, of course, because she was home resting and her mother had come out to visit. They’d hoped to include Nick’s wife and hold the meeting at Nick’s, but she was experiencing some discomfort today.
Gabe’s place wasn’t as big as Nick’s but Connor appreciated its rustic interior. They’d brought the outdoors inside with cedar ceilings throughout the downstairs, plank floors and warm, cozy furniture. Macy’s art—mostly landscapes—graced the walls.