Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  She pushed to her feet then heaved the first suitcase onto the bed. After unzipping it, Jayne began to unpack the contents. She hung a few dresses inside the closet before finding her underwear. She formed a pile on the bed beside the case. Once the suitcase was empty, she stored it beneath the bed then carried the first handful of undies to the antique chest of drawers in the corner of the room.

  A large bouquet of freshly cut lavender in a crystal vase adorned the chest, and she smiled. Bellissimo. She leaned forward to take a slow sniff and noticed a note lying beside the vase. Recognizing those cursive curls, she quickly dumped her panties and bras into the top drawer. She’d pack them neatly once she’d read what Rafaele had written.

  Cara mia, welcome to Villa Rossi. I hope your stay will be long and pleasant, like this lavanda I picked for you. Thank you for coming. Amore, Rafaele.

  And there was that amore word again. That love word.

  Jayne hurried across the room to check the time on her phone. She lifted it from the pedestal between the two beds. Three fifteen. If she hurried, she could still have enough time for a quick dip with Rafaele before she’d need to start getting ready for tonight’s party.

  Yes, for him she’d even brave the cold water.

  Once the second suitcase was unpacked, it joined its counterpart under the bed. Jayne selected a full bathing suit—blue-and-white striped halter top, with a navy bottom. She loved the shorts effect of the vintage retro design, as well as the three bright red buttons down either side that popped against the smooth, dark blue fabric. She wrapped a matching blue sarong around her waist then slid her feet into a pair of flat sandals. She grabbed her bottle of sunblock then cracked the door.

  Hearing voices, she gently eased the door back into place without latching it for fear of the sound drawing attention to her presence.

  Whoever was outside, chose to hold their conversation a stone’s throw from her bedroom door.

  “So what do you think of this news of the Brit?” A female voice. One of his sisters? Was she talking about her? Who else? As far as Jayne knew, she was and would be the only British subject under this roof.

  “I think it’s pretty exciting. I’m looking forward to meeting her. Incredible how Rafaele managed to find her.” A male this time. His brother? One of his cousins? “And you?”

  “Apprehensive. I–I just don’t want to see my brother hurt.”

  So it was one of his sisters. Must be talking to a cousin, otherwise she’d have said our brother.

  “He already seems so taken with her,” his sister continued. “Personally, I wish we never knew of her existence—that she’d stayed unknown to us back in her own country. I think her presence can only bring this family complications, not to mention opening old wounds.”

  What? Jayne was of a mind to open that door and give whoever was on the other side a piece of hers. How dare his sister judge her so wrongly without even meeting her?

  “I mean, what does she want from us? Why come here now after all this time? I just don’t like it.”

  And Jayne was beginning to not like the woman on the other side of her door.

  “You could be right. Time will tell, I guess. Now come, I thought we were here to get drinks for everyone, not talk about Bonnie from over the ocean.”

  “Bonnie? Ha, you’re too funny, cuz. Where is Rafaele anyway? Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

  Their voices grew softer as they moved away.

  If only the sick feeling that had settled in Jayne’s stomach would move on too. And the tears that began to prick. She pressed her eyelids shut tight, but moisture still managed to squeeze through and trickle down her nose. Slowly at first, and then faster until she tasted the saltiness. She couldn’t go out there like this. In fact, how could she even stay when she knew too well there were family members resenting her presence? She couldn’t show her face now. She should just leave before anyone knew she’d even arrived.

  Jayne slid the suitcases out from under the bed and began stuffing her clothes back into them. How would she ever get everything to fit again packing like this?

  A knock at the door startled her, and she swiped at her moist cheeks.

  “Jayne? May I come in, cara mia?”

  Jayne glanced around at the mess she’d created—one there was no way of hiding, not at such short notice—and let out a sob.

  Rafaele didn’t wait for Jayne to give him permission to enter. At the sound of her cry, he pushed the door open and rushed toward her. Besides, it wasn’t latched closed as he’d left it.

  “Cara mia, what’s wrong?” What had happened in the short time since he’d left her in the room to unpack?

  He clasped her arms and turned Jayne to face him. Everything inside of him wanted to protect her from whatever or whoever had hurt her. Good thing Maria had delayed him so in the kitchen before he’d headed up to his room to change, otherwise he probably would’ve gone straight to the pool and not detoured via Jayne’s room to see if she was ready.

  Without looking at him, Jayne buried her head in his chest. He folded her into his embrace. Her tears soaked into his T-shirt.

  Rafaele kissed her ear, tightening his hold on her as his gaze settled on the haphazard packing happening on the bed, some of the strewn dresses still on hangers. Either Jayne was one messy packer—which he didn’t believe for a second—or she’d already unpacked and was packing again.

  In a hurry.

  “You’re leaving? Why?”

  Jayne shook her head and pivoted away from him. She began pulling the dresses from the hangers and stuffing them into the open suitcase. “This was a mistake. It’s better for everyone if I leave.” She picked up a shirt.

  “No!” His softened his voice, “No, cara mia, you can’t go. I meant it when I said I wanted your stay to be long and pleasant. And by long, I meant indefinitely. I won’t lose you again.”

  Rafaele removed the garment from her hand and dropped it into the suitcase. Then he closed the lid on the mess and moved the case to the floor. Shifting the remaining clothes to one side, he cleared a spot on the bed and sat down. He patted the mattress beside him and tugged Jayne closer.

  “Come, sit down, and tell me what has upset you so. Did somebody say something unwelcoming to you?” Although he couldn’t think who would have done such a thing. His siblings and cousins were all eager to meet his mystery woman. Could it have been Nonna again? But she’d apologized for her behavior the other night and promised to tell Jayne in person when she saw her again. Had that apology gone sour?

  “Was it my grandmother?”

  Jayne shook her head.

  “Are you sure? If it was, you can tell me. I know she can be a little difficult at times.”

  “It wasn’t your grandmother.” Jayne started to rise but Rafaele pulled her back to sit beside him.

  “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what happened, Jayne.”

  “You’ll miss your grandmother’s party.” She dabbed her eyes with her fingertips.

  “Then I miss the party.” She was more important, but he did hope she didn’t keep him waiting that long.

  Jayne twined the blue fabric of her sarong between her fingers and stared across the room toward the door. Her chest heaved, and she expelled a heavy sigh. “I really don’t want to tell.”

  “And I really need to know who said what to upset you so.”

  Her gaze drifted to the floor for a moment before she looked back at him. “I–I don’t know. Just two voices coming from the passage.”

  “Male? Female?” At least she was starting to talk.

  “Both.”

  “I see.” Had to be one of his sisters. And Ric? Couldn’t be…he was everyone’s hero. One of their cousins? “What did they say?”

  “That they didn’t want to see you hurt. That they wished I’d stayed in the UK. That I would bring complications and open old wounds. My motivations for coming here after so long were questioned. How can I stay, Rafaele, if your family doesn’t trust
me? What did I do to cause them to not like me?”

  What? No wonder she was so upset.

  “There must be some misunderstanding, cara mia. Please, I want you to stay here while I sort this out.” No way could they celebrate Nonna’s birthday tonight with this hanging over their heads. He had to clear the air and get to the bottom of this. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

  She nodded.

  If he could take her car keys with him to ensure she stayed put, he would. But he couldn’t do that. Instead, he pulled Jayne closer, and as his lips found hers, he gave her several amazing reasons to stay.

  As Rafaele made his way across the lawn, Sienna was on her way up from the pool. Good, he could talk to her alone.

  She waved and hurried toward him. “Rafaele. Where have you been? And where is your English rose? I’ve been patiently waiting all afternoon to meet her.”

  “Really? And have you been gossiping about her too while you’ve waited?”

  Sienna’s eyes narrowed. “What on earth are you talking about? No. All I’ve said is that I can’t wait to meet her. There’s nothing wrong with saying that.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her a side hug. Must’ve been Alessa. His little sister could get somewhat jealous when it came to her big brother. Then again, he’d spoiled Alessa her whole life. Ric had too. Probably because they were old enough to understand what was happening after Mammà died. They knew their father blamed Alessa for Mammà’s death. What kind of monster would blame an infant for anything?

  The one they’d called Papà their entire lives—even when the love was no longer there.

  “I promise, you’ll meet her soon, sorella. She’s just busy unpacking. She was planning to come down for a swim, but I think it might be getting a little late for that now.

  “Maybe I can pop into the guest room and say hello?”

  He couldn’t very well stop his sister. And perhaps meeting his family slowly wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would be easier on Jayne. “Yes, of course. By all means.”

  Ric and his three cousins were fooling around in the pool. From under the pergola where she sat cross-legged on a cushioned lounger, Alessa cheered them on, causing the horseplay to become a little rougher.

  Piero splashed Rafaele as he walked past. “I thought you were coming to swim?”

  Now if those droplets could only cool his irritation. “I was. But something has come up that I need to deal with first.”

  “Something, or someone,” Ric jeered, his comment followed by the raucous laughter of their American cousins.

  “He’s certainly keeping this woman top secret,” Marco said.

  “I think he’s trying to avoid introducing her to us.” Ric chortled. “Probably worried Piero will sweep her off her feet.”

  “Whoo,” came the bassy chorus with a couple of backslaps and whistles directed at Piero thrown in for effect.

  Piero. He hadn’t thought about his charming and dashingly good-looking cousin being competition for Jayne’s affections. But that was a strong possibility.

  Surely Piero wouldn’t?

  But what if she found his cousin more interesting? She certainly wouldn’t have a catty little sister to deal with if she did. The notion shifted Rafaele’s irritation up a notch. He should be wooing Jayne in that pool at this very moment, showing his cousins exactly how interested she was in him. Instead, he was wasting precious time trying to track down the source of ugly gossip.

  He plunked himself down on the lounger beside Alessa. “Where’s Nonna?”

  “She left a few minutes ago. Said if she didn’t start getting ready now, she’d be late for her own birthday party. I’ll go up and help her later—do her hair, a little make up…you know, the girly stuff.”

  Alessa took a long swig of iced tea then set her glass down on the floor. She stared at Rafaele and frowned. “Who rained on your parade?”

  “You, I think.”

  Alessa palmed her chest. “Me? What could I have possibly done? I haven’t seen you since you collected me at the station this morning.” She pouted.

  “Didn’t have to for you to spread mischief, sorellina.”

  “Mischief?” Alessa shook her head. “Have you had too much sun, big brother? I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Were you talking to Marco, Nick, or Piero about Jayne? Running her down?”

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  “You tell me. Because Sienna says it wasn’t her, and it could only be one of you.”

  “And what did I allegedly say?”

  “That you didn’t want to see me hurt. That you wished Jayne had stayed in the UK because you felt she’d only bring complications and open old wounds.” Rafaele raised his hands, frustrated. “What does that even mean?”

  Alessa’s mouth formed a perfect oval before she pursed her lips.

  “Oh, that.” She swept her red locks over one shoulder. “I wasn’t speaking about Jayne at all.”

  “You weren’t? Then who were you talking about?”

  “Rachel, of course. Unless you have more British cousins hiding somewhere.” She giggled.

  Relief flooded him. It all made sense now. Not that it made what Alessa had said, right. He needed to let her know that she was to be on her best and most welcoming behavior with both Rachel and Jayne tonight. But more than that, he needed to get back to Jayne and reassure her that it had all been a total misunderstanding.

  Chapter Eleven

  RAFAELE STRAIGHTENED HIS BOWTIE, positioning it in just the right spot beneath the white wingtip collar of his shirt. Then he slipped on his tuxedo jacket, knowing it wouldn’t be on for too long. Happy he’d fare well in the Piero test, he headed downstairs.

  First he had some final instructions for the waiters on serving the various courses. The live entertainment would be arriving soon too. The quartet he’d chosen came highly recommended for private dinner parties. He had no doubt Nonna would love the blend of the violin, mandolin, piano accordion, and guitar. The guitarist apparently also played the mouth organ when he wasn’t singing. Rafaele couldn’t wait to dance under the stars with Jayne to the tune of “That’s Amore” and other Italian golden oldies.

  Inside the kitchen, Maria was hard at work preparing their meal. Even though she’d agreed to let him bring in a cook to help her, it seemed she was reluctant to delegate any tasks. But, that extra pair of hands would come in handy when frying those Florentine steaks. She’d thank him later.

  The two waiters now briefed on their duties, Rafaele headed to the dining room. The table was set perfectly. Nonna would be surprised at the transformation of a table that for years had welcomed only two or three. Full house tonight, filling all ten places—five down each side. Probably a good thing their father had passed away a few months ago. No doubt he would’ve had some objection to this celebration…not to mention horrified at welcoming his late brother’s illegitimate daughter into the house and family fold. Over his dead body his papà would’ve said if he’d known about the invitation to Rachel.

  Oh, the irony.

  Perhaps the money Papà had paid to Rachel’s mother wasn’t for support, but rather to keep them both away. If only he could know for certain where the money had gone and why. The secret might be buried with his father, but hopefully in time, Nonna would divulge what she knew. If she died without confessing, they’d likely never know.

  A knock at the front door drew Rafaele from his bitter thoughts toward the entrance. Had Rachel decided to come a little earlier? He hoped so. If only she’d let him fetch her from the bed and breakfast where she stayed. He’d honored her wishes, however. She seemed rather independent and strong-minded. But who could blame her? She probably didn’t want to give her relatives any reason to judge her motives for coming this weekend. Bad enough Alessa had already painted a big question mark over Rachel’s head. Hopefully he’d managed to quash any doubts his sister had about their new family member.

  With a smile he opened
the door, his heart sinking to see a middle-aged, guitar-toting minstrel instead of his thirty-something British cousin.

  “Rafaele Rossi?” Must be the bandleader.

  “Sì.”

  “Giuliano Esposito.” The man held out his hand, and Rafaele shook it. He’d find that name easy to remember. G for guitar.

  In a cursive motion, Guiliano splayed his arm toward the three standing behind him and proudly announced, “This is the rest of I Quattro Menestrelli.”

  The Four Minstrels. Thankfully their playing was reputedly more original than their band’s name.

  “Oriana on the violin, Diego playing the accordian, and Federigo, the mandolin,” Guiliano announced. They were years younger than him and could easily be his sons and daughter. There was a definite resemblance in their features.

  “Please, come inside.” Rafaele opened the right-hand door to make it easier for them to enter with their musical cases. He walked in front of the four. “We’ll be eating in the dining room and hopefully move the party outside to the patio later on. We can open the patio doors now—it might be easier for you to play from there, and the weather is so wonderful tonight. Let me show you the arrangement, and then you can set up wherever you feel is best. As soon as you’re ready, you can begin playing.

  “Oh, and did you manage to perfect the three songs I requested?”

  “Sì, Mr. Rossi. We did,” Guiliano answered. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Good.” Eager to escort Jayne from her room and finally introduce her to the rest of his family—Sienna had already introduced herself earlier in Jayne’s bedroom—Rafaele left the entertainment tuning up in the dining room and headed down the passage.

  He knocked on Jayne’s door and waited.

  The door clicked then swung open. Jayne stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of long, black pants that hugged her curves in all the right places and a white, long-sleeved lace shirt that barely covered the high waist of her pants. Her gorgeous blond locks were pulled up into a messy side bun, exposing her slender neck. Rafaele resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss that porcelain skin.