Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  Maria shrugged. “Man come. He say for Isabella Rossi. I sign. Man go.”

  Another birthday gift? But from whom?

  “I go get birthday cake in kitchen.” Maria hitched her skirt and hurried off, leaving Rafaele pondering the strange delivery. He leaned it forward to check the other side. Not a single marking to indicate who it was from. His fingers gently pressed the edges. Whatever was in there, it was safely packaged in a box.

  Perhaps there’d be a card tucked inside that would indicate who had sent it.

  Rafaele gripped the large rectangular package on either side and lifted.

  “Seems we missed one more,” he announced as he walked back into the dining room, half hidden behind the gift.

  Maria and the waiters entered hot on his heels, bearing desserts—Gelato al tartufo, a scoop of gelato with truffle shavings on top, and Zuccotto. The chocolate-covered, traditional sponge cake dome filled with whipped cream would serve as Nonna’s birthday cake too.

  Nonna smiled at him. “Perhaps we open this one after dolce?

  “After dessert is a good idea, Nonna.” Rafaele set the package down against the wall behind her.

  When the pudding bowls were emptied, except for Sienna’s which never got filled in the first place—her choice—Ric leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach.

  “Buonissima! That was so good, but I don’t want to think about how much weight I’ll have gained tonight. Tomorrow morning’s run will have to be extra long. Have to watch my physique for my job.”

  “I guess you do,” Jayne said. “Lugging that heavy hose around and running through burning buildings.”

  Ric arched one eyebrow. “Not to mention pulling cats from trees and sheep from ditches.”

  “Ric’s a regular lean, mean, firefighting machine.” Rafaele chuckled.

  “I’ll join you in the morning.” Marco smacked his abs. “With my healthy appetite, keeping this trim doesn’t happen without hard work.”

  Rafaele rose. Time for that last gift. Its presence had perturbed him all through dessert. He indicated to his cousins and Ric to clear a large enough space in front of Nonna. Bottles of wine and sparkling water disappeared from the table, and the flower arrangement was shifted farther down from the center. He hefted the package onto the table.

  Nonna smiled. “Grazie, Rafaele. Who is this gift from? All of you?”

  “We don’t know who it’s from, Nonna. Do you have a secret admirer?” Rafaele waggled his brows.

  Nonna waved a hand at him, shooing away his question. Her gaze roamed the walls of the dining room and the numerous artworks hanging there. Gifts to her from his grandpapà.

  She sighed. “My heart will always belong to my Benedetto. Sixty years already.” She held up six fingers.

  Gazing down at the gift, Nonna tore off the paper to reveal a box. What could be inside?

  “Here, let me help you.” Rafaele opened the narrow box on one side. Looked like a frame inside. Soliciting the help of Ric, he instructed his brother to pull the box from one side while he held on tightly to the contents. Soon the framed canvas emerged from hiding. He set it down in front of Nonna.

  She took one glimpse and gasped.

  Jayne watched Isabella’s face, shining with excitement, morph to a deathly pale. The old woman gasped for air then turned away from the painting. Why had the gift upset her so?

  She craned to see the artwork better. Hard to tell what the image was with it upside down. She could see an orange sunset and autumn-colored leaves, but she couldn’t make out the rest.

  Alessa shoved her chair back. “Rafaele, she’s having a heart attack. Do something, quick.”

  Ric bounded to his feet and squeezed between Rafaele and his grandmother.

  She pushed Ric away. “I’m not having a heart attack! But I would like to return to my room.”

  Supported on either side by Rafaele and Ric, Isabella staggered from the party. For a while the cousins sat or stood in stunned silence.

  “Why would this painting upset Nonna so?” Alessa finally asked before lifting the small white card that was tucked into the corner of the frame. A business card from the artist perhaps?

  “A Ride in the Vineyards.” Alessa waved the card in the air. “That’s what’s written here.”

  She tucked the card back where she’d found it then leaned her palms on the table to examine the artwork closer. “A man riding a motorbike through a vineyard into the setting sun… I’d hang this in my apartment any day. It’s gorgeous. And so detailed. Right down to the deep blue gentians found lining our paths and roads up until the beginning of autumn. I used to love picking those flowers for Papà, but he—”

  Alessa swiped at the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry.”

  Sienna rushed to her sister’s side and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t go there, Alessa. It’s not worth it.” Although Sienna had lowered her voice, seated opposite them, Jayne could still hear what she’d said.

  Sienna drew in a deep breath then gazed at everyone. With a forced smile and a shrug she announced, “Not our fault our father didn’t love us. Right?”

  The three American cousins nodded without saying a word.

  Jayne sneaked a peek at Rachel. She, too, merely stared at the scenario unfolding before her. What an insight into this family. Jayne’s heart tightened. Poor Rafaele, not knowing a father’s love. Hopefully he knew the love of his Heavenly Father. And if he didn’t, that was a love she could show him, besides hers.

  One by one the cousins examined the gift that had brought the celebrations to an abrupt halt, and sent Sienna and Alessa on a seemingly unpleasant stroll down memory lane.

  Marco glanced up from staring at the painting on the table. “I vaguely remember my mother saying something about Uncle Albertino being killed on a motorbike in the vineyards. Or was it a car accident close to some vineyards? It was such a long time ago, I can’t be sure what she’d said. Hard to say as nobody has ever really talked about him. If only there were some photographs of Uncle Albertino in this house, we might’ve seen one with him on a bike and could know for certain.”

  “He was killed on a motorbike in the vineyards.” Rafaele shoved away from the doorjamb where he’d stood for goodness knows how long. Ric followed him into the room.

  “Rafaele…” Alessa hurried to his side. “How is Nonna?”

  “Upset, but otherwise fine. I’ve asked Maria to help her to bed.”

  Rafaele stared at the painting then slowly walked toward it. He lifted the card and looked at it for a moment before tapping it against his fingers.

  “Whoever sent this—” He choked, visibly upset by the revelation of this painting and shook his head. “I think it was a cruel act to get Nonna to remember something she’s been trying to forget. Even after all this time, Uncle Albertino’s death is still too painful for her to contemplate. I’m sure that’s why there are no reminders around Villa Rossi, except for the gravestone and his ashes in the family cemetery.”

  Rafaele’s father’s ashes were probably there too. She should ask him to take her sometime—perhaps being there would provide the opportunity to get Rafaele to open up about his relationship with his father. Both earthly and heavenly.

  “I–I should probably be going.”

  Rafaele watched Rachel rise. He could kick himself for being insensitive to what this painting could mean to her. That was her father they were casually discussing. He sighed. It probably wouldn’t help to ask her to stay. He’d quickly learned their new cousin wasn’t one to easily change her mind.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

  Rachel hurried to the door. Avoiding the hugs and kisses from her newfound family? She waved to everyone. “It was so nice meeting you all.”

  “I hope you’re going to come tomorrow. I promise I’ll make a pizza not to be missed.” Marco grinned.

  “And bring your bathing suit,” Alessa shouted across the room. “The weather forecast says it will be perfect for swimming.”
<
br />   “I’ll try my best.” With a final wave, she stepped out of the dining room.

  Rafaele walked in silence beside her to the front door. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings back in there.”

  “What?”

  “The painting…your father. It must’ve upset you, surely?”

  “I never knew my father.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sorry she’d never known her father. Sorry their nonna had kept her away from this family her entire life. Nothing he could do about that, but he could ensure she remained connected to everyone here tonight.

  “Can I drive you home? Please?” It was the least he could do—for now.

  “Thanks, but I’d prefer to walk. It’s such a beautiful night.”

  “But you’re all alone,” Rafaele protested, despite knowing it was futile.

  “I’m not. Jonathan is waiting for me.”

  “Jonathan…your friend? Out here all night? Why didn’t you bring him with you to the party? There was plenty of food, and—”

  “It was better I did this on my own, Rafaele. Thank you for your kindness and concern. And I’m sure that Jonathan survived the wait. He had his phone with some eBooks he’s been wanting to read. And the sky is so clear tonight, he would’ve enjoyed the time to do some stargazing.” Leaving a peck on Rafaele’s cheek, Rachel rushed down the steps onto the driveway.

  “Please come tomorrow,” Rafaele shouted after Rachel before the night swallowed her.

  Back inside the dining room, his cousins and siblings were in heated conversation about the painting, speculating over its origins, its meaning, and who the artist could be who sent it. But had it even come from an artist? Anyone with a grudge against Nonna could’ve commissioned that painting.

  His father’s scowling face drifted through Rafaele’s mind.

  No. Impossible.

  Rafaele clapped his hands. “Enough! We’ve all waited so long to be together again, let’s not allow this gift to spoil what little family time we have. Nonna probably wouldn’t have remained at the party much longer than she had anyway. What do you say we finish off this gathering in true Italian style? The music’s still playing, and the night is beautiful. So let’s move this party outside.”

  He strolled to the other side of the table where Jayne still sat, alone. Thankfully Piero had been too distracted by the painting to realize he’d missed the perfect opportunity to romance her. Rafaele held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Smiling, Jayne rose. Taking his hand, she accepted his invitation. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  His heart thudded as he pulled her closer to him. With one hand clasping her waist, the fingers of his other entwined in hers. Rafaele twirled Jayne out onto the patio. Her eyes fixed on his as they swayed to the music’s rhythm.

  “You know, we were interrupted with something earlier on.” She offered him a coy smile.

  “We were, weren’t we?” Rafaele moved his mouth to her cheek. “Something around here.”

  “Almost,” she whispered.

  His lips brushed her skin an inch to the left and then his mouth claimed hers. Whistles rose into the air, but he chose to ignore his cousins and siblings.

  Jayne pulled back with a soft giggle. She gazed at him through lowered lids. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, cara mia. Anything.”

  She exhaled. “What exactly did you mean earlier this evening when you told Rachel we were together? Or had you only said that because of Piero?”

  Jayne’s heart pounded against her ribs. Goodness. Had she really just been bold enough to ask that question of Rafaele? But what if his answer confirmed her fears of the latter?—that Rafaele’s answer to his new cousin was all for Piero’s sake.

  Rafaele placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face, forcing her to stare into his eyes. His gaze searched hers. “What do you think, cara mia?”

  Jayne knew exactly what she thought, but dare she hope it was possible that he had developed feelings for her this quickly?”

  “I think…” She shrugged. “I–I don’t really know what to think.”

  His mouth skewed with a repressed smile. “Then let me help you to decide.”

  Oh how she loved the feel of his lips on hers.

  Rafaele buried his face into her hair and whispered. “I have fallen for you, Jayne Austin. Fast. And hard.”

  Suddenly, the musicians struck up a different tune.

  “Listen, they’re playing our song,” he said before swaying her once again to the rhythm as he sang. His rich baritone was music to her ears, the words more meaningful than the sound of his voice. “That’s Amore…”

  It certainly seemed like it was. For both her and Rafaele.

  Chapter Fourteen

  RAFAELE HADN’T SLEPT THIS WELL in a long time, despite lying on the bed he’d outgrown. If this is what amore did to one, he never wanted to fall out of love with Jayne Austin.

  Out of love? Was it really possible that he loved her? Already?

  Did he even need to answer that? Of course it was. And he did.

  Anxious to see her again, he gave one last, lazy stretch and then shot out of bed. He glanced at his watch. Eight thirty. Hopefully his siblings and cousins had slept this late. Especially Jayne. But why wouldn’t they when they’d all gone to bed in the predawn hours of the morning?

  The earlier upset about the painting all but forgotten, they’d danced and talked the night away. One by one they’d started to yawn and excused themselves until only he and Jayne remained. As much as he’d enjoyed the fun with his family, he’d relished being alone for a while with Jayne. The woman made his heart, mind, soul, and body do and think all kinds of crazy things they’d never done or thought before.

  Dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes, Rafaele headed downstairs. Except for Maria scurrying about in the kitchen, the house was quiet. Seemed his siblings and cousins had still to rise. And his love. Unless Ric and Marco had managed to take their early morning run as they’d vowed.

  “Buongiorno, Maria. Hmm, that smells so good.” He sniffed the air and pinched a biscotti from the plate on the table.

  Maria smiled and pointed to the oven. “Ciabatta. Fresh.” She set the cutlery she held in her hands down on the table.

  After the huge meal last night, a light breakfast of bread with butter and jam and biscotti dipped in a caffè latte was sufficient. Hopefully by now Jayne was familiar with the Italian eating habits and didn’t expect bacon and eggs. He should check with her to find out what her preferences were as far as meals were concerned. He wanted to please her, make her happy in whatever ways he could.

  Although somewhat hungry, he’d wait for Jayne before eating. For now, he’d make an espresso and grab one or two biscotti, then head outside to enjoy them on the patio.

  Soon Rafaele held an espresso in his hand, two biscotti balancing on the small saucer beside the cup. “Maria, if you see signorina Jayne, please let her know that I’m on the patio.”

  “Sì, signore Rafaele.”

  Rafaele’s bare feet padded out of the kitchen. He’d take a shortcut through the dining room.

  Hearing soft weeping and murmuring, he paused outside the room that had held such festivities the previous night. He peeked around the doorjamb. Nonna sat in the same seat she’d occupied last night, her back facing him. On the table, exactly where they’d left it last night, lay the painting. He cussed softly. He should’ve moved that gift out of sight. But he’d been distracted by a certain young lady.

  Straining to hear her mumbles, he stared at Nonna for a moment. She trailed her fingers over the motorbike-riding figure in the bottom left corner of the painting.

  “Albertino, mio bambino.”

  So he was right about why Nonna had been upset last night, although she’d put her sudden desire to leave the party down to exhaustion. She also thought the painting depicted her favorite son. Question was: did the artist intend to paint a picture showing Uncle Albertino’s
life? Or his death? Would they ever know? There was no way to trace who had sent the painting, and there was no artist’s signature on the artwork. Did it even matter? Why concern themselves about something they’d never know?

  Rafaele had no answers. All he knew was that what mattered for now was to get rid of that painting. Beautiful as it was, and as great as it would look as part of Nonna’s art collection, it was too difficult for her to observe. That much was evident.

  Nonna dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes. “Sono così dispiaciuta.”

  She was so sorry? Why?

  Rafaele tiptoed into the dining room and quietly set his cup down on the table beside Nonna. She glanced up at him as he pulled out a chair. He eased into the seat then reached for her hand. “I shouldn’t have left this painting here. I’ll get rid of it for you, Nonna. Today.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  No?

  Rafaele started to rise. “Come, let’s go for a walk. It’s not good for you to upset yourself over this gift.”

  “No, Rafaele. I can’t hide from the truth any longer. It’s time you all knew what happened the day Albertino died.” She pulled her hand from his to continue trailing her fingers over the lone figure and his motorbike. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, Nonna.”

  “Can you hang this painting on that wall? Right in the middle.” She gestured with her eyes. “Move the other paintings to the wall behind me.”

  She wanted this painting hanging opposite where she dined each night? She’d be staring directly at that image every time she raised her gaze. “But I thought—”

  Nonna clasped her hand to his forearm. “Can you do it now, please?”

  The desperation in her voice made him agree. Although convinced this was a bad idea, he’d humor her for now.

  “Once you’ve done that, please get your brother, sisters, and cousins to meet me here.” Her watery gaze held his. “Hurry, Rafaele.”