With a nod, Rafaele rushed from the dining room to the shed outside. “Hammer, nails…” He’d probably need a level, tape measure, and something to mark with too. His father had always hung Nonna’s paintings. This was a first for him.
Summoning everyone in the house wasn’t necessary. The hammering adequately accomplished that chore, but it had taken the repeated pounding of moving a few of the paintings before his siblings and cousins started to arrive.
“What’s going on?” they asked as one by one they strolled bleary-eyed into the dining room. Even Ric and Marco who’d risen early to take a jog, and then returned to bed—Marco only after he’d fired the pizza oven. Each flopped into a chair around the table. Jayne hadn’t made an appearance yet. Thank heavens, because something told him this wasn’t a get-together that had her name penned on the guest list.
His siblings and cousins were so half asleep they hadn’t noticed the new piece of art adorning the far dining room wall.
Rafaele rested the last two paintings to be rehung against the wall behind Nonna then sat down beside her.
“Thank you for coming.” Nonna offered a weary smile. “I need to have…confession with you. I want no secrets following me to my grave.”
Protests of “Nonna, you’re not dying” and “You’re not going anywhere” rose around the room.
Her wrinkled cheeks creased further at the outpouring of love. “I don’t have plans to die yet—I still want to live to see my great-grandchildren which won’t happen if you all don’t hurry up and fall in love, get married, and have babies. Villa Rossi needs a worthy family to continue its legacy. We have each experienced how suddenly death can strike.”
Nonna gazed at Rafaele, then Ric, Alessa, and Sienna. “Your papà.”
She moved her attention to Marco, Nick, and Piero. “Your mammà—and even though her death was not so sudden, it was nevertheless painful. For us all.”
The harsh truth of her statement shut out any response.
“I–I don’t know who painted that picture,” she tipped her head to the new artwork and everyone turned their heads and gasped, surprised that Nonna had asked that it be hung. “Or why, but I am grateful because it has caused me to take a long, hard look at myself. I’ve buried things with my loved ones for far too long.”
Nonna fingered the handkerchief in her hands, her gaze focused on the small piece of white, lacy fabric. Her words did not come easy.
She exhaled a heavy sigh. “The evening your Uncle Tino died, we’d had a very big fight. He was so angry with me—tore off down the road on his motorbike like un pazzo…a madman…away from Villa Rossi. That was the last time I saw my son. Three hours later, I heard of his untimely death.”
Seated beside Nonna, Sienna leaned closer and wrapped her arms around her. “You can’t blame yourself, Nonna. It was an accident.”
Nonna shook her head. “No. It was my fault. If I hadn’t argued with h–him…” She choked on her words. Closing her eyes, she waited for a moment before sucking in another breath. “Perhaps now you understand why I never allowed Albertino to be spoken of, or any photographs of him to be displayed. Guilt forced me to keep my dead son hidden in the shadows with my grief all these years. But no more. A Ride in the Vineyards will hang on a wall where I will see it every day…where I, and everyone who visits this house, will be reminded about the brevity of life and how stupid mistakes can rob you of your loved ones and your joy.
“Do not make mistakes such as I have, i miei preziosi nipoti.”
She cupped Sienna’s face. “My precious grandchild.” Then Ric on her other side, repeating the words. She mouthed the same thing as she gazed at each one of them.
“Why did you and Uncle Albertino fight, Nonna?” Alessa asked.
Rafaele cringed at her question, innocent as it may be from the look on his sister’s face.
Nonna’s head swayed slowly from side to side. “I feel so ashamed. Tino came to me that afternoon asking permission to marry Maggie Golding, Rachel’s mammà. Without even considering his request, I said no. But he insisted, told me he’d chosen his bride and she would be arriving to meet me soon. I grew angry with him. I wanted him, and all my children, to marry into their own culture, their own people—Italiani—and settle down at Villa Rossi. But Tino planned to travel the world with his British bride. I couldn’t allow it. He was so young; they had met only two months before…and she was not one of our own.”
Breaking down in tears, Nonna buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook with each sob. “So many mistakes. But I will not make them again. I want you each to know that you are free to marry the men or women of your choosing. I will never stand in the way of your happiness.” She wiped her eyes for the umpteenth time, her handkerchief surely soaked by now.
Head still bowed, she continued. “Rachel, I’m so sorry I shut you and your mammà out all these years, blaming her for my son’s death. Please forgive me.”
When only silence responded, she raised her head, her gaze scanning the room.
Rafaele’s stomach had dropped like an anchor, the sinking feeling setting in fast. No! She thought Rachel was there as well.
When Nonna hadn’t asked for her, he’d assumed this had to do with his siblings and American cousins only. In fact, he thought Nonna wanted to speak to them about Rachel, ask them to make her feel even more welcome this afternoon, or something like that. Their new cousin still seemed so distant from them all.
“Where is Rachel?” Nonna’s voice snapped Rafaele back to reality.
“Perdono, Nonna. When you asked for all my cousins, I didn’t realize you meant for Rachel to be included.”
Nonna’s brows knit together. “Why would you think that, Rafaele? She is your cousin too, no? Of all the people who needed to hear what I had to say today, Rachel was the most important person.”
If that was true, why hadn’t Nonna realized earlier she wasn’t there?
She huffed. “Too late now. I will apologize to her this afternoon and tell her everything all over again.”
Had Nonna been too upset to notice who was and wasn’t there? He’d be the bigger person and carry the blame. “I’m sorry, Nonna.”
That was all his nonna needed—having to go through telling her tale twice. But perhaps he could help her out once Rachel got there and spare her the agony.
Something had cautioned Jayne in the passage not to enter the dining room. Now she knew why she’d felt compelled to stop in her tracks and not venture farther.
Thank you, Lord. That would’ve been so awkward if she’d gone in.
She didn’t feel proud of eavesdropping outside, but she couldn’t tear herself away, despite knowing she should.
So, Rafaele and his siblings had literally grown up without a mother. Their father didn’t show them love—that she’d assumed from a previous conversation with Rafaele. Their grandmother shunned her oldest grandchild. And now it turns out that she’d lived for decades riddled with guilt over her son’s death.
What a family.
Perhaps God hadn’t brought her to Villa Rossi for love. Was it possible that His sole purpose for prompting her to Italy was to help this family? Not that she could do much. But she could pray. And wasn’t that the best thing she could do for them?
Jayne quietly retreated, then turned and headed back the way she’d come. As she walked toward her room, Maria stepped out of the kitchen.
“Signorina Jayne. I have message for you. From signore Rafaele.”
A message?
“Yes…” Jayne dragged out the word.
“He ask me to tell you he meet you on patio.”
The patio? But he was in the dining room. She’d heard his voice.
“When, Maria? When did he tell you?”
Maria’s face lit up as she smiled. “Long time ago. Maybe one hour.”
She should never have fallen back to sleep. If she’d gotten up when she’d woken, she probably would have stumbled upon Rafaele in the kitchen.
“Thank you. I’ll go find him soon. There’s something I need to do first.”
Maria gave her a blank stare, and Jayne chose not to elaborate. Her Italian was far too limited, just like Maria’s English.
Once inside her room, Jayne shut the door behind her. Alone, she rushed for her bed and fell to her knees beside it.
Father God, please help this family find healing—especially Rafaele, Rachel, and their grandmother.
Chapter Fifteen
WHILE HIS SIBLINGS AND COUSINS screeched and splashed in the pool, Rafaele looked on from the shade of the pergola. He tried to concentrate on the conversation between Nonna and Jayne. Not too easy a feat with his attention divided between them and watching for Rachel’s arrival. Maria was in the house, keeping an ear open for her knock.
Wonderful as it was to see Nonna and Jayne getting along, he shoved to his feet. “I’ll be back. I just need to—”
“Check again whether Rachel and Jonathan have arrived.” Jayne grinned as she clasped his fingers and squeezed. “It’s all right. I know you’re anxious to do whatever you can to make her feel welcome.”
He nodded and jogged up the steep garden back to the house. Inside, he stuck his head into the kitchen where Maria was busy making dough for the pizza, no doubt on instruction from Marco.
“No sign of them yet, Maria?”
“No, signore Rafaele. I tell you I will call you. Sì?”
“I know you did. I’m just—” Anxious. He needed to spare Nonna her confession for the second time. It wasn’t hard to see how difficult it had been for her this morning. If he could explain to Rachel before she went down to the pool, she’d be able to tell Nonna she already knew, and that she understood. He hoped.
This would’ve been so much easier if he hadn’t failed in getting Rachel to the villa this morning, or alerting Nonna to the fact that she wasn’t present.
A soft knock and hello drifted down the passage.
Rafaele hurried to greet Rachel and a dark-haired gent standing outside the open front door. “Rachel, you made it. And this must be your Jonathan.” He stuck out his hand and clasped Jonathan’s.
“Not my Jonathan. But yes, this is Jonathan.” She smiled up at her friend. “Jon, this is my cousin, Rafaele.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jonathan’s smile was wide and his grip strong.
“Welcome. Everyone is at the pool. I hope you came prepared to swim.” Rafaele flashed a glance at the backpack straps framing Jonathan’s arms before leading the way down the passage. Just before the dining room, he paused. “Rachel, may I have a word with you in private for a moment?”
She peered at Jonathan.
“It’s all right, Rach. I’ll head on down to the pool and introduce myself to everyone. I’m sure they don’t bite.” A chuckle spilled from Jonathan’s mouth.
“No, we don’t bite.” Rafaele laughed as he segued into the dining room. He gestured toward the open patio doors. “Just follow the path down the garden—or follow those squeals. Either will get you to the right spot.”
With a wave, Jonathan stepped outside then trotted down the garden.
Rafaele turned back to Rachel. Seemed she hadn’t noticed her friend’s departure, her eyes fixed on the new acquisition to Nonna’s art collection.
“She’s hung it already, despite how it seemed to upset her?”
Rafaele raked his fingers through his hair as he shifted on his feet. “There’s something I need to tell you, Rachel, and it comes with the humblest apology.”
Her gaze drilled into his. “Go on.”
“This morning I found Nonna weeping over the painting, mumbling your father’s name and saying she was sorry. I told her I’d get rid of the gift, but instead of agreeing, she insisted I hang it immediately—said she couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, and that it was time we all knew what happened the day your father died.”
Rachel sucked in a breath. “Something happened? Do you know what?”
“This is where I must apologize. Nonna told me to hurry and summon everyone. I assumed she meant everyone in the house. It was when she looked for you, after she’d told us the secrets she’d been carrying, that I realized I’d made a big mistake. I should have contacted you and fetched you to be in the meeting too.” He couldn’t tell her that he’d thought the meeting was about her, or that he hadn’t even entertained the thought that Nonna had wanted her included.
Rachel’s eyes glistened. She blinked several times. “It’s all right. An honest mistake. It’s not like any of you are used to having me in your family, so it’s easy to forget about me.” She offered him a weak smile and a shrug before tapping him on the arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
True, they weren’t used to her being a fixture, but how much more of an outcast must his actions make her feel? No wonder she was on the verge of tears.
“What did she say about the day my father died?”
Rafaele continued to tell Rachel everything Nonna had spoken of, from the fight she and Rachel’s father had, to blaming Rachel’s mother for his death, to the reasons there was a new piece of artwork on the wall.
As she listened, Rachel’s jaw tightened and pulsed. Her whole body stiffened. “I knew my father wanted to marry my mother. I wasn’t aware your grandmother prevented that. Or that their argument led to his death.” Her words dripped ice.
“Our grandmother,” he gently corrected her. “An action I assure you she now deeply regrets. Those were different times with different rules and values. Today, Nonna would likely have reacted totally different.”
Rafaele touched her arm lightly. “Rachel, we can’t change the past, but we do have power over the future.”
He should change the subject.
An idea formed in his mind—genius if he had to say so himself, and one that would hopefully make her feel included in this family.
“You’re a bit of an art expert, aren’t you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I do know a lot about art. I have to in my profession.”
“I’d like to trace the artist who painted A Ride in the Vineyards.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank the person or hit them. “Could you make some inquiries? Perhaps the style, or the paints used would be unique to a certain known artist. I’m sure with such quality work, he or she isn’t some street artist.”
“Sure, I can do that. I’d like to know who painted it too. Maybe he knew my father. Mum’s told me so little about him.” Raw longing gleamed in her eyes. “I don’t have my phone with me, would you mind taking a photo of the painting and emailing it to me.”
“Will do. I’ll also see what investigating I can do.”
Taking her arm lightly, he started toward the door then stopped. “You’re right. Whoever painted A Ride in the Vineyards seems to know things about our family.” An awful thought spawned. What if the painting had been a gift from his father? It was entirely possible he’d commissioned it before he died—arranged for it to be delivered on Nonna’s birthday. He pushed the notion aside. His father had loved Nonna. And even he wasn’t that cruel to do something like that to his own mother. Was he?
“Rafaele?” Rachel’s soft voice brought him back to the present.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. It would probably be a good idea if we start with local artists in Tuscany first. Maybe this Davide Rainero who painted the picture Jayne bought for Nonna? He does use the same striking blue on his flowers.”
This is what Villa Rossi should be like. Laughter, fun, love.
Rafaele slid his arms around Jayne’s waist and swirled her around in the pool. Around them, his siblings and cousins bounced a ball in the air. It landed with a splash beside Rafaele. He released his hold on Jayne for a moment to get the ball back into the game.
“So, was the water really so cold?” he whispered in Jayne’s ear, easing her toward the steps and out of the way of the others.
“On getting in, yes. Brrr.”
He laughed. “Your shrieks certainly confirmed that. I thought Rachel might not get in after you nearly scared her off.”
“I’m sorry.” Jayne’s mouth drooped.
“It’s okay. Jonathan seems to be a good influence on her, thankfully. If not for him, I wonder if she would’ve taken the plunge.”
“As both Rachel and I are still in the water, it’s obvious it’s bearable. And I’m grateful, especially on such a hot day.” She trailed her fingers through his wet hair. “Speaking of Rachel and Jonathan, is there something going on between them?”
Rafaele shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve no doubt though that Jonathan wishes there were.”
“Yet Rachel seems oblivious to his feelings, even though outsiders like us can see that he has feelings for her.” Jayne turned to look over her shoulder at the others playing ball. Rafaele didn’t doubt she’d singled out Rachel and Jonathan, standing side by side as they waited for the ball to catapult in their direction. She turned back to Rafaele. “So sweet. I hope they find each other, like we did.”
“Me too.” And I hope Rachel can find the love of this family too.
Jayne eased out of his arms. “I should probably rub more sunblock on my back and shoulders. Will you help me?”
“With pleasure.”
He followed Jayne out of the water to the pergola where Nonna relaxed on one of the loungers, watching the goings-on of her offspring. The expression on her face gladdened his heart. No doubt if a couple of great-grandchildren were thrown into the mix, none of them would be able to wipe the smile from her face. The thought brought one to his own. He and Jayne would make beautiful babies, that fact was certain.
“What…?” Jayne handed him the sunblock and offered him her back.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About?” She shot him a glance over her shoulder, the perfectly shaped brow he could see raised.
He couldn’t tell her he was thinking about them having babies. “The future.” Technically, he hadn’t lied.
She giggled. “And is it pleasant?”
Rafaele touched her back and smoothed the cream across her soft skin, the action igniting a desire for her deep inside of him. He swallowed hard and replied, his voice husky, “It’s magnificent.”
Those Blue Tuscan Skies Page 25