Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  After Rafaele parked his car in a parking garage, they headed into the city center on foot. “It’s within walking distance,” he reassured her. “I just have one short stop to make. After that, I’m spoiling you to an early lunch. I know this quaint little place down an alley that serves the most delicious pasta with black truffles.”

  “Oh yum.” Jayne moistened her lips with her tongue.

  “After lunch, we’ll pay a visit to the Duomo di Siena.”

  A few blocks later, Rafaele ducked into a shop, dragging Jayne in behind him.

  “A furniture shop?” What did he have to do inside here? The villa was already furnished, with barely space for another item. She tightened her grip on his hand and Rafael stopped. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Sì.”

  Rafaele strode to meet the salesman heading their way. They conversed in Italian for a while and Jayne wished she could speak the language. She’d definitely need to learn far more than hello, goodbye, thank you, and you’re welcome.

  The salesman beckoned them to follow him to the back of the shop. The mattress section. That’s what Rafaele was buying? A new bed? The man pointed out a double bed option and more Italian followed before Rafaele hopped on top of the mattress. He stretched out on his back, feet hanging off the bottom edge. Folding his arms behind his head, he closed his eyes. “Ah, this feels so good.”

  He slowly opened his eyes to gaze at Jayne, standing at the side. “Cara mia, join me. Try it out. One day I hope you and I will share this bed, so you should have a say in the choice.”

  The air disappeared from Jayne’s lungs. Was he asking her in a very strange, roundabout way to marry him? Or did he just want her to be his lover with no marriage strings attached?

  Lunch was heavenly, as Rafaele had promised, and the Duomo di Siena simply breathtaking, the sheer size and incredible architecture hard to take in. Sculptures, rich paintings, intricate wood carvings, a beautiful pipe organ, and an ornate inlaid marble mosaic floor had captured their attention for hours. To say nothing of the arches and domes painted with brightly colored frescos—some by famous artists like Bernini and a young Michelangelo.

  “These black-and-white angled pillars are intriguing.” Jayne smoothed her hand against the black marble. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before, and we have some amazing cathedrals back in England.”

  “Ah, yes. This was built in this way because black and white are the symbolic colors of Siena—as can be seen in the coat of arms—the origin linking back to the horses of the same color of the city’s legendary founders, Senius and Aschius.”

  Enthralled, Jayne circled the marbled upright. “Awesome.”

  Rafaele pulled her to his side and whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “As are you.”

  Jayne eased her head to the side, feigning shock. Hand to her mouth, she stifled a giggle and whispered back, “Rafaele, we’re in church.”

  With a nod, he released her. “You’re right. Would you like to visit the crypt? Doubt the dead would concern themselves if I stole a kiss from you.”

  “I’d love to…visit the crypt, that is. As for the kiss, you never have to steal those from me. And although I’d love nothing more than to give you one, while the dead might not be watching, God is, and this is His house. We do need to respect that.”

  “God is always watching, cara mia.”

  “Yes, He is. That’s why we always need to be careful how we conduct ourselves in this relationship.”

  Rafaele’s brow furrowed. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  Jayne shook her head. “Not yet. But—” Dare she even raise the subject? It would be wise to, in case he had other ideas about her.

  “The bed? The double mattress?”

  It took a few seconds for understanding to dawn on Rafaele’s blank look. “Ah, no, I did not mean I wanted you in my bed, cara mia… I mean, I do—of course I do, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t—but back in the shop I was talking about sharing the bed with you one day, when we’re married. When everything I am and own becomes yours. Including that bed I ordered.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks heating, she should never have raised the subject, although she was rather pleased she had.

  Their shoes clicked against the wooden floor inside the crypt as they studied the walls covered in beautiful frescos of the life and death of Jesus. Which reminded her. She needed to have that talk with Rafaele about his father.

  And God.

  Especially God.

  She turned to Rafaele. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, cara mia.”

  “When we’re home, would you take me to visit your family’s graves? I saw some lovely flowers at a florist earlier, not too far from where you parked your car. I’d love to get a bunch or two and lay them on each grave. I want to know and experience every part of your life, Rafaele. Not only the fun stuff, but the heartache too.”

  On the way back to the car, Rafaele noticed some brightly colored animal statues displayed on the sidewalks. A small sandwich board beside each one gave details of the artist and the artwork. Even without the board, it was clear to see that the same person had sculpted them. Having taken a different route to the cathedral, they’d missed the fun statues earlier.

  Jayne stopped to examine a red snail, about two feet high. “These are all so cute.” She leaned over and patted the snail on the head.

  “Would you like that one for the garden at the villa, cara mia?” Although he wasn’t sure any of them were actually for sale. But he’d learned in the legal world that anything could be attained for a price. Even freedom. He’d seen it when he’d lost cases, particularly those involving the Italian mafia.

  She laughed. “I don’t think your nonna would appreciate me bringing snails into her garden. Especially big red ones. I’d probably undo all the good work I’ve done these past two weeks to establish a relationship with her.”

  “It’s only one…”

  “True, but it’s a big one, Rafaele. Let’s not give your nonna any cause to dislike me.”

  Up ahead, a bright blue meerkat standing on its hind legs caught his attention, the blue so similar to the color used in Nonna’s painting. Was it at all possible? For sure, hundreds of artists probably used this unique shade. Still, it could be another lead to give Rachel. So far she’d come up empty-handed. A little frustrating, especially now that Ric had also received a painting. Same size and style as Nonna’s, except unframed. Same small card with the painting’s name written in script. And that same shade of blue was distinctly there too. Definitely the work of the same man.

  Or woman.

  He pushed the thought aside. The one that had been nagging him for a few days now. Couldn’t be. They were likely dealing with a serial artist harassing their family. Better than a serial killer, although it was killing him not knowing the identity of the artist and who had sent the two paintings. Perhaps it was one and the same person.

  Would there be more surprise deliveries to follow, and if so, who would be on the receiving end next?

  The idea needled again. What if Rachel was exacting a plan to get revenge? To have their family secrets exposed? To make them hurt like she had all these years? She was an artist—she could easily have painted the pieces. She could’ve brought Nonna’s painting with her from Wales. It would’ve just fit in a carry-on bag. Jonathan could have been the one who delivered it to the front door when the time was right. After all, he was waiting in the shadows all evening. Was that why he hadn’t joined them, hadn’t made his presence known?

  Rafaele had seen Rachel emerge from the bathroom not long before the painting was delivered. She could’ve used that time to message Jonathan and let him know when to knock on the villa’s front door. Was that why she had been so adamant not to allow him to help with their transportation in Italy? Jonathan too? And her mother might know just enough about the family to feed her what certainly seemed like inside information.
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br />   He couldn’t believe Rachel would be capable of such deception. Didn’t want to believe. She was so sweet. But so many things seemed far too coincidental.

  “Hey, where were you?” Jayne shook Rafaele on the arm. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

  Huh? “Scusa, cara mia. You’re right. I was miles away. Would you like a gelato? There’s a store right over the road.” He pointed to a tiny shop, its entrance framed with a striped canopy.

  “Dark chocolate, orange, and vanilla triple scoop in a sugar cone.”

  “As always, cara mia. But tell me in Italian.”

  He really was doing his best to teach her the language.

  “Cioccolato fondente, arancia, e vaniglia…” She laughed. “And I can’t remember how to say triple scoop in a cone.”

  They hurried across the road, and were soon strolling through the alleys once again, licking their ice creams. If she didn’t watch herself, she wouldn’t fit into her clothes soon. Mind you, it was hard work helping Rafaele in the fields. He always made sure there was a large umbrella pegged in the ground where she labored. So sweet. And she made sure to have her hat and sunblock—helped when she had to move out of the shade of the umbrella.

  “Oh, there’s the florist I saw.” She pointed ahead.

  “Are you certain you want to visit the graves?” He quirked a brow.

  Didn’t he want her to go?

  “Yes, I would like to go, if that’s all right with you.”

  He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “I do. How many graves are there?”

  Rafaele held out his hand, extending his fingers as he counted. “There’s my nonno, Uncle Albertino, Aunt Francesca, my mother… And now my father.”

  Inside the florist, Jayne chose a large bunch of twenty-five white roses—enough to lay a few on each grave. She paid the shopkeeper and they left.

  Rafaele was quiet on the way home, his mood pensive. Far different from the man she’d spent a fun day with. Was he merely tired? They’d been on the go since early morning. Or was he dreading the visit to the family graveyard?

  She suspected the latter.

  It was quite a walk to the other side of the vineyard. Thankfully she’d dressed in jeans and flat shoes today. Inside the wrought-iron palisade, Jayne laid five flowers on each of the graves, close to the stones and urns. The white blooms contrasted beautifully with the green grass beneath them.

  Jayne glanced at Rafaele, his face motionless, fixed on his mother’s tombstone. She’d been watching him standing at the foot of her grave. Not once had she seen him turn to the right and his father’s grave. Of course, it was possible she’d missed the times he had, although somehow she doubted it.

  Jayne strolled back to him and twined her fingers between his. “Would you mind if I said a prayer?”

  Surprise replaced the expression on his face that earlier had mirrored the hard, cold surfaces of the tombstones. “Uh, sure. If you want to.”

  She closed her eyes, then opened one a fraction to peek at Rafaele. He hadn’t shut his. Instead, the stoic stare ahead had returned.

  She drew in a deep breath. “Abba Father, first I want to thank you for bringing this amazing man into my life. Then I want to thank you for each of these family members represented here. I have no doubt they all played a part in raising him to be the incredible person he is today—kind, thoughtful, loving. I wish I could’ve known these family members who have passed on. I pray that Rafaele will be able to share more about them with me in the coming days. Comfort his family members as they mourn their individual losses. Especially Nonna…she has lost the most.

  “I pray that you would help Rachel to come to terms with the shock of discovering a family she’s had no contact with her entire life. Help her to want to be a part of this wonderful,” a smile tugged her mouth, “and loud, Italian family.

  “I pray this in the precious name of Jesus. Amen.”

  She opened her eyes and peered up in time to see Rafaele swipe at his cheeks. Had he been moved to tears by her prayer?

  He turned to gaze at her, offering a wavering smile. “I–I never knew you could pray so beautifully,” he said in a low, husky voice that couldn’t hide his sadness.

  “We still have a lot to learn about each other, Rafaele. I’d like to start now, with your father.” He was the one that Rafaele had been the least forthcoming about.

  “I don’t want to talk about my father,” he snapped before turning away. “We should go. It’s getting late. Maria will have dinner ready soon.”

  Jayne dug her heels into the grass, and Rafaele, still holding her hand, halted in his tracks.

  “No. I want to hear about your father first. Why do you never want to talk about him? You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at his grave.” She stepped closer to him and softened her voice to a whisper. “What happened between you?”

  “You don’t want to know what kind of a man my father was.”

  “But I do, Rafaele. Every last detail. Horrible or not.” Her eyes searched his. “How else will I be able to understand you in the future?”

  He shook his head. “I–I can’t.”

  “Talking can help you find a way to forgive him for whatever pain he’s caused you.”

  “I can never forgive him.” Rafaele’s clipped words stung, even though not aimed at her. “He pushed us all away.”

  How deep did the scars inflicted by their father run in this family?

  Jayne blinked back her tears and caressed his cheek. “You might not have had a fitting father, Rafaele, but do you have any idea what kind of Father our God is? He can give you the strength to forgive your dad. There is so much mercy to be found at the foot of His son’s cross.”

  She trailed her fingers through his hair, praying he would understand. “He would love nothing more than to be the father you never had. He delights in us calling Him Abba…Daddy.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  JAYNE EASED HER BIBLE ONTO the bedside table then slid from her bed to her knees. She closed her eyes for her morning prayers.

  Good morning, Father. Thank you for another beautiful day in Tuscany. Thank you for Jesus. Thank you for Your love. Thank you for Rafaele’s love. Her heart swelled. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she loved him. Maybe today she’d pluck up the courage. She was certain he felt the same way.

  Sorry, Abba, for my momentary distraction, but I do pray that You will help me find the courage to be open with Rafaele about how I feel. I do love him, Lord. He’s a good man. I pray that You will guide our relationship, and that You’ll bring Rafaele to the place where he’ll be able to forgive his father and find peace. It’s been over two weeks since I tried to get him to speak about his dad. He hasn’t said a word about him since then. If he could just experience Your love, Lord, I know he’ll find it in his heart to forgive his dad for anything. Even something as horrible as murder.

  Now where did that bizarre thought spring from? This was why it was important for Rafaele to share with her. Her imagination easily ran away with her.

  Finally, Lord, I pray that You will bring Rafaele into a loving relationship with You.

  “Jayne, bella, are you awake?” Rafaele’s call came from outside.

  Jayne hurried to finish her prayer, the amen barely cold on her lips when she rushed to the window and threw open the curtains.

  Rafaele grinned up at her from the garden below. In his hands he held a bunch of red roses.

  Her breath hitched. “Amore mio, what are you doing down there?”

  “Waiting for you, cara mia.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Rafaele lifted his wrist to check the time. “I’m counting…”

  Jayne spun on her heel then darted to her cupboard. He had roses. A lot. Had he remembered this was her one-month anniversary here at the villa? A month plus a day since their first kiss.

  Of course he had.

  She flicked through her clothes, o
ne hanger at a time. Now what did she wear for an occasion such as this? She reached for the dress she’d worn the day she and Rafaele had crossed paths again. So what if it wasn’t suitable for working in the fields. He had roses, and she would dress fitting to receive them. She could always change later, but she’d only get this one chance to make an entrance that stole his breath away.

  Once clothed, Jayne slid her feet into the same comfortable, flowered shoes she always wore with this outfit. Standing in front of the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair then twirled it into a messy side-bun and fastened the blond locks. Almost done. She pinched her cheeks and sprayed two puffs of perfume onto her skin before cracking her bedroom door open. She eased through the opening. A quick stop at the bathroom to brush her teeth, and she’d be ready to meet her man. What a month this had been. Certainly the happiest of her life. Hard to believe so much time had passed since the party.

  Rafaele was waiting for her in the garden. When she was close enough he held out his hand and drew her into his embrace. Then he kissed her. Just like he had with that first kiss. “You look and smell good enough to eat, cara mia.”

  He handed her the roses, and she feigned surprise.

  “For me?”

  Rafaele nodded.

  “Come.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the garden down to the pergola. The sweet scent of the tiglio trees was stronger now that it was almost June.

  Breakfast for two had been set up beneath the beautiful wisteria blooms. What a perfect setting. She loved it out here.

  Jayne set the bouquet down on one of the loungers then eased into a chair at the small, round table. She’d never seen this two-seater bistro set before. He must have specially brought it here.

  “I thought you’d be working in the sunflower fields already,” she said. “I noticed the stalks have begun to sprout their heads.”

  “All in good time, cara mia. The sunflowers can wait one morning. I wanted to spend this special occasion with you.” He reached for her hand and caressed it with his thumb. He swallowed hard. “I haven’t been as happy as I’ve been the past five weeks. And that’s all because of you.”