Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  “Me too, Rafaele.”

  Maria bustled toward them carrying a tray with a teapot, two cups on saucers, and two plates covered with silver cloches. She set them down on the table in front of them, the teapot and cups in the middle.

  Rafaele tipped his head at the housekeeper. “Grazie, Maria.”

  “Prego.” Her old face wrinkled with a smile as she lifted the silver domes from the plates.

  Jayne stared at her meal. “I–I can’t believe you did this. Bacon, sausage, and eggs with toast. Do you know how much I’ve been craving a good old English breakfast?”

  “I thought the occasion warranted something a little more special than pastries again.” Rafaele exhaled a satisfied breath. “Ah, what more could a man want than this? Good food, an incredible view, and a beautiful woman to share it all with.”

  “A family?” The two small words were out before Jayne even realized she’d said them. Oops. “I–I mean what else is there to add to your list of wants?”

  Rafaele seemed too stunned to speak. What had come over her to be so bold and brazen?

  “Y–you do want children one day, don’t you?” Her gaze roamed his, seeking an answer.

  He lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that response. Didn’t all Italians want big families? “Do you like children?”

  He nodded. “Joseph’s daughter, Rosannah, is wonderful. We always have such fun when I see her, but—” A scowl marred his handsome features.

  Jayne squeezed his hand. “What is it, Rafaele?”

  He shut his mouth tighter than a clam, but when he eventually spoke, Jayne wished he hadn’t as his words echoed hollowly in her soul.

  “I’m not sure I should have children.”

  Why had he said that? What was wrong with him?

  Rafaele’s heart sank as he watched the joy being sucked from Jayne’s face. What happened to the man who just weeks ago had been thinking about what beautiful children they’d have?

  “It’s just…” he started.

  Oh man, why was it so hard to be vulnerable?

  On the verge of tears, Jayne blinked her eyes then dabbed the corners with her fingers.

  For her sake, he had to be.

  “I–I’m scared I’ll be a terrible father. Like mine was.”

  “Oh Rafaele, I don’t know a thing about your dad, but I can tell you that I doubt you could ever be like your father. I think you’ll be a wonderful daddy someday.”

  If only that were true.

  Since their talk at the graveside, Papà had been often on his mind.

  As had Jayne.

  He thought about her constantly. Just as his father’s thoughts must’ve been consumed with Mammà. No wonder the man had little time left to think about his four children.

  Rafaele didn’t want to entertain the thought, but he could no longer avoid his fears. What if he was becoming obsessed with Jayne? What if he was more like his father than he cared to even think about?

  He needed a distraction.

  “Let’s eat, before our breakfast gets cold.” The way he said that grated his nerves. So like his papà—commandeering, controlling. He didn’t want to be like the man. Never had been. Until now.

  Jayne picked her way through her food, her appetite not nearly what Rafaele was used to. He couldn’t blame her though. He’d pretty much lost his desire for the meal after he’d upset her. But Maria would be angry if two plates came back to the kitchen full, especially when she’d gone to so much trouble, so he forced the food down one mouthful at a time. This was supposed to be a celebratory breakfast, and he’d ruined it.

  Finally, Jayne set her fork down, her food barely touched. “I can’t eat anymore. I’m sorry.”

  He needed space. He needed to clear his head.

  Rafaele wiped his mouth with the napkin and pushed to his feet. “I should get to the sunflower fields. Why don’t you put on your bathing suit and enjoy the pool? It’s going to be a beautiful day. You’ve been working far too hard for a guest.”

  She nodded and rose. The smile she attempted didn’t quite make it to her eyes as it usually did. “I think I’ll do that. I do have a novel I’ve been meaning to read since I got here.”

  “Good. I’ll join you for lunch then.” Rafaele rose.

  He stepped to Jayne’s side of the table and drew her into a hug. “I’m so sorry if I spoiled your meal. I just—”

  Just what? He had no excuse for what he’d done.

  Breaking away, Rafaele turned in the direction of the fields. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy the day.” He hurried down the terraces until he came to the dirt road.

  Dirt…just like him.

  Just like his father had always said.

  Jayne tucked her bookmark between the pages, closed her paperback, and set it down on the floor beside the lounger. She gazed across the water of the pool, blue and inviting, and exhaled. Where was Rafaele? He should have been there by now. Hopefully when he did return, he’d be in a far better mood. The only silver lining to him spoiling such a special day was that she’d read half her book already and was left pondering whether the hero and heroine would ever sort out their differences. They had so much to overcome, it seemed almost impossible they would work things out.

  Would she and Rafaele? She wanted to bear his babies. Lots of them. But what if he really never wanted a family? Did she love him enough to wait until he figured it out? Did she love him enough to be satisfied with him alone?

  She watched Maria stride across the grass toward her. As she approached, the old lady’s knees gave a tiny dip as they always did before she addressed Jayne. “Scusa signorina Jayne, you come eat, yes? Nonna, she wait.” A smile brightened her aging face and eyes.

  Should she go upstairs and join Isabella on the patio for lunch as was their habit?

  Jayne shook her head. She really wouldn’t be good company. And she didn’t want to alert Isabella to the fact something was amiss between her and Rafaele.

  “I’m still so full from that wonderful breakfast you made, Maria,” she lied, although the housekeeper probably wouldn’t understand the half of what she’d said. “Please give my apologies to Nonna. I will see her at dinner.”

  The aged knees dipped again. Maria turned and scurried back the way she’d come.

  Jayne reached for her book once more. Might as well continue reading. At least in the story she was swept away, almost able to forget what Rafaele had said—even if only momentarily. Her eyes grew weary, but even in her slumber, she couldn’t escape Rafaele’s words. He loomed over her, menacing, his words wounding… “I’m not sure I should have children. Ever!”

  She woke with a start. The scorching sun had lowered, the heat not quite as unbearable. She’d have a swim to clear her head then finish reading. She only had a few more chapters to go. Hopefully by then Rafaele would make an appearance. If not, she’d freshen up and join Isabella for dinner on her own.

  Sweat dripped to the ground from Rafaele’s head. Lifting his straw hat, he swiped his brow with his forearm before continuing down the row of tall green plants. He flipped over a leaf to survey the underside, checking for bugs and disease. It was long, hard work. And yet, if it were only half as easy to examine one’s own soul for dormant pestilences lying in wait for the right moment to resurrect and destroy. A scourge like the sins of a father. Weren’t they passed down through the generations?

  Had he arrived at that moment?

  Nausea rose. Bile stung his throat. His stomach heaved and he retched, but only air spilled from his mouth. He couldn’t lie to himself…being in the lands satisfied a part so deep inside of him. As did Jayne. But with each passing day he wanted more of both. He was becoming his father. And he couldn’t let that happen.

  All day long he’d avoided Jayne. He would’ve loved nothing more than to take the customary time of rest to avoid the worst humidity of the day in the pool with Jayne. Instead, he’d stuck it ou
t in the blistering sun. It was better this way. He was already in hell…what was a little more heat? Perhaps time spent alone, facing his inner torment, would help him figure out how to explain how he felt to Jayne. Of course he wanted children with her—oh, how he wanted that—but he was terrified of what could become of his offspring should anything ever happen to her.

  He could not allow history to repeat itself.

  He bent down to pick up his water bottle and swigged, spilling some of the contents over his face. It ran down to his shirt and the fabric quickly soaked up the fresh moisture. He’d speak to her later tonight and apologize. After dinner. After Nonna had retired. He just hoped Nonna didn’t ask questions about his absence. But if he joined them for dinner, she’d know for certain something had gone awry.

  Showered and dressed in a fresh summer miniskirt, Jayne pulled her hair up into a high ponytail to keep it off her neck. Far cooler that way. She glanced at the paperback on her bed. At least they had a happy ending.

  After applying a light touch of makeup and perfume, she headed to the dining room. Isabella already sat in her usual spot at the head of the table. No sign of Rafaele.

  “Buonasera, Nonna.” Jayne offered a tight smile before sliding into her seat on Isabella’s left.

  “Rafaele not joining us?”

  “I–I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. He’s been working in the sunflower fields all day. Told me to take it easy today, so I spent the time under the pergola by the pool, reading.”

  “It’s wise. You would get too burned in this sun with that fair skin. No?” Isabella tipped her head to the side and lifted one eyebrow.

  “I guess.”

  Maria brought their meal through in one covered rectangular serving dish. It smelled delicious, as always.

  “Grazie mille,” Isabella said.

  “Signore Rafaele?” Maria pointed to the empty chair.

  Isabella merely shook her head and Maria left. She directed her steely blue gaze at Jayne.

  Jayne swallowed hard and hurried to look away. She lifted the cover from the dish. Lasagna. Yum.

  She offered to serve Isabella, to which the old woman gratefully accepted. Only once Jayne had set her own plate of food down, did Isabella speak.

  “So, it’s a special day for you today, is it not? One month at Villa Rossi. You have been happy here, Jayne?” She clasped Jayne’s hand.

  “Very.” Until this morning. But Isabella didn’t need to know that.

  “I think you have made Rafaele very happy too. He is smitten with you, I can see.”

  But did he love her?

  “Do you love my grandson?” Isabella forked a small portion of lasagna into her mouth.

  Jayne could only respond in one way to her direct question.

  “With all my heart.”

  “I am happy he found you, Jayne.” Her shoulders shook with a chuckle. “You are the first girl he has brought to Villa Rossi, did you know that? I must confess there was a time I was concerned that he was not interested in women…that he was, ah, how do you say it—?”

  “Gay? Rafaele? Never. You’ve nothing to fear there, Nonna. Believe me, Rafaele likes women.” His kisses had proven that time and time again.

  “Gay… Is that what they call it now if you’re…you know…?” She harrumphed. “Well, there goes a perfectly good English word. There was a time it meant happy, sì?”

  Jayne flashed her a grin. “Sì.”

  The old woman could be quite humorous at times. Who would’ve thought?

  Isabella fixed her gaze as she so often did these days on the new painting—the one that had caused so much consternation at her party.

  “It is a beautiful piece of art.”

  Isabella nodded.

  “But I am sorry for your loss. You’re very brave to hang it. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to—to be reminded—” Jayne shoved a piece of lasagna into her mouth. That would shut her up for a while.

  “It was time.” Isabella reached for her glass of wine and sipped.

  Jayne mimicked with her water. “You must have loved him very much,” she said once she’d swallowed.

  “I did. Albertino was my world. You will come to know that same love one day when you have children of your own. Although I fear I allowed my love for my lastborn to cloud so many of my decisions. I indulged Albertino. I wasn’t fair to his older siblings.”

  Hmm, did his brother and sister resent Albertino for that? Her heart squeezed. She would never know sibling rivalry, and her life was the poorer for that she’d always thought. “We all make mistakes, Nonna. You must’ve done some things right though, because your children raised wonderful grandchildren for you.”

  “Thank you, Jayne.” Isabella’s eyes glistened, and Jayne touched her arm lightly.

  “I mean that. Every one of your eight grandchildren are wonderful people. I’m so glad I got to meet them.

  Conversation flowed easily between Jayne and Isabella as they finished their meal.

  Isabella wiped her mouth with a napkin and rose.

  Jayne did the same then followed her out of the dining room.

  “I think I will go to bed, now, Jayne. Good night.”

  “Buonanotte, Nonna. Dormi bene.”

  Nonna chuckled. “You are learning, Jayne Austin. Bene. Bene.” She steadied herself against the wall as she headed down the passageway.

  Jayne called after her, “Do you need any help?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Maria will be along shortly. You go and find my grandson. This is not like him.”

  Jayne turned slowly. Find him? Where would she even start looking?

  She trailed her fingers along the wall as she headed back to the dining room to slip out onto the patio. Maybe he needed to find her. In fact, she knew he did.

  She pulled a chair out and set it at the edge of the terracotta tiles to give her a better view of the stars shining brightly in the pitchy heavens. Sitting there in the dark, the moonlight lining the bushes and trees with a soft glow, she gazed into the twinkling heavens for a while, soaking in the overwhelming vastness of her Heavenly Father. Since He made all that her eyes could see, and so much more, He could certainly heal Rafaele’s hurts and calm his fears.

  Quietly, Jayne recited the verse God had given her before she embarked on this crazy journey to Italy. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

  Couldn’t argue with a promise like that.

  “Cara mia.” Rafaele’s voice from behind followed by his touch on her shoulders jolted Jayne from her praying. “We need to talk. May I join you?”

  He sounded so somber. This couldn’t be good. Was he going to break up with her? Was this why he’d stayed away the entire day…to pluck up the courage to tell her it was time to leave, to go back to England? Much as she’d love to run upstairs and avoid this conversation, she couldn’t. They did need to discuss what was eating him and settle the issue of children once and for all.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  RAFAELE LEANED FORWARD AND SLID his hands down her arms, embracing her where she sat.

  Jayne drew in a deep breath, every nerve in her body tingling. How good to feel his arms around her, his warm breath against her neck as he whispered, “Cara mia, I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

  And for a brief moment, she almost did. Oh, she was a fervent believer in forgiveness, but they had an issue to resolve that wouldn’t go away by being swept under the carpet with a sorry.

  She wriggled out of his hold then rose from her chair. She turned to face him. “I can’t. Not yet anyway. Your words hurt me, Rafaele.” She closed her eyes. The stupid, stubborn tears she’d promised herself not to cry burned behind her eyelids.

  Rafaele stepped around Jayne’s chair and pulled her into his arms. Even though she never wanted him to let her go, she still protested. Finally she gave in to his reassuring wo
rds and touch, and melted into his shoulder.

  “I want your children one day, and I cannot bear to think you wouldn’t want the same from me.” Jayne didn’t care that between her sobs and Rafaele’s shoulder, her muffled words were almost lost. She needed to say them. Hopefully he’d hear her heart’s cry. “Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said this morning. Say the word and I’ll forget you even said something so inconceivable.”

  “Jayne, I—”

  Her eyes searched his, waiting for the answer her gaze willed him to give. She choked back a sob when he remained silent. “You really don’t want me to be the mother of your children.”

  “That’s not it, Jayne. In fact—”

  “Why? I don’t understand. Are you scared I’ll die in childbirth like your mother did? I won’t, Rafaele, I promise.”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “Seriously?” She shook her head in disbelief. Was he, an Italian, really giving her the classic Brit breakup line?

  “And you…” He gripped her arms and pressed his lips to hers until his kiss united them. “I can’t get enough of you. I think about you day and night. I yearn to feel you beside me in my bed,” he said, his voice throaty.

  Jayne eased back to stare into his cioccolato fondente spheres, as sweet and addictive as her favorite gelato. “Rafaele, I have the same passions warring within me. One day we will be together in that way. But not while we’re unwed.”

  Rafaele’s breathing increased. “Cara mia, I hope I can wait that long.” His fingers slowly tickled her back, lower, and still lower while his kisses trailed her neck.

  Jayne caught her breath, his touch fanning flames of desire she hadn’t even realized existed. One of them had to stop the other, or they’d get burned.

  “Rafaele…wait…”

  Rafaele slid a hand up her leg, higher than the hem of her skirt. This was going too far.

  Instinctively, she struck out, her palm connecting his cheek with a loud thwack. “I said wait.” She turned and ran.