“Nineteen years ago.” Walking across the floor to Chloe, Stevie took hold of her arm. “I want to talk to you. Let’s go into the study for a minute.”
“Okay. But what do you want to talk about? And why have you never worn those sapphires before?” Chloe eyed her mother curiously, wondering what this was all about.
“Come and sit with me” was the only answer Stevie gave her daughter as she hurried out.
Chloe followed her mother, sat down in a chair near the window, and focused all her attention on Stevie.
“When I was sitting at your bedside at the infirmary in Leeds, praying for you to come out of your coma, I made a promise to you in my heart and in my mind,” Stevie explained. “I vowed that I would tell you the truth about your father. I am keeping that promise, Chloe, I want to tell you about him now.”
Chloe nodded eagerly. She was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. Then before Stevie could say anything, Chloe exclaimed, “He’s not dead, is he?”
Momentarily startled, Stevie gaped at her. Finally, she shook her head. “No, but how did you know that?”
“I didn’t actually know, not for sure anyway. I just…well, I sensed it, Mom; I somehow felt that as a child. I always thought he was going to show up one day, just walk in and say, ‘Hi, Chloe, I’m your dad.’ I used to fantasize about it when I was little. I had an image of this tall, dark, handsome man walking toward me. My father. I thought he’d come looking for me, find me one day.”
Stevie was speechless. After a moment she recouped and said, “Well, you’re right. He’s alive. And he is tall, dark, and handsome. Although I’ll never understand how you knew that.”
Chloe leaned forward. “And I bet his name’s not John Lane either.”
“No, it’s not. That’s not quite correct…part of it is.”
“Why, Mom? Why did you hide the truth? Why didn’t you tell me anything before?” Chloe asked in a small, puzzled voice, a hurt expression flickering in her brown eyes.
“I couldn’t tell you the truth when you were old enough to understand, tell you who he really was, because of the circumstances of his life, his position in the world, his family. He was married, you see, and a very prominent man when we…when we were together—”
“Why didn’t he divorce?” Chloe asked with a flash of vehemence. “Why didn’t he get a divorce and marry you when you got pregnant with me? Didn’t he want me?”
“He didn’t even know about you. I never told him.”
“Mom! Why not?” Chloe demanded, her voice rising.
“Because he was married. And he’s a Catholic. I knew there would never be a divorce. There was no way he could get one. And he had children. I just made that decision not to tell him, and rightly or wrongly, I broke up with him before you were born.” Stevie shook her head. “Perhaps I was wrong, but that’s water under the bridge now. I never saw him again, once I had decided to end it.”
“Didn’t he try to keep it going? Pester you?”
“No, not when I said it must end because I couldn’t live with the pain of it any longer. He respected my wishes, knowing how difficult everything had become for me. A love affair with a married man does become untenable. It’s impossible, heartbreaking, Chloe.”
A sympathetic note crept into Chloe’s voice when she said, “It must have been hard for you, Mommy, not seeing him. I mean, if you loved him so much.”
“I did. And it was. Very hard. But he lived in another country, which helped to some extent. He still lives there.”
“Where does he live?”
“Italy.”
“He’s an Italian?”
“Yes.”
“Wow! My father’s Italian. Awesome. What’s his real name, then?”
“Gianni…short for Giovanni, which means John in English, you know.”
“Gianni what, Mom?”
“Caracelli. Your father’s Gianni Caracelli.”
There was a small silence. Chloe eyed her mother in surprise, and said slowly, “Not the Italian industrialist? My father is him?”
“Yes.”
Chloe stared at Stevie and then she got up and went and peered in the mirror above the mantel. “Do I look Italian, Mom?” She moved closer to the mirror. “My eyes do, I guess. But everyone’s always said I look like your mother.”
“You do. However, you also look like Gianni. You have his eyes, his brows, and forehead. And his strong jaw. And the shape of your head is the same as his.”
“So I look like my daddy?”
Stevie nodded.
“That’s why you went to Italy on Wednesday?”
“It is.”
“Did you see him, Mom? Have you told him about me?”
“Yes, I have, Chloe.”
“What did he say? I bet he was shocked,” Chloe asserted.
“Stunned is a better word. I think a man like Gianni Caracelli is unshockable. And he was pleased.”
“Was he really?” Chloe suddenly sounded anxious.
“Oh, yes. Thrilled really, and thrilled that I named you for his grandmother. Her name was also Chloe.”
“Oh.”
“He wants to meet you, Chloe. In fact, he can’t wait.”
Chloe was suddenly feeling scared inside, yet excited and curious at the same time.
“He’s here in London,” Stevie announced.
“Is that who we’re meeting for lunch?”
Stevie smiled. “It is. At the Dorchester. That’s where he’s staying. He always stayed there in the past, and I think that’s where you were conceived, actually.”
“Oh, Mom.” Chloe stared at herself in the mirror again. “Are you sure I look all right? Maybe I should change. Oh, God, I look awful, Mom. I wish you’d told me about this before I got ready.”
“You don’t look awful. You’re a lovely young woman.”
All sorts of questions were suddenly jostling for prominence in Chloe’s mind, and she exclaimed, “What happened to the wife? I mean, suddenly she doesn’t matter?”
“Gianni’s wife’s dead, Chloe. She died a few years ago, but they were separated, and had been for a number of years.”
“You said he had a family….”
“Yes, Gianni had two sons. Carlo and Francesco. Sadly, Francesco was killed in a car crash. Carlo lives in Rome, he runs the Rome office of Caracelli Industries.”
“Does he…have a daughter?”
“You’re his only daughter, Chloe.”
Chloe was silent, digesting this, and then she asked, “Where did the name Lane come from, Mom?”
Stevie couldn’t help smiling. “I told you a moment ago, your father always stayed at the Dorchester when he came to see me in London. He used the name Lane, as in Park Lane, when he phoned me. It seemed the obvious name to use on your birth certificate.” Stevie rose, walked over to Chloe, and put her arm around her daughter. “I’m sorry I kept the two of you apart all these years, truly sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
Chloe looked at her mother and unexpectedly tears filled her eyes. “Forgive you? Mom, for God’s sake, there’s nothing to forgive. You’re the best mother anybody could ever have. You did what you had to do all those years ago, did what you thought was best for me. And I’m sure it was. I love you, Mommy; there’s nobody like you in this whole wide world.”
Stevie swallowed her incipient tears, and replied, “I think we ought to be going. To meet your father. He’s waiting for us.”
“Did he just arrive?”
“No, he came with me yesterday afternoon. Or, rather, I should say I came with him. I flew to London with him on his plane.”
“He has a plane. Wow! Neat! Does he fly it himself?”
“No, he has a pilot. Mind you, he’s quite the sportsman. You’ll like him, Chloe, and you’ll grow to love him very quickly.”
Chloe hesitated before asking very quietly, “But will he like me, Mom? Will he love me?”
“He already does.”
Gianni Caracelli stood up when he s
aw Stevie appear in the doorway of the Grill Room in the Dorchester Hotel. To his utter amazement, his heart began to thunder in his chest. And his throat tightened with emotion as he watched Stevie and Chloe walk toward the table. What a beautiful girl she was. She not only resembled him, she had a strong look of Francesco. For a split second he was so moved, he thought he would disgrace himself by weeping in a public place. His feelings were very strong; for his dead son, so beloved by him, for this young woman whom he did not know, and who was about to enter his life.
And then they were standing there in front of him.
His beautiful Steffie, the love of his heart, and his daughter. His only daughter. Chloe. He was unable to tear his eyes away from her face. They took in every detail of her appearance. She smiled at him, and without any hesitation stepped nearer to him, touched his arm, looked up at him. Her dark brown eyes were twin reflections of his own.
Automatically, Gianni drew closer himself. He embraced her, held her tightly against him. Flesh of my flesh, he thought. My child. He was thankful she was here.
Chloe clung to him for a second. He could not help thinking that he might never have known this extraordinary moment if she had not come out of the coma. She could have died without his ever meeting her.
His heart was suddenly full to overflowing. He thought: God takes so much away from us, but He gives back. And then he looked toward Stevie, filled with gratitude that she had come to see him in Milan. That action in itself had taken courage, for she had no knowledge of the circumstances of his life. Nor had she known how he would react. He was wrong there; of course she had known. No one in the world had ever understood him the way she had. What a fool he had been, never to have gone looking for her years ago.
Quite unexpectedly, Gianni experienced a feeling of peace flowing through him as he held Chloe in his arms. Oh, the blessed peace of it, to have this child. His daughter. It was the first peace he had known since Francesco had been killed.
Releasing Chloe, he turned to Stevie, took hold of her arm, kissed her on the cheek, then pulled out the chair for her.
The waiter saw Chloe into her seat and disappeared.
“I see that introductions are not necessary,” Stevie murmured, and she smiled at him.
“No, they are not, Steffie.” He smiled in return.
Chloe was as fascinated by Gianni as he had been by her. She stared at him quite unself-consciously. “You look like I thought you would.”
He glanced over at Stevie quizzically. And then his eyes swung back to his daughter. He frowned. “I thought you did not know of my existence.”
“I didn’t. But as I just told Mom this morning, I always felt my father was alive. I can’t explain why. And I pictured him as being tall, dark, and handsome. And you are.”
He laughed, amused by her forthrightness. “Thank you for the compliment. Unfortunately, I knew nothing about your existence, so you have the advantage. But you are lovely, Chloe. And a Caracelli. So like your half brother, Francesco. As he was at your age.”
“Mom told me.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. To Stevie he went on. “I ordered champagne. I hope that is all right. After all, this is a celebration. It’s not every day that a man finds a beautiful daughter he did not know he had.”
The waiter materialized with the champagne, and within minutes they were toasting each other. Gianni lifted his glass, beamed at them both. “To the two of you. I am so glad we are here together today. It’s a happy occasion for me.”
“And for us…to you, Gianni,” Stevie said.
“To you…Father.” Chloe said this hesitantly. “May I call you Father? Or should I call you Gianni?”
“No, not Gianni. I prefer Father. That is who I am.”
“Yes, Father.” Chloe looked at him closely, her head held to one side, her face reflective. “I’ve never called anyone that before…. I never had a father. Only grandfathers.”
Stevie stifled a gasp, and she looked stricken. “Oh, Chloe, I didn’t—”
“No, Mommy. No,” Chloe interrupted swiftly. “Don’t be upset. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. You know how much I love you.”
Stevie realized Chloe was becoming agitated, and she said calmly, softly, “I know, darling; it’s all right.”
Turning to Gianni, Chloe confided, “She was a father to me as well as a mother. And she’s always been wonderful. She saved my life, you know. She stayed with me night and day when I was in Leeds Infirmary. She never left me until I came out of the coma. I might not have lived if it hadn’t been for Mommy. She’s the best mother in the world.”
“Yes, I know that,” he answered. “I remember what a good mother she was to your brothers when they were small.” Gianni laughed. “You do not have to tell me anything about Steffie. But I would like to know more about you. I understand you have been attending Brearley. Do you like it there?”
“Yes, I do,” Chloe exclaimed, and in the same natural way she had greeted him, she began talking to him about school, regaling him with anecdotes.
Stevie interrupted her only once so that they could all order lunch. After they had done so, Chloe went on talking to Gianni nonstop. He nodded and listened, so obviously delighted with her.
Making up for lost time, Stevie thought as she listened to Chloe, surreptitiously studying Gianni Caracelli at the same time. There was no question in her mind that she felt the same way about him as she had eighteen years before. She could not help wondering how he felt about her. Did he, too, have a stomach full of butterflies when he was close to her; did he feel the electricity when they were together, as she did?
“I had a wonderful idea last night, Steffie,” Gianni said, cutting into her thoughts.
“Oh, what was that?”
“I would like to invite Chloe and you to come to Lake Como. To stay with me at the villa. It would help her to fully recuperate, do you not think?”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “It is a wonderful idea…Father. Oh, say yes, Mom. Please. I’d love to go.”
“I’ll have to speak to Mr. Longdon,” Stevie replied, and explained to Gianni, “That’s the neurosurgeon who operated on Chloe to remove the bullet. He did say she couldn’t fly back to the States just yet.”
“But this is such a short trip. Less than two hours to Milan. And she would be flying in a private plane. When can you speak with him?” Gianni asked.
“After lunch,” Stevie responded.
“Oh, thank you, Mommy.” Chloe pushed her chair away from the table and picked up her shoulder bag. “Would you please excuse me for a minute.”
After she had gone, Gianni looked at Stevie intently, and said in a quiet voice, “My congratulations, you’ve done a wonderful job with her, brought her up so well. She is a credit to you, Steffie. Bright, self-confident, very natural, and not in the least precocious.” He paused and shook his head sadly. “And you did it all alone….”
“Not really, I had my mother and Derek, and her brothers. And thank you for the things you said…. I’m so glad you like her.”
“How could I not? She’s lovely, so vivacious. I see you in her.”
“And I see you, Gianni. I always did.”
“Steffie?”
“Yes, Gianni?”
“There’s something I wish to ask you.” He hesitated, staring at her.
“What is it?”
“I wondered if we could…do you think we can be friends again?”
Stevie stared back at him, not sure what he meant, and she stiffened slightly in the chair.
He noticed this and exclaimed, “Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not proposing…that we…pick up where we left off eighteen years ago. What I meant was, could we be friends, platonic friends? We do have Chloe. I want to get to know her better.” And I want to get to know you again, he thought. But you have not changed. You are still my Steffie, still the same inside. And a love like ours never dies. It only lies dormant when the two people involved are separat
ed. I need you both.
Stevie had been watching him closely, and suddenly she understood. She knew with absolute certainty that he still loved her, and just as much as she loved him. Leaning across the table, she said softly, “Of course we can be friends, Gianni; I want that, too.”
He nodded. She was the only woman he had ever truly loved and, miraculously, she had come back into his life again. He was afraid to speak for a moment, so touched was he.
Stevie saw his love for her spilling out of his eyes, and she felt a surge of happiness like she had not known since she had left him. She touched his hand, which rested on the table. “Let’s not waste any more years, Gianni. Let’s be the best of friends.” Her misty gray-green eyes held his.
Returning her steadfast gaze, he took hold of her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it lightly, and then he smiled at her. “Oh, yes, the very best of friends, my Steffie. My heart.”
About the Author
Bestselling author BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD was born in Leeds and was a journalist in Yorkshire and Fleet Street before moving to New York, where she lives with her husband. She is published in eighty-two countries and twenty-four languages, and several of her books have become hugely successful television series.
www.barbarataylorbradford.com
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Books by
Barbara Taylor Bradford
Just Rewards
Unexpected Blessings
Emma’s Secret
Three Weeks in Paris
The Triumph of Katie Byrne
Where You Belong
A Sudden Change of Heart
Power of a Woman*
A Secret Affair*
Her Own Rules*
Love in Another Town*
Dangerous to Know*
Everything to Gain*
Angel
Remember
The Women in His Life
To Be the Best*
Act of Will*
Hold the Dream*
Voice of the Heart*
A Woman of Substance*
*Published by HarperCollinsPublishers
Power of a Woman Page 28