by Nina Milne
The car pulled to a stop and they climbed out with a quick thank you to the driver and headed towards the house. Emily smiled as Shamini pulled the door open with a welcoming smile. ‘Come in. We are so happy you are doing this for us.’
Emily clocked the quick glance the older woman darted between her and Luca and wondered if she’d seen the kiss at the dance. ‘So where would you like the photograph to be taken?’ she said hurriedly.
‘Let me make you a cup of tea and I’ll explain my ideas. Luca, you can head to the lounge, where the family is gathering.’
As they headed into the cool interior a small girl hurtled towards Shamini and wrapped her arms around her legs in a hug. ‘This is my granddaughter, Amelia,’ she said. The girl peeped up shyly and then hid her face in the folds of Shamini’s brightly coloured sari.
Emily glanced round the whitewashed kitchen, with its stone worktops and swept tiled floor and the lingering scent of spice in the air. Pans hung from the ceiling and she glimpsed a larder with jars full of rice and dried lentils and herbs.
Once tea was made she followed Shamini and Amelia into a large lounge.
‘I think the photo should be in here, as it is here we have most space.’
Emily blinked—she knew that Samar and Shamini had four children and eight grandchildren, but knowing and seeing were two different things. The room was a hubbub of noise and children, a bright swirl of saris and western dress. Until Samar spotted them, picked up a bell and rang it loudly.
The noise levels subsided and everyone turned to the doorway.
‘This is Emily, who has very kindly agreed to take our picture. Emily, what would you like us to do? We’re still waiting for my youngest daughter and her family, but we can get started.’
About ten minutes later Emily had sorted people out into a group and figured out lighting and backdrops, moved various things around and taken a few informal shots to warm everyone up.
The peal of the doorbell indicated the arrival of the final participants and minutes later a young couple walked in. ‘I am so sorry we are late. Amitabh needed a nappy-change just when we were ready to leave,’ the dark-haired woman said.
Emily saw now that the man held a baby in his arms and Shamini swept forward and took the baby, presented him proudly to Emily.
‘The latest addition to the family.’
Emily gazed at the baby and from nowhere grief screamed towards her, hit her so hard that she almost stepped back. This was what her baby would have looked like. Her baby who had kicked inside her, the baby she had wanted so badly, had already loved so much.
‘He’s beautiful. How old is he?’ Her voice was slightly strangled and she sensed Luca glance at her.
‘Ten months. He started to crawl a few weeks ago.’ The baby gurgled and then tilted forward, arms outstretched towards Emily. ‘He likes you.’ Shamini held the baby out and Emily could feel her body temperature plunge. Her skin felt clammy with a sudden sheen of panic and the reek of sadness, all the worse because it was so unexpected, had pelted in out of nowhere and struck.
Would her baby have started to crawl yet, weighed the same as this little one, would he too have had a shock of black hair or would his head have been downy with little wisps? The baby regarded her with immense solemnity and then grabbed her finger and started to chew it. A tsunami of grief swept through her as she held this warm, living miracle of existence in her arms. Sorrow underlaid with anger. Why had it happened to her? And guilt. What had she done wrong?
A part of her wanted to hold onto this baby and turn and run, go somewhere where the baby was hers, where the world had been different, where she could simply have the future she’d envisioned, with her child.
Then all of a sudden Luca was by her side; his sheer strength and bulk, full of reassurance, pulled her back to reality. His gaze rested on her, concern and care evident.
For one brief moment she allowed herself to breathe in the baby smell and then she gathered a smile together as she carefully handed Amitabh back to his mum, then turned away, pushed down the grief into the expanse of ache inside her.
‘Right.’ Picking up her camera, she said, ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
And soon she looked through the lens at the grouped ensemble, this family standing together, a family who lived together clearly in harmony and friendship and love.
The knowledge that this couldn’t happen for her clogged her throat, and she focused on the welcome familiarity of the camera’s cold touch in her hand, channelled her everything into this. Perhaps she couldn’t have it but she wouldn’t grudge it to this family and she would do her best to provide them with a picture they could cherish, a picture that showed their bond, their connection and their love. In the way the grandmother held her granddaughter’s hand, in the pride of a father in his children, in a wife’s look of love to her husband and the respect and affection to her mother-in-law.
Once done, she found it in herself to mingle, chat to everyone, play with the children, all with a smile on her face. And through it all she was aware of Luca’s gaze on her, the question and concern in his eyes, aware too that he was making this easier for her, just through his presence, the way he deflected conversation, the knowledge that she could lean against his strength if need be.
Whoa. No leaning, remember? No clinginess or emotional need. That was the deal—Luca had no wish to be exposed to another’s pain or vulnerabilities. However understanding he’d already proven to be, this all ended in a few days. So she mustn’t let herself get close on any other level.
Finally it was time to leave, to start their trek to the summit of a local mountain to see the sunset, check out the place as a possible photo shoot. Goodbyes said, they left the house, turned to wave at the family grouped outside and headed for the car.
* * *
‘What’s wrong?’ Once they were in the cool of the air-conditioned car Luca turned to face Emily, scooted across the seat to take her hands in his. He knew something was wrong, had seen such intense pain in her eyes that his own soul had shrivelled slightly and all he’d wanted was to shield her. ‘Would you prefer to go back to the resort?’
Emily shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’ For a moment he almost believed her. Almost but not quite; her voice was too tight and he knew what he’d seen. ‘And I have high hopes of this as a good location.’ Her voice held a brightness stark in its falsity and the contrast to the dull shadows, the ache in her brown eyes.
He hesitated, wondered if he should push it, but Emily launched a flow of bright inconsequential chatter as they climbed, interspersed with the constant click of her camera. Not that he could blame her for taking photos; the trek showcased scenery so lushly beautiful it took his breath away.
At one point they made their way through a cardamom plantation. The scent of the spice pervaded the air, supplanted by the waft of tea as they walked through fields of tea. As they got higher a haze of mist added extra atmosphere to the undulating rise and fall of the surrounding hills and valleys.
Once at the peak they sank down, breathless from the walk, and gazed out over the spectacular panoramic view that encompassed so many of Nature’s wonders. The flashing blue of a wide river, dense forests that lined the mountain slopes, and the immensity of the sky.
‘This is stunning. The sky feels so close that I feel like if I reach up, I can touch it.’
He studied her expression, saw appreciation in her gaze but sadness still shimmered through.
‘Emily, tell me what’s wrong—I know something has caused you sadness.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s OK, Luca. I know you don’t like to get involved in the emotional side of things. And I want to play by your rulebook, want a fun, carefree, magical bubble of time. Turns out it’s not that easy to escape reality. What with Ava and now this. But I’ll be OK.’ She smiled a smile that tore his heartstrings. ‘Being up here, the w
alk, this vista, all seem to bring a tranquillity.’
Luca stilled, listened to her quote his own criteria back at him and castigated himself for being a selfish schmuck. Was that what he wanted from life, to protect himself from another’s vulnerability? ‘It’s not OK,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want to play by the rulebook. We have already agreed you are an anomaly. An anomaly in a bubble. So, if you wish to, if I can help, please tell me what has happened.’
There was a silence and as she looked out he knew she was coming to some sort of inner decision.
‘Thank you. I would like to tell you; I haven’t talked to anyone and up here it feels right to remember what happened.’
Shifting slightly, she leant against him, faced the view, as if she were also sharing her story with the universe. ‘I lost my baby,’ she said. ‘I had a late miscarriage. I was six months pregnant. I thought I was safe, I’d felt him kick, talked to him, played him music. But then I lost him. If I’d gone to term he would have been ten months now, the same age as Amitabh. That’s what set me off.’
‘I am so sorry.’ The words were so inadequate and he pulled her closer, tried to convey his sympathy through the warmth of his body, through closeness. ‘I cannot imagine how you must have felt. How you are still feeling.’ A year wasn’t long enough to get over something like that, if you ever did. ‘I am so sorry. For you and for Howard.’ The man was a bully, but he didn’t deserve to lose a child.
‘Howard didn’t care—he didn’t even want the baby.’ Now her face looked pinched, white with remembered strain. ‘The baby was an accident but for me he was a happy one. Sure, I had planned to wait a few years, we’d only just got married, but I was still ecstatic. Howard wasn’t. He wasn’t happy at all. Said it was too early, that a baby would interfere with our happiness. I think he wanted me to consider a termination, but he knew there was no way I would do it. But he resented the baby, hated me being pregnant. The put-downs became more barbed and he kept finding fault with my appearance. Particularly my weight, my skin; the morning sickness disgusted him; he hated that I was tired. He didn’t even want anyone to know, said he had an upcoming book release and he didn’t want anything to detract from that. So I had to hide the pregnancy.’ Now she turned wide eyes onto him. ‘And now I keep thinking did I do something wrong? Did I cause the miscarriage by pushing myself when I was tired? By hiding the pregnancy? By dressing wrong—there was a time a few weeks before when I wore high heels. What if that was part of it? If I did something wrong?’
His heart turned in his chest and for a moment anger consumed him, anger at the callous selfishness of her ex-husband. An anger he pushed aside as he heard the torment of guilt in her voice, the fear that it had somehow been her fault.
‘Emily, I wasn’t there but I know you. You would never put your baby at risk. I bet you did everything right, didn’t touch alcohol, ate all the right food, did everything. When my mother was pregnant with Jodi she was exhausted all the time and she pushed and pushed herself.’
‘She had to.’ Emily’s voice was small. ‘Maybe I should have stood up to Howard, instead of running around desperately trying to be the perfect wife. I wanted to show him that the baby didn’t have to be a bad change in our lives. I thought he loved me.’
Luca pulled her closer to him, could hear the pain and devastation in her voice.
‘It turned out he was having an affair. It started whilst I was pregnant—he justified it by saying I had become unattractive, overweight and selfish. I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. That it had happened to me, that I had believed in him. How could I not have seen the signs? When I watched my mother go through marriage after marriage, I thought I could spot a lie at one hundred paces. But I truly had no idea. How dumb am I?’
‘You aren’t dumb. Sometimes we believe what we want to believe.’
‘Then that makes me a double fool. I grew up watching my mother do that time and again. Believing this man was the one, believing she was loved. And I fell into the same trap. Blown away by the idea that Howard loved the real me. Was interested in me, my photography, my personality—nothing to do with my parents. I thought he loved me for me.’
Luca searched for words of comfort. ‘Perhaps he did. My dad loved my mum. Just not enough.’
Emily shook her head. ‘Howard didn’t love me; I think Howard only loves himself. He wanted the perfect adoring wife. The only reason I believed he loved me was because at least he genuinely didn’t care about my parents’ fame or fortune. I’d already shown him I was more than ready to adore him, look up to him, listen to him. Then I fell pregnant and he knew he wouldn’t be the centre of my world any more. So he cheated on me.’
‘Was he sorry?’
‘Nope. When I found out I did confront him—he seemed to think his actions were justified as I was no longer attractive. We had a stand-up row. He left and I lost the baby two weeks later.’ Now guilt shadowed her eyes again. ‘Maybe the row made the difference. I don’t know, but I didn’t see him again. When I lost the baby it was as if the world collapsed on me. I lost it completely. The past months have been like some sort of nightmare. Howard wanted out, a painless divorce, and I agreed to everything. Then I pretty much went to bed, pulled the duvet over my head and blocked out the world. Turns out you can’t do that. Reality creeps in, there are bills to pay and I realised I had to get myself up and going again. The problem is I can’t always keep the grief at bay, or the questions. Then I panic. I want to turn the clock back, make different decisions, figure out what I did wrong and fix it.’
‘Emily, you did nothing wrong. I know that, I swear it to you. You cannot torture yourself, trying to turn time back, or reliving the past.’ He wanted Emily to know he understood. ‘When my dad left I spent years trying to figure out why. What I did wrong. All I wanted was a chance to make it right, to turn back time and somehow make him stay. Then I thought if I could figure it out maybe he’d at least visit, call, send a postcard.’
‘You did nothing wrong. He did.’
‘But it didn’t feel like that. Because I know he did love me. I remember the love, sitting on his shoulders, being swung up in the air, bedtime stories, walking along holding his hand. So how could he stop loving me so easily? I must have done something.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong either.’ Turning away from the view, he focused on her, held her arms gently as she faced him, wanting that connection. ‘I know you didn’t. You can’t second-guess yourself, can’t torture yourself with the what-ifs and might-have-beens. Because you can’t turn back time, you can’t change what happened. But you can remember your baby, honour and cherish his memory. And the joy you felt in him.’ Just as perhaps he should cherish his own memories with his dad, the knowledge that for five years he had been loved.
‘I did feel joy.’ Her eyes were wide now. ‘When I knew I was pregnant I felt panic but mostly I felt awe, a deep awe that there was the beginning of a tiny living being growing inside me. I loved tracing his progress, the first small swell of my tummy, the idea that what I ate and drank was helping my baby to develop. Then there was the first time he kicked, the first time I played music to him. I loved him very much. I will always cherish his memory. And however sad I am I need to remember he also gave me joy.’ She turned to Luca. ‘And I believe your father loved you—you know that, you have all those memories that prove it. You did nothing wrong either, Luca—he did, and I think he regretted it all the days of his life. Yes, he lavished love on Ava, because he didn’t want to make the same mistake again. I think he left you and Jodi shares in Dolci in a clumsy way to try to show love and make amends.’
Luca turned and pulled her into a close embrace, touched beyond all reason that in her own pain she could find words to give him comfort. She pulled away gently and said, ‘Look.’
He turned his head and watched as the sun started to dip, streaked the sky i
n a glorious medley of orange and red against the panoramic background of a cloud-streaked sky. The colours seemed to light up the world, dapple and reflect the peaks and valleys, surround them in a magnificent aura of hues and tints.
He moved to pass her the camera but she shook her head. ‘I just want to experience this moment. With you.’
So they sat hand in hand and watched the sun set before returning down the slopes, through the plantations and back to the resort and bed, where they held each other in their arms and created a different type of magic.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMILY OPENED HER eyes aware that something wasn’t quite right, something was missing. Luca. Groggily she reached out, realised he wasn’t there and, after a night spent curled up in his arms or with her head on his chest or spooned up against him with his arm protectively around her, already her body protested at the lack of his skin against hers.
‘Hey, sleepyhead.’ His deep voice came from the end of the bed and she saw that he was up and dressed in a lightweight suit.
‘Good morning.’ She stretched. ‘It’s the meeting with the royal representative,’ she remembered.
‘That’s the one.’
She frowned as she blinked away the last vestiges of sleep. ‘You look nervous.’ The idea was incongruous—it was hard to imagine nerves daring to impinge anxiety on Luca.
‘I’ve never met a royal rep. But it’s not that—I wanted to make sure you’re OK before I leave. Tell you thank you for sharing with me yesterday and I hope you don’t regret it.’
Did she? How could she, when he’d shown such understanding, known when to hold her and when to speak, shared his own trauma and loss and feelings with her? Who would have thought it? ‘No regrets,’ she said. ‘So go. You don’t want to be late. And good luck—I know this is important to you and I’m sure you’ll blow him away.’