by Jan Moran
Ariana sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I will, but I feel fine. I have so much to do right now.”
Ruby reached across the table and gripped her hand. “No, you must make arrangements now. If you want, I’ll make an appointment for you.”
Surprised at Ruby’s urgency, Ariana pulled back. “I can do it, but I’d rather not broadcast my condition just yet.”
“You must be under a doctor’s care. Just in case.” Worry lines creased Ruby’s forehead. “Does this have something to do with Alessandro?”
Averting her eyes, Ariana blew on her hot coffee. She enjoyed spending time with Alessandro and the children and feared that if she told him she was pregnant, he would vanish. She wouldn’t even blame him.
“I like Alessandro for you,” Ruby said, tapping the table with her manicured nails. Her voice hardened with resolve. “But you must tell him soon. If you wait any longer, he’ll be angry and upset that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him.”
“But I’m afraid,” Ariana whispered, ashamed that she wasn’t as strong as Ruby. Her aunt rarely found fault with her, and when she did, it hurt. “Maybe next week...”
Ruby raised her brow and shook her head. “Be honest with him.” She stared across the water toward Varenna. “Otherwise, your life will become even more muddled and tangled than you think it is now. Sadly, I know this from experience.”
Before Ariana could ask Ruby what she meant by that, her aunt dabbed her mouth with her napkin and rose, drawing her shoulders back imperiously. “Your designs are exquisite, my dear, but I hope you’ll heed my warning about Alessandro.”
After Ruby had gone, Ariana finished her breakfast. Her aunt was no longer coddling her, but nor did Ariana want her to. Ruby had a strong sense of right and wrong, as well as lofty expectations. Ariana often wondered how Ruby’s will of iron had been forged.
* * *
As Alessandro drove Ariana the short distance to her nearby shop, Ariana turned over Ruby’s advice in her mind. She gazed out the window at the lake, its surface broken by the occasional ferry or pleasure craft. What lay beneath that surface?
Glancing at Alessandro and catching his admiring smile, Ariana realized that she was not unlike that lake. He was unsuspecting, unaware of the secret she was concealing that could destroy their nascent relationship—the innocent party in her subterfuge. Guilt gathered in the pit of her stomach.
Since arriving in Bellagio, Ariana had been trying to partition the unpleasant thoughts in her mind and live in the moment. Isn’t that what Ruby had always told her to do?
Yet, in a few short months, Ariana’s dilemma would be evident for all to see. Was she crazy for quitting her job, turning down Phillip’s mother’s offer, and signing a lease on a shop in Italy that she could barely afford with the far-fetched dream of being a fashion designer? Maybe she’d been following Ruby and her exuberant way of living for so long that now she thought she could do it, too.
But there was only one Ruby Raines.
She, Ariana Ricci, had to make her own way. And she had to be smart about it. As she’d learned with Phillip, depending on a man was often fraught with complications. Or, Alessandro might have secrets of his own. She couldn’t count on her mother, and she didn’t want Ruby’s handouts, even though her aunt always gave freely.
As much as Ariana loved her aunt, she could tell that something in Ruby’s psyche had shifted. She was seizing opportunities—such as buying a villa that must have cost a fortune.
And then it hit Ariana. Maybe Ruby is having one last fling. Was her aunt ill? The thought troubled her, and she swallowed hard.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Alessandro said. “If there’s anything you’d like to talk about, I’m here for you.”
The opportunity was before her, and yet Ariana couldn’t take that step. Instead, she turned to him and smiled. “I have so much running through my mind right now.” That much was true. “From the shop renovation to the collection design to the thousand details about running a business here… It’s a lot to think about.”
“It will all fall into place,” Alessandro said. “It won’t always be this overwhelming.”
Ariana reached into her purse for the key to the shop. “On top of that, my aunt wants me to ‘be social,’ as she puts it.”
“You can’t work all the time,” Alessandro said. “Why would you want to anyway? Look around.” He gestured toward the calm lake and the snow-capped mountains. “Here, enjoying life is a pleasure and a privilege. We cannot squander such riches of nature.”
Realizing he had a point, Ariana smiled. “I suppose I should go out and meet people,” she said, extracting the key. “Aunt Ruby found a local theater and wants me to attend an opening night performance. Would you like to go with us? She always gets the best seats.”
“I’d like that very much,” he said. “As long as Paolina can watch the children. What’s the production?”
“Roman Holiday. Or, Vacanze Romane. She must’ve watched that movie a thousand times.” Ariana slid the key in and tried to turn it.
“One of my favorites, too.” Grinning, Alessandro said, “My uncle has underwritten that performance.”
Alessandro started to say something, but Ariana cried out. “Ouch, something bit my hand.”
“Here, let me help you. These old locks can be temperamental, and I see there’s a jagged piece of metal that should be filed.” Alessandro jiggled the key, and the door opened under his ministrations.
Once inside the shop, she gazed around. Overhead, a chandelier dimmed with dust hung from the coffered ceiling. “It’s a beautiful starting place, but the floors are tragic.” Layers of linoleum tile from different eras were curling at the edges.
Alessandro scraped his stubbled chin with his knuckles. “I know someone who could strip that floor for you.”
“And then what would I do with it?”
“Looks like concrete under there.”
Ariana had an idea. “I can paint and stencil the concrete, or even leave it as it is and put a high-gloss or satin finish over it. I could arrange some rugs to delineate different sections. And then, I can use drop lights to illuminate the collections. Wouldn’t Murano glass flutes be amazing?”
Alessandro laughed. “I don’t think you needed me here at all.”
As her imagination came to life, Ariana felt better. Her doubt about her ability to pull this off dissipated. “In the car, I was feeling overwhelmed. But now that I’m here, I know exactly what needs to be done.” She pulled a notepad from her bag and began sketching her vision.
“An entrepreneur’s most important asset is her decision-making ability.” Alessandro put his arm around her shoulders. “I think you’re going to do just fine.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me.” The sureness of his grip filled her with sudden attraction. Alessandro was everything that Phillip wasn’t. Supportive, interested, mature, authentic. How could she have thought Phillip was right for her? They’d started dating just after her graduation. Had she been so naïve that she accepted his actions as the norm?
Now that Alessandro had come into her life, she saw how different a genuine relationship could be.
Ariana raised her gaze to a pair of large, baroque framed-mirrors. The gold paint had faded and chipped, and dark spots peppered the beveled glass around the edges. Yet the old mirrors had a certain appeal. “What do you think about those?”
“Once they’re cleaned, they’ll be beautiful,” Alessandro said. “They have history. That’s important.”
Ariana considered his words. “It is, isn’t it?”
“We don’t have to cover up history with a shiny new surface,” Alessandro said. “Instead, we can expose imperfections and embrace them. Each scar is a triumph, each blemish unique. That’s much more interesting.”
“More philosophy?” Ariana asked, taking a step toward him. “You would have made a great professor.”
“Maybe I’ll write a book someday,” he rep
lied, his eyes twinkling. Drawing Ariana closer, he touched his forehead to hers.
Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his. Every nerve in her body seemed to crackle with an electrical charge. “Do you have any blemishes I should know about?”
“Plenty,” he said. “Sometimes, I lose my patience with the children. It’s hard to be a single parent. And my business occasionally demands more of my attention than I would like. Still, I tried to put life first and work second.” A smile danced on his lips. “What about you? Any imperfections that you’re hiding?”
“Definitely a few scars.” Ariana stared into twin pools of gold-flecked, hazel eyes that sparkled with…was it a spark of love? And then she thought, What does he see in mine?
Alessandro raised his brow. “Are you going to make me guess?”
Ruby’s admonitions rang in her mind, yet she dreaded breaking the spell. “There is something you should know, but I don’t know how to tell you.”
Alessandro brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you’re no longer drinking?”
When she nodded, he hesitated. “How long has it been?”
“A couple of months.”
“One of my cousins is an alcoholic,” he said, his expression softening with a mixture of empathy and encouragement. “It takes a lot of strength to do what you’re doing. You can be proud of that.”
“What?” She ran a hand over her face and shook her head. “You thought… Oh, no, that’s not it. Not at all.”
Alessandro frowned with confusion. “Then what is it?”
Unable to say the word, Ariana flung her hand out. “What’s another reason a woman might not drink?”
“Interaction with a medication…”
Ariana shook her head.
“An alcohol allergy…”
“Really?” Ariana put a hand on her hip.
“Or she’s pregnant…” Alessandro hesitated. “You’re not…”
“I am.”
“Ah, mamma mia.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m very happy for you, but…” Alessandro tipped his head back as if searching for the right words to let her down gently. “I never imagined this. May I ask whose child it is? Besides, obviously, yours.”
Ariana blinked back tears that rimmed her lashes. “Phillip’s, although he wants no part of fatherhood.”
Shaking his head, Alessandro made a clucking noise and turned away from her.
Seeing his shoulders droop, Ariana knew it was over. Ruby was right. Her heart lurched with despair; she should have told Alessandro earlier. What was I thinking?
Further, after all the years Ariana had spent with Phillip, she should have waited to let her heart mend before getting involved with someone again. This was a rebound relationship, and she couldn’t expect Alessandro to take on another man’s child. She was sure that, at best, this had been a lark on his part. Nothing more. But she didn’t have the mental strength to do the same. She gave her heart too freely.
“Alessandro, I’m so sorry,” she began.
He turned around and took her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. You made the right decision. Children are a joy, a blessing.”
“That test your patience,” Ariana said. “Your words. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.”
He chuckled. “My words, yes.”
“This is why we are doomed,” Ariana said, stepping into her courage. She had to let him know it was okay to leave, though she already felt her heart cracking. “I should have told you sooner, before…”
Alessandro slid a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. “Before we fell in love?”
We? Had she heard him correctly? Ariana’s throat constricted as she realized she would break his heart, too. She could only nod.
Alessandro wrapped his arms around her and swayed as if to some music in his mind. “My dear Ariana. You have never been in love, not really. This Phillip—if what you say is true, and I’m sure it is—he didn’t know how to love a woman. You would not have been happy. But I have known love—good, true love—and there is nothing like it in the world. I never thought I would know that again.”
At his words, hope flared in Ariana. “And has that changed?”
Alessandro tapped her nose. “The moment you walked into the factory. And then when I saw my children race toward you with such joy in their hearts. You are the missing part of our family, Ariana. I’m sure of it.” He framed her face with his hands. “Will you think about it?”
“But the baby…”
“I love children,” he said quickly. “Two or three, or more, what does it matter? This baby is part of you, and I love all of you, Ariana.”
Although Ariana longed for the happily-ever-after fairytale, that wasn’t real life—as she had learned at the altar when faced with hard reality. And this time, children’s tender hearts were also at stake.
Ariana gazed at him. “I am happy that you feel that way, and I want you to know that my feelings for you—and the children—are growing every day. You have captured my heart, Alessandro, but the next time I commit to someone, I must be sure.”
Chapter 27
Texas Hill Country, 1953
* * *
As Ruby sat in bed and smoothed her hand over her tiny baby’s fine, light brown hair, her heart ached with love. And when her little one opened her eyes, Niccolò’s vivid blue orbs stared back at Ruby. Their child. Inquisitive, needy, and sweetly demanding. Their baby had insisted on emerging early into the world, ready to take on nearly insurmountable challenges.
“Mariangela, my angel,” Ruby murmured, thinking of Niccolò and his words on their first evening out at the opera.
Doc had stopped by to examine them both. It had been four weeks since the delivery.
“She’ll need a lot of care,” Doc said, removing his stethoscope and returning it to his bag. “Fortunately, she’s a real fighter. Like her mother.”
“We owe so much to Patricia, too.” Ruby wasn’t merely acknowledging her sister. She knew that if she had been in Los Angeles, she might have been alone, and Mariangela might well have died.
Patricia smiled. “I’d do anything for that little one.”
“She’s a lucky little girl to have you both.” Doc Schmidt picked up his hat and medical bag. “Remember to keep her warm at all times.”
“I’ll see you out,” Patricia said, walking with him to the door.
After they’d left, Ruby slid a tiny pink cap that Mercy had knitted over Mariangela’s head. “Hi, sweetie,” Ruby cooed.
Since Mariangela was born about eight weeks premature, Doc’s advice was critically important. Weak and scrawny-limbed, Mariangela had little fat on her body to maintain warmth. When she was born, Doc Schmidt suggested that they fashion a sling to nestle her against Ruby’s chest. There the baby had stayed, skin-to-skin under one of Michael’s voluminous flannel shirts. Doc Schmidt told them that this close contact would help Mariangela maintain her body temperature and gain weight.
Patricia and Michael moved Ruby’s bed into the dining room to be close to the fireplace, which they kept burning around the clock, even as spring brought out bright bluebonnet flowers.
In the beginning, Mariangela couldn’t latch onto Ruby’s breast to feed, so Ruby filled a dropper with breast milk. She and Patricia took turns dribbling nourishment into Mariangela’s mouth. The baby looked like a tiny kitten lapping the milk that landed in her mouth. Ruby was so exhausted that she often nodded off throughout the day. Half an hour here and there—though she was always alert to Mariangela’s smallest quiver.
Now, Mariangela was growing stronger. She could nurse on her own, and her lungs had developed—along with more robust cries.
When Patricia returned, she held out her arms. “I’ll take her if you’d like a break.”
“I could use a few minutes outside.” Ruby ducked her head to slide off the
sling and transfer Mariangela to Patricia, who unbuttoned her shirt to snuggle her against her skin. The baby was just as comfortable with Patricia.
“Look at that,” Ruby said. “It’s as if she has two mothers.”
“You’re her only mother,” Patricia said.
Yet a smile lit her face, and Ruby could tell Patricia was pleased. Her sister might never have children, and Ruby was genuinely happy that Patricia could share this experience of mothering. Sometimes Ruby felt a small twinge of jealousy when Mariangela quieted as soon as she was in Patricia’s arms. Being older, Patricia had held far more babies than she had, that was all.
Ruby stepped outside and walked toward the barn where her horse had been since she’d ridden here that frost-bitten morning more than two months ago. The spring sunshine warmed her face, and she breathed in the heady scents of honeysuckle and jasmine that rambled along the rear porch railing. A rocking chair sat ready for her—once the weather was warmer and Mariangela was strong enough to be outside.
Inside the barn, Ruby approached the mare with a lump of sugar she’d picked up in the kitchen.
“Hey, Blaze.” Ruby opened the palm of her hand, and the mare picked up the sweet treat. Ruby let her outside for a short walk. She wished she could ride her and feel the wind in her hair, but Ruby was too weary.
Michael waved from the garden patch he’d been hoeing and ridding of weeds. Spring was short in these parts, with weather that could shift from frosty nights to hot, humid days in a flash. He put his tools aside and ambled toward her.
“Good to see you outside,” Michael said, pushing his straw hat back from his forehead.
“Had to breathe in some fresh air. Gets hot inside.” Ruby wasn’t complaining, just stating a fact.
“What’d Doc have to say?”
“He seemed pleased with her progress,” Ruby said, swinging her arms to regain circulation in her cramped arms. “She’s gaining weight and shedding her wrinkled raisin look.”